Blogging the Dog

I may not have a Novel's Journey post up this week because we're taking a real journey--to Colorado with a stop at Mt. Rushmore. It'll be a busy 3 weeks because we have a wedding to attend, I have a conference, then we have to drive back. I'll write what I can.

In the meantime, my daughter decided to make a model out of our dog, Layla. Here are the results:

My Novel's Journey: Pit stop for a short story

Oops!

Where did this week go? Somehow, I got it into my head when blogging yesterday that it was Monday! Hope you enjoyed my satire. Here's the update on writing.

Last week, the editor of an anthology I wanted to submit to announced that they had half-filled the book already. I decided to stop working on Live and Let Fly and get the story done. It's another DragonEye, and I've thought about the basic plot and character conflicts a long time, so I figured a day or two and I'd be done.

4:30 am Monday morning, I wrote the last words of "Mishmash." It's a terrific story about when Vern and Grace first met, and both were rough around the edges and didn't realize how much they'd need each other. One scene took two days to write and I finally solved it by giving Vern a bad day and letting him get drunk. Since then, I've been creatively tapped and doing necessary but busy-work. However, I did learn some lessons and make some progress that will help me in Live and Let Fly.

For a long time now, I've been trying to make a timeline of the Faerie/Mundane universes, starting with 0AG (0 ante Gap--when the portal between the two universes opened). However, I could never quite get it--was it 4 years or 5 when this happened? Have Grace and Vern been together 15 years or 20? I had a list of events and their rough order, but nothing that gave me the framework. Until I started writing "Mishmash."

I have a family, good friends of Vern's through church, and they play bit parts in many of the stories. Until now, I've been able to get away with approximate ages and being fuzzy on the number and names of most of the kids. This time, however, they demanded more and bigger roles--comic relief, foil, defender, victim. I had to know their birth order and ages. So I opened up my timeline, pulled out all the stories that mention a Costa Kid and got to work. Soon I had the list of the 12 kids, and their actual ages in each story. And when I applied that to my timeline, everything else fell in place according to the kids.

So the lesson of the day is: if you get stuck on something big, try attacking it from a smaller detail. I couldn't figure out the history of my world until I applied it to the lives of one family. Also, don't be afraid to stop, tackle something else, and go back.

This week, I go back to Live and Let Fly. However, I'll leave you with this scene from "Mishmash."


Fave Phrase: This is the scene that took 2 days and 3 re-writes. The problem was I had a lot of information to get out, but not a lot of words.

The headlines of the Los Lagos Gazette blazed: Grace Dis-Graced: Faerie Nun Resigns Amid Rumors of Magical Misuse and Mental Instability. The Gazette's new dirt-digger, Kitty McGrue, found out about Grace's little episode with Maria and did her own background checks. Turned out Grace, a mage and elite soldier of the Inquisition, spent six months in a Mundane hospital that, among other things, specialized in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When McGrue couldn't get a straight answer on the reason for Grace's hospitalization, she decided to approach parents for "their reaction." She got one, all right.

I called Grace, not really sure what I'd say or why I was bothering. I got her answering machine, stammered out an offer to set McGrue afire and her little headline writer, too, and felt stupid when I hung up. Jerry Jr. called, wanting to know if I was buying him tickets. When I said I thought it was too suspicious but couldn't commit to actual evil intent, he yelled that I was mean and unfair and hung up.
I finished the novena without any Insight From On High.

I got to the gas station just as the price of ethanol went up.

Some days, I hate my life.

Silliness abounds after Communism falls

So, it's been around 17 years since the communistic government of Russia crumbled over its own weight. You don't hear as much about Russia as you used to--no leaders are thumping their shoes on UN podiums and even though my husband is in ICBM maintenance, the kids still have to ask, "Why do we bother with these?"

Well, they've gotten healthier--and are proud of it. Just check out this article where they christen a monument to that sign of good health and luxury everywhere: the enema.

AP Photo

But don't think it's all luxury and sloth! They keep up on important affairs of state: George and Laura Bush to divorce after election because of Condi Rice?

And, now that they have a defense budget, they're flying their bombers and checking up on our ICBMs in accordance to START treaties. Of course, none of their findings on the missile fields is as startling as the fact that you can buy shotguns at Walmart. (Rob's friends at Warren AFB, WY, reported the shock of the Russian inspectors when they discovered the sporting good section.)

Now before anyone thinks I'm Russian bashing, let me ask: are these things really that different from what you find in the Western world?

Aside from the shotguns at Walmart. Guess we need to give them something to work for.

Writer Spam and Submission letters that FAIL

Anybody else get this e-mail (Title: YOUR WORK)

Dear writer,

I find your ability to convey your ideas very refreshing. I think also that your characterizations are some of the best I've read. I think you may enjoy these flash fiction pieces I have written.

Thanks,
(Name removed because either this is a hoax or to spare the person, if real, public embarrassment. I'm pretty certain it's spam, though.)

This has to be spam, right? It has not one, but two attachments entitled THE PERFECT WOMAN. WPS and ABUSE AND SELF-ESTEEM.wps. (Yes, in all caps.)

Does anybody still open attachments from unknown senders? I don't care how complimentary the body of the message is--is anybody in this day and age still that naive?

And let's talk about the body of the message: "Dear writer": This person professes to love my work and its refreshing voice, but addresses me as "writer?" Please. Even a computer program could strip the @fabianspace off my address and give a more convincing "Dear Karina." Plus, I write sci-fi and fantasy--and they send me perfect woman and abuse? Yeah, said person really put some thought into what I'd like.

So, a clever spam approach FAILS.

Coincidentally, this would fail as a submission letter to an editor for the exact same reasons:

* "Dear Editor" Some magazines do say to address "editor" or "submissions editor," but in most cases, taking a few minutes to research the editor's name shows both courtesy and professionalism.

* Generic compliments do not impress an editor; they show lack of imagination or lack of research. Rather than say, "I find your magazine refreshing with some of the best stories I've ever read," compliment something specific. "I'm enjoying Jo Joeson's 'Clueless Spammaster from Beyond.' His e-mails to minions are priceless parody."

* READ THE GUIDELINES! If the mag is sci-fi, don't send fantasy. If they want a specific topic or angle, don't send something different in hopes that your brilliant prose will make them make an exception. It doesn't work that way. Editors please readers, and reader expectations drive guidelines.

* Attachments must be in a form the editor recognizes and works with. When in doubt, .rtf is pretty universal.

Incidentally, submissions to ISIG II are closed, incidentally. I've read all the stories and passed the ones I like on to my husband. However, the Air Force has other plans for his time and attention. It may be awhile.

My Novel's Journey--Writing with kids

I was at my computer, but my mind was in a secret lair in a butte in Idaho. The scene was tense the words were flying...

Vern's been captured. He's injured, bound and muzzled, poisoned and surrounded by seven minions armed with machine guns. Even more, he's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.

Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.

He's caught in its beauty--

"Hey, Mom, when will Dad be home?"

"uh... let me e-mail him, k?"

Vern's injured, bound and muzzled, poisoned and surrounded by seven minions armed with machine guns. Even more, he's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.

Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.

He's caught in its beauty--

"Mom? Did you e-mail Dad?"

"Yes, I did, and I'm trying to write!"

Vern's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead. Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.

He's caught in its beauty--

"What's Liam doing outside, Mom?"

"I don't know! I'm writing. Go look out the window--the other window."

Vern thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.Then he sees it. A dragon stone. The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him. He's caught in its beauty--

"Say, Mom? Can I borrow your mike to record something?"

"Yes! Fine!"

He thinks he's going to die--

"What's the program I need?"

"Audacity! And if it's not downloaded, you have to wait!"

Then he sees--

"Hey, Mom?"

"Please! I'm trying to write! This is a tense scene and Vern is very caught up in his feelings. He's drooling and everything. Just give me ten minutes to drool with Vern!"

"Oooo-kay."

Vern's been captured. He's injured, bound and muzzled, poisoned and surrounded by seven minions armed with machine guns. Even more, he's separated from Grace, from help, even from any trace of magic itself. He thinks he's going to die--not just be seriously inconvenienced for a few centuries while some part of him revives, but permanently no-way-back-dead.
Then he sees it. A dragon stone.

The one thing dragons lust for. The one thing that could save him.

He's caught in its beauty--

"Mom, can you help me with this one thing? Please?"

OK Deep breaths. These are your children. They're more important than any old story. Just walk away from the computer, help your daughter--

"Never mind! I got it."

"aaargh!!!"

Word Count: 41, 832. I need to stop for a couple of days and write some articles and a story I want to submit to an anthology that's filling fast.

Fave Phrase: There were so many this time! However, here's how the scene I was trying to write finally played out:

There's a difference between letting your enemy think you're weak and helpless and actually being so. Picking these guys off one by one or driving them to distraction and getting Charlie and Heather to run for it wasn't going to work. Plan. I needed a new plan. I couldn't think; couldn't focus. Stupid henchmen with their stupid stars and stupid beards and stupid iron bullets...

McThing finished his McBreathing. "Why don't we start again? I think we're losing our focus." He spread his hands placatingly.

I saw it. On his pinkie.

"That's an interesting ring." My voice was hoarse, and I swallowed hard.

"Do you like it? A present from my superior. With this, we will power our plans and rule both worlds."

"Some present. It's hardly a pebble. Any idea how big the ones in my treasure pile back home are?" I forced myself to sound disdainful. I tried not to follow it with my eyes, or one eye; I had to twist my head to keep McThing in my site.

A dragonstone. The most treasured gemstone in my universe. Forged from the beginning of time, so beautiful, bearing the kiss of magic.

I wanted that kiss like I'd never wanted anything in my life. I shivered with need.

Other sock blogs!

Hey, we ahve a few people who have gotten into the sock blogging groove. Check these guys out!

My youngest son made this cool craft with lost socks! http://blueknightsboysclub.blogspot.com/

Tanja Cilia actually got her newspaper to let her blog on lost socks--how cool is that? http://www.timesofmalta.com/blogs/view/20080716/tanja-cilia/sock-it-to-me

Maria gives us the Ode to Lost Socks: http://musingsofmaria.blogspot.com/2008/07/ode-to-socks.html

Susan is trying to blog her lost socks--but suddenly they found their mates! She found a few to put on the Missing Sock Milk Carton Alert. (I'll be guest blogging hers later today.)

Read Angelmeg's tale of woe: http://angelmegtm.blogspot.com/

Linda Lowen blogged on about.com! Orphan socks make the Internet big time!: http://womensissues.about.com/b/2008/07/19/come-saturday-morning-confessions-of-an-orphan-sock-queen.htm

Orphan Sock Week!

Welcome to the Unofficial National Orphan Sock Blog Week!

We've all had the experience: you do all the laundry and when you've folded, hung and matched everything up, there's always a sock left over. Where do they go?

In my house, I'm certain some of them never make it to the washer. They hide in corners, in toyboxes, under beds and chairs... I keep a basket with Socks Without Mates in hope that someday--perhaps when we move--we'll find the other and they can share a tearful lint-free reunion.

Every three years on average we move. That means every three years, our house is totally cleared, things are sorted and packed, shipped, unpacked and re-sorted. Yet I still have unmatched socks that have traveled through three moves. Someone explain!

Maybe we lose them on trips. I've seen single socks, like single shoes, left abandoned on the roadside or in parking lots. I never stop to investigate--perhaps they're just a clever decoy for some roadside bandit looking for to improve their footwear. A girl can't be too careful.

Last time I was visiting my best friend, I did her laundry and happened upon her own sock pile--and recognized some of the orphan socks there. Extended sock vacation in the country, eh?

Then, of course, there are sock thieves. Don't believe me? Check out this article. Here's a guy who won't be doing a turn in the prison laundry room.

Well, we've come to terms with the status of missing socks in our lives. I tend to use them as rags, and of course, the kids love them as craft projects. We've made the standard sock puppets, filed them with spices and beans to make cool/hot packs, and Liam likes to cut the tops and wear them on his wrist. This week, he needed a way to carry his light saber on his belt, do we cut a wide strip off the top, made a second cut about 3/4 of the way through, then tied it in a knot (to make it shorter.) one loop goes on the belt, the other holds the light saber.

Share your sock stories and let me know!

My Novel's Journey: The Name Game

Dick and Jane. Mary Sue. Moe, Larry and Curly--how do you come up with names?
Sometimes, a name just comes to me. Vern d'Wyvern. Yes, it's awful, but it stuck. Thus, I had to come up with a back-story for this truly lame name. (After his encounter with St. George, he was presented to the Pope of the time, who, while a very holy man, didn't have a sophisticated sense of humor. He thought "Vern d'Wyvern" rather droll.)

Other times, I have to hunt for names. Charlie Wilmot, I found by looking at phone directories in England. (I love Google!) For the duchy he serves, I went to a map of England, found the general area and looked for the silliest combination of places I could. I'd remembered some of their towns are city-on-river, and so I came up with Peebles on Tweed. (I'd misremembered Shakespeare's birthplace as "Stratford on Avon" rather than "Stratford upon Avon," so when I combined the names I used "on.") I love the sound of the name.

Sometimes, especially when I'm looking for something specific and it doesn't come to me, I turn to friends for brainstorming. That happened twice this week. Earlier this month, Vern, Grace and Charlie discover the dead body of a professor. I wanted this professor, who was also a mage, to have a fun name to lighten the scene a bit. I couldn't think of one, so whenever I referred to him, I wrote (funname). (That way, when I come up with a name, I can do a global replace.) Then on Wednesday, I asked the folks who gathered for the online chat at The Writers Chatroom for help. After some fun brainstorming based on the fact that my victim was a mage specializing in portals and the Gap, Audrey Shaffer came up with Bill Gates. I loved the idea of a Faerie sharing a famous name, especially in a college atmosphere. You'll see what I did with it below.

Sometimes, though, I know a name is going to be important to future scenes--and in this case, jokes--so I can't move until I have it. This happened when I decided I needed a secret spy organization instead of just the standard FBI, CIA, ETC. At first, I had DICE--Department of Interdimensional Criminal Enforcement. Great potential for jokes. Then it occurred to me that we don’t enforce criminals; we enforce laws.

I was banging my head against the desk when my best e-buddy Ann Lewis showed up on IM. After a few minutes of tossing around acronyms and jokes, we came up with the Bureau for Interdimensional Law Enforcement. BILE. Naturally, I'll have to write in the evil sister organization, Villains for Interdimensional Lawlessness Enhancement, VILE.

Names are such fun!

Word Count: Only 23,400, but I had to dig myself out of a to-do list that was 90 tasks long.

Fave scene: Found on the door of Professor Bill Gates.

Professor William Gates, MT, PhD, GMM. Below that, a computer-generated sign in a page protector read: Pronounced Gay-TEZ. No relation to that Mundane computer fellow, thank you. However, if you are a Mundane and want to learn magic, I suggest computer science." And a map leading to computer science. Below the map read: "Mundanes: You are not genetically suited to handle magic. I cannot change that. I will not change your major. So very sorry."

Dr. Who: Mourning Donna Noble

Note to Dr. Who Fans: Contains spoilers of the Season Four Finale.

Yesterday, we watched the season ender of the latest Dr. Who. Without giving too much away, in the process of saving the universes and time itself (you know, the usual), Donna has to lose all memory of her time with the Doctor, and he takes her back home to the life she had.

I found that the most tragic way to end a friendship with the Doctor, and it bugged me all day (still does.) I talked to Rob about it, in true geekdom fashion; he agreed. "She's been put back in the little box," he said.

For me, it's more than that, though. Sarah Jane got put into the little box; Martha Jones got put into the little back. Rose was trapped in a "little box" of an alternate universe. But they remembered the "big box," and all they were and what they did. What they were capable of doing. They took those experiences with them, and even if they regretted losing the life they'd had, they were better for it.

Donna never gets that. She's had all the incredible experiences, done things she never thought herself capable of, and she doesn’t remember. Never mind the phenomenal knowledge of the Doctor; there were times when her she used her own limited knowledge combined with unique insight, to do the extraordinary. Like Rose Tyler told her, "You've always been brilliant. You just needed the Doctor to show you."

But he didn't. He couldn't. And when he left her, she was back to her old, "Just a temp" ways, loud, narrow-minded and a little ditzy, probably afraid to push beyond her small box because she might fail. "For a moment, she was the most important person in the universe," the Doctor said. But she had to go back to believing she is a nobody.

In a way, it makes me think of what would happen if some brilliant person got Alzheimer's or a massive brain injury in the prime of his or her life. It's just tragic.

Yet, as the doctor told her family, because of Donna, there are worlds still shining, and people singing of Donna Noble. They know what she was, what she could be.

Why is it so important to me that she know as well?

Back to the trivial: Orphan Sock Blog Week starts next Monday! If you want to blog about those socks that mysteriously lose their partners, e-mail me with your blog address and I'll post it on my blog next week.

My Characters Have Trashed my Outline!

Last week, I talked about outlining the plot. So naturally, this week, my characters tossed the plot progression to the winds. In this case, instead of reading about a murder in the newspaper, they discovered the body themselves, and instead of having a starlette-style hissy fit and becoming the spunky sidekick, Heather got herself kidnapped and ended up the damsel in distress! In all, a 10,000-word re-direct at least and some plot complications, not to mention a lot of un-funny prose. So today, I'll talk about going with the flow.

"Seat of the pants" is my natural writing style. I start with an idea or a character that grabs me. If I only have a character, I try to imagine their life--usually some interesting episode--you, know, one that physically or psychologically tortures them, bwa-ha-ha-ha. Often times, I'll have the middle--aka, the height of suffering--pretty firmly in mind, but I try to have the beginning and ending.

This is how I came up with Vern. DragonMoon Press had opened submissions for the anthology Firestorm of Dragons, and I was looking for something that hadn't been done: a cynical dragon PI on the wrong side of the Interdimensional Gap working off a geas by the Faerie Mage, St. George. (I'll tell you more some other time.) From there, I just needed a clichéd simple case gone wrong for him to solve. (DragonEye, PI is out in Firestorm of Dragons.)

Of course, once I have characters I love, they tend to start living out their lives in the dark recesses of my mind. Throughout the day and night, they tell me a little about their lives or share a joke or comment with me. Vern does this a lot because, as you know from his blog, he has a very unique and sarcastic but funny way of looking at things. So when I'm ready to write a story, I come up with an idea or crisis, stick them in it and let them tell me how they get out of it. This works very well with Vern and Grace, because I can pull from old mysteries and legends, mix them up and let them tell me how to solve the case. Essentially, they live it out, and I just transcribe.

In the case of Live and Let Fly, the idea came to me first--a very general idea of pitting Vern against the clichés of superspydom and evil overlordisms. As you know (or would if you'd read last Thursday's post), I thought it very important to plot this one out to make sure I got the clues and clichés in place. Part of that was for Vern and Grace to read about the murder of Professor William Gates (Gay-TEZ, no relation to the Mundane computer entrepreneur). Heather, Charlie's assistant, insisted on accompanying Charlie, where she would use her computer skills to break into the evil overlord's computers for valuable clues. Nice, neat, plenty of room for jokes.

But Vern and Grace are not used to dancing to my tune. Even worse, I hadn't banked on Heather not being as plucky (and amenable to espionage) as I'd expected. So it was with some surprise that Vern and Grace decided to go visit Professor Gates and discover his dead body. Then Heather, in a cliché out of the storybooks, gets kidnapped.

But it gets worse! One of the things playing in the back of my mind has been Faerie's past. Since their universe parallels ours, I imagined they'd had a Great War sometime in the early 20th century; however, since Faerie is a much more religious world, I knew it would be a Satan vs. the Church, of which Vern and Grace were agents of the Inquisition. Now and then, they give me tidbits of that time, which you'll read in the stories. I've also had this vague plan that something bigger than what we see in the books is going on behind the scenes.

What this has led to is that Gates (no relation) has been assassinated with crucis iugolis--the butcher's cross--a favorite killing method of Satan's minions during the Great War.

I didn't plan this. It just came out of my fingers, seriously.

So the characters have shanghaied the plot, and I've spent the last week (about 12,000 words since it was a busy week) trying to figure my way out of it. That means scrapping some jokes, plunging into Charlie's dark side, revisiting Grace's Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and dealing with new questions of jurisdiction.

Why do I put up with this? Because it's much more interesting when my characters tell me what happens than when I make them dance to my tune. The book will have more depth and if not as funny, it's more interesting. However, they've promised me a few fun, new scenes if I can just plug away at the serious stuff a few more thousand words.

Word Count to date: 20, 557, some of which are notes of things to fix.

Fave Phrase: Duke Galen's Herald, Charlie, talks to Heather's kidnappers. I like it because he showed me a side of himself different from the usual happy-go-lucky popinjay stuck making the best of inheriting the family job he doesn’t much like.

"I want to speak to Heather!"

A brief shuffling, then "Charlie! Charlie, I'm in a--" Her sentence ended in a shriek.

"If you harm one hair on her head, you bloody bastard--"

"Sticks and stones--"

"If that's what it takes."

"Tsk, tsk, Herald Wilmot. How very unbecoming of someone of your stature. But to be honest, I have no intention of hurting your beloved. I'm a big fan, actually. I do hope I can coax her out of an autograph. In the meantime, you have information I want."

"No, I don't," Charlie replied, and he didn't have to fake the desperation in his voice. "I'm just the courier. I didn't even know I was carrying anything--"

Laughter. "Quite droll, Mr. Wilmot. As a matter of a fact, I believe you. Your duke's twisted humor is well known even here. I also know he fancies your pretty little girlfriend. You have two hours--"

"Two?" Charlie burst out. "To convince Galen of anything? Better make it twenty-four if you want this precious information of yours."

"You'd bargain with your true love's life?"

"If it means having a real chance of succeeding, bloody hell, yes! Otherwise, just tell me where you are, so I can go die with her."

Busy Moms and Empty Tanks and the World's Best Husband

If you had been on Minot AFB around 6:30 last Thursday, you'd have seen the world's greatest husband walking to the Club in his least comfortable uniform, wanting to fume, but instead telling himself how much he loves his busy, absent-minded wife.

I woke up intending to get 1500 words of Live and Let Fly written, but then remembered I promised to blog about it; then I had e-mails, business for the Catholic Writers' Guild, boys to get ready for zoo camp, which included a sleepover, and a teen to nag about studying for his driver's permit test. (I spent $200 on your class and I'm not letting it go to waste! Step away from the TV!")

I think I got a couple of hundred before it was time to get ready for me to load everyone into the truck and head into town, which is about half an hour's drive from the base. Rob had left me the truck so I could pick up a half-ton of rock to finish the anti-garden in the yard. (We hate gardening.) But first, I had to get Steven's documents for the permit test.

We have 3 firesafes with our important information. One is locked and we can't find the key to. I went into the garage...and found all three locked. With minutes before it was time to leave and kids still shouting, "Where are my shoes?" I found the keys and discovered I can now only get one open. Fortunately, it was the right one. I dug through Steven's file and found his birth certificate along with baptism papers (important to God, but the DMV?), old report cards, social security card...

"Steven, does the book say you need your social security card?"

"No," said my son, who just read the entire book for the third or fourth time. I grab the certificate and go.

We dropped the boys off at zoo camp, then headed across town to get the rock. On the way, I realized I did not know where Steven was supposed to take his test. The only address he found was Bismark, but he dutifully read it off for me to put in the GPS. I grabbed the book. It was where you need to report if you lose a limb or an eye.

"Steven, have you lost an arm?" I remembered agian that my son does not always pay attention to details. It's genetic. Remember that as you read on. Fortunately, the salesman at the quarry knew where and it was only a few blocks away. With 40 minutes until my daughter had to be across town for art lessons (only 10 minutes; this is Minot, we pulled into the little mall--

and found the line out the door. So we went to the grocery store, got donuts and the couple of other things we needed and took Amber to the art studio. When we returned, the line was much shorter. Thanks heavens, because we had one hour for him to get his test before we had to get Amber.

"I need your social security card," Brenda, the DMV clerk, told us.

I looked at my son in exasperation.

"The book doesn't say that!" he insisted. His voice squeaked.

"Yes, it does," she replied patiently. No doubt she's heard this all before. "All I need is the number. Do you have it memorized?"

Oh, yeah. think that's on my list of "To-Do." Seriously. One I wrote about 13 years ago.

"Is there someone you can call?"

While I called, we started on getting my license changed to North Dakota--another thing on my to-do list (about a year overdue, but...) I ended up interrupting Rob in a meeting with his boss. Fortunately, all the crisis and craziness of the Air Force changes have subsided and it was a pretty informal one and not on a hot topic. However, he couldn't find it. Brenda suggested our bank. While they checked if they could get all seven numbers (the computer only displays the last four), the put me on hold. I handed Steven the phone while I got my photo. by the time it popped out of the machine, the bank regretfully informed me that they could not give it to me over the phone. Oh, but I needed $10 to get my license. We had to leave, go to the cash machine, and come back.

We had about 10 minutes left before we had to get Amber.

"Does my mom have to stay here?" Steven asked. "Can't she get the card while I take the test?"

That was fine as long as we were back before four, so we dashed to the gallery, nabbed Amber just as lessons ended, drove home with the poor little Honda straining under a load that maxes its weight limits, found the key, got the card, ran back (vroom, vroom! Go Techa, go!), dropped Steven off, ("You need $5 for the test." Glad the machine only gave out 20s, or I'd have had to make another trip.) Ran back to the zoo to get the boys, ran back to the DMV to get Steven, who got an 80 percent, but needed $10 more to get the permit. (Why not ask for $15 and be done with it?) We went back tot he ATM, back to the DMV--fortunately, Kind Brenda let us skip the lines--THEN headed home with a budding new driver staring at his permit and giggling maniacally all the way home.

"Phenomenal cosmic power?" I asked him.

"No, the look on Amber's face when she sees it!" Amber's greatest fear is her brother behind the wheel.

We got home with just enough time to switch cars, leaving Rob with the truck so he could drive it to a formal function while I took the little boys back to zoo camp for their overnight and the older ones out to celebrate Steven's victory. We threw him kisses and left as he was getting into his Mess Dress (the tuxedo of the Air Force) and headed back into town in the van.

Leaving him with a truck that had passed Empty somewhere on I-83 and made it home on fumes. It didn't even turn over for Rob.

Oh, it gets worse. We got home and found the truck there, I was proud of him, thinking he'd chosen to walk. We dropped off Amber, and found a parking lot where Steven got his first lesson. When we got back, Rob met us at the garage in t-shirt and shorts.

"First lesson of driving--read the d*(& gas gage!" he snarled.

I never saw the empty light, never heard a warning, never noticed the needle resting exhausted on the little peg by the E. Yep, genetic.

Fortunately, my man knows what he married and this was my first Empty offense. He forgave me fast and we went into town to get gas, then emptied out a few wheelbarrow loads to relieve the poor truck. Steven, Amber and I finished the truck the next day and I gassed it to full. (Can't tell you how much it cost; I didn't want to look.)

Later that day, we had a picnic, one of our friends who was at the awards banquet Thursday night mentioned how philosophical Rob had been about the whole thing. "I would have been furious, and all he said was, "She didn't mean to."

Yeah, I married an amazing man.

Organizing the plot

Today, we begin with organizing the plot.

Normally, I'm a seat-of-the-pants writer. I have a good idea of t he beginning and the end and some ideas for getting from one to the other; but otherwise, I let my characters lead me. I have a lot of fun and a lot of surprised this way. However, it doesn't work as well for a novel-length thriller/mystery. Despite the jokes and fantasy setting, that's what I'm trying to do, and I didn't want someone to come back disappointed that I'd dropped a clue or left something hanging.

I have a terrific program, Anthemion Storylines. It simulates index cards on a cork board--great for organizing, making notes, storing ideas until I can use them... I've written entire stories off of it, and use it to keep track of my Magic, Mensa and Mayhem serial. Great program--but it failed me this time. For some reason, my head needed a new method to identify holes, figure out links, etc.

Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff, who writes amazing stuff, told us during a workshop chat at the Catholic Writers Conference Online that when she is stuck, she uses Post-It Notes on a white board. So, I spent a couple of hours writing out blue stickies, re-arranging, consulting my husband, and thinking. And it worked! Something about the tactile process loosened my brain--or maybe it was because I felt very silly--the eccentric writer. I can get into that.


(Note--this is a recreation. I can't find the actual photo, but when I do, I'll replace it.)

Word Count: 11,500. About 2000 behind my goal, but we meetings and yard work took priority.

Fave Scene:

Setup: Vern, Grace and some agents are discussing how demigods get their power. (The old cliché that they feed off worship, human sacrifice, etc...) I found a reference that the cult of Adonis consisted of planting fast-growing plants, then mourning when they wilt. (Yep! How do I resist that?) I'd also just finished scrubbing out my son's dead Chia pet. Here's what that gave me:

(Vern said) "...Different demigods have different preferences, however. Sekhmet, death; Coyote, practical jokes and general mischief--"
"Adonis?" Rak asked with a cocked eyebrow.
Grace cocked her brow in return. "Crying over dead plants, actually. He has a special fondness for women with black thumbs, but he's not powerful enough for a portal. He's really a very sweet soul. Plus, other than finding Chia pets™ amusing, he's not especially interested in the Mundane world."

Declaring Orphan Sock Blog Week! July 14-21

My friend Susan Kirkland and I were IMing discussing orphan socks—you know the ones who have lost their mates? We thought it would be really funny to get our friends to post pictures of the lost-buddy socks on our blogs, and see if we could find matches.

So by the power invested in us by the chaotic authority of the Internet, we declare July 14-21 Orphan Sock Blog Week. To participate, dedicate at least one post that week to a picture or pictures of socks that have tragically lost their partners to the dryer, frisky pets or absent-minded kids (or spouses).

If you want to participate in sockblog sharing, send me your blog's website addy and I'll post it on the 14th. Then we can visit each other's blogs and search for our socks!

More possible fun for Orphan Sock Blog Week:

--Top 10 reasons why socks get lost
--Creative uses for lost socks
--Lost Sock story
--Sock jokes (I was about to say sock-sock jokes, but that's counter to the theme)

Novel Journey: Writing Live and Let Fly

DOES


Step 1: Idea Generation

I've finally gotten the completed, revised and fully appendixed version of Magic, Mensa and Mayhem to my publisher at Swimming Kangaroo. This is the first novel in the DragonEye, PI series. Now, I've started work on #2, Live and Let Fly. Vern the dragon detective; his partner, nun and mage Sister Grace; the Herald Charlie Wilmot and his fiancée, the teen star Rhoda Dakota team up with CIA agent Stan Rakness in a spy spoof that that targets cliché's like a 007 opening credits roll. My due date is November, and my intention is to have it done this summer.

I thought this time I'd take you along with me as I travel the convoluted path of interdimensional intrigue, Faerie magic and Mundane technology, fantasy clichés and evil overlord errors. Will you learn something about the novel writing process? Maybe, but mostly, I hope you'll be having fun.

I'll post every Thursday, and Monday if I have extra news.

Let's begin with research.

This line of DragonEye, PI novels are big on comedy. (Someday, I want to write their more serious cases, which I've been doing mostly in short story thus far.) For me, the fun for both lines comes from twisting clichés and mixing up fairy tales, legends and other stories.

Somehow, the song "Live and Let Die" got stuck in my head as I was musing over the next DragonEye novel, and Live and Let Fly is the result. So my first step was to watch some 007 flicks and take notes. I grabbed a random selection based on what was available at the Minot ND blockbuster and we had family movie night.

Watching as a parent of four, including one teenage daughter, is a very different experience from watching Bond as a young adult. My daughter found the early James Bond "creepy," and I had to agree. The other movies had a lot of flash and stunts and fun, but not as much as I thought I could translate into a book.

So next, I went to the books, which are free for download on-line (http://www.truly-free.org/) and discovered a very different Bond. Here was a spy who relied on brains and bravado instead of technogadgetry. But oh, the clichés and anachronisms. Did you know Bond had a fear of flying--and wouldn't you know a storm hits him in at least one flight per book? Forget about his attitude toward women--have you read the portrayal of Blacks? I'm sure Fleming thought he was being very progressive, but Yowza! What a difference a handful of decades makes! Still, it was an unexpected surprise, as I can adapt that attitude toward the Faerie.

Then I moved on to other spy movies. Austin Powers is already a parody in itself--no way to shag that one, baby!--and ditto for Get Smart, so I looked at the Avengers. What a disappointing movie. What a fertile ground for ideas!

In the end, I had several pages of research, for which I now need to search, as the kids used my notebook for something else and it's in the house....somewhere. The best ideas have stayed with me, no worries. I intend to have an appendix showing where each cliché came from--or maybe I'll do that as a contest on my website. I need to consult my publisher on that.

So I had the clichés and a basic idea of what I wanted to do. Next week, I'll talk about organizing.

Word Count Update: I started writing on Monday with the goal of 1000-1500 words a day. I am at 4300 words and just starting Chapter 3. Vern has had an argument with his least-favorite person, reporter Kitty McGrue, Charlie has been mugged, and the crime scene is frustratingly empty of evidence. Today, they meet the Duke, then Rakness, Stan Rakness.

Firestorm of Dragons Book Trailer!

You'll no doubt recognize Vern of DragonEye, PI. His first story is in the anthology.

Learn more at www.firestormofdragons.com

Purchase at Amazon.com.

Chicago Printer's Row Book Fair Report

Despite disappointing sales, the Chicago Tribune Printer's Row Book Fair was a lot of fun. In all, I sold five books: two of Passport, two of Seven Archangels: Annihilation, and one of Firestorm of Dragons. (I could have sold two more of these, but it was kids interested in it and I had to warn them that one story is really PG-13 or more.) I passed out a lot of information, and on the last day, went to each booth and gave information to each new bookstore owner who had a booth. I hope it makes an impact.

It's very interesting having a Christian/Catholic table at a book fair. I had one person very interested in Emily's Hope until the woman found out NFP stood for Natural Family Planning. Another person looked at "Seven Archangels: Annihilation" and even though it's a fantasy story about angles battling Satan, declared. "The Exorcist was too scary for me--I could never read this!" (Catholic fiction=The Exorcist. Wow.) Another person called me "Sister." I was wearing a skirt, but are there any religious orders that wear fedoras instead of wimples?

I did meet a sister, a member of the Daughters of St Paul and learned a little about her order's publishing company. I also met the pastor of St. Vianney Parish and gave him a bunch of books for his parish's library. They want to hold a series of lectures on Catholic writing. Makes me wish I lived closer.

When things were slow, I did some readings of different books. One person loved Tannia Ortiz-Lopez's poem "Who Am I?" and took a flier. Hope he'll get the book. I had a lot of folks take fliers, so perhaps some later sales will come from it.

Of course, I was there with The Writers' Café Press/Lost Genre Guild, who applied for the table I was manning. Cyn and Scott are terrific people. We spent a lot of time hawking each other's books, keeping on the lookout for interesting people, swapping bunny ears for photos, and talking about faith in science fiction. Frank and I discussed free will as the true test for artificial intelligence and swapped stories on our latest projects while sitting in a drizzle waiting for Cynthia to come back from Menard's with a tarp. And Frank got me stuffed crust pizza from the restaurant that invented it. Oooooo--nibbled that all the way home!

Chicago weather had a lot of fun with us. We went early to my friend's farm in S. Beloit, and were treated to days of showers and severe thunderstorms and threats of tornadoes. Saturday of the fair, tornadoes hit the suburbs. Fortunately, on Saturday, we didn't get much wind and only a drizzle right around closing time. With tarps on the tables, we were fine for the night. Sunday started out with gusty winds and some drizzling. We didn't get a lot of traffic, so Frank and I decided to leave Cynthia to man the booths while we wandered the booths and peddle our wares to the booksellers themselves. While in the actual bookstore on Printer's Row, the sky opened up and we had a deluge with high winds--so bad, tents were sliding down the street despite being weighed down with barrels of water. When we got back to the booth, Cynthia had managed to get tarps on both tables--despite the wind blowing both tarps and her shirt up--and finally just sat on the tables to weigh them down. We piled stuff on the tables while she ran for the car. It slowed some as we packed, and by the time we'd finished, it had stopped. By then, of course, we were not just dripping but weighed down by the water in our clothes. We drove to the parking garage where my van was and changed clothes ducked behind the car doors. My felt fedora is still drying out and it's Thursday!

I went home and dried out the books--about 20 got water damage, though only 3 were in really bad shape.

Overall, the book fair was fun to do, but I don't think I'll ever try to sell books that way again. Everyone who sent me their books to sell has been very understanding--and frankly, I don't think any of the new-books tables sold much--but I feel awful that I couldn't do more for them. If there's ever a next time, I'll only have a few books to put on the table and hand out more stuff.

And maybe I'll sell ice water and umbrellas instead.

On Vacation

On vacation until June 14. If you're in Chicago, drop gy the LGG booth at the Chicago Tribune Ptinter's Row Book Fair June 7,8.

new story out and going to book fair

My flash fiction story, "Innocents," tied for first place in the Muse Marquee Flash Fiction Contest and will appear in their May issue. You can check it out at the Muse Marquee.

I'm pretty stoked, because I usually don't enjoy or write flash (stories under 500 words), but the opening line for the contest inspired me. My thanks to Lea Schizas for pointing the contest out to me and the Catholic Writers' Guild who critiqued it before I sent it out.

I'm off to the Chicago Printers Row Book Fair. If you're around, check out the LGG/CWO booth and say hi!

Memorial Day Speech by Rob Fabian

Today, Rob and I spent Memorial Day with the Veterans of Foreign Wars in Drake, ND. Rob was invited to give a speech, and we went to the cemetery for the gun salute and laying of the wreath. then we had an enjoyable lunch talking with the vets--comparing notes and swapping stories.



Here's Rob's speech honoring the troops.

Memorial Day Ceremony – Drake ND
Lt Col Robert A. Fabian
DATE: Monday, 25 May 2008, 1000 hrs
EVENT: Memorial Day Ceremony
LOCATION: City Hall, Drake ND
THEME: “Recognizing Those Who Gave Their Lives”

Good morning. I’m honored that you asked me to come back to speak to you again
• And to share this particular day with you all
• Because today is truly a special day across our great Nation
As our President said in his Memorial Day proclamation this year
• Today is the day “we honor the heroes who have laid down their lives in the cause of freedom,
• We “resolve that they will forever be remembered by a grateful nation,”
• And we “pray that our country may always prove worthy of the sacrifices they have made.”
And, at times, the sacrifices have been great indeed …
For more than 230 years, the men and women of our Nation have stood proud and manned the ramparts from which America has guarded its freedom, ideals and values
When it has mattered most, patriots from every corner of our great Nation have taken up the fight
• From Valley Forge to San Juan Hill, and Iwo Jima to Tora Bora
• Men and women in uniform have answered the call to duty with courage and conviction
• And more than 650,000 have paid the eternal price
Every one of those has been a cause for grief
• Every death has devastated families and friends;
• Every death has been mourned by fellow comrades-in-arms on the front lines and at rear bases
• And every death has saddened the American public
While our actions today can never do justice to the sacrifices they have made in our name
• We must honor those who gave their lives that we might live free
• For as Abraham Lincoln once said: “Any nation that does not honor its heroes will not long endure.”
Here in Drake, we join the entire nation and pause with solemn gratitude, deep respect, and unwavering dedication.
• To remember the heroes through the centuries who stood forth for us all
• While the front lines may be different and the equipment may have changed, the fight is still the same: upholding freedom against tyranny
Today, we gratefully remember the guardians who have died defending our freedoms and the American way of life
And that was just their final sacrifice... the greatest among many
• These guardians loved America so much, they spent months and years in foreign lands far away from home and loved ones
• They revered freedom so much, they sacrificed their own in support of a noble cause
• They cherished peace so much, they chose to live as warriors
• And they valued life so much, they were willing to lay theirs down in service to our country
We, as a Nation, honor them, one and all
• And must stand together, to ensure their sacrifices were not in vain
• That the nation that they loved more than life itself remains vibrant and strong
• The land of the free… because of the brave
As President Bush noted in his Memorial Day Proclamation last year: “Our Nation mourns them, and their example of strength and perseverance gives us resolve.”
Today, we are faced with the grim reality of a Global War on Terror
• A war that has claimed more than 4,500 active-duty, Reserve and Guard warriors
• A war that continues to take its toll
A price paid across our nation
• From the cities of the east coast
• To the beaches of the west
• And to every state in between
On this special day of remembrance, we think of Army Major Alan Johnson
• Who was killed by a roadside bomb in January 2007
• Born in Jamestown and raised in Montpelier, he answered his nations call to arms
• At the his memorial service, Major General David Sprynczynatyk (“sprin-suh-NAT-ick”), the North Dakota Adjutant General, said Major Johnson “lived and breathed his service to God, his family and his country”
We remember Army Staff Sergeant David Kuehl (“keel”) of Wahpeton ND,
• Who was killed by a roadside bomb in May 2007 during his second tour of duty in Iraq

And we think of Army Sergeant Travis Van Zoest (“zoost”),
• Who was killed in June 2006 while on a reconnaissance mission in Afghanistan
• His name will be added to the All Veteran’s Memorial in Bismarck later this year
However, while Memorial Day is a time of remembrance, it is not just about grief – not just about our Nation’s loss
• It is also a time for us to remind ourselves that in every generation, brave men and women willingly stand up and take the oath to serve in all branches of the military
Even more significantly, this special day serves to remind us that that price is not yet paid in full
• Liberty to always unfinished business
• And, as Thomas Jefferson wrote over two centuries ago
o The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots
It’s a high price – but our ideals and values – our freedoms – are a treasure beyond all cost

As we honor our fallen comrades this morning, Airmen, Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines stand watch around the world on freedom’s front
• Continuing the tradition of noble and faithful service to our country
As an Airman, I’m proud of what we do on a daily basis
• We fly over 300 sorties a day supporting operations in Iraq and Afghanistan
o And have flown more than a million combat and combat support sorties since September 11th
• Here at home, over 125 Airmen from Minot Air Force Base are currently deployed to the front lines, and hundreds more are preparing to deploy in the months ahead
• As we gather here today, Airmen stand alert buried deep under the North Dakota plains
o Ready to act on a moments notice and unleash nuclear fire in defense of our nation
o Deterring the unthinkable – just as they have for over 40 years

And while we stand ready to rain destruction on our enemies, we also stand ready to offer a hand to those in need – American values in action
• In just the past month, America’s Airmen have delivered 200,000 pounds of relief supplies to China in wake of their recent catastrophic earthquake
• And brought 400,000 tons of relief supplies to Burma
o Easing the incredible suffering arising in the wake of their recent devastating typhoon
Together, the men and women of our Armed Forces follow in a proud tradition -- one handed down by those that served before
On this Memorial Day, we gratefully recognize those who gave their lives to ensure our country remains free
• May we never forget those who have died for love of our great country;
• Never fail to live up to their standard of courage and conviction;
• And never falter in our resolve that the “cause for which they died shall live eternally.”
Thank you!

Bill Gates and the Cylon Conspiracy

Received this from an anonymous reader.

I applaud your bravery in revealing the identity of the Final One. Many of us have suspected for some time now, but have been afraid to reveal it--except the Linux users, but who would believe them?

How it came to pass that a cylon could be here on Earth is not important at the moment; but you all need to be warned! The process of incorporating him into our society has left the last of the Bills with no conscious memory of his true heritage (much like the Final Four in the colonial fleet). However, it did instill in him a longing for his kind, a longing he's spent his life trying to fulfill. Fortunately for us Terrans, 21st century programming is not up to the challenge.

We have found a dangerous sign. Already, Microsoft is working with automobile manufactureres to install windows in automobile computing systems. We must make the Public aware!

Just a lot of paranoid hokey? Please consider: The Hybrid:





Hybrid ships speak nonsense only they understand. Windows ™ speaks nonsense only it understands. Windows ™ is being installed in transportation vehicles. Hybrids run transportation vehicles.

Do We See the Pattern, People?

Writing Chores and a Battlestar Galactica Epiphany

I've been hard at work writing saint stories for teens for a school planner I'm writing. It's actually been a challenge because each story must:
--be 200 words
--cover that month's virtue (determined by the publisher)
--be a saint whose feast day is in that month
--be "diverse" (i.e., not too many men, too many Europeans, etc.)

Research has been the hardest part. I kept finding saints with really cool stories but not for the virtue of that month. Or I'd have to reject them because I had enough men or already had someone from Spain, or... I found eleven that fit the bill nicely, I think. Now, I'm having some teens read them to tell me if I'm "lame."

Then I spent the weekend checking Magic, Mensa and Mayhem for passive voice. Wow, does Vern use "was" a lot! Three days I spent re-writing sentences. Now I'll read it once more and send it off.

My only breaks have been watching Full Metal Alchemist, Dr. Who and Battlestar Galactica.



The Colonials and the Cylons certainly share one common trait: complete lack of foresight. ("Hey, we need to talk to the hybrid. Let's plug her in." Did anyone think to disconnect her from any vital systems like, I don't know, the JUMP drive? They probably clean their guns loaded, too. Except Athena. She just empties it into somebody first.)

Anyway, this morning, it occurred to me how the show ends. The last unknown cylon isn't in the fleet--he's already on Earth!


(Bill Gates)

It all makes sense now....

On Cats and Lolcatz

(Busy day--I'll tell you more about the conference Monday.)

I have a wonderful cat, Elbereth, patron saint of harried cats and Queen of the Fabian Household (All Hail!)

She schmoozed her way into our home 11 years ago by climbing up on Rob's chest and giving him the "happy claws" massage while purring and butting her head under his chin. Rob does not like cats. She changed his mind fast. "It's the cat that thinks its a dog! Honey, let's keep her."

I love cats. Didn't have to ask me twice.

Now, of course, she's shown her full cat side, from taking over the office chairs to peeing on the laundry when her catbox does not meet her standards. Of course, Rob's now assimilated into the mysteries of Cat. She also likes to pose next to my keyboard when I type, or if she believes she's due some homage, get between me and the keyboard.



So it's probably no surprise that we fully identify with Lolcatz. http://icanhascheezburger.com/

Lolcats are so popular, people are even translating the Bible into Lolcat. (Can you say, "too much free time?"

Today, a friend and I were talking about casting out demons and text messaging. (Yep one of those kinds of conversations) and I came up with Lolcat Exorcist

Catholic Writers' Conference Online a Hit!

Sorry this is late; I was cleaning up the chats from the Catholic Writers' Conference Online for the e-book. BTW-the e-book is for sale to anyone, so if you missed it, feel free to contact me to order a copy ($5 for PDF, $10 for CD).

What a terrific conference! Well beyond my expectations. First, we had 300 people register--half again the goal we'd set. We had two dozen presenters with about 40 workshops or chats in all covering everything from plotting out your story to working with your editor to marketing your book. Here were a few of my favorites:

Mark Shea kicked things off with a wonderful discussion on How Faith Connects Everything. I moderated this one, and it got a little out of hand from the moderating POV because opinions and ideas just flew. However, Mark summed it up this way: "It is our right and proper mission, not to spend all our time fussing about the arrangements of the sanctuary, but bringing Christ into the world. The last words of the Mass, properly translated, are "Go! You are sent" That's how I see my work as a writer."
Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff's chats on plot and showing characterization had excellent advice and practical examples. The day after the conference, I whipped out a short story and the entire time, I kept "hearing" her remind me about what we'd learned.

"Writing with Faith and Without Bias" was another fun and practical chat. Woodeene Koenig-Bricker has a nice direct style and a fun way of putting things. "(When interviewing someone whose religious beliefs are radically different from mine) At times I've approached it as I would feeding time for the reptiles at the zoo. 'My my, that snake just ate a live rat. Well, isn't that interesting?' Not, "Oh gag, I could never eat a rat.'"

I could rave about all the chats, but let's move on to forums.

Forums didn't work as well as chats this time. I think we didn't give a good enough focus on how they could best be used, so some folks didn't know how to handle them. However, a few were excellent with a lot of participation and attendees getting some one-on-one coaching from a person experienced in the field.

I think Branding and Marketing was a big hit, especially considering that Audrey Shaffer slid into the schedule at the last minute. (Thanks, Audrey!) The Daily Devotional workshop with Patricia Punt was also very well-received. (I'm betting the DD magazines are going to love some of the submissions they receive in the coming months.)

I personally got a lot out of Michelle Buckman's The Right Details and Sylvia Dorham's Character and Dialog. I love forum workshops with writing exercises. It gives my brain a chance to twist them into my genre. (Sylvia asked us to do dialog between two characters we'd made--with them seeing a tornado. My characters were a computer hacker and his confessor for a cyberpunk story I want to write. Cyberpunk with a Tornado!" OO! And I just came up with the next scene! See why these workshops are so great?)

Then of course, there were the pitch sessions. You know how some writers conferences arrange for folks to spend 10 minutes with an editor to pitch their work? We re-created it in cyberspace! Terry Burns, agent, graciously critiqued query letters in his forum workshop and asked to see proposals on some.

Pauline Press's pitch session relied on us having two chat rooms--one where Sr. Maria Grace Dateno, Sr. Christina Wegendt and Diane Lynch would chat privately with the pitcher and one where folks hung out until it was their turn. So doesn't it figure that that was the ONE TIME the website went down, trapping us in the single chat room? While Ann made a desperate call to the host provider to get it straightened out, I opened up the chat room on the website and directed people there. People were already nervous, then to have to deal with tech errors and website hopping--plus a few had problems with the copy and paste function! One pitcher joked about resisting the urge to throw up on her keyboard. But for all that, it went amazing well, with most of the pitchers invited to send on the manuscript or proposal. Those that didn't get invited simply had books that didn't fit Pauline Books and Media's needs.

I think about 75 percent of the attendees were not used to the chat room/forum environment, and the website had such a problem with cookies that we had to wonder if it was on a diet. However, overall, the conference was a huge success and we're looking forward to doing it next year.

Thanks again to Ann Lewis for getting the website together and to Heidi Hess Saxton for recruiting such great presenters. The conference was co-sponsored by the Catholic Writers Guild and Canticle Magazine.

When Your Child Has Been Abused by Heidi Hess Saxton

Today's blog is a guest post by my friend, Heidi Hess Saxton. You might not expect to see the topic of child abuse in my blog--I usually try to be light and fun--but as a parent, this is one of my nightmares--one we've avoided, thank you, God, but one some of our friends have had to deal with. I hope this might help some of you or someone you know.

Dear Friends: This article is a topic that adoptive and foster parents need to be aware of. Because of the importance of the material, I had it reviewed by two Catholic counselors before sending it on to you. May God grant that this material help at least one struggling family, and save many lives.

When Your Child Has Been Abused
by Heidi Hess Saxton


John Paul the Great’s letter on the vocation and dignity of Catholic women, Mulieris Dignitatem, particularly for those who embrace the call to authentic femininity, is a powerful source of encouragement. It gives us a glimpse of the true splendor and beauty of each woman’s call to holy advocacy and service. In the words of the Second Vatican Council documents, “Women impregnated with the Spirit of the Gospel can do much to aid humanity in not falling.”

This popular quote has often been on my mind lately, as I have listened to the stories of adoptive mothers who are struggling to reconcile our calling to “aid … in not falling” with the task at hand: to participate in the redemption of young souls who have already been caused to fall.

Innocence Lost

Parents have a solemn responsibility to teach their children about God and His Church, and ensure that they receive at an early age all the graces available to them so that they might continue to grow up strong and mature in the faith. This challenge is hard enough for parents raising children entrusted to them from the womb. For adoptive parents, the task can be overwhelming. Genetic predispositions, pre-placement environmental influences, and emotional barriers stemming from loss and grief may not surface until years after the adoption is finalized.

Tragically, some barriers can be even more menacing and potentially destructive. In the past week I’ve encountered two different families – one black, one white – in which the children’s history of sexual abuse came up months or even years after placement in ways that nearly destroyed the entire family. In one case, an adoptive father committed suicide because he did not know how to defend himself from the baseless accusations of the three girls he and his wife had adopted. (Only later was it revealed that the children had been abused by their family of origin.)

While children don’t generally make up stories of abuse out of thin air, it is not unprecedented for a previously abused child to “turn” on a safe person out of displaced anger or spite. (This is especially common with older foster children, who use such accusations to manipulate and control the foster parents and/or social workers.) In these cases, careful documentation and close contact with a social worker or therapist is critical to safeguarding the safety of all concerned.

In the second instance I encountered, a single mother who had fostered eight children, while in the process of adopting two of them, discovered that her babysitter had violated the boys. They began acting out on other children, and ultimately were taken from the foster mother’s care. Years later, she still finds it difficult to forgive herself for not seeing it, not doing more to help them. All she could do was focus on the little children in her care that she could help.


Spotting the Abuse

Sadly, children who have been abused when they are young have scars that make them vulnerable to subsequent abuse. So sorting out the real threats from the fears is very important, and often requires the help of a trained professional. However, it is usually the parent (adoptive or foster parents included) who first see the signs that the child has unresolved trauma. Signs include:

• Child acts out in ways that are sexually suggestive or physically aggressive,
• Child has persistent nightmares or bedwetting (age 5+),
• Child touches self or others inappropriately and/or compulsively,
• Child is suddenly fearful or overly compliant around another adult (80 percent of molested children know their abusers – family friends, teachers, extended family members, etc.)
• Child is suddenly fearful of changing clothes or venturing outside home (to school or babysitter’s)
• Child draws disturbing images (or reenacts these stories with dolls),
• (In teenagers), child suddenly loses interest in her appearance, and/or alienates him or herself from friends and family.
• Additional information may be found here: http://www.helpguide.org/mental/child_abuse_physical_emotional_sexual_neglect.htm

As adoptive parents – particularly parents of older adoptees with a vague history of neglect and/or abuse – we must steel ourselves for the possibility that the time may come when we are asked to participate in the painful process of redemption for our children. We may find ourselves having to re-direct our children again and again, and get for them (and ourselves) the help needed to resolve and receive healing for the violations they received before they came to us (or even, God forbid, at the hands of a third party while under our care). These wounds go deep, and leave a scar that may make them unwitting targets for subsequent abuse.

What should you do if you suspect your child has been abused?

First, pray and seek counsel so you can think clearly and react calmly. It is crucial that you can be spiritually strong for the child. You are being called to model authentic love for a child who has suffered at the hands of the counterfeit. While you are getting help for your child, go to daily Mass if you can; pray the Rosary and have others do the same on your behalf (though be careful to protect the child’s privacy as much as possible when you make your request known).

Assure your child that you love him or her, and that you are going to help him or her. Nothing he tells you will make you angry with him, or make you love her less. Be careful not to react with anger or disgust if you witness an “acting out” episode – see it for the cry of help that it is. For your own safety and that of your child, carefully document in writing how, when, and where you encounter signs of abuse.

Second, consider the safety of the other children in the family. Children who have experienced sexual abuse frequently abuse younger children. You may need to install door alarms or other safety devices, and take other safety precautions (such as not bathing the children together or allowing them to be left alone in a room together). Children can and do heal from all kinds of abuse … However, such healing does not occur overnight. It may be necessary to have the child placed temporarily or even permanently in a home where no other children are present, for his own good and for the safety of the other children in the home.

Third, get professional help for the child. As a parent, you must find the truth and get your child the help he or she needs – the sooner the better. Catholic therapists who specialize in sexual abuse may be found at http://www.catholictherapists.com. If no qualified Catholic counselors are in your area, Pastoral Solutions (http://www.exceptionalmarriages.com/services.htm) offers telecounseling.

Fourth, protect the child’s privacy as much as possible without endangering others. If you have a social worker, consult with him or her about what you have observed and get his or her recommendations for next steps. Again, be sure to make careful records of when, where, and what you have observed. This information is too crucial to entrust to memory.

If your child has been “acting out” with other children in the home, make an appointment with the school counselor and/or teacher to discuss the importance of supervising children closely, especially in the bathroom and on the playground. By acknowledging that you are aware that your child has a history of abuse, you safeguard your own child’s well-being as well as that of other children.

If you suspect your child is being abused by a third party, it is absolutely critical that you trust your gut and do whatever is necessary to keep your child safe. If another child is the source of the problem, alert that child’s parents; if the children must continue to have contact with each other (such as siblings), they must be monitored continuously and closely. If you suspect your child is being abused outside the home, changing babysitters or even schools is a small price to pay for peace of mind. Once the child is safe, you may then need to file a formal report with Child Protective Services (CPS), for the sake of other children.

Suzanne Baars adds: “Eighteen states require by law that one must report suspected child abuse. Once a child is in counseling and this information is shared with the counselor, either the counselor or the parent will be required to report the matter to Child Protective Services.” Adult perpetrators will be required to leave the home – or the children will be placed in protective custody. When the perpetrator is a child, that child may need to be placed temporarily or even permanently in a home where there are no other children present.

Fifth, do not waste time in self-blame or self-doubt. You love your children, and want them to grow up to be strong, healthy Christians. You may have ambivalent feelings about what has happened – questioning whether you could have said or done anything to prevent the abuse. You may be angry with yourself for having unwittingly endangered your child, for having put him in this school or her in that daycare situation. You may be harboring hateful or even murderous thoughts about the individuals who did these things to your children, wanting more than anything for them to experience the full consequences of their actions. This is normal … but it is also harmful to hold on to these feelings.

Talk with your priest in the sacrament of reconciliation; seek out a professional counselor who can help you work through these issues so that you might be able to forgive yourself and (ultimately) the perpetrator. It is important to release yourself of that burden, so you can be free to help your children. God has entrusted a special cross to you; He is asking you to help your child find healing, and to model forgiveness. Not for the sake of the abuser, but so that those who are touched by the abuse might find peace. God bless you!

Heidi would like to acknowledge the valuable assistance of Suzanne Baars and Dr. Gregory Popcak, who both reviewed this article prior to publication. Suzanne was especially helpful in describing the legal responsibilities of one who suspects abuse has occurred. You may contact Suzanne through “In His Image Christian Counseling Services” (http://www.conradbaars.com/SueBaarsBio.htm).

Copyright 2008 Heidi Hess Saxton. Used with permission. For permission to reprint, contact the author through her website:
http://www.christianword.com.

Conferences, Politics and Firefly

Sorry I'm late--the conference was busy and a blast yesterday. Today, I'm running the Catholic Writers Conference Online website solo because my best friend, co-coordinator and webmistress extraordinairre, Ann Lewis, is manning the polls in her area. (help me....)

So, I thought it was only appropriate to tell you today about my favorite Non-Candidate, Gray Rinehart:

Meet the anti-candidate: we're not on the ballot for President, Senator, Governor, Representative, County Council, City Council, School Board, or any elected office (so far as we know). You won't see our name on those irritating little signs in your neighborhood. You won't see any obnoxious "I approved this message" ads on television. In fact, if you're committed to one party or one issue and you find a candidate who will represent you adequately, we encourage you to vote for that person.

Then again, if you find you're not satisfied with the candidates already on the ballot -- and you can't pick one to vote against, as Robert A. Heinlein suggested -- just vote against all the candidates and write in "Gray Rinehart." It doesn't matter what office: put us down for any or all of them. (Be sure to spell the name right; we wouldn't want the election officials to get confused.) On the off chance that we win, we probably won't show up anyway, since we agree with Thomas Jefferson: "That government governs best which governs least."

Read More.

On his forum, he also has a thread for discussion of his political views. Some serious, some fun, but he forgot one:
T
he vital issue of Science Fiction.

Let's take just one point: the return of Firefly. I can understand McCain not addressing this--though he'd love the guns and horses, his staff would have to work him into the idea of science fiction as a whole.

But Obama? He's a democrat--how can he not be aware of a television show? Oh, that's right. It was on Fox.

Hilary, I think hinted at it with her campaign ad: It's 3 AM and the terrorists strike. Who do you want in the White House? The answer is obvious:

Malcolm Reynolds.

Review of My Own Kind of Freedom: a Firefly Novel by Steven Brust

I adore the FOX SF series Firefly. I found it refreshing and unique in its approach and voice. Where Gene Roddenberry tried to make "wagon train in space," and came up with something special but different, Joss Wheadon truly hit the mark with "the Wild West in space" with all its raw energy, unsanitized morality and excellent combination of genres. It quickly gained critical acclaim and an incredibly faithful fan base.

Sadly, FOX didn't see things the way reviewers and fans did, and they canceled the series after 13 short episodes. Of course, as with any good show, you can't totally kill it, and Firefly lives on in fanfict.

Thus comes Steven Brust's novel, My Own Kind of Freedom. Even the title is distinctively Firefly--and he lives up to the expectations it sets.
The crew of Serenity actually has a legal mission for once--delivering a load of lumber to a rich landowner on Hera names Sakaya. The planet, home of Serenity Ridge, where Mal and Zoe fought the fateful battle where the Browncoats at last lost the war, brings back unwelcome memories, but all they have to do is unload, get paid, buy a grav boot and go. Of course, nothing is easy for this crew.

Jayne gets caught stealing from one of their contacts and leaves the crew in a huff after refusing to return the merchandise. Naturally, his next step is to contact the Alliance and arrange to sell out River and Simon Tam. However, doing so interrupts a major sting operation the Alliance had planned on Sakaya, as the agent has to drop his work to meet Jayne. This suspicious behavior tips off Sakaya, who sends out hit men. Mal and Zoe immediately catch on to the hit men's intentions and step in. Too bad they didn't know the intended victim was an Alliance agent before they thwarted their plan. But when Kaylee sees the terrible condition of the people under Sakaya's thumb and Jayne gets arrested for drunk and disorderly and instead of bail gets indentured servitude as punishment, Mal and the crew find themselves helping the Alliance to bring Sakaya down. And if that weren't enough trouble, it turns out Sakaya is actually the Colonel who mentored Mal in his military career, pitting Mal's old loyalties against his own kind of morality.

All the fun you loved in Firefly, you'll find in My Own Kind of Freedom. The ironic humor, the general banter, the crazy antics, even the mix of Chinese and English--it's all there.

Steven has the characterization and dialog dead-to-rights. My favorites were Walsh and River. Not only did he get River's disjointed but perfectly sensical monologs correct, but he came up with very believable thought-processes to go with it. When you're dealing with a psychic driven insane by brain manipulation as well as the horrible secrets in her beyond-brilliant mind, that's an accomplishment. Walsh has his own unique brilliance and way of communicating, and Steven caught this too: an entire page of Walsh's thoughts as he flew Serenity into the planet's atmosphere, about the difficulty, the challenge, the glory, the complete lack of appreciation by the rest of the crew. Yet when Mal asks how entry went? "It's an entry. They're all the same."

Steven fills it with the same great action and humorous situations fans loved with Firefly--from Jayne's jail cell fiasco to Zoe breaking orders to follow Mal back planetside while everyone else on Serenity breaks orders to follow her to River learning to fly the shuttle after reading the manual for 45 minutes. (It took that long because there were mistakes.) In addition, he had great touches with memories of the Mal's relationship with Sakaya (Then Colonel Bursa), Jayne's clueless inner dialogue, even the chapter titles: My Own Kind of Past, My Own Kind of Clever. Yes, Steven's certain applied his own kind of clever to my favorite show.

Hope he has more missions in mind for the crew of Serenity.

Download it for Free!
http://dreamcafe.com/firefly.html