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Holly Homemaker I Am Not.

My house is a mess. I do not care. I used to care. I try to care, but it’s an ongoing fruitless endeavor. A moot point. I clean and the kids are behind me room by room overturning lego bins and stripping polly pocket of her minuscule shoes and jewelry. It’s nearly stupid to expend any sort of effort on cleaning. So I quit.

I do laundry and meals. Yes. But no more worrying about scattered toys and papers. If I let those things get to me I’d go insane and still have a messy house. I’d spend hours a day yelling at my kids to pick up after themselves, likely to no avail. If I cared about tidiness, I would be unhappy and make bad memories for my children to hold onto. Not to mention give them weird ideas about what’s important in life.

So, my house is a mess. If you come over I will put on the coffee, wipe off the table and feed you something yummy – which I will clean up (dirty kitchen are germy after all). I will give you my undivided attention and leave my cell on the counter. You will find toilet paper where it should be and hand soap in my dispenser. You will also find bath toys lying in the tub and possibly a towl hanging over the curtain rod to dry. That is my house. This is my life.

For the first two years of my writer life, I tried noveling and housekeeping. I was miserable and so was my family. It didn’t work for me. Like everything worth doing, sacrifices were made. I let go of things that no one should care about – like a little clutter. If they live here and care, then I reason they have two hands to pick it up themselves. If they don’t live here, they have no business caring about how many pair of shoes line my front door. Please. I beg you. Get a life.

I believe when you write, something else in your life has to give because writing takes everything you have. I gave up Holly Homemaker. At the end of the day, I’d rather spend my free hour playing polly pockets or legos with my kids not cleaning them up. Soon they’ll learn to do this themselves with some consistency. Until then, I choose to embrace the life I have.  One where I get to do the thing I love. One where three healthy happy children play. One where we have a warm home and toys to give them.

There will be plenty of time to worry about the mess when they’re gone. And I make no mistake about it, that day will come far too soon.

It’s Frickin’ Cold.

It’s super-mega cold in Ohio. Like do-NOT-go-out-there cold. The yoosh. It’s January. Whatever. Best part about this weather? Reading. Reading under a softie blanky with a hot toddy or cocoa or tea. It’s lovely. And like any decent book addict, I stockpiled for the winter. My Kindle is sparking with joy. My TBR pile is taller than my 4 year old. I am happypants.

Cold days are great for reading. Cold nights are great for plotting. I’m enjoying the awful outdoor temperatures by holing up indoors with projects. For example: I decorated my office last week and only lost a few fingerprints to the hot glue gun debacle of 2013. I also added some new recipes to my repertoire, and I found a new author to pet and love.

Gemma Halliday.

I picked up a YA mystery of hers and devoured it. Next, I went to Amazon for more please.  There I discovered her High Heel Mysteries series which I also swallowed hole. THEN my local librarian pulled out a thriller from Ms. Halliday. *twirls* Finding a new author to read is like discovering my new favorite TV show, comfy sweater or designer shoes on clearance.

Thus far I am clearly winning at winter.

I’m in Writer Limbo

There comes a time in every writer’s life when there’s nothing to do. No “good” choice anyway. I am impatiently visiting this place now. I have a manuscript with my agent for review…she’s eyeball deep in tax forms. So, I wait. I have manuscripts for my March and April releases out with their respective editors. Who are editing. I am waiting. I have revisions with another editor. I am waiting for her response. I have a contracted manuscript with an editor. I am waiting. I have new pages out with a busy beta…guess what? I bet you know. You’re a quick study. I am waiting.

I tell you this so you know. You will always be waiting. It’s the writer’s life. We obsess and then we wait.





It’s a literal feast/famine situation. The odds my agent and at least two of those editors respond in the same 24 hours if highly likely. Then I will blog about how I am so underwater there’s no way humanly possible to get everyone everything they need in time and done well.  *rolls eyes* *puffs bangs*

Silver Linings for this season of the writer life?

  • My house is twinkling from all the time I have to clean right now.
  • I’ve organized everything to a very “Sleeping with the Enemy” extreme
  • My kids are getting daily baths again. LOL You think I joke, but being dependent on Writing-Mom to remember to feed them isn’t a great place to live.
  • I’m reinventing my style with all this time to shop for sexy heels and pinup dresses. Make-over? Yes, please!
  • I’ve lost 5 pounds this month because I’m too antsy to sit still long.  Writing makes me way chubby, yo.
  • Binge reading. <– deserves two bullets
  • Binge reading

So, if you’re waiting, don’t worry. This too shall pass……And come again. And again. It’s your new way of life. Congrats. LOL

Well, I’m off to regrout the shower

When Writers Watch TV

I love television shows. Dare I say MORE than movies. It’s true. I love the quick pace and banter on television. Zip. Zap. Zoom. I’m in and out in 40 minutes and ready to tackle the next epi. (I record everything and skip commercials. No, Mr. Propaganda, you will not get me, Sir.) Movies take a lot longer and I have to *really* be in the mood to sit still for 2 hours. I never sit still well. Ask any of my former teachers. Or my current pastor. I get antsy fast and my mind wanders. I hit the treadmill with Pandora and a headset PLUS an open Kindle with a read. My mind still sidetracks about 15 minute in and I spend the next 30-45 minutes plotting finger puppet shows with outfits. I joke you not.

Back to television. See. Bunny trail. Total Adult ADD up in this head.

Television is the best. I get all wrapped up in the dialogue. I like the quick wit and twisty plots. Some of my favorite shows are crime related because guessing the killer busies my brain and I stay on task. I know. I know. There’s a formula to these things. If there’s a guest star, for example, he obvi did the deed. Let’s face it, Mr. Super Star isn’t joining SVU to be an extra with 3 minutes of face time. I also get the red herrings and this and that…what I’m saying is….I like em. Don’t bring me down, dude. Keep the comment.

What I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE is this. When, I assume for time sake, producers cut scenes or lines that are necessary to my brain. As a result, I’m left irritated, rewinding to see what I missed, complaining to Hubsy and tweeting my annoyance. The thing I say most often at this point is: “I am Soooooo Super Sorry but my crit girl would never-ever-never have allowed that. Noope. Uh uhn.” I expect people with a big old TV budget to get things right. If you cut A and it effects B-Z….errr cut something else instead, please.


How about when the M.E. tells the detective the death was a result of blunt force trauma to the head and judging by doot-doot-deee the assailant was at least half a foot taller than Miss Victim. DO NOT after this bring me the ex-boyfriend 30 minutes later who is *clearly* under six feet while Miss Victim was a runway model. Noooooo. The stuff you shovel me has to add up.

I’ve received enough rejection/correction on my writing to be critical of the details. I cut and pitch and rip TONS of stuff I think someone will find inconsistent. I basically obsess over the details. This can be not-so-fun when you watch TV with me. BUT Hubsy is very patient and we’ve made it a game. Now, he’ll catch things before me and say “You’re critty girl wouldn’t have allowed that one.” Hazzah! We toast.

What bugs you about television or movie scripts as a writer?

Challenge Accepted

*Excited Face*

My YA suspense, currently titled Deceived, will release fall 2013 from Merit Press. I.Am.Stoked. I want readers to get as excited about this monumental (in my head) event as I am. Some may say this is an impossible mission. I say, Challenge Accepted.

Every YA novel *neeeeeds* a smoking awesome trailer so readers can see what’s coming. It’s like a sneak peek into my head. Be afraid. Be very afraid. It’s all cotton candy and serial killers in there. Seriously. You should read this paragraph one more time so you understand.

With this in mind, I opened Microsoft Movie Maker and started clicking! Best trailer ever – on it’s way. NOT. What I made in reality was a super fail. A giant train wreckage of Julie proportions. Awful. Like really bad. Some day, I’ll share so you can see how much I truly suck at this. Anyway. Suckage won’t do! Who’d get excited about suckage? Right? *Pervs: do NOT comment on this* Anyway- I needed help. LOTS of serious help. So, I called in the troops. I sent out the Bat Signal, Julie-style, to my Alma Mater. And guess what? I found Mass Media & Communication Studies, a feature film project and Electronic Media majors. Did you hear the heavenly choir sing? Cause I did.

Now, thanks to my sheer desperation and lack of pride whatsoever when it comes to asking for help, I have HELP! Like massive, awesome, I-can’t-BELIEVE-you-totally-said-YES! help.

And a trailer IS coming.

*wild applause from my living room*

I plan to follow the trailer progress from conception, to filming, to launch and blog about it for you. Readers love trailers and writers need trailers, so it’s a win-win-win. This is information I wished for. Now that I am set to gather it, I will share as I learn (by watching the professionals because I suck at the trailer-doing *please see above).

For those of you who want to see a few of my favorite book trailers, here are two:

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

Because it’s deeply dark and fabulous.

The Perfect Chemistry Rap Trailer

Because it’s completely awkward and totally hysterical. Plus I love Simone Elkeles – who wrote this rap bee-tee-dub

Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Killer

Because, well, duh

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