Zealot, Zelatrix, Zoophilic, and Zeqiri

It’s quite apropos that we save the “Z” for last…
it’s filled with the cra’z’ies.

Zealot, probably the most known of the wackos, is a person who is fanatical and uncompromising in their pursuit of religious, political, or other things that make you schizo. It comes from a particularly radical group of devout Jews in the first century that militantly opposed Roman rule of Palestine. I’d say that’s still relevant.

Zelatrix, doesn’t just the name scare the bejesus out of you? It’s an older nun responsible for the discipline of younger nuns…
just, what kind of trouble can those little sisters get into?
Fifty lashes for the bogarted Oreo, you scoundrel.

Zoophilic, lover of all things animal, and I do mean ALL THINGS. Gives you a whole new way to look at the Beast Master.

Zeqiri, definitely the weirdest of them, me.

Bacchus, Bacteria, and Baby

A to Z Challenge, I didn’t begin on time and have been running sorely out of step, but couldn't allow the month to end without inserting my “B” into your business.

B seems to be the letter for bacteria and all things bacchanal.

As a biology major and dystopian writer I get the interest in the little evil ones, and as a lover of the grape, I’m honored to be acquainted with Bacchus. We became intimate at around 18 and it's been an enduring relationship, good for both of us, I'm sure.

Incidentally a baculum is the penis bone in some mammals. Now I’m not sure if it gets its name from the giver of the plague or the god of drunkenness, but it is interesting…

But for me, B is for Baby.

This February I had the honor of becoming a Nena, and it’s glorious. Above is a pic of my wee faery and now I'll bumble on to the “Z”.

Y is for Yellowback

Come on, what’s the first thing to come to mind? Is it this?

Or?

Or maybe this?

That was mine, and now I’m hungry.
Or if you’re still in the gutter, perhaps this?

And the winner is: (insert drum roll) None of the above! It’s this…

And all of the above. Huh?

The yellowback is a deadly spider, a poisonous frog, and scrumptious sushi along with dozens of other things, but mostly it’s a book. And since I am a writer, I find this the most important.

The yellow-back, as more commonly known, is a cheap fiction novel published in Britain in the second half of the 19th century. They were less commonly known as 'mustard-plaster' novels. In honor of the Royal nuptials and all things British today, I thought it was appropriate.

The book given the honor as being the first was Horace Mayhew’s, Letters Left at the Pastrycook’s. Sounds like an exciting read, right? Good thing, as the each of these little goodies were considered sensational fiction writing. Even Robinson Crusoe was a yellowback.

I can’t think of a more deserving almost finish for our one month blogging challenge as without these cheap and sometimes tawdry yellow bound reads the type of writing I do, YA, might never have come about.

I could expound on for another few paragraphs, but let’s admit we’re all getting just a wee bit tired of blog reading for a spell.

So hip, hip, and toss back a Black and Tan to the Yellow-back and good luck to the latest lovers from dear old England.

(I am the only one who noticed the Dear Queen didn’t make Good Kate a Princess? Does she really plan on living forever?)

Xenomenia, No Seriously

X is for Xcuse Me

I don’t know about the rest of you, xpecially those of you who actually did the right blog on the right day, but I’m about blogged out! I could not think of a single thing interesting that started with the letter ‘x’. Of course, I thought of the usual, xylophone, x-ray, x-men, xanadu (BTW the blogger that stuck song that in my head, I’m coming after you) and xenodocheionology.

Okay the xeondocheionolgy is a lie, but I do love hotels.

So, I was looking for an ‘x’ word that meant procrastinator, as I’m definitely guilty, but alas I’m ‘x’ed out of luck.

I did find out something special though, I’m a xanthous! Now, if you’d have called me that in the tenth grade I probably would have hidden under my desk and cried, but by the time I was twenty, especially with a couple of tequila shots in me, I’d have busted your front teeth out. However; today with the vast wisdom I’ve acquired, received a few swings at my own teeth, I’m quite proud to be one.

Redhead that is!

I know every insult there is that goes along with being a xanthous but I still find my favorite to be: Red on the head like a piece of cornbread. Quite literary, don’t you think?

Okay short and sweet, I’m just going to explain that title: Xenomenia-menstruation from abnormal orifices. he he Think I’m going to use that one!

W equals WIP

If you're a writer then you know what a WIP means. If you're shopper you're busy 'googling' this exclusive designer, and if you're the parent of small children you are trying to make it into a sandwich.

WIP = Work in Progress. So, what's your sign? Mine, of the two, the one I am working on like mad, in between querying the already growing dust manuscripts, is a YA dystopian. And I love it! But hey, don't we all? Don't we all fall madly in love with our MC (main character, not mayo and cheese)? The weird thing is every one of my works is vastly different, which does make it easier to go wild in his/her world, I fear also dooms me to never finding my niche.

Here's my one-liner (Don't judge, it's a WIP): 16 year-old Ezra Thibodeaux should be assimilating on target, but getting her period proves her biochip is worthless. Raped, pregnant, and marked for destruction, she fights One Globe alone, utterly alone.

Drop me yours!

Verbomania or Validity

Vocabulary, vocabulary, vocabulary.

I will be the first to admit that I suffer from verbomania. It’s a real word, I’m being veridicous, although perhaps a bit versute and I’m making myself vertiginous. Okay enough of that! Feel free to consult a dictionary, I know I did.

As I am fully aware of my verbomania, I have to be extra careful to maintain validity. I love nothing more than writing a lyrical and sweeping paragraph, preferably one that has me blowing into a Kleenex, and then reading it aloud to myself. But far too often I use deep poetic license and end up scrapping the tear jerking prose. Why? Because it’s verbose and since I don’t write literary fiction, I write YA, and one sentence usually cuts to the chase.

But even with short and sweet our work must maintain validity. For example, if you are writing sci-fi or a futuristic dystopian you can simply make up all the inventions that your world will need. But, will the story be believable? I’m sure several of you will disagree with me, but the minute I start reading anything and the physics of the story are impossible, I’m done. So how can we maintain that balance?

Remember the movie, 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, from 1968? The super computer HAL was completely believable, even to people who at that time had likely never seen a computer. Why? Because it was grounded in probability, the movie had validity.

I’m currently writing a dystopian set about sixty years in the future, that’s not such a long time away but the world will be much different. Forty years ago open heart surgery was huge, now, you’re lucky to visitors while you’re in the hospital. It’s become so routine we don’t even say open heart surgery anymore. My problem lies with what will be possible sixty years from now and still be probable? I spend a ginormous amount of time reading genetic research because I want my freaks to be freaky, freaking believably so. I try to give my writing validity.

So drop me a line, how do you find yourself cornered with literary license versus validity or are you so far gone with verbomania you can bluff your way through it?

Underoos for the Undaunted Adult

Remember those adorable Wonder Woman panties you wore until the holes were so large it looked like you had been struck by lightning? No, maybe you were a Hello Kitty kind of girl. Well, as my dear old mom thought they were a sin, I never got a pair. I’m still not over the trauma.

Oh, how jealous I was of Tracy, can’t remember her last name, when she showed me her Underoos in the second grade girl’s bathroom. Those dingy drawers was my introduction to envy, that green eyed monster writhed alive, twisting and turning my guts into mush. Those panties with the gold eagle emblazoned across the chest were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I hated Tracy for them.

But now I discover there’s a cure for people like me, down trodden folks living with the stigma of underroolessness. I’ve heard rumors there are entire clinics hidden in the Alps dedicated to bringing the most stricken back from the brink of suicide. I’ve not located the actual flyers yet as I understand these exclusive spas are open by invitation only. Perhaps, my blog will wrangle me an invitation…

Of course, until then I have to be satisfied with a band-aid fix.

Underoos for the undaunted adult.

They are glorious underpants, I crap you not. Available in a variety of characters, I can now not only flaunt my flabby glutes encased in the blue silk and gold cord of Wonder Woman, I can stand proud and shake my booty in all of the Marvel Comic characters. Turns out I’m rather fond of Spiderman. I haven’t gained any special powers and every time I try to climb the wall in them I fall back down, but GAWD do I feel special! So I guess they do have power after all.

However; these are the underoos my honey prefers I wear. What is your secret indulgence? Who brings out your inner wonder woman?

I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T & Other Things That Go Blahhhg

The April Blog A to Z Challenge was rolling along nicely…

Okay so on the 10th of April I posted my “H” blog and was almost caught up in the blog challenge and feeling rather spiffy about myself. And then disaster struck! A common malady in my world, I think I must have been a troll or goblin in a former life and Karma is paying me back in this one. My laptop contracted a latent zombie virus and began to eat itself.

I replaced the laptop on Thursday and have been playing catch-up ever since. I was an uber idiot as I had not bothered to save my WIPs on a flash drive and had only backed up my laptop to my laptop. I did have my completed novels on flash but not the latest edits. SO yeah, I suck!

As my head is perpetually in the clouds, the silver lining is sticking to my eyelashes and I'm to be assured my old laptop will be returned in a week or so, sans virus. I’ve already chunked out the cash for this miracle, so I’m hoping being the Easter season I'll have a little luck at that resurection thing.

In the meantime, I’ve been answering the two weeks worth of missed emails which included……big drum roll here…2 partial requests on one of those edited but not the latest edited completed works.

I…is for Idiot, me. As I will now fastidiously copy everything on flash and backup online.
J…is for jumbo, as in my jumbo mistake at not saving my files adequately.
K…is for kicking, myself in the butt.
L…is for libation, poured myself several after the fiasco.
M…is for murder, the act I wish to commit on the sicko who invented the virus.
N…is for Norton, worthless antivirus company that assures me they protected me from other viruses.
O…is for obsessive, my new devotion to backing up files.
P…is for peeps, those nasty little marshmallow things stuffed in Easter baskets (just seems appropriate).
Q…is for query, only the favorable ones shall be remembered.
R…is for raving, ranting, and railing, still ongoing but trying to shut up.
S…is for snorting, something I did for hours as my laptop died.
T…is for tomorrow, for tomorrow never comes.

Okay so tomorrow I’ll post the ubiquitous “U” and be back on track. Anyone feeling the need to point out that this is flagrant cheating, please keep it to yourself, I’m already wallowing in guilt.

"How Horrible!" as said by Benny Hill

One of my all time favorite British phrases!

I am huge ho for British comedy with Benny Hill being my most beloved. It just so happened that I was detained in Heathrow Airport the weekend that he passed away. (When I say detained, well, let’s just say it was a misunderstanding of security forces concerning the passport under which I was traveling.)

Being the easy going person (I so want to say bloke right now) that I am, I proclaimed my sincere remorse at the lost of one so admired the world over. Considering the circumstances in which I found myself, I was already aware the police force in the United Kingdom was severely lacking in humor. Which is undoubtedly why the genius, who was Benny Hill, lampooned them often as the police farce.

Yet I was still taken aback at the vigorous retort I received for my heartfelt condolences.

“How horrible!” I was rebuked with overly forthright self-righteousness by a picture perfect depiction of a Benny Hill characterization.

Instead of upsetting me, why bother, I was about to be sold down the River Thames anyway, I began to chuckle. Which wasn’t well received either, but thank goodness not illegal. His obvious horror at my laughter set me off in a bout of giggles so tremendous it still amazes me I didn’t end up in the tower. Which thinking about it now, I realize would have been a tour indeed.

With the letter ‘h’ being the assignment, I challenge you to recall your most ‘h’umorous accounting of the humpbacked letter.

For me and my own, my multiple personalities that is, we will stay with, “How horrible”, and our fond memories of the greatest comedian to ever live…Benny Hill.

Apocalypse Anyone?

I am participating in the A to Z Blog Challenge, but didn’t start until the letter “C” so this is a make-up blog. I do know the alphabet, honestly, I do.

a•poc•a•lypse/əˈpäkəˌlips/Noun
1. The complete final destruction of the world, esp. as described in the biblical book of Revelation.
2. An event involving destruction or damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale. More »
Wikipedia - Dictionary.com - Answers.com - Merriam-Webster

Apocalypse…the word means different things to different people.

To my mother it means the end of the world, as described in the Bible in the book of Revelations, see numero uno above. She sees the attack on the World Trade Center as the first horse of the apocalypse. She truly believes that Barack Obama getting elected heralded in the second horse…something to do with his views on Israel. Yada, yada, yada. So when she called me to espouse her views on the tsunami, earth quake, and subsequent damage to the nuclear reactors in Japan, I wasn’t surprised to learn that was the third horse. As she has nothing else to talk to me about, figured I’d make her happy and asked when she expects the fourth horse to be coming down the track? Let’s just say that conversation didn’t end on a pleasant note. But hey, it gives her something to pray about…besides my soul.

To me the apocalypse, in some form, is my favorite writing subject. It’s the possibility, of all that havoc and wretchedness. Not saying I buy into the whole four wild horses, I’m more of numero dos option. It opens my mind to describing what a certain place would look like if it actually survived an apocalypse.

The most common in movie themes and literature is the nuclear holocaust. And I’m no different, that’s the exact world I’m building in my current WIP. But I don’t have total devastation, as I don’t believe total devastation is likely. Sure, if every country currently holding nuclear weapons decided to release them against each other in showdown, we’d most definitely have total devastation. But what are the actual chances of that? Man has the innate will to survive. And even the most evil villain alive, with the exception of a certain few, realizes that a nuclear war would take them out as well.

So what do you think? Am I wrong in making part of the planet still inhabitable? According to the definition I suppose I am. Leave me a comment about your thoughts and apocalyptic works.

G is for Gassler

I galloped through the gamut of ‘g’s but couldn’t garner one that got me going so I gave up.

And will use one of my own, “gassler”.

Writing YA the vocabulary changes as rapidly as Paris Hilton’s lovers.

I have a couple of online sources that I go to often http://www.thesource4ym.com/teenlingo and http://onlineslangdictionary.com. I also ‘Google’ like mad for new Adalonic (Adolescent Vocabulary) Dictionaries. But sometimes even that’s not enough.

For instance, my current WIP is a dystopian set in post apocalyptic America, vaguely set about seventy years in the future. Writing dialogue becomes more of a challenge.

Will ‘lame’, ‘tard’, ‘sick’, ‘sweet’, ’awesome’, or ‘bank’ still be common teen usage of the future? Or will they have gone the way of ‘stoked’, ‘stellar’, ‘tubular’, ‘dude’, and ‘chill’?

The language of the future is just as unpredictable as the fashion sense of their generation. But instead of taking this as a roadblock, I’ve made up a few of my own words and given an alternate meaning to common words. For even though the words will change, a teen’s need to be different and possess their own vocabulary will not.

So that brings us to ‘gassler’. It’s a slur. A newly seized genetically unaltered human and is non-gender specific. So go ahead and insult someone today, call them a gassler. The worst that can happen is they think you are accusing them of wasting too much fuel or burning up the ozone layer.

Frenzied, Fabulous...Failure

I spent three days dreaming up the perfect “F” word and all I could come up with was that song by Cee Lo Green, F______ YOU”. Regardless of the version you choose, the result is the same. While I adore the song, both versions, decided I’d best not choose either of those “F”s.

Frenzied describes my life right now. I write, I blog, I cook, I edit, I query, I tweet, I FaceBook, and do all the things that have to be done, eating, cleaning, bathing, pretending to listen to my other (money man), and all at a frenzied pace, but I still feel three days behind.

Fabulous is my first grandbaby. She’s beyond amazing and I could spend every second holding her, and kissing her little fingers and toes. In fact, when I get to spend time with her I don’t set her down, much to my son’s chagrin, but he can get over it.

Failure. No matter how big the pep talk I give myself prior to reading that email. You know the one, the response to your query one. When the answer is no, whether it’s an eloquent note, a long description of why not, or the evil abominable form letter, I feel like a failure. I know there are thousands of agents out there and I only need one, but each reject makes me sick, literally.

Failure. Failure. Failure. I read the rejection ten times at least, trying to glean every shred of useable info imparted. I take that chunk of criticism and go back to edit and then despair. Unless the agent has specifically said I can resubmit, I sit there and stew, and pout, and frown, and curse the futility of trying to get published and then the inevitable. I google self-publishing websites and read their promises of automatic success and world-wide recognition. I’m not ready to go there yet, but it gives me a glimmer of hope. It makes the failure easier to swallow anyway.

Ecdysiast Everyone?

Are you an ecdysiast? I am.
Well not literally, although there was that one time…but I digress.

An ecdysiast is a striptease artist.

They are tempters, teasers, and sirens.

They can draw you in slowly. Grabbing your attention with just a pretty face and turn your head to follow their every movement. Next a glove, peeled enticingly down her slender arm, sharing just a tad of flesh, wetting your appetite for more. Next a stocking?

Or they can be wild frenzied flesh, gyrating and grinding their bony hips in your face. Tossing you into the action with unrestrained abandon. Captivating you so entirely that you can’t rip your eyes away, you can’t escape, and you become their unexpected slave.

Of course they are only successful if they fit the part. No one, or very select fetish few, is willing to hand over their last dollar to a four pound linebacker looking female sliming up the pole.

So what does getting naked for money have to do with writing? EVERYTHING!

You have to grab your reader, whether you do the slow dance or the action packed gyrate, the result is the same. You’ve got to latch onto them and keep them mesmerized. If you lose your reader’s interest, first page or half-way through, he’s not going to hand over his hard earned bucks again.

So, look at your WIPs and ask yourself? Am I tempted and teased into a slathering drool fool, begging for more?

If not, it’s time for a rewrite.

So, be an Ecdysiast but don’t be an Ecdemomaniac.

(Should make you look it up, but since you were so kind to stop by, I’ll give it to you. A person with an abnormal compulsion to wander.)

Dadnabit, Dog Gone it, and Damnation…or Dystopian

Things I say when I smash my thumb or my darling doesn’t finish the job adequately. But that’s probably TMI.

I have the perfect dystopian novel plotted out, but it’s not coming out on paper the way I see it. (When I say plotted, I refer the jell-o bouncing around in my brain.) My MC is boring; she’s flat, unattractive and scared of her own shadow. So how in tarnation is she going to save mankind?

I’ve tried a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting with her, and while she’s down on her knees, she doesn’t seem to be praying, she’s still pathetic. I’m currently considering an ALICE IN WONDERLAND move and in the spirit of the Queen of Hearts, “Off with her head”.

Here’s another issue with the plot, (yes that junk in my head) I have her getting raped by a descendant of the most hated man in America. Is that too much for a YA novel? The rape scene isn’t graphic and the only reference to the origins of the surname is the surname itself.

Does that make any sense?

Okay a few more issues… The opening scene she’s just started her period, sounds gross right? But it’s integral to the story. Oh crap, maybe I’ll just toss the bloody thing and start over.

D is for damnation! I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t.

Crappy Character Calling Cards

Since I didn’t join the April Blog A to Z Challenge until yesterday, I missed the A & B, but fret none as I will make them up on one of these here weekends. So give me a “C”.

Naming your character is just as important as the title in my opinion. A great title will make you pick up the book and flip it over to see if you want to buy it. But the wrong character name will have me snapping it shut before I get through Chapter 1.

The name speaks to the character’s attributes. For example, Igor…what do you see?

A bug eating freak, humpbacked, lice infested, and stained white lab coat, right? Or some such, but no Igor is actually a 15 year-old, 6’2’’, and solid wall of muscle linebacker. Sure. With a name like Igor he’s gonna need those rock hard abs. While the author may be seeing it as a cutesy statement, the reader is already lost in bug eating conjurings and completely turned off by the character.

Likewise is the overuse of popular names. Brandy for instance… Brunette, curvy, hazel eyes, ex-cheerleader type and go ahead, think it...slut.

While a secondary character may be fine named after the alcohol she was conceived on, do you really want that for your main character? If that’s her personality be bold, but not many readers are going to find it plausible for Brandy to save the world, unless it’s erotica.

Sexually ambiguous names can be just as annoying for your reader.
Okay, maybe not, but they annoy the “C”rap out of me.

Tangled in My Own Web

I made this amazing schedule to get my writing career going in a forward direction instead floundering in the quagmire. Well that sucked! Even without the laptop keyboard glitch, I haven’t succeeded at following it one single day. These are the reasons why:

1. Querying a mere three agents, not the ten I so loftily amused myself with, per day takes me upwards of four hours. I troll QueryTracker.net selected picks for me and then research the agent. Hoping my letter will not look completely random, I Google said agent and read at least one of their interviews and quote some little ditty they’ve espoused.

2. I hadn’t scheduled time for bathing or Chardonnay, but I’m proud to report those items have not missed a day. I cocooned my laptop in Saran Wrap and have been practicing with washing and guzzling while typing. Not vastly successful yet, but I have high hopes. Sadly for the monumental span of my derriere, exercise has been moved down on a notch on my ‘to do’ list.

3. I swore that I would write on one of the two WIP’s and rotate them regularly, but that has been revised to writing like mad on one and ignoring the shouting voice of my MC in the other.

4. I committed to editing my badly needed rewrite on my NaNoWriMo. Wisely, I moved it to the end of my document’s list so I need not feel any guilt by accidentally scrolling past that sad file.

5. No more time suckage allowed by FaceBook or Twitter? No comment.

6. And as for that blogging, reading blogs, and commenting on such… I’m working on it.

So for those of you who have this whole shebang under control, how do you do it? And how do you deal with the guilt when you flop miserably?


On a completely sane level, would anyone like to post their query letter and let random strangers poke fun, er, I mean critique it?
Leave me a comment if you want to be my guinnea pig.