tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48129142313725991432024-03-12T20:21:29.420-05:00Wanton Redhead WritingI drink coffee, I drink wine, sometimes at the same time. In between guzzling, I write.Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-7264172675060480292011-12-07T16:37:00.001-06:002011-12-07T17:06:37.085-06:00Big Sur = Big InspirationExpressing what I gained from going to the Big Sur Writer’s Workshop is impossible, it would take me pages of this blog and your eyes would explode before you ‘x’ed me out. But to say it was wonderful and worth every penny is an understatement. <br />
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Just having a big-time literary agent, not dropping names, YET, say…”This is excellent.” Sent shivers of excitement through me to rival my first time! That’s a bad analogy, my first time was dreadful, let’s say my first time with my über, awesome ex-husband. When words of wisdom flowed from her lips like buttery Chardonnay, I was ready to axe the very heads off of my characters to make them fit what she envisioned as the perfect tweaks. And now that I’m making those alterations…OH MY GOD, she was right!<br />
<br />
Everyone at the conference brought such a depth of knowledge and approachability to the table, that I never once felt uncomfortable or like a bug under a microscope. My other critique group leader was the awe inspiring Eric J Adams, co-writer and producer of numerous books and movies, one hitting NETFLIX yesterday, December 6, ARCHIE’S FINAL PROJECT. (Please refrain from adding it your DVD cue until I’ve received my copy.) He was funny, honest, has met more celebrities than TMZ, and is way easy to talk to. He talked about his next film starting on January the tenth, the way I’d note my next dentist appointment. Not to mention he built us a fire and even saved me when the smoldering wood tried to attack. Yeah, maybe I developed a wee crush. But you would too, so shut up.<br />
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Ellen Hopkins, yes, THE Ellen Hopkins, was amazingly awesome to chat with and it was nothing at all like I imagined eating spinach salad with a two million copies sold NYT Bestseller author would be. Jealous, right? She was so totally chillaxed, I almost offered to pick out the stem stuck in her front teeth for her. I refrained!<br />
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I only had one regret...my critique partner the snarky queen herself, Gina White, was unable to attend with me.<br />
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I could gush and carry on about everyone there, but I won’t, it would make you physically ill that you missed it and I don’t want to be responsible for that. So why are you still reading this? Google, google my friends and sign up for the next one in March 2012. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKIqmy7UfuxF0VVykMsmLWtoa30pwjeKVYWVLQkPQg1UyEOl-SGurJ7s73pAXFyFdyytPlbX52wlvBMW2dzPhwoJmsBd90cmaYZV1gdw7WuO4HtlHtdCEqmJSu9XXnJaRvYOLmbaoDqT_/s1600/Spanish+Bay.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKIqmy7UfuxF0VVykMsmLWtoa30pwjeKVYWVLQkPQg1UyEOl-SGurJ7s73pAXFyFdyytPlbX52wlvBMW2dzPhwoJmsBd90cmaYZV1gdw7WuO4HtlHtdCEqmJSu9XXnJaRvYOLmbaoDqT_/s320/Spanish+Bay.JPG" /></a></div><br />Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-79858477944078885152011-11-13T11:29:00.001-06:002011-11-13T11:35:35.913-06:00My IndiaToday is my daughter’s twenty-fourth birthday and I can’t think of anything else. I’m not a poet but I wanted to say something to her.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcc0I2jrxhQNPav3FzpGxKjUgOwfzlbvnTQP5QQG9IdyCFXYtf-m9VP8PjCDDijmZALXl0OewOXa-BwMQB6_T65p2aeAsnCzoym5sMVnC7uysqzuvIyN9Uy2dgX3v6rrbyLl-xDiNnxN3/s1600/India+and+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="135" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcc0I2jrxhQNPav3FzpGxKjUgOwfzlbvnTQP5QQG9IdyCFXYtf-m9VP8PjCDDijmZALXl0OewOXa-BwMQB6_T65p2aeAsnCzoym5sMVnC7uysqzuvIyN9Uy2dgX3v6rrbyLl-xDiNnxN3/s320/India+and+Me.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
India<br />
<br />
Independent and stubborn, you screamed at me coming from the womb; I gave my life for yours. <br />
How I loved you.<br />
Tears streaming, glasses fogged, I closed the door of your classroom.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
Walking on your hands, a year viewed upside down, I worked far too much.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
Cheering with all your heart, I shouted louder than all the moms.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
With a timid wave and a shaky smile you left on a plane, I turned my back and cried.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
Angry with me you packed your bags, I begged you to come back.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
Decorating your dorm you swelled with pride, I drove away in tears.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
Hurting inside and out you blamed me, I accepted the blame.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
Rocking and rolling, you searched for yourself; I watched and waited in despair.<br />
How I loved you.<br />
New schools, new rules, you are searching still; I wait for your return.<br />
How I love you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZe0JP-s2qHQdo5L3U8vsW0tI7uXC8XT-8jmyZTGBc8PtGhbQ6QvOkitzg3rRjZcMDImS8GMgi8lW9an8zBQwYr3OpzVolIsjKf7gt-8S_7mPfozEfnoFh8NHltKv4or0y-U8ZsqzXqjtw/s1600/India.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="208" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZe0JP-s2qHQdo5L3U8vsW0tI7uXC8XT-8jmyZTGBc8PtGhbQ6QvOkitzg3rRjZcMDImS8GMgi8lW9an8zBQwYr3OpzVolIsjKf7gt-8S_7mPfozEfnoFh8NHltKv4or0y-U8ZsqzXqjtw/s320/India.jpg" /></a></div><br />Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-38866157521870354752011-10-26T18:27:00.000-05:002011-10-26T18:30:55.600-05:00Third Time... Strike or Charm?I’m not ignoring my blog, I’ve just been stupid, crazy busy. I have to finish one complete edit of UnAltered by November 4th. The rules of submission, state that the manuscript must be mailed by that magical date and I’m only on 189 of 262 pages. <br />
The good news is that I’ve shaved approximately 4,000 words. The bad news I may have gone a bit heavy on the contractions and once those are fixed….well, you get the gist.<br />
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Another exciting news tidbit is the uber YA agent Suzie Townsend has skipped over to the Nancy Coffey Agency and is holding a query contest next Tuesday from 9 am to 10 am, est. Anyone can enter, but wear your rhino skin as she says she’ll be brutally honest. Googling Teflon underwear shops as soon as I'm done here...<br />
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<br />
Enough excuses. I eliminated a portion of the original query and now have a shorter, more in-yo-face kind of query. Okay, maybe not, but I’m trying to learn how to roll here, be kind.<br />
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This is the end product:<br />
<br />
Dear Ms. Thang,<br />
<br />
According to your website, you are seeking dystopian YA with character driven plots and real emotional power. You may enjoy my novel, UnALTERED.<br />
<br />
“Primitive birth, genetically unaltered…mutt.” All names sixteen-year-old Ezra Thibodeaux is grotesquely familiar with. But she only has one goal: be the best Cadet Smith 902 she can be. In other words, assimilate or die. But when the Freedom Fighter’s grandson, Thorne bin Laden sets his targets on her, assimilation becomes the least of her worries. <br />
<br />
Raped, pregnant, and selected for survival exercises, she faces the toughest decision of her life. It’s made tougher when fate reunites her with a boy from her past. If she chooses to keep her baby, she must fight her way out of One Globe or die. If she doesn’t, she’ll never have to tell the boy she loves she’s pregnant…with their enemy’s child. <br />
<br />
UnALTERED is an 78K word YA dystopian. Per your submission guidelines, I’m including the first ten pages in this email and look forward to sending the remaining manuscript at your request.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
ME<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04fGnIwnNpP3cXYJbBcOgulJzeB841POQGuveXdWhgZymk24Sy0VP4CpKDQB5lUIjZeZLCIiLTbJ4c4XM0q7dkin6tLVe8oI-l_vNt4_B-H06EBMe702So7oH5pAhhew7JhOw0X9sr8sp/s1600/vomiting+pumpkin.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04fGnIwnNpP3cXYJbBcOgulJzeB841POQGuveXdWhgZymk24Sy0VP4CpKDQB5lUIjZeZLCIiLTbJ4c4XM0q7dkin6tLVe8oI-l_vNt4_B-H06EBMe702So7oH5pAhhew7JhOw0X9sr8sp/s320/vomiting+pumpkin.png" /></a></div><br />
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So, any more advice or is everyone sick to vomit of this query? I’m kinda feeling that way…Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-7010603730727421002011-10-15T10:26:00.000-05:002011-10-15T10:26:16.409-05:00UnAltered Query Mess Numero DosI asked for a critique or ten of my query letter that I’m submitting for the Big Sur Writer’s Workshop and while I didn’t get ten, I did get a couple. Thank you so much Nancy and Gail for your time and assistance.<br />
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But instead of that warm, fuzzy ‘problem solved’ feeling, I now feel utterly addled. As a result, I’m going to break it down bit by bit over my next couple of blogs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodGCSlg7EEnBo3zk58UIfQXigV8hz2aNBP44ojK-mdOYMMt6-frtGA44eSW49YnpcIfU5TNds10R284yQCIaACQbBrc_a_GasUSZBhgIMUsQkSuPUKH9u8TGzPwnTQbU29dZFHGxZZd_B/s1600/hair+puller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodGCSlg7EEnBo3zk58UIfQXigV8hz2aNBP44ojK-mdOYMMt6-frtGA44eSW49YnpcIfU5TNds10R284yQCIaACQbBrc_a_GasUSZBhgIMUsQkSuPUKH9u8TGzPwnTQbU29dZFHGxZZd_B/s320/hair+puller.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
As you know by now, I deplore the longwinded; I’ll attempt to be brief.<br />
<br />
The beginning of my query, as was posted: <br />
<br />
<i>Your website states that you are currently seeking YA, “…character-driven AND page-turning contemporary fiction with real emotional power; dystopian…” </i> <br />
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My intention was to prove that I had gone to her website and researched what she is specifically seeking, without repeating her tweets and outing myself as a fangirl. <br />
<br />
But one critiquer thinks this is grand faux pas numero uno. <br />
<br />
That commenter, a fellow writer with extensive querying experience, stated:<br />
<br />
<i>“Unless an agent specifically asks for an introduction, always jump right into the meat of the query. Besides, the agent already knows which genres she reps so you don't have to remind her.”</i><br />
<br />
The other commenter, one-time journalist, poet, children’s writer, etc., had a different idea:<br />
<br />
<i>“…SOME WANT TO KNOW STUFF LIKE WHY YOU ARE QUERYING THEM IN PARTIC, HOW YOUR BOOK FITS INTO THEIR LIST, ETC, I HEAR THIS OVER AND OVER IN AGENT PANELS AND INTERVIEWS. WHICH IS WHAT RESEARCH IS FOR. DEFINITELY DO HOMEWORK ABOUT EACH AGENT…</i><br />
<br />
As I’m no expert I went to the expert’s corner… <br />
<br />
In my world that’s Chuck Sambuchino’s blog, A Guide to the Literary Agent. All the following quotes are from his immeasurably helpful blog. (Maybe I have a small crush…)<br />
<br />
These are a few of those wants and don’t wants in queries:<br />
<br />
Molly Glick of Foundry Literary & Media told Chuck: <i>“…No. 3-Proof that you have researched and hand-picked an agent…” </i>(Maybe I will repeat her tweets…)<br />
<br />
Janet Reid, the infamous Query Shark, says it a little differently: <i>“…Section Three: 1. Why you chose this agent…”</i> Essentially, keep the intro but put it at the bottom. <br />
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She also demands a query letter not surpass 250 words. I’m good there, mine currently is 203. <br />
<br />
And I could go on and on, but your eyes are already bleeding and you’ve just scrolled down three-fourths of the page.<br />
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<br />
<br />
This is my current intro:<br />
<br />
<i>According to your website, you are currently seeking dystopian YA with character driven plots and real emotional power. You may enjoy my novel, UnALTERED.</i><br />
<br />
So you tell me, do I scrap it or keep it or rework one more time?Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-1685368401728064492011-10-06T11:58:00.000-05:002011-10-06T11:58:50.764-05:00A Querying We Shall GoThe upcoming writer's workshop at Big Sur requires a writing sample and query letter before I'm officially approved to attend. So, I'm asking your help. I SUCK at writing query letters.<br />
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I'm sticking in my current sample and ask for your feedback. Tear it to shreds, spare no blood, please!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfYlByuJhynNJFnRNQI3j2NQRzLCsZ1qG5_8HqugRcXGEFB2yRGEI2notFGRExyhFMwoqMMfYhKD1iqmnDgRoB1YBKgLRPr01DLI1y2n-VCWl2M2irj_xppVxrVdC5NzZoVP9mzbT3MBE/s1600/shredded+paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="183" width="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfYlByuJhynNJFnRNQI3j2NQRzLCsZ1qG5_8HqugRcXGEFB2yRGEI2notFGRExyhFMwoqMMfYhKD1iqmnDgRoB1YBKgLRPr01DLI1y2n-VCWl2M2irj_xppVxrVdC5NzZoVP9mzbT3MBE/s320/shredded+paper.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Dear Amazing Uber Agent,<br />
<br />
Your website states that you are currently seeking YA, “…character-driven AND page-turning contemporary fiction with real emotional power; dystopian…” <br />
<br />
They say religion ended the world in a day. It only took 7 hours. And two years later it was banned. So was reproduction.<br />
<br />
Primitive birth, genetically unaltered…mutt, 16 year-old Ezra Thibodeaux only has one goal, be the best Cadet Smith 902 she can be. In other words, assimilate or die. But when the Freedom Fighter’s grandson and future One Globe leader, Thorne bin Laden sets his targets on her, assimilation is no longer an option. <br />
<br />
Raped, pregnant, and selected for survival exercises, escape becomes her obsession. In a rare twist of fate she’s reunited with a boy from her past and faces the toughest decision of her life. If she chooses to keep her baby, she must fight her way out. She must also tell the boy she loves that she’s pregnant…with their enemy’s child.<br />
<br />
UnALTERED is a 82K word YA dystopian. Per your website, I’m including the first ten pages in this email and look forward to sending the remaining manuscript at your request.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
Lea McFalls Zeqiri<br />
<br />
Lea McFalls Zeqiri<br />
1234 Sunshine Ln.<br />
Dallas, TX 75666<br />
(469) 222-2222 cell<br />
(888) 515-5555 fax<br />
myunbreachableemail@yahoo.com <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVEAGFgErAtzo8kBk102XUULb_R5rUc2Xdo-TAPA9EiM18gQzwgVrqx3ujC4liaMr1kqruFGjgP2Aln6UmYurN8E9UuQ8wmIfUIGZqCjK8PgClAciWFNSpsME-UpFAUdahBFjjMdYjakPk/s1600/ripped+heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="225" width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVEAGFgErAtzo8kBk102XUULb_R5rUc2Xdo-TAPA9EiM18gQzwgVrqx3ujC4liaMr1kqruFGjgP2Aln6UmYurN8E9UuQ8wmIfUIGZqCjK8PgClAciWFNSpsME-UpFAUdahBFjjMdYjakPk/s320/ripped+heart.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now, ready, set, go...rip my heart out.Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-32106014089294250582011-09-26T12:22:00.002-05:002011-09-26T12:26:39.843-05:00Big Sur Here I Come!Big Daddy has agreed to my attending the Big Sur Writer’s Workshop! Yay me!<br />
<br />
Of course, he’s insisting on tagging along. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NY35z-t_RlQGChZYq2p_FD3y39cChlTOXnKQLJGo84puKQFKd7m3TO-eQ_49Jq0UvxYo8_BdDZKf1FGbYRJTtGK4NYy-RJqB0mO0UTSWgG6Gn7HYgXxmtLAtgjVByciFvjor_g9BESXb/s1600/mama+wagon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="190" width="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NY35z-t_RlQGChZYq2p_FD3y39cChlTOXnKQLJGo84puKQFKd7m3TO-eQ_49Jq0UvxYo8_BdDZKf1FGbYRJTtGK4NYy-RJqB0mO0UTSWgG6Gn7HYgXxmtLAtgjVByciFvjor_g9BESXb/s320/mama+wagon.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now we are squabbling on how to pay for it and which package to buy. But thanks to the infinite wisdom of a fellow blogger, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/11415189347501942340"></a> I’ve come up with a solution. There may or not be a midnight organ snatch on a certain father-in-law who may or may not be living in foreign lands. Well, financing is in order.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ1snuCvlwTAlrTwwglokaEKEfkI5KJ-Q0acN4OyT4UoPvbGqiWEY7IP-QbMR86E9kOT3p2vi6a95cWVdc2Z24wYaea_Vfyrf0lQf4UpbKwCnDE1motTx8CpHSBcCvcqA0_cDdBxYIqVS/s1600/body+parts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ1snuCvlwTAlrTwwglokaEKEfkI5KJ-Q0acN4OyT4UoPvbGqiWEY7IP-QbMR86E9kOT3p2vi6a95cWVdc2Z24wYaea_Vfyrf0lQf4UpbKwCnDE1motTx8CpHSBcCvcqA0_cDdBxYIqVS/s320/body+parts.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So now my new puzzle…<br />
<br />
Which manuscript do I use for the workshop? <br />
<br />
My very first novel is a fictional piece set in both and Kosovo and needs massive overhaul. And that’s after 4 full edits. It started at 174K so I’ll let you figure out the ridiculous shape of it. ALKONOST-A TATTOO AWAKENS<br />
<br />
My second is a tongue-in-cheek YA with major voice issues. McDRACULA<br />
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My third is my NaNoWriMo YA love story from this past November that I’m currently editing and it’s getting kind of cute. BLAZE<br />
<br />
But my favorite, which I think is the best I’ve written to date is a YA dystopian that I’m letting simmer. UNCLASSIFIED<br />
<br />
Should I start editing the fourth, the dystopian, so that I have something that I love to work on or use the NaNo YA love story which is in a better position editorial wise? <br />
<br />
I don’t want to get laughed out of my chair, but I think the dystopian has the most potential overall…<br />
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What would you do?Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-2543695599493879132011-09-23T19:47:00.000-05:002011-09-23T19:47:18.661-05:00To Conference or Not to ConferenceThe Big Sur Writer’s Workshop is coming up December 2-4, 2011. <br />
And I’m dying to go. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CmW72ZL6v0v3CNNKdKrd3qGwRS5BRtpHrrBltUh-R_SqsY7QtwP29btjUbj_qslrNnEqHx3xJ-Z8rtVBuovydT_MgQQfs1UBPhs9a1fqq7G-hp0UgCL0UdSV-9_kGRFylkeGoFSDebs3/s1600/big+sur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="112" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CmW72ZL6v0v3CNNKdKrd3qGwRS5BRtpHrrBltUh-R_SqsY7QtwP29btjUbj_qslrNnEqHx3xJ-Z8rtVBuovydT_MgQQfs1UBPhs9a1fqq7G-hp0UgCL0UdSV-9_kGRFylkeGoFSDebs3/s320/big+sur.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I had wanted to go the one they held in the spring at Seabreeze/Monterrey, California, but I’d just returned from a month off in Europe and couldn’t justify the funds. I considered on cutting the kid’s stipends but was terrified that would lead them to life of crime or pan handling. Or more truthfully have them making voodoo dolls with my face stuck on them. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWTGvme6HVwfc-3tAKQvL9Nup1ixhxnxX1N8vcj23zibpmsX0y11K-DSxsDOnFPd6t8YL93yUBVqP_s8gSuIDK21Rk32B123YfKcXfaIwfHRtEmJD_RANJWWZ0ecNOaLefwNVo0mQpp8s/s1600/voo+doo+doll.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWTGvme6HVwfc-3tAKQvL9Nup1ixhxnxX1N8vcj23zibpmsX0y11K-DSxsDOnFPd6t8YL93yUBVqP_s8gSuIDK21Rk32B123YfKcXfaIwfHRtEmJD_RANJWWZ0ecNOaLefwNVo0mQpp8s/s320/voo+doo+doll.png" /></a></div><br />
So what does that have to do with now, right?<br />
<br />
Well, my other half chose the same day to announce his father had overblown our patio renovations on our retirement home by a “Democratic Party” amount and funds are once again tight. Like hairball tight. <br />
<br />
This workshop is unique in that you work with three specific faculty members throughout and it includes critiques! I could go on and on but don't want to do an ad here. And these faculty are not your typical ‘Jane Harlequin wrote a dirty book, epubbed herself, and is now going to show you how do it’ authors. These are BIG name YA and children’s writers with several NYT Best Sellers under their frockcoats. <br />
<br />
I WANT TO GO! <br />
<br />
But it’s pricey. The price without airfare and rental car is $720 and that’s sharing an adjoining bathroom with a stranger. It’s an additional $150 if, “…you have a special reason to be private…” Doesn’t that sound like they don’t want you to get your own room? If you want to bring a friend that’s not attending the conference but wants to view the redwoods, well that’s an additional $390. Of course, that includes their meals. Why can’t I just pay the $150 extra and he get his own meals? <br />
<br />
So now, my conundrum… <br />
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Which organ do I sell to pay for it? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnVknVdrHdgD850dO1ERe_BX24Y_Yxlohyphenhyphen5pk_3vLXrySksq7ZxBUKfD4gOQ4jKVO9G_kw5vm4sxWax5w7Bvzidb4gNhnzUgqtzpVRsWTGEoHiUyc-MNnFYZEj7AYTYasHB7gSkMH-L6Pd/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="315" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnVknVdrHdgD850dO1ERe_BX24Y_Yxlohyphenhyphen5pk_3vLXrySksq7ZxBUKfD4gOQ4jKVO9G_kw5vm4sxWax5w7Bvzidb4gNhnzUgqtzpVRsWTGEoHiUyc-MNnFYZEj7AYTYasHB7gSkMH-L6Pd/s320/heart.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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See you in December at the Big Sur Lodge in California!Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-10160824957416765712011-08-08T13:53:00.000-05:002011-08-08T13:53:51.974-05:00Finished, Finished, FinishedTa dah!<br />
<br />
I finally finished my WIP with an ending that will stand. At least until I edit and undoubtedly I will chop it to shreds. <br />
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But for now, I have that satisfying feeling. You know the one, you've cleaned your entire house and you're finally soaking in a bubble bath with a case of chardonnay? Sorry, that was just a fantasy it usually entails a guy name Guy rubbing my shoulders and begging me to let him paint my toenails. I don't know why, it's a fantasy, okay?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1odo1qOsrVgWeUNKkqBea59RYeV0WGKqHYSHNns5Brg940N_Y197bySBQJkFC__RgakXyO3IoBXw2zxp7zRjOyLmZjH-eZ8_R_Yhs49e5OFm91y01RaYVXNtXjgmF0bZIMSeiA9oDwbx/s1600/tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1odo1qOsrVgWeUNKkqBea59RYeV0WGKqHYSHNns5Brg940N_Y197bySBQJkFC__RgakXyO3IoBXw2zxp7zRjOyLmZjH-eZ8_R_Yhs49e5OFm91y01RaYVXNtXjgmF0bZIMSeiA9oDwbx/s320/tub.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I've been neglecting my blog and I would like to promise to never allow that to happen again but as I already live in a world of self-delusion I don't want to press my luck. But I will check in more often.<br />
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Now that UNCLASSIFIED is marinating, I am taking a little breather and writing a couple of short stories for competition. One thing I've learned so far about shorts, I suck. Short, right? I'm actually surprised at how hard it is to write a complete story in under 2500 words or less. And what should I write about? I mean, do YA shorts even have a chance up against lost love (most common category)?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8t_VP-8YjSVC0ba7C6Q2mI6XOuFYbEHCQPpnyTYHr_t1lApULfEiC4JulUITvlrc9-GcQrB5pNOuvCvY0BWSsHH7WV-zLiF8Trut4yL7gNkG0scKoNAmVyrwMWR6gKaYcCz4Bui55UM3L/s1600/teenagers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="183" width="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8t_VP-8YjSVC0ba7C6Q2mI6XOuFYbEHCQPpnyTYHr_t1lApULfEiC4JulUITvlrc9-GcQrB5pNOuvCvY0BWSsHH7WV-zLiF8Trut4yL7gNkG0scKoNAmVyrwMWR6gKaYcCz4Bui55UM3L/s320/teenagers.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Please leave me your ideas for short stories so I can shamelessly steal them. Just kidding, I will feel shame, promise.Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-60427066455830444962011-07-20T15:23:00.001-05:002011-07-20T15:26:33.249-05:00Rethink & ResearchI've finished my WIP three times. And I hate every ending. <br />
<br />
How did I lose my path? Where exactly did Ezra take over and spin out of control? I could just move on, leaving my three endings and begin the edit. I could do that. I should do that. When I finish a story I like to let it sit for a month or two and marinate, but I can't leave poor Ezra with her swollen belly hanging out. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiqtbq-R08l5es6WgUkL1TRXOZCXPNNYF3lOlu244VfEP0QPvy-re1h32sgSw4Fon7V7O47fjmhj_NOuOU-pSvHc5HaJmGft-xeoeopEcrjFkuHfQZ3wfbPZV4-VVPwGm3YgLMAGt9xcA/s1600/Baton+Rouge+066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiqtbq-R08l5es6WgUkL1TRXOZCXPNNYF3lOlu244VfEP0QPvy-re1h32sgSw4Fon7V7O47fjmhj_NOuOU-pSvHc5HaJmGft-xeoeopEcrjFkuHfQZ3wfbPZV4-VVPwGm3YgLMAGt9xcA/s320/Baton+Rouge+066.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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I backed up a few chapters to where the climax first begins to peak. In this case, it's during her survival exercises when she's forced to make a big choice. Keep the baby and die or skewer the baby and die. Yeah, her options her grim. Reading over these chapters, I realized I didn't like the scene setting.<br />
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It's not that I didn't do my homework, I did. Truly, I did. The setting is Post-Apocalyptic Baton Rouge, LA. And I've visited Baton Rouge, granted it's been years and I've never actually been since the bomb, but I googled the fancy out of it. So, I was ready, right? Wrong!<br />
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Our memory plays tricks on us, especially Chardonnay tinted ones, and cities change. I told my wonderful husband, yep the one I stabbed, (It wasn't even a flesh wound, relax.) that I absolutely had to go... immediately. He agreed, maybe he's a little afraid of me, suppose he has reason to. Since he didn't make a fuss, I insisted on a private guide for a predawn swamp tour. He agreed to that too, probably hoping I'd be eaten by an alligator. <br />
<br />
But my fairy godmother was by my side. The guide was a no show and the two hours waiting on the bank of the bayou was enough for me. (I've got mosquito bites where no mosquito should go.) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eKm1E3a1lqDHcBU_h1tSjOxkqRZnpYfA4gSWVg7XOXqA4Yz3M9-N9SvVqIWg8NR35IbNvH36b4gmaXWofpgwQcqMWZ7crRp81GUN5p3oDLMwFylM3-n4-d4UFXjw_gHNPTVCQR6P4OZd/s1600/mosquito.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="132" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eKm1E3a1lqDHcBU_h1tSjOxkqRZnpYfA4gSWVg7XOXqA4Yz3M9-N9SvVqIWg8NR35IbNvH36b4gmaXWofpgwQcqMWZ7crRp81GUN5p3oDLMwFylM3-n4-d4UFXjw_gHNPTVCQR6P4OZd/s320/mosquito.jpg" /></a></div><br />
To make a long winded blog a wee less windy, the walking tour through Baton Rouge, AKA Red Stick, was wonderful. It was everything I imagined the Mississippi River would be in July. Hot, stick, and fragant. I found a dozen flaws in my manuscript, drank only coffee, and dusted off the cobwebs of my memory. Ezra's survival exercises will be so much better for it, although the Belle Casino may not feel the same. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgqIkG_wx2aP83L1WiCGTQALkRALQz5CFF2u0Bb-h9rjS72S22EyT-CQLjFT-EOKmwdNeBaCGPcLoyvDHZ7hdxQ3lolMBGojJNcJPL_hekEjBdEEh1fzIU1fgpHTf14sgsE7I9UTDby0k/s1600/Baton+Rouge+072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgqIkG_wx2aP83L1WiCGTQALkRALQz5CFF2u0Bb-h9rjS72S22EyT-CQLjFT-EOKmwdNeBaCGPcLoyvDHZ7hdxQ3lolMBGojJNcJPL_hekEjBdEEh1fzIU1fgpHTf14sgsE7I9UTDby0k/s320/Baton+Rouge+072.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Well, <i>I</i> drank only coffee anyway, can't say that about my dearest...<br />
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Drop me a note on how you research your WIPs...Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-31252228662807683482011-07-11T11:02:00.000-05:002011-07-11T11:02:14.741-05:00Pantsing Vs PlottingThis is a dilemma I face each time I start a new book. My brain says, “Sit down, plot it out.” But my heart says, “Just go with it, you'll be fine.” <br />
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As, I'm not known for my reasonable approach, I inevitably start typing away. About halfway into chapter 3 I no longer recognize my MC and have no idea who this cast of hoodlums are that are following his/her every move. Then I'm stuck....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhkuBRQ4i7kF6R34MMEY_ccDCvqvRIrorhESvzMSpnuxjyHFNgIjH1xFPs2APOvwyvRWrU7nK3vaOblChIivVnFWIE5mJJ8M5oRkPI6gQzZpf3FG3YMgyj1jqBLgsv5b6NkyuX5_J_ips/s1600/confused+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="183" width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhkuBRQ4i7kF6R34MMEY_ccDCvqvRIrorhESvzMSpnuxjyHFNgIjH1xFPs2APOvwyvRWrU7nK3vaOblChIivVnFWIE5mJJ8M5oRkPI6gQzZpf3FG3YMgyj1jqBLgsv5b6NkyuX5_J_ips/s320/confused+woman.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Do I go back and start over? Or do I incorporate these ballsy bullies who've butted their way in? Well, you've probably already guessed, I write them in. After all, what fairy story doesn't need a one-eyed psychopathic demon-eater with morning breath and a hankering for milkshakes?<br />
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And all is fine for a few more chapters.... But once I'm forced to start tying everything altogether, I run into massive roadblock. Boulders are dropped from cliffs, cars crushed beneath and my fairy has sprouted demon horns and developed a madness for poltergeist sherbet. Don't ask...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTQ6bYDbOgEITk1K2nVs0onNrxDqDh9BrBgpPG8Csn3WPaYF-weXTlyP59nvdMzQK1-2JQxvZKEWEGozIjej8p3gOTShd0pCX2RkPnsdqGbvKihfmmjJRtIl-t5b3z9o9IQBpoHil5cHW/s1600/evil+fairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="106" width="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTQ6bYDbOgEITk1K2nVs0onNrxDqDh9BrBgpPG8Csn3WPaYF-weXTlyP59nvdMzQK1-2JQxvZKEWEGozIjej8p3gOTShd0pCX2RkPnsdqGbvKihfmmjJRtIl-t5b3z9o9IQBpoHil5cHW/s320/evil+fairy.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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When all this happens I can't even remember where the story was supposed to go in the first place. Sigh :( Which is where I find myself now. My current WIP, a YA Dystopian is running amok on me. I've tried spanking her back on track, but she'll just have none of it. While this one, I made a flimsy outline of the plot, (spent nights obsessing right before falling asleep and tucking it safely into one corner of my manic brain) I seem to have taken a wrong turn or six. <br />
<br />
It's not that I don't like where I am, I absolutely love the story. But I'm on the down slope and the climax is growing instead of diminishing. Is that a good thing? Will my Ezra blow up One Globe or will her rapidly expanding love for both the baby in her belly and the gun-boned ghost from her past slow her down? I don't know! I just don't know...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHWHHpbKljIGDl5vucHXTp0w8JP8JKuwaoIoU5WPNDHdM-zzeDFx8cxXBLMu7-msphlwRzU5ztw5SDcDc58V8FR1pyF6pxtzEGzDBY_AuWISEtgrEZoMPEwwGc0eA8r-COg3xQUjQKMtvg/s1600/pregnant+ezra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="264" width="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHWHHpbKljIGDl5vucHXTp0w8JP8JKuwaoIoU5WPNDHdM-zzeDFx8cxXBLMu7-msphlwRzU5ztw5SDcDc58V8FR1pyF6pxtzEGzDBY_AuWISEtgrEZoMPEwwGc0eA8r-COg3xQUjQKMtvg/s320/pregnant+ezra.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Drop me your dilemma. Are you a pantser or a plotter?<br />
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Still looking for a good match on a YA critique partner, help!Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-62921403890004517972011-07-04T12:08:00.000-05:002011-07-04T12:08:16.796-05:00Comments, Cookies, and KooksI've been pulling my hair out for weeks due to an internal “third-party cookie filtering error”. Sounds like a personal problem, right? Apparently, I am such a wiz at computer security, (coughs into kerchief-I've only blown three laptops in the past two years.) that I made it impossible for myself to leave comments on other blogs. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYP40YedZQmqbqXWvToH_wzchxqwYh3uxmX0HJoLIZ-mePT0c87lqSGOn8icHPVL8Y0gyF_eIdDDydxpCern_wD3Ryt4WfneAIDYDDJsK9-iRKpxRH7_NBEFiw4x-bL1fgBkIL4_UmEc6r/s1600/redhead+pulling+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="90" width="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYP40YedZQmqbqXWvToH_wzchxqwYh3uxmX0HJoLIZ-mePT0c87lqSGOn8icHPVL8Y0gyF_eIdDDydxpCern_wD3Ryt4WfneAIDYDDJsK9-iRKpxRH7_NBEFiw4x-bL1fgBkIL4_UmEc6r/s320/redhead+pulling+hair.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As we all know, if you don't seek out other bloggers and leave comments, then no one will reciprocate the love. Well, for the most of us anyway. There are those of you, and you know who are, who can insult the pope himself and still gain thirty followers a day. But alas, I'm not one of you. <br />
<br />
Even as I was going through my emotional meltdown of the past month, I continued to read and search writer's blogs. But without the ability to say anything, I slowly oozed off the planet. <br />
<br />
So, I posted a question on blogger's site asking why I could no longer post comments. Right direction, right? Wrong! I got an answer by a mean spirited, condescending techno geek. He told me all about my cookie sickness and suggested I go to his blog site to get the fix.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUMDbsaTVm490NxXistf40LTTiPXyBDM1vqel3GhnjEI-8SI5GASlM8Ef1ZmIYTq5CQq3IP2VBJq7k4VG2VIxxfJjwaUF_VwdvIi_uAne_bZxgmntE1Ky30NrzGFxSdCAdO61-ARKNYyJ/s1600/computer+geek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="159" width="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUMDbsaTVm490NxXistf40LTTiPXyBDM1vqel3GhnjEI-8SI5GASlM8Ef1ZmIYTq5CQq3IP2VBJq7k4VG2VIxxfJjwaUF_VwdvIi_uAne_bZxgmntE1Ky30NrzGFxSdCAdO61-ARKNYyJ/s320/computer+geek.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Well, I read page after page of insults aimed at us poor schleps that are so pathetic that we purchase our laptops and computers at places like Best Buy and Target, but are too stupid to do more than open the box. I found post after post telling me what my problem is, but advice on fixing it? Not hardly.<br />
<br />
Then I Googled my question and lo and behold, got an answer. And I quote... “The fix is simple...Just unclick the “remain logged in” button and enter your username and password.” Posted by the remarkable Level 1, Mikhail Borgin on June 19, 2011. All hail, Mikhail! <br />
<br />
And it WORKS! Yay! Back to reading and blogging! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_utZ-Tzc9WQlOTFemDkTQWue8AB_X5v-qbmbV3fs6mNvV2lHUYCNXGXvcZm65jjLOGz6lPIdh7sQ9ljyefJMdHhTA7-cXhr2ghpLm6pnKP6h5gqycfWn8MPv9TC7IDpPZQKpLGQ-eDavV/s1600/frustrated+writer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="205" width="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_utZ-Tzc9WQlOTFemDkTQWue8AB_X5v-qbmbV3fs6mNvV2lHUYCNXGXvcZm65jjLOGz6lPIdh7sQ9ljyefJMdHhTA7-cXhr2ghpLm6pnKP6h5gqycfWn8MPv9TC7IDpPZQKpLGQ-eDavV/s320/frustrated+writer.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My writing partner and I are still looking for a third or fourth, so if anyone wants to join in, we need ya! We'll read and answer your stuff pronto.Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-55204028256391477332011-06-30T15:05:00.001-05:002011-06-30T15:05:53.130-05:00Desperately Seeking SusanOr someone like her. I'm even open to a Steven. Now that I'm back to blogging and writing judiciously again, it occurred to me I need a third or fourth critique partner. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dvWRqyMrT_T83ijw-fXryrIl35GYXTh8ktbPYd91hc6FO1k3-CtdIyPtgEtrY2pzmtKZv7xPRNNYnBws5c_jvw5UTSxX5N-LL-4UsBrI5OPdSNsE1sNdxyKumkRgu0LnEoW31_kRxj2X/s1600/writer%2527s+block.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dvWRqyMrT_T83ijw-fXryrIl35GYXTh8ktbPYd91hc6FO1k3-CtdIyPtgEtrY2pzmtKZv7xPRNNYnBws5c_jvw5UTSxX5N-LL-4UsBrI5OPdSNsE1sNdxyKumkRgu0LnEoW31_kRxj2X/s320/writer%2527s+block.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
My writing buddy and I have grown accustomed to each others style and we are a good fit. But maybe we've become so comfortable with each others writing that we are missing the nuances. SO, we are looking for someone to fill that void. <br />
<br />
Rules: There's always rules, aren't there? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCYkhNO7s-Diufg8TucGQb4wT2B85f5OCkqwqhrJAUHVHypTInWIcxaCzLU5CfLgNKpwjlc0UnebWigHgCaZqDieXjyNUNB_8L4uLFxzCUw1feoNKNgieWrXMCmdu5URcIFU_c3_q320J/s1600/tight+space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="224" width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCYkhNO7s-Diufg8TucGQb4wT2B85f5OCkqwqhrJAUHVHypTInWIcxaCzLU5CfLgNKpwjlc0UnebWigHgCaZqDieXjyNUNB_8L4uLFxzCUw1feoNKNgieWrXMCmdu5URcIFU_c3_q320J/s320/tight+space.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Drop down to the comments section and express your interest and let me know you're submitting a sample. We, me, and the amazing Gina White at TiredbutWriting/blogspot.com, are asking for the first three chapters of your WIP or whatever you want feedback on. If your style seems like something that would mesh well with us, we will send you the same. <br />
<br />
Please note the amount of time you are able to allot for this, and the amount of feedback you want. If you only want someone to read your work, but not offer suggestions, say so. We want it to be fair for everyone.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceCdBjX10H3kLTBGydfdDHvUGig2dd1YLIUiB2pY7mjV6A4Pw0Bo8AJA-9w1kiP0t9exzFH4OdDTB2B2PDF103-C7wCtzYAl5lgDy3RXjkl8Z1tVLbeJwRr7NGpMUR6M438Lb8Jf8wpe3/s1600/good+fit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceCdBjX10H3kLTBGydfdDHvUGig2dd1YLIUiB2pY7mjV6A4Pw0Bo8AJA-9w1kiP0t9exzFH4OdDTB2B2PDF103-C7wCtzYAl5lgDy3RXjkl8Z1tVLbeJwRr7NGpMUR6M438Lb8Jf8wpe3/s320/good+fit.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
We both write YA, so we do hope to get a fellow YA'er, but are open to other paranormal or urban fantasy writers. I am currently working on a Dystopian and she is writing the most smashing Zombie story ever.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3d6jkcYGsHNXa18oVccQUa9KYBaAu6DXid9gZBbnHe4lA81q42Vwi4gSHz3IPH2KPb9PEbhDH-LsNDM4zS0qtFz6qe7c504NadKQMGbr3aY1OOpoYJSDDwesMSL12Rr_UDzBGWN8HYhti/s1600/zombie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="220" width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3d6jkcYGsHNXa18oVccQUa9KYBaAu6DXid9gZBbnHe4lA81q42Vwi4gSHz3IPH2KPb9PEbhDH-LsNDM4zS0qtFz6qe7c504NadKQMGbr3aY1OOpoYJSDDwesMSL12Rr_UDzBGWN8HYhti/s320/zombie.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
If you are interested the email address for the sample is leazeqiri@yahoo.com.<br />
<br />
Hope to hear from ya!Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-28121939703146015112011-06-28T13:34:00.001-05:002011-06-28T13:39:17.825-05:00Bye Bye DaddyI'd like to apologize for the several weeks hiatus I've had on my blog. But in my defense I've been dealing with quite an emotional journey. I was estranged for several years from my father, but at one point I was his favorite and life was jolly. He passed away this past week. <br />
<br />
This blog may seem disrespectful, but if you had known my Dad you would know he would have gotten a kick out of it. <br />
<br />
When I got to the hospital he was pretty much gone. I would never have recognized him.<br />
<br />
My father was six foot one, but the huffing frame in the hospital bed was only five foot something and that includes the one leg he had left. The smell was nauseating. An overwhelming mix of decay, unwashed body and infection. When I asked the nurse about it, she looked at me strange and offered an air freshener. Turns out it wasn't my father but a couple of guests in the hospital.<br />
<br />
My Dad was moved from the hospital to the hospice later that afternoon. I was angry with the decision initially, as I didn't think it fair that he couldn't die at home. But in retrospect, the hospice was the better choice. I waited at the hospital until he was moved and then took my brother and his two daughters to dinner. Perhaps I should have skipped the dreadful chimichanga. He died while we were dining and I had to make peace with his corpse. <br />
<br />
The wonderful caregivers at the hospice gave me an hour alone with him and I was able to tell him everything while everyone else waited outside. I loved the old man and I have forgiven him for being such a bastard, but he was what he was and I can't talk him into heaven. <br />
<br />
The next day bedlam ensued...but what else could be expected. We're spooky and we're cooky, we're the real Addams Family.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUoh5eTdi__0WJwA3aS6vxKiilxCw-5eeXCtfFMUJ0lOmXfTxPHDKT-Oh2Sol9d2iXLC9cOrf_9bvWXmKeEO4VkL8udi8bIpmsXGuniPJe4OOy9UOBS-ud7tNx9CtxgVLEU6px8PnT-_G/s1600/Addams.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUoh5eTdi__0WJwA3aS6vxKiilxCw-5eeXCtfFMUJ0lOmXfTxPHDKT-Oh2Sol9d2iXLC9cOrf_9bvWXmKeEO4VkL8udi8bIpmsXGuniPJe4OOy9UOBS-ud7tNx9CtxgVLEU6px8PnT-_G/s320/Addams.png" /></a></div><br />
That night was the viewing... <br />
<br />
My other sister, better known as Jabba the Hutt, you may have seen her movies, had every right to come and she did. She also brought her three grandchildren, all under the age of four, and allowed them to climb up the side of the coffin and play pat the dead guy. In which they commenced to accurately describe his temperature, “He's cold,” which thanks to their speech impediments came out more like, “He goal—ed.”Seeing as how my father refused to see them when he was alive, I don't think he would have appreciated it when he was gone, but there you have. He couldn't rightly tell them to get off, so someone had to. As we don't speak, I'm likely to kill her if I do, I asked her son to please have the children crawl out of the coffin. Which he did, loudly... <br />
<br />
My father's brothers, one of whom at age 82 had just had his heart stopped and restarted by the hospital prior to his trip to view his baby brother's body, were so upset they left shortly after and I didn't even get to say goodbye. Neither attended the funeral. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZfwPimx7tFsmjgMW6HViKu8NQp8qknB-NLMQJj59P0SLVGXM8HZyg53U85jLR4srNRhCgtMHNi_JQOCTDEs752NPY5Lx580o2LKo8cjMS9alb1899GypmrUI16mRLfFsF0bx1MdfG-pc/s1600/Jabba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZfwPimx7tFsmjgMW6HViKu8NQp8qknB-NLMQJj59P0SLVGXM8HZyg53U85jLR4srNRhCgtMHNi_JQOCTDEs752NPY5Lx580o2LKo8cjMS9alb1899GypmrUI16mRLfFsF0bx1MdfG-pc/s320/Jabba.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Ensuring all are informed...<br />
<br />
For days I had tried to reach my crazy sister who was committed down in Myrtle Beach for allegedly attacking a gang member who attempted to steal her Clonapin. The nut house was refusing to tell her that our father was ill. So when I called to beg them to tell her our father had passed they kicked her out on the street with only a phone call to her insane fiance, he gets a free check too. <br />
<br />
Upon discovering she was out, I convinced him to wake her up. I quite possibly may have threatened to go down there at that instant. I could hear him screaming at her and slapping her through the receiver and I nearly went ballistic. I am a ginger and sometimes can be a wee bit hotheaded. <br />
<br />
The next morning my darling husband finally arrived to stay and stated the obvious that we couldn't waste ten hours driving back and forth to Myrtle, so we paid for a bus ticket for her. (She won't fly, afraid of the little men in the engine or something.) <br />
<br />
Onto to the funereal....<br />
<br />
My father was an atheist. But at one point, trying to get into an old Mexican woman's drawers, he'd decided to become a Catholic. As that same Mexican woman later became the reason we were estranged I was unaware that he had never succeeded in converting to Catholicism. That is until the funeral. The same woman and her daughter, my stepsister, a truly beautiful person inside and out, go figure, right?...insisted on a Catholic mass and that's what we had. <br />
<br />
The priest made a point of saying that my dad was not a Catholic, did not believe in god, and yet, lo and behold, he had to come back to the church where apparently he had had some sort of falling out. While not specifically noted, it was insinuated that words had been exchanged with the other priest and thus he was not holding the service. It sorta smacked of a, “Aha! I told you so.”<br />
<br />
The service would have still come off without a hitch, except for the guitar playing, I shit you not, male choir leader who was barefoot... yep barefoot. I tried hard not to think of the Athletes' Foot problem that he must have been raging on with as he couldn't wear shoes to a funereal. <br />
<br />
My sister, Jabba the Hutt, once again brought the dead-loving children and attempted to have them receive the eucharist. Thank goodness for the all-in-good-stride priest who simply patted their heads and sent them back to their seats. My other sister, Little Miss Crazy hobbled down the aisle half-way through the mass to go throw up loudly, very loudly.<br />
<br />
So you can see a good time was had by all.<br />
<br />
But alas, that's not the end of the story. There's a back story, isn't there always a back story?<br />
<br />
Unbeknownst to the rest of us, Jabba the Hutt, had taken the liberty to go to my father's house the night before the funereal to request a photograph on behalf of my mother from his newly bereaved widow. Naturally, she couldn't be expected to wait at least a decorous two months for said pic, my mom had already been waiting 30 years. And with her Alzheimer's she might not remember she had wanted the photograph of her dead husband. Yes, she seems to have an issue remembering that they were divorced. Jabba, not one to let a good opportunity go to waste, asked for the dining room table, a tiller, a box of photographs and threatened to kill the aforementioned Mexican woman, his widow.<br />
<br />
So that was a brewing...<br />
<br />
Thanks to my husband, the voice of reason, warning me to let it go, I was intent on being the bigger person, not easy when Jabba weighs upwards of 600lbs. Yet, we still needed to say our goodbyes to my Mama after the service, which thankfully she didn't attend. As she made a point of telling me that my father was probably knocking on his casket to have been in a Catholic Church. Great visual, right? She attended the viewing, something about needing to apologize to his widow for having called her a whore by my Dad's hospital bed a couple of weeks earlier. As a great Christian, she couldn't have that little faux pas stealing her seat on her own heavenly bus ride. <br />
<br />
Even with the knowledge of Jabba's midnight stroll and my Mama's fit of jealousy over a one-legged man, I managed to not have a conniption. But when Mama made some comment about the kids at the service, I said, "...they shouldn't have been there anyway. It was a funereal, not a trip to a Disney World.”<br />
<br />
Next thing I know, Jabba the Hutt comes barreling out of the trailer, nearly rolling down the three swaying steps screaming at the top of her lungs that her grandkids had every right to attend their grandfather's funereal. I ignored her. She turned around headed back into the trailer teetering on meltdown and we thought her tirade was over. That for Jabba was a tiny tirade not counting the effusive use of brilliantly colored language, none of which can be used in polite company.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZEvugeoHGkd6yhuSQLOqGKrWQl-KgJ7u7QLjFVrWRvu4nc60hxrpQNYqnyGm0RjPJUr8tUny3sSQGyBxtTSq-sEestt5gfK01MIn-Tvs4BAw5ZWkaG6mmZaAXzakv34CWhv-SiRO1yoo/s1600/Jabba+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="184" width="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZEvugeoHGkd6yhuSQLOqGKrWQl-KgJ7u7QLjFVrWRvu4nc60hxrpQNYqnyGm0RjPJUr8tUny3sSQGyBxtTSq-sEestt5gfK01MIn-Tvs4BAw5ZWkaG6mmZaAXzakv34CWhv-SiRO1yoo/s320/Jabba+2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
BUT of course not. Apparently she just needed to catch her breath, her weight in the SC humidity would be tough on anyone, because five minutes later, she's back. The demon bull has been unleashed and my ignoring her screams is infuriating her to a level only seen in horror movies. Next thing I know, she's looming over me, fourteen jagged stitch scars across her forehead and all, threatening to slice me into bacon bits. I may have mentioned something to the affect that I prefer fish so perhaps sushi would be a better choice and my darling hubby was demanding we leave.<br />
<br />
I could tell you more, but those are the highlights and I hope you've enjoyed them.Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-80840126968371424492011-06-04T16:18:00.000-05:002011-06-04T16:18:10.340-05:00I'm an Idiot, But You Probably Already Figured That OutIt's been an awesome week of writing, but I must apologize for not blogging. So now that that's been said, I owe one more apology. The amazing, the stupendous, the remarkable, (yeah even I'm gagging) the perfect blogger that I can no longer find, sent me one of those seriously sweet blog awards and being the numbskull that I am, I can't locate it. So, I'm sorry.<br />
<br />
Getting back to the promise I made to humiliate myself for your amusement, I'm<br />
posting the first and last sentences of the first five chapters of BLAZE, my 2010 NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month AKA November) story.<br />
<br />
Please be gentle as the goal is to write a novel with a minimum word count of 50,000, and it was mission accomplished. The rest is self-explanatory.<br />
<br />
BLAZE is a completed, unedited YA Romantic Fantasy at 66,500 words.<br />
<br />
<br />
Chapter 1<br />
<br />
1. Don’t call Captain Thorton please, just this once, just this year, can’t we skip it? <br />
2. Super crapola, the rest of the handkerchief crowd was headed her way, rheumy eyed and ready for a good cry to salve their conscious. <br />
<br />
Chapter 2<br />
<br />
1. “What’s up Wheels? Or should I say Mazel Tov?” <br />
2. Shouldn’t she happy for them?<br />
<br />
Chapter 3<br />
<br />
1. The gate screeched as Blaze pushed the rusty hinges to their breaking point and slipped through the gap into the overgrown brambles.<br />
2. He sent the other half of his soul out after her, but as usual it sang to empty air.<br />
<br />
Chapter 4<br />
<br />
1. Blaze’s yard was swarming with police officers as she ran up and her stomach fell through the sidewalk, the flowers in her gut turning into liquid acid.<br />
2. And she continued running until she was safe inside the walls of Athens High and halfway to her locker. <br />
<br />
Chapter 5<br />
<br />
1. Wheels’ locker was below and to the left of Blaze’s and he was already there as she arrived out of breath and frazzled. <br />
2. He’d be ready and waiting when they knocked on his door.<br />
<br />
The chapters in this novel are very long and will undoubtedly be cut in half when I actually start editing it. But for now, I can see the plot following through by the first and last lines. So, even though I'm very proud of this one, it will be salvageable when the work I'm on finally gives me a rest. <br />
<br />
Now that I've been baring my soul, I hope a few of you, will follow suit and let me know where I can read them. I will be taking a week's vacation at the beach with my darling perfect pixie of a granddaughter, but I will check in.<br />
<br />
Happy writing!Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-86021948575159859272011-05-22T14:37:00.005-05:002011-05-22T14:53:21.725-05:00Still HereI didn't post yesterday as I figured most of you would have been sucked up into the atmosphere and no one would have been around to read it. But as that didn't happen, here ya go:<br />
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<br />
For today’s blog post I’m continuing the challenge set forth by the ‘oh, so, soon to be published’ Anita Grace Howard, yes I’m still working on that jealousy issue. With the smoozalistic award came the soul baring farce of put up or shut up. <br />
<br />
Always up for the chance to embarrass myself, I’m taking that challenge to the extreme and putting up the first and last sentences of the first five chapters of each of my manuscripts.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7V4PG9478bZuH3jbtCVcBO2ag7F01NhIBqYtov7K6Kk0YRtfGk69WLf09lMDrL_JgESjKqNBr4GgYTH_Q4AVIGbkWpWPRy8RFp5h2ZJprIu7su2A6Bwx1OPJwv0QidExSV3rYouc1BeML/s1600/frustrated+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="215" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7V4PG9478bZuH3jbtCVcBO2ag7F01NhIBqYtov7K6Kk0YRtfGk69WLf09lMDrL_JgESjKqNBr4GgYTH_Q4AVIGbkWpWPRy8RFp5h2ZJprIu7su2A6Bwx1OPJwv0QidExSV3rYouc1BeML/s320/frustrated+woman.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
In my last blog, I drew a line in the sand with my current WIP, this time I’m going down quick. <br />
<br />
These are the, ‘make me sick’ I wrote that crap, first sentences from ALKONOST – A TATTOO AWAKENS, the first novel I finished. <br />
<br />
Chapter 1 Branded<br />
<br />
“You can get naked in there.” <br />
But no more tears came, they would find her later, this was only the calm before the storm.<br />
<br />
Chapter 2 Phelan<br />
<br />
The doorbell rang for the tenth time, Sorra squeezed the pillow harder over her ears. <br />
Phelan had a way of making a fender bender sound like a 40 car pileup.<br />
<br />
Chapter 3 Skender and Fiona<br />
<br />
It was three am, “truck driver’s hour for sleep driving,” Skender thought wryly. <br />
Why hadn’t she inherited her mother’s strength, instead of, only her blue eyes? <br />
<br />
Chapter 4 Coward<br />
<br />
She could not see me; the mist rolling in from the swamp was too dense, the hour too close to the spike of dawn’s rays. <br />
Mama, help me! Please Daddy I need you! <br />
<br />
Chapter 5 And So it Began<br />
<br />
A stabbing pain skewered Fiona’s right eye and her vision went blank. <br />
Sorra whispered, “Thank you.”<br />
<br />
The idea of the challenge is to see where your novel is going. Do you have a plot? Is it so convoluted that even you can’t figure out where it’s going and you won’t the drivel? Is your MC worthy of having their story told or she/he some whining little snit that should just shut the freak up?<br />
<br />
I hadn’t opened this story file in months and after doing so today, I wish I hadn’t. <br />
<br />
Oh, I’ll eventually go back to my poor little Sorra possessed by an ancient goddess through a tattoo she got on her 19th birthday in a drunken stupor at college. But judging from the lines I read just skimming through here, it’ll be awhile. And this is after countless revisions; I might confess the original novel was 175K word count. *throws up in hand – daintily lops off with chainsaw*<br />
<br />
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Ick! Yuck! Ugh! What the heck was I drinking?<br />
<br />
Since blogger didn’t take my links on the first post, and for some reason my menopausal mind can't decipher I’m reposting them without the link, at least they show up…<br />
http://tiredbutwriting.blogspot.com Gina White<br />
http://authoraghoward.blogspot.com Anita Grace Howard<br />
http://fromsarahwithjoy.blogspot.com Sarah Allen<br />
http://andthenmyheartsmiled.blogspot.com Charmalot<br />
http://kitcourteney.blogspot.com Kit Courteney<br />
http://dailydramaofanaspiringwriter.blogspot.com Murees DupreWanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-75867557681465930492011-05-19T12:08:00.003-05:002011-05-19T18:23:55.369-05:00An Award For Me?"Oh no, why I couldn’t! Oh, you shouldn’t have. Oh my, aren’t you sweet?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgSGCLpqmYlaSXTy0gnOhovY8ggjJvC5vHUAhUrUZOYXZSG_DZsA0rznYEBX2D0qV1Qgfa44SPoznaBZfDH1J2TDQu8OOUotOMO4xruF686VBpYEkMRmM_4LcmcIbuaWdylaJYcCNH__s/s1600/funny+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="256" width="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgSGCLpqmYlaSXTy0gnOhovY8ggjJvC5vHUAhUrUZOYXZSG_DZsA0rznYEBX2D0qV1Qgfa44SPoznaBZfDH1J2TDQu8OOUotOMO4xruF686VBpYEkMRmM_4LcmcIbuaWdylaJYcCNH__s/s320/funny+lady.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As hard as it to believe, I’m still in a twitter about it, but I was lavished with the Versatile Blogger Award by none other than the illustrious Anita, <a href="http://authoraghoward.blogspot.com/"></a> her blog is<br />
"A Still and Quiet Madness". Awesome title, right? <br />
She’s quite literary, accomplished, and soon to be published, so it’s okay to hate her a bit, it’ll be our little secret.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-HcScrCQDRDXf7f9lITIYFUiscESYcmFcpNTLv-_qnQyu4BTYbwP7JhnYjbTiilIKzIRBc-0awm6nxbDLv9yQ62ArocBb2ZMxHZnUIznXFt5L4Zyq4ljpDI7Afl8klWWDX1GjGGFTSMr/s1600/crying+gwyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-HcScrCQDRDXf7f9lITIYFUiscESYcmFcpNTLv-_qnQyu4BTYbwP7JhnYjbTiilIKzIRBc-0awm6nxbDLv9yQ62ArocBb2ZMxHZnUIznXFt5L4Zyq4ljpDI7Afl8klWWDX1GjGGFTSMr/s320/crying+gwyn.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And no that isn’t the award, but as I was poking around for the perfect pic, I found this one and while I totally commiserate with the emotion, I would have had enough sense to stuff my bra before I went on stage. Bless her heart, but I’m just saying, can’t she pay someone to point out her flaws? Maybe she’s needs beta dressers.<br />
<br />
Here’s the supercalifragilisticexpialidocious award:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejZ_sjp-85yybJaNx0pEka_903mFzyyGI5ZEBWE4QQ9V7y2TFGIPmakteYkfjt7ZIedM6BKiZuZ404LpWrMUbNWIk1RM6WE24IRdIrsR93_klN8uoRkDtOmenGWCsP554oy_NOE_kyMGE/s1600/blog_award%252C_versatile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="196" width="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejZ_sjp-85yybJaNx0pEka_903mFzyyGI5ZEBWE4QQ9V7y2TFGIPmakteYkfjt7ZIedM6BKiZuZ404LpWrMUbNWIk1RM6WE24IRdIrsR93_klN8uoRkDtOmenGWCsP554oy_NOE_kyMGE/s320/blog_award%252C_versatile.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And the way the award works, yep there’s rules wouldn’t you know it, is:<br />
1. Thank and link to the person who nominated you.<br />
2. Share seven random facts about yourself or the one I chose…<br />
Post the first and last lines of the first five chapters of one of <br />
your manuscripts. <br />
3. Pass the award along to 5 deserving blogging buddies.<br />
4. Contact those buddies to congratulate them<br />
<br />
So, for number one, thank you Ms. Anita and I’m swallowing my jealousy and promise not to feel to much more angst against you.<br />
<br />
For number two, I was torn and have decided to do all three of my finished and the my current WIP, but since all that reading would probably make your eyes bleed and I don’t want to be responsible for that, I’ll post them separately. It’s an insightful tool to let you know if you’re on track or not.<br />
<br />
My current WIP is a YA Dystopian, UNCLASSIFIED, and it kinda goes like this:<br />
<br />
Chapter 1<br />
I am a menstruating female. <br />
One false move and it will be my last.<br />
<br />
Chapter 2<br />
There is no doubt phototherapy was good for me. <br />
That star is a bigger insult than anything an Altered to could say or do to me. Traitor!<br />
<br />
Chapter 3<br />
The double doors slide silently apart as I approach. <br />
But I can’t block out the truth…I’ll be joining them soon enough.<br />
<br />
Chapter 4<br />
My judge, jury and executioner is an Altered. <br />
Maybe her curiosity will get the better of her before it’s too late. <br />
<br />
Chapter 5<br />
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and grab the two sterile parcels from the bed next to Bengali and drop them on the bed in the farthest corner of the ward. <br />
Never looking back is my only hope of survival.<br />
<br />
The plot is set in the not too far future and after the destruction and reunification of the world into one country post 9-11. My MC, Ezra Thibodeaux, is assimilated into this world, then raped, pregnant, and alone she’s forced to fight for her life. And yada, yada, yada.<br />
<br />
For number three, I’ve selected the following deserving blogging buddies:<br />
<br />
<br />
Gina White <a href="http://tiredbutwriting.blogspot.com"></a><br />
Sarah Allen <a href="http://fromsarahwithjoy.blogspot.com"></a><br />
Charmalot <a href="http://andthenmyheartsmiled.blogspot.com"></a><br />
Kit Courteney <a href="http://kitcourteney.blogspot.com"></a><br />
Murees Dupé <a href="http://dailydramaofanaspiringwriter.blogspot.com"></a><br />
<br />
(Just in case, this is the umpthteen time I posted these links, I hope they show up, I can't edit this thing anymore, I promise they are there, just invisible.)<br />
<br />
These are all lovely blogs with a humorous side, not bloated or condescending at all. Check them out for a tad of wisdom without the wind.<br />
<br />
So now, I’m going to contact them to let them know about the award and get back to writing, this is the longest blog I’ve ever done. Whew! I’m worn out!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-zsMOAN9Lm-1NVxY3e23YsUHzliocgpxWacj8B5DAKCqTWBwRbmFO0X-YS9DcC2mFeV2iQVhwrqjxWCUAwlguX2aV1SJWKj-u1BBy8kE0NePSTI0TD_m5NPfC5piIZSpoGsbqHYobQ1X/s1600/tired+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="187" width="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-zsMOAN9Lm-1NVxY3e23YsUHzliocgpxWacj8B5DAKCqTWBwRbmFO0X-YS9DcC2mFeV2iQVhwrqjxWCUAwlguX2aV1SJWKj-u1BBy8kE0NePSTI0TD_m5NPfC5piIZSpoGsbqHYobQ1X/s320/tired+woman.jpg" /></a></div>Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-78927534290329501902011-05-14T15:38:00.002-05:002011-05-14T15:42:22.157-05:00It's Only a Little ObsessionI have been neglecting my blog, but not because it doesn’t come to mind or due to lack of time to write. I’ve been negligent due to obsession. My current WIP is sucking up all of my cognizant hours. When I’m not writing on it, I’m thinking on it. I go through this with each new story I fall into, but this one seems to be edging on madness. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICSr2xAbWad1YbWOYkb1HNAQH9QuExtzqnYITKuJ1ssYkkmyJJ8LSvxONi4WObiuW8OBF0ztdHyDruHPftAyKBpzYwIeUzv-xvly56HDQUzsjYgH-sykeTpGYYEKtm_u0u9Xm7Q3xrDDG/s1600/obssessed.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICSr2xAbWad1YbWOYkb1HNAQH9QuExtzqnYITKuJ1ssYkkmyJJ8LSvxONi4WObiuW8OBF0ztdHyDruHPftAyKBpzYwIeUzv-xvly56HDQUzsjYgH-sykeTpGYYEKtm_u0u9Xm7Q3xrDDG/s320/obssessed.bmp" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Is this a good thing? I’ve got three finished pieces, including one that’s in desperate need of editing, and I should be querying them. Sporadically, I am, but not enough to ever move them to the next step. Why is that? I loved the stories when I wrote them, I even loved them through the numerous rewrites, but I just can’t seem to commit myself to time necessary to get their voices heard.<br />
<br />
Am I only using this new story as an excuse to not query? Or am I finally writing the one, the story that will be my break through and get me published? I believe I am writing better than I’ve written, and I adore the plot, but if I’m honest with myself, I always feel this way about each new story. Well except for that NaNoWriMo ditty that needs its head cut off.<br />
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I abhor longwinded blogs so I’ll get straight to the point. How about you? Do you fall madly and obsessively in love with your MCs? Do you spend your every waking moment, including the ones when you should be falling asleep, imagining ways to make their lives hell? <br />
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Drop me a note and tell me about your MC and why he/she deserves the love you lavish on them…Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-19689075349826999772011-05-09T12:24:00.000-05:002011-05-09T12:24:09.288-05:00To Wait or Not To Wait or To WriteOh the anticipation…”You’ve Got Mail”. <br />
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<br />
You shyly read the sender’s name, yes, yes, yes, it’s one of the agents that you’ve queried, your mind screams to your fingers, “CLICK THE BLOODY BUTTON ALREADY!” <br />
<br />
But your fingers stubbornly revolt. See, they’ve taken this trip before, and they know the ride ends in failure, so you wait. The battle rages between your mind and your fingers…open, open, open!<br />
<br />
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Your body unable to take the tension roiling through you, weighs in…get another cup of coffee, go take a wee, get a little exercise, or check your other email? Or maybe you should get some coffee and exercise? So, you perform these other suddenly monumentally important tasks, but once finished, it’s still there, it’s still waiting…<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WMgQCgOyTDvyZUbLDoyKThyXx_Eld0iBNHgieP7GjIqrjbO3Up1C254a97HennACpPxrgLUadipDFOy8ZhvqCSdguWBySyC-NSKAmssn3XXiKGkbtASJ0ZD9qRy-uZshdfatdvKiMaYu/s1600/coffee+drinker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="239" width="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WMgQCgOyTDvyZUbLDoyKThyXx_Eld0iBNHgieP7GjIqrjbO3Up1C254a97HennACpPxrgLUadipDFOy8ZhvqCSdguWBySyC-NSKAmssn3XXiKGkbtASJ0ZD9qRy-uZshdfatdvKiMaYu/s320/coffee+drinker.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Your mind forces you to return to the agent’s magical response, your pinkie finger, such a little guy to be put in such an important position, hovers over the ‘enter’ key. Your heart paces like a wild caged animal, and your breathing stops altogether. <br />
<br />
Should you wait a little longer? Maybe you should go work on your current WIP, you’ve only written two paragraphs of worthless drivel today…<br />
<br />
Your pinkie, unused to such extreme tension, strikes! The damage is done…<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTa1ozbBnSoYSRzEeR51zifoXyN4X-Zq6PkG1bbeZso7SJscH2YEMgOxltMW_iiGTskKIqc9iVOMTV0LtA3Jfjw-GmB1cc3h72HQ3LeOzlz3l-wtQ8Z3jScK3S1NCfZ0ExSUkifJJTle8H/s1600/frustrated+writer.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="144" width="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTa1ozbBnSoYSRzEeR51zifoXyN4X-Zq6PkG1bbeZso7SJscH2YEMgOxltMW_iiGTskKIqc9iVOMTV0LtA3Jfjw-GmB1cc3h72HQ3LeOzlz3l-wtQ8Z3jScK3S1NCfZ0ExSUkifJJTle8H/s320/frustrated+writer.bmp" /></a></div>Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-63622811310478491972011-05-05T16:28:00.000-05:002011-05-05T16:28:54.430-05:00¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo!Living in Texas you’d think I can describe in detail what Cinco de Mayo means. And you’d be right, but not because I learned it here, I Googled it. If you ask a non-Hispanic Texan what it means, you’ll likely get the right answer, the fifth of May. <br />
<br />
But if you ask him, why the Mexicans celebrate it, he’s apt to beat you with his ten gallon hat. See, everyone is allowed to equally celebrate the invention of Tacos by a senorita named Margarita. <br />
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<br />
<br />
If you ask the same question of a Hispanic Texan, say from El Salvador or Guatemala, you’ll probably get, “How the heck do I know, I’m not Mexican.”<br />
<br />
You must go to the source. And sadly, it’ll probably be the wrong answer. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVshlgTsQvZEDazrI-6ONbDKyVz9BAhpyV3q9iswoYtBuRtFmeut2z390VEr3WlajWMJqLT_FJHcKZJANEKUysNCs-DwWQLCT3jnpl9XtyCfoTLtBkcaAxFRmS-oqAaJwvy3p0tmqXvvnf/s1600/cinco+de+mayo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVshlgTsQvZEDazrI-6ONbDKyVz9BAhpyV3q9iswoYtBuRtFmeut2z390VEr3WlajWMJqLT_FJHcKZJANEKUysNCs-DwWQLCT3jnpl9XtyCfoTLtBkcaAxFRmS-oqAaJwvy3p0tmqXvvnf/s320/cinco+de+mayo.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It is not Mexican Independence Day. <br />
<br />
After the Mexican-American war, Mexico entered a civil war from 1858-1861, without the tourist trade or Pollo Loco that pretty much wiped them out. They borrowed a heap of pesos from England, Spain, and France, among others. In 1862 the three bandidos came to collect, Mexico offered them vouchers, (these have been replaced by the ‘all-inclusive’ bracelet). England and Spain, drunk on cerveza and pretty senoritas went on home, but the wine loving French ‘no quiero-ed’ the IOU and declared war. Thus the battle of Puebla, the French got their butts kicked yet again on North American soil and the Mexicans invented guacamole in their honor.<br />
<br />
Happy writing!<br />
I’m getting back to it as soon as I finish this bottle of Tequila!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmCv_g2A7vwnBYas9oKW3LTLqAcJNK20wqfR__s-cbVG8oTLmI-8TZ2gTnKpKPXnvHKJycsqmWLSAbys8u_VG-VEep_Vxkj5M2DGvW3BJ9Vxv4ZXLXDKnzEYWGiem9TyoEIZ9xYC5_Pp8/s1600/cinco+de+mayo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmCv_g2A7vwnBYas9oKW3LTLqAcJNK20wqfR__s-cbVG8oTLmI-8TZ2gTnKpKPXnvHKJycsqmWLSAbys8u_VG-VEep_Vxkj5M2DGvW3BJ9Vxv4ZXLXDKnzEYWGiem9TyoEIZ9xYC5_Pp8/s320/cinco+de+mayo+2.jpg" /></a></div>Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-17519292999938959472011-05-03T14:26:00.001-05:002011-05-03T14:28:55.159-05:00May Day, May Day...Mission Impossible CompleteWith the April blogging challenge over, I find myself wondering what to write about and how I should schedule myself to do this meaningless meandering. <br />
<br />
But with the world focused on the death of Osama bin Laden, I feel it necessary to say a few words despite the fact that it has nothing to do with writing. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SuJ5A0pjot4-qyTGR0X0YVfEGnlEYm5Y2Qpq9_VmXHm8aFF85eikv4MfUrIq0HFYuY1KzyTTqGbdjuqRfkF0m9xgnnd0Wg2NI_vjeTt_1uXvoOsYosna6-_ZJO207ZS3zc9VJd4Y21Wh/s1600/beer+daddy.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="159" width="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SuJ5A0pjot4-qyTGR0X0YVfEGnlEYm5Y2Qpq9_VmXHm8aFF85eikv4MfUrIq0HFYuY1KzyTTqGbdjuqRfkF0m9xgnnd0Wg2NI_vjeTt_1uXvoOsYosna6-_ZJO207ZS3zc9VJd4Y21Wh/s320/beer+daddy.bmp" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
My husband is a Moslem. Granted, he can guzzle a six-pack faster than a bus load of heretics after a lost soul and finds andouille sausage to be just one bite shy of heaven, nonetheless he’s got an inside tract to those 72 virgins in the sky. (He reminds me of this every so often to keep me in line and I remind he needs to die in the name of Islam and I’m willing to help him achieve that goal.) <br />
<br />
Obviously the assassination has sparked some heated discussion in our little house, but in this as many things Muslim we agree. The Navy Seals did a remarkable job executing this mission and we are both thankful that they did not try to capture him. The media would have all Americans believe that the Moslem community is in an uproar over his death and Armageddon will surely commence at this dire and traumatic news. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPlYfJUp3dyaLkHGlsWotVAYxie6O5sfrCLvh-JjeXsOWHpzso5kzwH7KtYetwidc8eKW1MS_fHGC7mHACaIKaKak_MAnS_tpvjHeycXADL0GUhkhxpS4xGCCK5y5olR8nwZfyKL8PzXG/s1600/angry+muslems.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="175" width="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPlYfJUp3dyaLkHGlsWotVAYxie6O5sfrCLvh-JjeXsOWHpzso5kzwH7KtYetwidc8eKW1MS_fHGC7mHACaIKaKak_MAnS_tpvjHeycXADL0GUhkhxpS4xGCCK5y5olR8nwZfyKL8PzXG/s320/angry+muslems.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
But that’s simply not true. <br />
<br />
Sure, the radicals will twist their long skirts in knots and pull out their beards, but they are not the only Muslims out there. The majority and yes it’s a MAJORITY, of people practicing Islam is every bit as thankful as we are that he’s gone. Unfortunately, the media will only show the nut cases making human firecrackers of themselves. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbuuYqqu5w4DSDjpRn6ouEbfN1ukFAobgclawxczn_Wo6cJ7TVJf5EfJFW1ciwuEBgt_0iB8AdZ-a53GZ_TVRDyC_U9DGCsSdXuTYBVs-RWbqPpGk59s_QjoaVzqsKEksaWLnnFpgZbXf-/s1600/human+firecracker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="183" width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbuuYqqu5w4DSDjpRn6ouEbfN1ukFAobgclawxczn_Wo6cJ7TVJf5EfJFW1ciwuEBgt_0iB8AdZ-a53GZ_TVRDyC_U9DGCsSdXuTYBVs-RWbqPpGk59s_QjoaVzqsKEksaWLnnFpgZbXf-/s320/human+firecracker.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Many Americans are celebrating his death, and while I don’t feel like popping the cork on a bottle of champagne, (That’s not true, I always feel like champagne) I do understand the need for release. <br />
<br />
Has anything been solved by the loss of this monster? No, he actually killed more Muslims than infidels. His death doesn’t make me sleep any sounder either. No, the wackos will continue their murder and mayhem in the name of Mohammed. But I do feel compassion and a sense of closure for the Americans and their families of September the 11th, a day I will never forget. Peace be with you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilU3O-PLTtixv2WIlP-giAzMaOydCQqtk_i5B7dkQVlkkCZy0J6kMLQxFWAbWG4IvqeZy6mDGn_N0ZfCuMZeYFBzCIVe71PZySW8Uo4T8yg-viAj4_jbBUbKhemYpBpwgab1ftzDdjxvxM/s1600/9-11+memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="183" width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilU3O-PLTtixv2WIlP-giAzMaOydCQqtk_i5B7dkQVlkkCZy0J6kMLQxFWAbWG4IvqeZy6mDGn_N0ZfCuMZeYFBzCIVe71PZySW8Uo4T8yg-viAj4_jbBUbKhemYpBpwgab1ftzDdjxvxM/s320/9-11+memorial.jpg" /></a></div>Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-25127261708635146582011-04-30T13:43:00.000-05:002011-04-30T13:43:32.578-05:00Zealot, Zelatrix, Zoophilic, and ZeqiriIt’s quite apropos that we save the “Z” for last…<br />
it’s filled with the cra’z’ies.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-2y-eCtOR1TEg03iDpdp1Gc-V43zok38dDJGHdyyuIqbuHcNS7IikZeqw99WGiheKGoBj1V0Uc22yQAjgUegmTxTorIgst9_oXNllBwmpPYF3bgn1qBJECIklZqRO2O9TAo4lv1EXtyz/s1600/zealot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-2y-eCtOR1TEg03iDpdp1Gc-V43zok38dDJGHdyyuIqbuHcNS7IikZeqw99WGiheKGoBj1V0Uc22yQAjgUegmTxTorIgst9_oXNllBwmpPYF3bgn1qBJECIklZqRO2O9TAo4lv1EXtyz/s320/zealot.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Zelatrix, doesn’t just the name scare the bejesus out of you? It’s an older nun responsible for the discipline of younger nuns…<br />
just, what kind of trouble can those little sisters get into? <br />
Fifty lashes for the bogarted Oreo, you scoundrel.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuXL08PFruMrEdtaupFP2lcoSnXeMusofBlcgf7re3ppNuqFs5tBiagwKoAb3x13ybGUFWJ71cK4q9j66Ea7VuZa5hm5oPN8M9sxx9ZR269Nq9KdSpfPdbXwnqqUN5jhE-tMgo5-2zNIC/s1600/zelatrix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuXL08PFruMrEdtaupFP2lcoSnXeMusofBlcgf7re3ppNuqFs5tBiagwKoAb3x13ybGUFWJ71cK4q9j66Ea7VuZa5hm5oPN8M9sxx9ZR269Nq9KdSpfPdbXwnqqUN5jhE-tMgo5-2zNIC/s320/zelatrix.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Zoophilic, lover of all things animal, and I do mean ALL THINGS. Gives you a whole new way to look at the Beast Master.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1QySSpoKe9Uit2jjvj-Y1MhiJQUpG_IQDQR4rb5Ywc2nUY9q1ip9hsytX2YNoEBPslmlTWZByoTAwPgTaXuu73KCY1bjh0C-QAOQMBE3eqPedxKdpGu-tCdr1bTK-L8IjyOx73jbKuHG/s1600/beastiality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="207" width="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1QySSpoKe9Uit2jjvj-Y1MhiJQUpG_IQDQR4rb5Ywc2nUY9q1ip9hsytX2YNoEBPslmlTWZByoTAwPgTaXuu73KCY1bjh0C-QAOQMBE3eqPedxKdpGu-tCdr1bTK-L8IjyOx73jbKuHG/s320/beastiality.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhvd_FLMfGLUI_eCdJFDySIopEYFcMyWg8Gdnbt9ui4RJV88gSO6Od0UkoZpzllsWfEjnvLkgUzKmZX7ABV29YQ8N6mWhWHm4RXGf_7_XIXfTwBSsvyXB8J4AwQz6aRy_zYzV9WMKleOl/s1600/bestiality+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="257" width="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhvd_FLMfGLUI_eCdJFDySIopEYFcMyWg8Gdnbt9ui4RJV88gSO6Od0UkoZpzllsWfEjnvLkgUzKmZX7ABV29YQ8N6mWhWHm4RXGf_7_XIXfTwBSsvyXB8J4AwQz6aRy_zYzV9WMKleOl/s320/bestiality+2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6hf6bMgkd3Beg48jbxvl01CXPX9ht4t_SQsU0bkWvb_kuXtERa5aNa5fha7NVFYzF_O5QXZY1eK5Wb_GsghByHYkX4nh1c6ULs1u2O8xHV3oOZO-DXH7oQ_fMd5LUrdfpyq2RIoYZZl2/s1600/beast+master.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="224" width="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6hf6bMgkd3Beg48jbxvl01CXPX9ht4t_SQsU0bkWvb_kuXtERa5aNa5fha7NVFYzF_O5QXZY1eK5Wb_GsghByHYkX4nh1c6ULs1u2O8xHV3oOZO-DXH7oQ_fMd5LUrdfpyq2RIoYZZl2/s320/beast+master.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Zeqiri, definitely the weirdest of them, me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpJAyohlhiO3BJz3PFJrTwhNeVjUPD4gcA_dKPUqZAPmGX7uUcFJG_4FJt-xY_PD2YCHwJpluZ4OG81sRqZvCTMgLZQSVwYGL86gSRjeVuuam3y21pARDKIRF648riyXxa7G2XSpPs0H_/s1600/me+and+leprechaun.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="197" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpJAyohlhiO3BJz3PFJrTwhNeVjUPD4gcA_dKPUqZAPmGX7uUcFJG_4FJt-xY_PD2YCHwJpluZ4OG81sRqZvCTMgLZQSVwYGL86gSRjeVuuam3y21pARDKIRF648riyXxa7G2XSpPs0H_/s320/me+and+leprechaun.bmp" /></a></div>Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-42434237662980116022011-04-30T13:35:00.000-05:002011-04-30T13:35:45.453-05:00Bacchus, Bacteria, and BabyA 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.<br />
<br />
B seems to be the letter for bacteria and all things bacchanal. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKINwLiCc0Rr5x3OO4GCX9-iFPecdXJ-5EioPvR1rsLM1tJakdTcTe4YU3Ho0qH3QgBeeYly0riiEQjL5bFI1Ozq1f8Ts9rSqIhyphenhyphenFhnuOwuZMVPH9bFkHHtQs9hmZ0zDwGpXVnhy_RB4BW/s1600/bacteria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="144" width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKINwLiCc0Rr5x3OO4GCX9-iFPecdXJ-5EioPvR1rsLM1tJakdTcTe4YU3Ho0qH3QgBeeYly0riiEQjL5bFI1Ozq1f8Ts9rSqIhyphenhyphenFhnuOwuZMVPH9bFkHHtQs9hmZ0zDwGpXVnhy_RB4BW/s320/bacteria.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-i7tCJFLNiFJLFVIbkqyulj_jx7I2-yTzaWTbnuoSkUCWsmMIYGfUKT78cj2Rydex8z4xJzHa983AQJ2SakJPZ__omx_ehovBjuoD-Qbj8ukjzbz2l67L8ir4XfQ39wBoT_8XRztTzZpe/s1600/bacchus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="259" width="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-i7tCJFLNiFJLFVIbkqyulj_jx7I2-yTzaWTbnuoSkUCWsmMIYGfUKT78cj2Rydex8z4xJzHa983AQJ2SakJPZ__omx_ehovBjuoD-Qbj8ukjzbz2l67L8ir4XfQ39wBoT_8XRztTzZpe/s320/bacchus.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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…<br />
<br />
But for me, B is for Baby. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyrQ21ZbQUAaabHhBRW7R0pBdqS86RBqwv8qpQZ-jVNNOCN0GTwV-E0_T6B1v6krE1ctqUEjdH_O9qGXv-_Cu7-2h1WewoCM0PQ3yNWQ3mR4yb3GgZOncam_5R3Dx_31uo6xJaK8yFWQb/s1600/Tennyson.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyrQ21ZbQUAaabHhBRW7R0pBdqS86RBqwv8qpQZ-jVNNOCN0GTwV-E0_T6B1v6krE1ctqUEjdH_O9qGXv-_Cu7-2h1WewoCM0PQ3yNWQ3mR4yb3GgZOncam_5R3Dx_31uo6xJaK8yFWQb/s320/Tennyson.bmp" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
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”.Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-18374537901230711222011-04-29T23:19:00.000-05:002011-04-29T23:19:08.563-05:00Y is for YellowbackCome on, what’s the first thing to come to mind? Is it this?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_L8Pw5WtUFjqhxuhdgVI6yB2NBrEh8ASBr_za70SoDccyInzedYt5qsaYw0dShML7OLZvb2KXanj52eJiWDfS42m8ruP4fDtPV6RdqUEM5K25f-5HlhildIq8_isjgzpJPuQm1fosXXrE/s1600/yellowback+frogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="182" width="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_L8Pw5WtUFjqhxuhdgVI6yB2NBrEh8ASBr_za70SoDccyInzedYt5qsaYw0dShML7OLZvb2KXanj52eJiWDfS42m8ruP4fDtPV6RdqUEM5K25f-5HlhildIq8_isjgzpJPuQm1fosXXrE/s320/yellowback+frogs.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Or?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImoZFqq4BZ5uOmWUwBSOWsOdd0nUMuLt7ul3augadIUFRJoyeZb2E6UTTzNMRIZ4QYv9xvw93Dtu-HXaiij15iiv1ragWqFP1thfLixuGoGBkqZ8Qte8nH8QTdoKgDdTd8uEBw2vU9o2p/s1600/yellowback+spider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="196" width="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImoZFqq4BZ5uOmWUwBSOWsOdd0nUMuLt7ul3augadIUFRJoyeZb2E6UTTzNMRIZ4QYv9xvw93Dtu-HXaiij15iiv1ragWqFP1thfLixuGoGBkqZ8Qte8nH8QTdoKgDdTd8uEBw2vU9o2p/s320/yellowback+spider.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Or maybe this? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwJGBNvtLilFAJyyf1amNikJuaiOB4fYorRwm3NjzzxoHNkw-PV7Tooj_9ZTcOM5I2nCIiGLRbBXtp1CzbTnsp-MsNzY2UUBuBmu_uHLivsGoBikY4j0eXFEwR8az9qnxEFdEh_LJdJd2/s1600/yellowback+sushi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="241" width="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwJGBNvtLilFAJyyf1amNikJuaiOB4fYorRwm3NjzzxoHNkw-PV7Tooj_9ZTcOM5I2nCIiGLRbBXtp1CzbTnsp-MsNzY2UUBuBmu_uHLivsGoBikY4j0eXFEwR8az9qnxEFdEh_LJdJd2/s320/yellowback+sushi.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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That was mine, and now I’m hungry.<br />
Or if you’re still in the gutter, perhaps this?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNH50YFX0rIaYVBx2xhyphenhyphen0unPxFspydpbCg_gcT_hmbetlQUUw4bU_zwPKHvPyOM7g6hvGsWNiVPPTbQuvel5pmLSua5hgzYJ-8W2CUC_5l9idFzxKMuBStr67-iPjgNpfcOE4_CrKgEeg/s1600/yellowback+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="137" width="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNH50YFX0rIaYVBx2xhyphenhyphen0unPxFspydpbCg_gcT_hmbetlQUUw4bU_zwPKHvPyOM7g6hvGsWNiVPPTbQuvel5pmLSua5hgzYJ-8W2CUC_5l9idFzxKMuBStr67-iPjgNpfcOE4_CrKgEeg/s320/yellowback+girl.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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And the winner is: (insert drum roll) None of the above! It’s this…<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLG15zkqzHsgeaYsbxn-cYu7xXk8Miua9rmT3D6nCeBjRZ8MPxc0adLr0E_XQh1M8ODjapGGbLkRrB8pVnFwa008BnmYgKQEZyfxHJSFRrt9TjcPxZQdI-oTfdkLe6m5nnGEgPosFlctN2/s1600/yellowback+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="256" width="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLG15zkqzHsgeaYsbxn-cYu7xXk8Miua9rmT3D6nCeBjRZ8MPxc0adLr0E_XQh1M8ODjapGGbLkRrB8pVnFwa008BnmYgKQEZyfxHJSFRrt9TjcPxZQdI-oTfdkLe6m5nnGEgPosFlctN2/s320/yellowback+book.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And all of the above. Huh?<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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The book given the honor as being the first was Horace Mayhew’s, <i>Letters Left at the Pastrycook’s</i>. Sounds like an exciting read, right? Good thing, as the each of these little goodies were considered sensational fiction writing. Even <i>Robinson Crusoe</i> was a yellowback. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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(I am the only one who noticed the Dear Queen didn’t make Good Kate a Princess? Does she really plan on living forever?)Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-16847389931310351552011-04-28T19:52:00.000-05:002011-04-28T19:52:09.460-05:00Xenomenia, No SeriouslyX is for Xcuse Me<br />
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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. <br />
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Okay the xeondocheionolgy is a lie, but I do love hotels. <br />
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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. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuWFICOOTnKMCKTgOtpwTLdfN2KEEdkRlD-xMgdWMYI1pIA2DE0h-LSzfxLFWfRUqdjRFZQ8qlQs0QXjZpu6SWy5dUsg0S1LtEB8n6Pjj6pdasSaILHO85q34wXsNiGwuSBrp19Si3pkH/s1600/redhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="179" width="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuWFICOOTnKMCKTgOtpwTLdfN2KEEdkRlD-xMgdWMYI1pIA2DE0h-LSzfxLFWfRUqdjRFZQ8qlQs0QXjZpu6SWy5dUsg0S1LtEB8n6Pjj6pdasSaILHO85q34wXsNiGwuSBrp19Si3pkH/s320/redhead.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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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.<br />
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Redhead that is!<br />
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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? <br />
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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!Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4812914231372599143.post-35380064867821223612011-04-27T22:14:00.001-05:002011-04-27T22:19:09.884-05:00W equals WIPIf 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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UwkwQd1kGuxTJ3WqrFu1G2Szuzk_qMZasNt7PMnqcI_kCqyeJZ9jBy4Gn8RNSIMUp4qRD_3Lz5LLqWDv3EuwuVUBJZPlRh7FU_Qa8qzCUPQkC2jar4Rwxcgy7u-4TDzwrHv7QTFNfVe6/s1600/ezra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="259" width="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UwkwQd1kGuxTJ3WqrFu1G2Szuzk_qMZasNt7PMnqcI_kCqyeJZ9jBy4Gn8RNSIMUp4qRD_3Lz5LLqWDv3EuwuVUBJZPlRh7FU_Qa8qzCUPQkC2jar4Rwxcgy7u-4TDzwrHv7QTFNfVe6/s320/ezra.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Drop me yours!Wanton Redhead Writinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05971702384041741216noreply@blogger.com8