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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How Horrible!" as said by Benny Hill

One of my all time favorite British phrases!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apocalypse Anyone?

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

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

Apocalypse…the word means different things to different people.

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

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

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

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

G is for Gassler

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frenzied, Fabulous...Failure

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

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

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

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

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

Ecdysiast Everyone?

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

An ecdysiast is a striptease artist.

They are tempters, teasers, and sirens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

If not, it’s time for a rewrite.

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

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