Bingo Is In Fact the First Ring of Hell

*Slot machines in Vegas Airport*

Even though I live in California, we still have access to casinos. At one particular casino on your birthday you can play Bingo free. You get the type of packet that makes hardcore Bingo goers drool, and as many as you can handle. So you play for free with the idea that maybe you can walk away with at least $50-$1,000. Sounds exciting to a noob like me.

Until I was there for four hours without realizing it. The games started at 6:30 and I didn’t leave the casino until 10:30. I didn’t win a dime, unfortunately. So I’m completely soured by this experience. Plus, I’m not a gambler. I figure every day I wake up I’m playing the odds against life. The next time I close my eyes and go to sleep I’m rolling the dice and my luck might change at any moment.

The high point: I got to see diehard gamblers in action. Talk about desperation. It’s thick in the air. Everytime someone called out Bingo the whole room seemed to moan. And, the atmosphere that this casino was another planet i.e. the first ring of hell, is that the moment you walk in your slapped with an invisible hand of cigarette smoke. To explain I live in California. In order to have a smoke you are confined to a small area where people get to stop by, point at you and laugh. Okay, not really, but it feels that way. So to go inside a building and smoke is apparent is a throw back to the days where Denny’s had a smoking section.

Once you are inside you can’t tell what time of day it is. Let me put it this way, if the world was to ever end I would go to a casino for shelter. They have their own economic system with food supplies.

At the same time it’s sad. Some people were there just to see if they could win. Other’s were hoping, praying to win. Their life, in those hours, depended on getting a Bingo.

Have you ever gone to a casino

1985 the Bestest Year Ever

1985 was an incredible year. Here’s are some well known or not so well known facts about this wonderful year.

Madonna’s Like A Virgin is the number one album and single simulataneously. My mom will never admit to this, but “Material Girl” was playing on the radio when I made my first world-wide appearance.

“Start Spreading the News” New York, New York becomes a hit in New York.

Care Bears release their first movie.

Back to the Future is released. ‘Nuff Said.

Oh, one can’t forget…A brain, and an athlete, and a basketcase, a princess and a criminal.

Prince and The Revolution. Who I might add inspired Tipper Gore to start something called Parental Adversary Labels. No this is not another attempt for the Gore’s to say they “created” something.

This one I can’t blame her. Catching my 12 year old singing “I met her in a hotel lobby, masturbating to a magazine.” I’d go batshit crazy too.

A star was born around 5 o’clock in the afternoon.

A sidenote to this unknown fact: I stole that tiara from a five year old child and wore it on my birthday last year. It had a princess on it. It had to be done.

Okay, if that wasn’t enough to swing you to my way of thinking, here is another unknown fact about how great this year was. YouTube was born. Here’s the proof.

Confessions of a Romance Author: Writer Crazy Edition

I don’t know how long since I last confessed. It just felt time to do so.

This here post are for the readers out there who thinks there favorite writer is sane. I’m sorry to inform you, we, as a whole, are not. Here’s a list of examples:

1. Everyone daydreams…Writers can get lost in a daydream. Depending on the thought or character we can start to cry out of no where. It can be in our car, waiting in line at the grocery store, or at the doctor’s office. We can also laugh at the oddest times. Just ask my children.

2. Okay, let’s just say it, we spend hours of our free time with imaginary people. Doctor’s prescribe drugs for this. 

3.  We hear these imaginary people in our heads, talking to us or to other characters.

4. To piggy back off of number 3…You may not be aware fo the whole crazy rule when it comes to talking to yourself. Well, the old adage is that you aren’t crazy if you don’t argue back. I and many other writers argue with those “voices” back. Ex:

Character: I’m not doing that.

Writer: Yes, you are. I have it written down in the synopsis that you are supposed to do this in this chapter.

Character: No. Not doing it. You can’t make me.

Writer: I will you off.

Character: Ha. You can’t I’m the heroine of this story. You kill me, end of story, literally.

Writer: You are doing it.

Character: Fine. I just won’t talk to you anymore.

Writer: Fine.

….five days later. Writer grovels and apologizes to character.

Character: Look’s like someone couldn’t get their word count.

Writer: No need to get on your high horse.

Yes, writer crazy.

5. The last example should be proof enough, but lets continue…We lie to ourselves all the time. Now the type of lie is contingent on where we are at in the writing process. I know for me during the first draft of any story I tell myself I am the greatest writer who has ever walked the Earth. It’s complete rubbish, but it’s the lie I tell myself to get to the end. The funny thing here is that I don’t read what I’ve already written. I don’t let myself do that ’cause reality will set in that I am not the greatest writer that in fact what I’ve been slaving over is craptastic at best. If I let myself think about the market, heck just about the amount of revisions I’ll have to do none of my stories will ever get written.

The other types of lies is that I will get published. No one knows this. We just have a hope that we will get published.The cold hard reality is that there are thousands of writers out there and less than a fourth of those writers will see their work in print. This never crosses our minds. Okay, sometimes when we have the “I suck” mantra going, but most times we are in LaLa land.

This last one is pretty much a whooper full of crazy. But, of course there is one, without this crazy I wouldn’t have a single book on my shelf. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to lose myself in someone else’s world. So writer’s keep your crazy.

Wanna add some in the comments? Go ahead.

Birthday Is Back on the Schedule

Funny how one thing can shift you back into focus. I’m not a dweller. Nor do I wallow. Not that it’s a waste of time, it has it’s place. It’s that I’m always reminded by fate, the universe what have you life can be much, much, much worse.

Finally, for the first time this year my life seemed to be on track I, of course, get side-swiped.

This unfortunate event made me realize life is too short to have an on-going pity party. Not saying I don’t deserve one. Oh, I so deserve one. *My school told me I can’t graduate in May unless the Dean waives the 3 units Elective course–THAT I AM ENROLLED IN–because it isn’t in the 2006  college catalog i.e. doesn’t coincide with my certificate.*

So, I’m going to party on the 30th like it is 1999. Matter of fact I’m going to start the party today. A glass of wine sounds good. Oh, and a pie since I hate cake.

Come party with me.

Collage: Sin, Lynne, Sin

This morning I went to my local chapter meeting. Stacey Kane was teaching us about storyboarding. It wasn’t until she started explaining the process that my little heart went pit-a-patter. What she called storyboarding, I call collaging.

Magazines covered every table. I just about died. And this is my story visually: *I even got the Suicide Suzie into the collage. YAY!  (the dog)*

Mentor Program: Learning to Write Again

Old habits die hard is a saying for a reason.

 I’ve been hitting a wall with just the first 8 pages of my story trying to think BIG. Now, think of BIG while doing jazz hands and you will get how mythical this word has become in my mind. For so long I’ve written my contemporary romances a certain way. I’ve written my women’s fiction to get away from those imaginary constraints I’ve put on myself. And, even have written an YA to get away from the constraints I’ve put on myself with both genres.

The wall I’m now hitting is learing to write with a different frame of mind when it comes to CR. Big. Jazz hands, BIG. I’m finally getting the room to go in depth with my characters and I have no idea how to do it. I’ve gotten good with getting in and getting out with my point that staying around for a few thousand words longer is killing me. I’m constantly thinking, but I’ve just made my point in 100 words or less. Writing series romance is definitely a gift I know I have.

But, the question comes down to can I write Single Title. Can I write, BIG, Jazz hands, BIG, and still keep my reader interested.

GAH!!!! We’ll see. For those who write Single Title leave some tips. For those who write Series i.e. short romances with a lot of punch, tell me do you want to spread your wings. Or, if you are a reader tell me what do you think of both. Why do you read either and do you find known series authors Single Title romances lacking?

I’m Rescheduling My Birthday

WARNING CRABBY PATTY POST:

Everything that could have gone wrong this year has gone wrong this year. I made a foolish prayer–just don’t let anyone I love die. I should have covered all my bases with that prayer. Don’t let my computer crash, don’t make my children go hormonally insane. You know small stuff that can add up and make a reasonable person insane.

So, just in the past five days:

1. I got hit with a staph infection. Now, of course, this is me who gets it. Monk, wannbe. Not only that it manifested itself on my hip.

This deserves sub-parts:

A.  After sitting several hours in the doctors office, my doctor turns to the nurse and says, “I’m going to need to make an incession.”

I gasp, “What?”

She turns to me with a smile. “I should have told you first. I’m going to need to make an incession. We probably won’t go out for drinks after this.”

And, I’m not being snarky when I paraphrase this.

B. You guys should know I have a high tolerance for pain. This also means I have a high tolerance when it comes to drugs. They probably thought I was a dope addict. Every deep thrust with their evil little q-tip I was squeaking out, “I feel that, and it’s not a pinch.”

C. Due to this infection I needed to be prescribed high powered anti-biotics. And, of course my insurance had lasped and I had to turn in all my paperwork over again. WHICH means I had to pay for my prescription with the promise of reimbursement.

D. The same prescription I had to fork money over for gave me a rash. WHICH means a new presciption, and a new exchange of money.

2. I appealed my financial aid–since I had been there before Moses and you have to appeal it after attmepting 90 units and trust me I attempted more than 90 units–I was approved for the spring and summer semesters. I got my Pell Grant check. I then realize I’m supposed to get my Cal Grant. YAY! Only to find out the economy sucks serious butt and can they give me an IOU. So, this is for every person, expert, PR blow hard, saying the economy is just in a “recession” BITE ME!! The amount of money I paid in taxes last year would easily cover the money I’m supposed to get. Remove your head from your butts and fix this. I’m willing to help, but first can a sister get her Cal Grant?

3. I got a letter stating my house is dirty and they will need to do a health and safety inspection. Are you kidding me? Did you not see most of the crap on the floor were clothes and toys? And, seriously, you should have stopped a few weeks ago when I was incubating bacterial terrioritst in my kitchen sink.

4. Don’t get me started about school. And the two mid-terms I took. One that took actual brain space. And one that was open book. Of course the professor didn’t tell us beforehand it was open book. I could have used those hours of studying cleaning my damn house.

To conclude my rant, I’m rescheduling my birthday to May 30th. School will be over. My children on a plane to North Carolina for 6 weeks. My plan to crash a certain conference in place. Believe me when I say Mai Tais will be had by all.

And in case you were wondering, yes, you can totally reschedule your birthday.

Being Funny Ain’t Easy

*Sorry for the size of some of the text. WordPress doens’t like me today*

Being funny is an integral part of who I am. It doesn’t matter if it is a serious situation.  I want the laughs.  I realize some people can’t do what I do naturally. Someone once asked me how. I can tell them to find the hurtful place and find the things that would lighten it. What would you say if your best friend died and everything in that moment is just so bleak AND you just wanted to lighten the moment. That’s where I find my funny most times. Where in the story is the moment the bleakest for the character. If they were trying to save their sanity what would they say? How would they say it? Most importantly, why would they say it then.

Of course, funny, to me, is broken down into timing. It’s that space in between one comment–that’s usually opened itself for something snarky to say–and the next word. It’s also about tone and knowing when to use the funny. It’s also about saying the unexpected. I don’t write funny situations.*Example of a funny situation: Bridget Jones in a Thai Prison teaching her cellmates the right way to sing  Material Girl.*

So, lets see if i can teach the basics of set up. First a real life example.

While at school my friends and I would stand outside before class. This one particular day this guy walks by. His head is clean shaved. I can’t remember if he wears muscle shirts or if all his shirts just look like muscle shirts on him. Needless to say he’s buff. Not the natural buff-cut, but like that’s all he could do with his time.

The man walks by us. Both me and my friend Kristy look at him ’cause he’s got that “I’ve been locked-up” walk and look.  He just draws attention to himself.

I say to Kristy,  “Speaking of prison.”

Life, fortunately, gave me the set up. There was a moment of silence and then I broke it with something unexpected. It was on the fly, but I can tell you it was funny as hell.

Now in writing I have to create my own set ups. One character says something and I can think of something funny to say.

“Are you going to tell me who you are or are you just going to act like an interested customer?”

“I could be a customer.”

“And I could be Gandhi reincarnated.”

What could have put for the last line:  “You could be, but I doubt it. Now tell me the truth.” This would keep with the tone of the conversation. It tells me this character doesn’t care for wool being pulled over her eyes. But, that’s not what Lynne would say.

Another thing to point out with the example the set-up is short. Two lines. The third is as they say the zinger. Another good example comes from How Much You Want to Bet? The key here is not to laugh at your own jokes. Act like you didn’t even make one. The most obvious reason,  the reader probably didn’t laugh and they would wonder why your character is laughing. Nothing ruins your joke faster than when you laugh at it yourself. Also, use your characters dialogue. It’s the easiest way to get them in. Lastly, you can keep ’em coming without breaking the flow of the story. You can break it up with emotion, and that’s the true key of comedy in your stories. You are making the hard situation easier to take in for your reader.

He looked right sitting there and, because he did, Neil said, “Why are you being the bane of my existence?”

“But I brought coffee.” Gib grinned at her before pouring her a cup. She didn’t want to be at ease around him. Ease led to other things, and those things led to worse things, like companionship and someone to lean on. Neil stayed by the door.

“It’s not poison. Are you cold?”

“It could be Spanish fly. And no, I’m not cold.”

Gib sighed. “You know there’s this saying, if a woman protests too much…”

Neil narrowed her eyes. She could handle this situation two ways, and unfortunately neither option involved cement shoes. She accepted the lesser of the two evils and sat down on the couch across from him, accepting the cup he offered.

“What’s your angle, playboy?”

“Getting chummy with the worksite manager.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m a woman who doesn’t fall at your feet?” She missed his answer, because she was melting into the couch after her first sip. It was black and strong. The rich taste blossomed on her tongue and it took everything in her not to groan in pleasure. “Did you come straight from Columbia with this stuff?”

“I have it delivered and I grind it myself.” The 

 

grin was back, and Neil tried to ignore it. The coffee was bad enough.

“I could have sworn we had this conversation before.”

“I believe wholeheartedly in beating the dead horse just so everyone has an understanding.”

She took another sip. “Hush for a moment. You’re ruining the coffee.”

“If I’d known…”

She glared at him.

He chuckled and leaned back in the chair. His hands ran down the side of the material until he placed them on the edge of the armrests. As she watched his hands, it felt like he was touching her, caressing her skin. She glanced down at the cup. It had to be Spanish fly in this stuff.

She cleared her throat. “I think we need terms.” Otherwise, he’d lace her coffee every morning until she gave.

“Terms?”

She noted he hadn’t poured himself a cup. “Yes, for this work relationship.”

“Relationship.” He paused.” I like the sound of it.”

“You missed the word ‘work’ then.”

Gib shrugged. “Semantics.”

“Delusions.”

“You like me.”

 

The break down is the set-up for this entire snippet of a scene starts at the first line, and it’s based in the emotions she doesn’t want to feel for Gib. Hopefully the first snicker came at “It could be Spanish fly.”

 

The second one is the dead horse line. The specific set up for that one actually starts at “Getting Chummy…” line.

The last line of “zingers” starts when she points out they need terms for their relationship. And, the roots of the by-play comes from Neil failing horribly at fighting off Gib’s charm. I use that emotion throughout the book to get the funny lines out there. They play off each other, and that comes down to character. A man with a purpose in life could not have handled Neil. That type of man would have taken no, and gone on to a more pliable woman. Neil’s attitude toward that type of man wouldn’t have boded well.

Jokes, zingers i.e. one liners needs to be rooted in something other than just trying to be funny. That’s the one thing I had to learn. It’s not about how funny I can be, but how funny my characters are when they are hurting. Because honestly if you can understand your characters the story is easier to write.

Hopefully you walked away with something today.

And, of course share your tips in the comments.

 

I Got That Fever

Spring Fever that is. The month of March, no matter how stressed out I get, the world is always brighter. Figuratively and literay. Where I live we see little rain in this month. The air isn’t too cold or too hot. The cherry blossums are, well, blossuming. And, of course, my birthday is on the 30th. Makes for a Happy Melissa. A day I can call my own. Where I’m more sloth like than usual. Seriously, just ask my mother.

But it’s not only that, I’m a different person with Spring Fever. I want to go places. I want to be with friends. Nothing is a hassle. Heck, I sit outside bare foot and spit seeds. Could be all those months locked up in the house.

Double heck, I even fall into the cliche of cleaning. Yes, I said the C word. My house becomes a showplace and even Monk would eat off my toilet seat it’s so clean.

It’s called Fever for a reason. What do you find yourself doing? Or are you a rebel?

Procrastinating, but It’s for a Good Cause

 

“Oh, poor you, finding out your family is cool, in a straightjacket sort of way.” ~ Lynne Kelley, See Megan Run

I’m re-writing my first chapter with the idea in mind to get ‘Lynne’ across in the first page. Not an easy task by any means. It involves showing instead of telling, and even after 8 books I still have trouble with that.

Anyway, to help me *coughprocrastinatecough* study I decided to re-read her parts in SMR. Lynne had the best lines hands down. I’m no longer wondering why I needed to write her story. Now, to make sure I really wasn’t farting around, I went in search of a scene that’s going to be the essence of Lynne for her own story. It was hard, but I believe these two nail her down. 

The first time Lynne sees Aiden:

“Oh, my god. Hottie. One o’clock. No, don’t stare; you might scare him away,” Lynne added quickly. “He’s mine.”

Megan chuckled and stared without seeming to stare, then her breath caught in her throat. Her hands stopped mid-fold. “It’s Aiden.”

“What?” Lynne gasped. “You’ve been alone with him and you don’t jump his bones every single time?” Lynne grabbed the shirt from Megan’s hands. “You’re insane. I believe you now. Your mother did something to you that is irrevocable. You need therapy.” Lynne made a sound of disgust. “Let a man like that chase me, and I swear, for the love of God, he’d be naked every minute of the day.”

Lynne pushed her from behind the counter. “Go get him, and bring him over here.” Lynne sighed. “Oh, and he looks lost. I love it when men look lost.” She clutched the shirt to her chest. “You’re insane.”

This scene just makes me want to say, “So, tell me what you really think?”

This woman doesn’t mince words and, you know, she’s funny. I’m in hog heaven. Now this last scene rounds it off for me at least. With all her snark, wit, and honesty her heart is always in the right place. You may not like how she tells you, but she’s telling you the truth. She’s observant. She treats life like its a bull and she’s down and ready to ride it. Everyone around her should do the same, of course. Lastly, which helps me write the sex scenes, she’s not scared of her sexuality.

Lynne has arrived to go to a wedding:

Megan was fixing the strap on her ankle when someone knocked on her door. She looked up, and her mouth fell open. Lynne posed. The cream satin dress fit perfectly. The red sash under her breasts elongated her waist and made her petite frame look sexy. Her hair held no highlights. It might have been the color God had given Lynne, but Megan couldn’t be sure since she’d never seen it a natural color. It was coiffed and curled, not spiked. “Well, I’ll be.”

“I have a workaholic boss who makes me work all the time. I figured this would be the one time I could dress up. From your expression, I’m guessing I look damn good.”

Megan smiled. “I can’t wait for you to meet Uncle Butch. The old man is going to try to take you home.”

“Isn’t that Aiden’s sex-crazed uncle?”

“You were listening.” Her smiled widened when Lynne rolled her eyes.

“I listen to everything you say and don’t say. Oh, and Jane said for you to get your butt downstairs. I think I like her.”