Monthly Archives: November 2006


It’s 20 degrees and my heater’s broken. ACK. I think the icy snow outside makes it even worse. We had school today inspite of the weather blowing in. It was actually fine until lunch when it started snowing. The snow was supposed to end a couple hours ago, but it’s gotten heavier. It’s finally close to ending at 5:00. NOT looking forward to driving in it tomorrow. We’re starting late.
I figured there’d be a snow day today so I stayed up until 1 in the morning finishing a set of revisions on an ST. I love the story, but MAN, I’VE got to slow down. I thought this book was done and the editing was intensive. From now on I’m going to put a book aside at least two weeks before editing at least one more time and sending a book in.
I’ve edited this book before, but I was too close to it, so instead of seeing what was on the page, I saw what I thought was on the page. YIKES!

Dear Mother Nature

Hi. It’s been awhile. Not too long since this has been the craziest weather year in my entire lifetime, but awhile all the same.
If you culd please take a break from the see-saw stuff, I’d be thankful. The 81 was awesome. Yesterday we were walking around in shorts and enjoying every minute of it. The 0 windchill they’ve predicted for tonight along with the ice and snow, not so nice.


Yesterday was a 15 hour work day.
I teach in a choice district and yesterday was our school tour. I’m not a big fan of choice, but I love the tour. Choice creates a segregated school. Tours give us a chance to connect with potential students and parents and we have to do that because they’re get to choose.

I finished a book yesterday that drove me crazy. No resolution. I hate that.
And I decided yesterday that I can’t move forward on the book I was revising. Not because it’s bad or impossible to salvage, but because I don’t write that kind of story. It’s not me.

One of my friends lost her granddaughter yesterday. She died choking on a hotdog at daycare. Senseless, horrible, completely incomprehensible. I wish there were words that could make it better. But words aren’t going to do it.


It took a lot of cleaning, but I’m back in the writing game.
Which is good. I feel more like myself.
I still have rooms to go, but they can wait. 🙂

Clean House

So I told DD her idea of clean wasn’t clean.
And she’s turned into Martha Stewart, completely redecorating my livingroom, a room that hasn’t seen this level of work in years. I’m not allowed in there right now.
I’ve been given the den, kitchen and dining room.
I sure hope this Martha Stewart dd sticks around. The bathrooms need cleaning too!

I’m reading the first of the Madonna Key series right now. WOW! I really hate that they told Bombshell readers that the books weren’t romances. I had no interest in reading non-romance action adventure. But every Bombshell I’ve read has beena romance of sorts. Not always traditional, but still a romance. And I’ve loved every one I’ve read.

James Bond

Saw the new Bond today.
I was expecting something more. DD and I agreed, twenty minutes shorter and it would’ve been awesome. The new Bond is great, though. Very nice to watch. 🙂

Came home to news that dd had gone over the text messaging on our plan by $18. Grrrr. She’s lost the phone for a month.

Met my friend Mel for dinner and we talked writing. She asked what was next for me and I said I had no idea.
I’ll decide by Sunday.
Mel’s an amazing writer. Her books are like movies. She’s also great at reminding me that rejection is part of this and to get back on track.
I did ruin the new Bond for her. Told her the big secret at the end before I realized I’d done it. I hate it when I do that!

Happy Thanksgiving

Spent the day with my grandparents. I love them so much.
When one of the uncles asked one of the cousins if pole dancing was like line dancing I nearly lost it. I’m not sure why people were talking about amatuer night at a strip club, but I was glad my uncle had no idea what they were talking about.
Strangest part of the day: Grandma saying she forgot her teeth but then saying it was okay, she had plenty of teeth to make do. I LOVE her. She is absolutely the best grandma ever.
Second strangest part: when the cousins left ME in charge of the kitchen for ten minutes. DH wanted to take a photo. I should’ve let him.

I’m so thankful I had this day with my family. 14 years ago, doctors told us Grandma was dying. They told us to say what needed saying and prepare for the end.
I guess she showed them. 🙂

On the writing front: I looked at the first of the book first pages I posted a couple days ago and realized it needs A LOT of work. It’s a super sensual book I wrote with Blaze in mind the year after Blaze started. I wrote two of those and had a blast doing it. But man the depth of characterization needs help.

Tomorrow is Christmas decoration day. Woo Hoo.

We are crazy

They’re building a Super Wal-Mart around the corner from my house. That’ll be three Super Wal-Marts in my town of 100,000.
We ventured out into Wal-Mart land today. Wal-Mart on the day before Thanksgiving is an adventure to say the least. A nightmare if you’re in a hurry. Fotunately we weren’t. 🙂

I’m still not sure where to go next with my writing.
I started writing fairy tale type romances. I loved them, but dead people kept cropping up, so I gave in and wrote suspense. I started a YA, but never had the urge to finish it and I LOVE my women’s fiction, but there’s been ZERO interest in it out in agent land. It’s a cross genre book. It deals with faith but doesn’t follow CBA rules. My CPs say it’s not really inspirational although it’s very religious. I have a new WF ready to go to, but it’s kind of the same thing. If there isn’t a market, I don’t know if it makes sense to write the book, regardless of the personal journey taken in the creation. My last rejection said the suspense was too easy to figure out. The one before said the suspense was too heavy and over shadowed the romance. The one before that was a form rejection. When I wrote the fairy tales I genreally got revision requests, but seriously, first round rejections are WAY less painful. And in the back of mind while I think about this I have one voice saying quit thinking and just write another darn book and another voice saying are you freakin’ kidding me? You’re six classes away from a principal’s certificate. Forget the writing gig. You gave it ten years. You had a great time. But it’s time to grow up and look at the future. School’s WAY easier.

UGH. I hate this. I know it will pass, I know it’s normal, but I still HATE it.


I don’t get the appeal of Estaban and his guitar on HSN. But my mom sure was impressed. I told her I already have a guitar. It’s a good guitar. She likes Estaban’s. I hope I don’t get it for Christmas.

DD’s out riding right now. She’s joined a cycling team. I never thought I’d see the day she voluntarily joined a spots team. She she was four, she laughed at a coach who asked her to run. She says this is different. It’s fun and it’s trainign for when she’s a war photographer. Ack!

School’s out for Thanksgiving and DEAR LORD am I thankful. I should be surrounding myself with my books trying to formulate a plan for where to go next. Instead I’m cleaning house.
Hopefully dh and dd survive the shock!

10 Beginnings

10 First Pages, now I have to choose: Comments welcome.

1. IYD:
Cordelia ducked into the airport ladies room and resisted the urge to pull her skirt lower. She’d tried that once with nearly disastrous results. Fortunately the grandfatherly man sitting next to her the entire flight hadn’t seen the top of the dress follow the skirt.
Lord knows she didn’t want to give anyone a heart attack.
She looked in the mirror and took a deep breath.
Her sister, Irene, was right. No one knew her here. No one was watching to make sure she stuck to her good girl image.
This was a true escape. A chance to be as wild and crazy and impulsive as she ever wanted to be. If she dared.

2. IC:
The Serenity Prayer is simply the tool of weak men everywhere. Life happens. Get over it. Riley Sorenson

Riley Sorenson was tired of chasing dead end leads. Tired of hearing his bosses tell him he was losing his touch. Tired of watching breaking news on twenty-four hour networks that pretended to know what the hell they were talking about.
Good investigative reporters studied life and death. They knew the questions to ask and where to get answers. And they cultivated sources.
His sources had dried up. And now he was down to one unmarked package sitting on his desk precariously close to his coffee cup. The one his sister had brought him from Disneyland.
God bless America and Mickey Mouse.

3. MISS:
Rafe Hernandez hugged the teddy bear closer to his chest and nodded as his brother spoke. “When we’re gone you go to Ms. Palmer. Vamanos. She can help you and us. Disappear. Don’t talk to anyone but Ms. Palmer. She knows someone who can help. Wait until afternoon. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
And then Miguel was gone.
Rafe buried himself deeper to the ground, the dirt under the floor of his room warm, dry, hard, leaving streaks on his Power Rangers t-shirt and shorts.
He wiggled as close to the wall as he could, right up to a break in the foundation where he could peek outside.
The bright moon should’ve made the night comforting. But Rafe’s arms trembled as he held the bear tighter.
He was coming and there was nothing to be done. Nothing but what Miguel said. Ms. Palmer would help. Please Dios.

4. SDN:
Kacie Jo Jenkins stood outside the door to her brother’s apartment and tried to calm her fluttering nerves.
Okay. So if Grady found out her real reason for knocking on his door, she was toast. And while she agreed he’d have every reason in the world to be furious, she felt she had no choice.
Donovan Nelson was in town exactly forty-eight hours. She didn’t have time to play nice. She was tired of playing nice anyway. Twenty-four years of being the good girl had finally undone her. Nothing and no one was stopping her now.
No siree. She had a plan, and she was bound and determined to reach her goal. She’d been waiting for this chance for years.
The plan: shock the men behind this door senseless. The goal: the seduction of Donovan Nelson.

5. TTAH:
The bag was packed and perfect. Bright orange with a big yellow sunflower. Completely inconspicuous in the exclusive South American beachside city of Santa Maria.
Inconspicuous on the outside.
Jillian Donnelly tried not to think about what lay inside the purse she’d bought from a roadside vendor in Texas. Or the man she was meeting in less than an hour. The prince she’d been sent to save.
She slicked on a coat of red lip-gloss and checked through the hotel room one last time to make sure she’d left no lingering traces of who she was or what she was doing.
Just as she had done countless times, in countless places before.
She wiped the thought from her mind. Before meant nothing. Now mattered.
Mattered because her brother had no one else to turn to. She was the only one he could trust, and she would not fail.
Failure was not an option. Not if life in Santa Maria was going to continue as it had for centuries. Not if the prince was going to live.

6. TP:
Bad days deliberately stalked her. It was obvious now, if it had not been before. The radda, radda, rad noise trembling desperately from under the hood of Samantha’s car gave notice that once again, a bad day had pounced. Not that today was any different from the last few weeks, but a person could hope.
It shouldn’t have happened. Today was the first day of her new life in Truly, Texas. The city’s name gave her hope for a new future, but obviously it was not to be.
She had a new job, and it started in just over forty minutes. Soon seventeen bright eyed, bouncy five-year-olds would begin their thirteen year public education without an integral part of their day– their teacher.
Her copy of Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day chose that moment to slide out of her bag and onto the floor board where it was immediately trounced upon by her steaming cup of coffee. Chalk one up to the unseen, but definitely felt presence of disruption that continually followed her these days.

7. TJ:
Detective Michael Ortiz had returned home to escape the violence of the big city, to run from the ghosts of his past, to find some of the ever-elusive peace he’d had before everything was ripped from him.
He no longer searched for peace. The ghosts were simply part of who he was. Now it looked like the violence had followed him to San Mario as well.
“This was no suicide.”
Michael looked at the body lying on the scuffed wooden floor in a pool of blood then turned to the short blonde officer walking the perimeter of the victim.
“Someone sure as heck wanted you to believe it was,” the officer, Janice Palmer, said squinting as she looked at the bullet hole in the victim’s head, then behind at the wall.


“Momma, Justine stole a cookie.”
“Momma, Delia colored all over my homework.”
“Momma, Dani’s stuck in the slide.”
Anna Turner wished for just this once that someone else named Momma lived in the house and then she almost cried. Because someone else named Momma did live in the house. She was just in the middle of a crying jag and wouldn’t get out of bed.
She knew she needed to try talking to her mother. But her kids needed her first.
Running a frustrated hand through her cropped blonde hair she counted to ten and blew out a frustrated breath as she left her mother’s bedroom door and started down the back steps to see what had her baby girls in such an uproar.

9. YA:
Okay. I’m a freshman in high school. I’ll be the first to admit I should’ve known better. I mean who hears a weird noise coming from an empty bathroom after school when everyone’s supposed to be gone and actually goes in to investigate?
Yep. That’s right. Me.
And the funny thing is when I found the bathroom empty, I didn’t think anything of it. Instead I just turned around, headed back to my mom’s classroom and told her about it.
She was on deadline, so I should’ve known she hadn’t heard a word I said.
I should’ve. But I didn’t.
And that’s why I found myself in this situation now.
If I die, I’m going to be pissed. I’m supposed to help the costume manager with the Scarlet Letter tomorrow night. Our drama teacher is a total tyrant. If I die, he’ll probably be pissed too.
My mom will probably cry. But, hey. This is all her fault for not listening to me anyway. So that’s just too bad.

10. Eyes
Darkness surrounded her. Darkness and cold and something else. Maybe it was calm. Maybe it was acceptance.
She didn’t know. All she knew was she had to be still. Had to pretend nothing mattered.
Her heart raced and she focused on breathing in, breathing out, trying to see, to feel, to know where she was.
Right, left, it didn’t matter. Directions were pointless in the void.
A voice. Deep, dark, soothing. She dropped her hands and focused on that voice.
She turned but there was nothing. No one.
There. A spark glimmered and for a moment she saw eyes. Calm. Peaceful.
She tried moving toward them, but her legs refused to cooperate.
She opened her mouth to speak, to call out, to ask for help, but then the spark flared and the eyes changed. Icy fear reclaimed her as evil replaced the peaceful calm.
This time when he called her name she tried to run, but it was no use. Her legs refused to move.