Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Creatures of the Night

And Non-Wallbangers

I just finished Danse Macabre by Laurell Hamilton (see http://www.laurellkhamilton.org). This novel defies description. I can’t even put into words what I liked about it because I know it will come out all wrong. The novel sucked me in and would not let me go until I finished the last page. And what a finale. I wasn’t looking for it and suddenly there it was. It is one of those novels I will probably obsess about until I can put some time and distance between it an me.

It was magic. Pure magic. And a keeper. I’m eager to see what Anita and the gang will be up to next.

The difference between this novel and the wallbanger is that one is dark and violent, but the sex scenes are appropriate within the context of the character. There is still a layer of passion beneath. And when someone crosses the line, there is a price to pay. The heroine is strong, but not to the point you question her humanity. She is the Executioner, and yet there is a baby scare and all the too-human emotions that go along with that. I think one of the things I loved best about this novel was that Anita got back a lot of her humanity in learning she could lean on those she has surrounded herself with for strength. You just don’t get to be that strong without a pretty serious support network around you.

I wish I could tell what I love about the dark side. It's not something for me to embrace, although I believe it is out there. You cannot have good without evil. What is that quote from "The Usual Suspects?" The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was to convince people he didn't exist (or something to that effect). There is a story that I keep mulling around in my head. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't influenced in some way by Buffy, Charmed and Anita Blake. It's about a group of supernaturals: a witch, a shape shifter, a psychic, a vampire and an angel. Kinda like a dark Justice League. Together they navigate the pitfalls of the both good and evil, and the overall theme is Redemption.

I spend a lot of time listening to Evanescence's "Fallen." The track called "Tourniquet" gives me a mini-movie into the heroine's quest for redemption. She has fallen, but is compelled to right the wrongs around her. And maybe, just maybe she can even the scales for her soul.

Whoa. That was deep, especially for me. The story is there. I just need to make it happen.

Wallbangers

Wallbangers
As defined at http://www.jennycrusie.com/cherries.php: books that are so bad they cannot merely be discarded but must be thrown against a wall with great force.

I picked up a book from the library the other day (I’m poor. If I like it enough to read again, I’ll buy it.) In the book’s defense, I was (notice the past tense) actually enjoying the book until I got to the first love scene. Now, I am not really a prude, not even a closet prude. I love well-written love scenes. A well-written scene will advance the plot, advance the emotional level of the story and cause you to either grab some chocolate or your sweetie.

Unfortunately, I read this one over breakfast and all I could think was, “What were you thinking?” Did not start the day on a good note, let me tell you.

The scene not only struck me as wholly unromantic, but smacked of rape. These are alpha males we are talking about, but the hero is never alpha to the point that he becomes a villain. As of that scene, he is no longer the noble protector that would do anything for his lady love. Because now in my head, he just did the unthinkable.

The heroine said no, several times in fact. She fought and did everything she should have to make him stop and he didn’t. And at the end of the act she thought she might be in love with him.

Aack.

Violence and rape is a real hot button with me. I saw The Accused when I was in college, and it emotionally scarred me. It gave me nightmares for years. It was an excellent movie, but not one I will ever watch again. If there is a scene on TV or in a movie, I have to leave the room. If I don’t, the images are burned in my mind’s eye and I see it over and over again. I watch movies to escape or be entertained, not cause me to look up a therapist.

I bullied my way to the second love scene of the book, but my interest is gone now. The hero is no more a hero. He is well, creepy.

The really sad thing is this was an author I thought I actually liked. It has been a while since I’d read anything of hers and the premise sounded light and romantic.

Since the book has officially banged off my wall, it will be long time before I dare pick up another one of her books, if ever.


Friday, August 25, 2006

The Longest Yard

... is apparently the distance between DSS's practice field and the car.

Yeah, I get it. It's sports. They are good for you. It's football and the kids get to get dirty. Practices are for 90 minutes to 1 hour 3 nights a week, plus 2 hours on Saturday and games on every Sunday.

He's 10.

And soccer season barely started so we're doing that too. Naturally, DH's ex is busy. Right. Like she's any busier that two people working full time. She doesn't work. That said, many people would jump to her defense, saying being a stay-at-home mom is a full time job. True in many cases, just not hers.

You would not believe the hole I just bit in my tongue just now to stop where I did.

Comedian Emo Phillips has a joke I am immensely fond of. It's about his exwife having lessons with the devil on Tuesday nights. And he didn't know what else she could teach him.

Oh, did I just change the subject just then? Hmm ...

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Rosebud

(from Citizen Kane)

*** Spoiler Alert. If you’ve never seen Citizen Kane and plan to, stop reading now. ***

Ok, I was at a serious disadvantage by the time I first saw Citizen Kane. My minor in college was Comparative Literature – Film Studies. There had been a song out called, “The Homecoming Queen’s Got a Gun.” Not really a funny title now, but back then it was hilarious. I can’t remember the lady’s name (Judy? Stacey?) who sang it, but my sisters and I knew nearly every word. In the song, she has this conversation at the end, typical high school post-Valley girl speak (when OHMYGOD was one word), and she says, “You know? Like when in Citizen Kane you find out that Rosebud is a ----?” For YEARS my sisters and I thought she said, “slut.” Harsh, but ok. Never thought anything different. So there I am in film class, watching the movie, thinking about the song, and in the last scene we find out that his beloved Rosebud is – get this – a SLED.

WTH?

I am pretty sure that is a direct quote from my brain as I sat there, stupefied. To have your life irrevocably changed by another person is a pretty common theme. But a sled? It took me weeks to get my head around that, which was unfortunate because I am pretty sure there was a quiz later that week.

Years later I found out both of my sisters eventually saw the movie. And we all thought the same thing: WTH?

What does this have to do with my WIP? One person having a profound affect on someone’s life. With our heroine, the hero kisses her once in celebration when they were young, setting in motion a series of events that culminates with a broken engagement and a broken nose. When they meet again years later, she thinks he has ruined her for all other men. No one’s kiss had ever affected her the way his did and by golly, she doesn’t appreciate that one bit.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!

(Sons of the Desert, Laurel & Hardy)

I've had an epiphany. I have been shown a marvelous creation, one filled with unlimited possibilities, treasures to behold.

I have discovered ... EBay. Heaven, help me. Please.

And much to my d's amusement, I've also learned the heartbreak of losing an on-line auction. By a measly 50 cents. The bastard. I guess that's what happens if you go brush your teeth with 3 minutes to go. Sigh.

To be very honest, I was buying a new floppy drive for my new/ancient laptop. I think it's circa 1980. Very large, very heavy. But then I am very poor. I got the laptop for $15 in a garage sale. Come on, folks. For word processing, you can not beat that. And now it will have a new floppy drive. For $7. The auction I lost was for the all-important battery, which did not come with the laptop (come on, it was 15 dollars, people!). When I when to brush my teeth, the bidding for 2 batteries was $7, plus shipping bringing the total to a whopping 15 bucks. Can you blame me for getting a little excited? I was about to have a new laptop for under $50. Since the bargain got away, I am now faced with the prospect of paying $35 for 1 battery, plus shipping. Of course, the laptop is worthless without it ...

By the way, the hinge to the monitor broke on my old one. It's like trying to type on a bobblehead. But I have to say, I've done a lot more work on my MS with it when I stay at work for my lunchhour.

I did about 800 words on the MS yesterday. Not bad considering the DSS had soccer practice and I picked up the Crusie novel I had somehow missed, "Fast Women." LMAO at the smashing icicles scene. DH gave me these odd looks as I would cackle to myself.

BTW, the Millers on America's Got Talent last night? They are from my hometown of Lafayette IN. I have never had a harmonica give me chills before. That kid will go places.

Well, back to the grind ...

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

How do I write thee? Let me count the @#$! ways ...

Saw Psych for the first time last night. Cracked. Me. Up.

I was down with a migraine most of yesterday. Second time in 7 days. I kept thinking if I didn’t refer to it as a migraine, it wasn’t. As in just an everyday headache. Right. Nausea? Sensitivity to light? Persistent desire to hide in the dark? Girlfriend, that was a migraine. It just really stinks when the meds aren’t working. The one that did, they took off the market. Come on, I really wasn’t using my liver anyway.

Apparently, I get cluster migraines. Cluster is a good word for it, and I don’t mean headaches. Mine are triggered by hormone changes, allergies, moon phases, changes in atmospheric conditions, a different food every time, stress, and breathing. Then they start and stop with no apparent warning for about two weeks' time. I'll be minding my own business, do-be-do-be-do and then WHAM! Dear-God-who-let-the-little-man-with-the-pick-ax-into-my-head Migraine. Now who wants to be me for a day?

I am needing to get back to my manuscript. I’ve been rolling a few ideas around in my head and it’s past time to get them on paper.

Writing style: How do I write? I am a very visual person. I see mini-movies in my head. I see conversations and body language. I see entire scenes. It’s getting them down on paper that’s hard. I have one Work In Progress that is a real mess. It was written as a series of scenes, not in any particular order. A conversation would pop into my head and I would write it down. The task now is to link them all together now under the umbrella of my story. Some really great scenes have absolutely nothing to do with my plot, so off they go into my idea file. I actually have a stack of binders, accordion files and computer disks just full of miscellaneous scenes. Hopefully they will see the light of day – someday.

If I ever get this first one out, I may actually stand a chance of getting several more out pretty quickly. But it's always that first hill that's a doozie ...

Friday, August 11, 2006

Of all the gin joints in all the world ...

I wish. (Paraphrased from Casablanca)

I ended up at a tractor pull the other night.

You know, if anyone had told me that someday I would find myself up until 11:30 PM at a tractor pull, I would have said they were crazy.

Guess I’m the crazy one.

A friend of my DH belongs to the Illinois Tractor Pullers Association (ITPA) and last night we went to Georgetown IL to the county fair (much better than the Champaign IL fair I went to a few weeks ago – my first tractor pull) and watched him compete. He did well, coming in second and going a distance of just over 306 feet.

Now for those of you that don’t know (like me as of three weeks ago), a tractor pull is where a tractor pulls a trailer with a weighted slide on it. The slide begins at the back of the trailer and moves forward as the trailer is pulled. Once it reaches the end of the trailer, the front wheels actually fold up and the tractor is pulling a trailer that is digging itself into the ground. Whoever drives the longest distance wins. It’s all about inertia, velocity, friction and a bunch of other physics terms I never did quite get the hang of.

The tractors are divided up into different classes. The more beginner classes are like Grandpa’s old tractor and gets the kids started. The classes move up by weight, ending up with our friend’s category, the 5800 Modified class, where the tractors look like fire-breathing dragons – indy cars on steroids. The two back tires are enormous tractor tires, taller than me. The front tires look like itty-bitty wagon wheels in comparison, although they would probably fit my husband’s truck easily. And are these tractors LOUD.

I had to laugh though. I was watching one of the earlier classes, one where the tractors look like they were just driven off the farm until you see them pull. Then you wonder how much acreage can be plowed driving 80 miles an hour (I’m exaggerating, but they will MOVE). Obviously these guys don’t use the same tractor to both farm and compete. These are super-suped up tractors. Watching these guys tearing down the strip, throwing gears like there is no tomorrow puts a hilarious image in my head. Farmer Bob revs up his ride and decides to raise a little dust. He opens it up and goes tearing down the pasture, throwing levers to switch gears as he speeds along, with cows, pigs and sheep being tossed up in his wake.

And what did I take home with me from the experience? Remember that scene in Lethal Weapon 2 where Riggs brings down the stilt house with his GMC truck? That just might be a handy talent for a heroine to have. To drive some thing big and bad that creates a lot of destruction. Kinda like Evanovich’s Barney in Motor Mouth, or Stephanie in Ranger’s big 4x4.

My DH said the funniest thing after we tucked in the DSS (Dear Step-Son). He hugged me tight and told me I smelled good. As in fuel and oil and fresh dirt.

Golly, he says the sweetest things.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Snakes. I Hate Snakes.

(Paraphrased from Indiana Jones - Raiders of the Lost Ark)

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while (yeah, the echo is deafening over here), but I’ve been kinda laid up with a migraine the past two days. The first day I tried to tough out and then went to an eye doctor appointment where they dilated my eyes. Oh, yeah. That went well, coupled with the new contacts plopped in my eyes (I haven’t worn contacts in over a year). I also picked out new glasses. Why do they do this when you cannot see squat? I have no idea what I picked out. Nothing like placing blind faith in the two complete, yet very nice strangers whose job it is to SELL ME A PAIR OF GLASSES. Egad. It is a wonder if I didn’t end up buying ones encrusted with Swarkovski (sp?) crystals.

Day two I had to call off work. I hate calling off work. I always feel like someone won’t believe I’m really sick. The place I work now is so much better than any of my past ones in that the two most excellent ladies I work with will basically hose you down with Lysol if you so much as step foot in the office if you are sick (Been there, done that, doesn’t feel so good. Kinda sticky.). It is almost to the point where they will string garlic bulbs around the office to ward off sickness.

My DH is sick as well – tummy pains. The guy just can’t catch a break this year. He’s going to the doctor again.

And finally, back to snakes. On He Wrote/She Wrote (the Jennifer Crusie/Bob Mayer blog), someone mentioned snakes. Which in turn reminded my of a story that truly reinforces my determination that there is absolutely no way in hell I will ever allow a snake as a pet under my roof.

A friend of mine I used to work with (one of the few I could share my Buffy obsession with), came in and told us that her husband’s snake (one of several) had escaped and they were having trouble finding it in the house. Days had gone by and still no snake. Then one morning she came ready to strangle him (the husband, not the snake). Apparently, overnight he had dumped a bunch of flour on the kitchen floor and left it there.

Didn’t he bake something and forget to clean up?
No.
Did he accidentally drop the bag?
No.

He wanted to look for snake tracks to see if the snake was going into the kitchen at night while they were all asleep.

FOR WHAT? A MIDNIGHT SNACK??!?!?!

Feel free to do your own heebie-jeebies dance. I know I do every time I think of it. Yikes.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

You're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat.

(From Jaws)

It’s Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. How appropriate since my boat is leaking metaphorically speaking and I’m about to be sucked under a wave of paperwork at work. At least it is a WHOLE lot better than the last place I worked (of ye ol ‘Approved for Termination’ fame). Less stress, too. Now if I’d only win the lottery, learn to like veggies and workout, my life would be perfect.

Finally, there is a break in the heat. Which, of course, means it is raining. Even better, this wacky weather has triggered my migraines again. Probably a cluster of them too. At least, I want to blame the weather. Surely it has nothing to do with all the junk food I’ve eaten this week. See, junk food makes me feel happy … and nothing that makes you feel happy could possibly make the little man with the pick-axe in my head start using said pick-axe or do that awful squeezing/pressure thing that makes you feel like he is sucking your soul and/or will to live out through your nasal cavity …

Ok, enough of the woe-is-me bit.

Writing. I don’t seem to be doing a whole lot of it lately. Again. I did work on a scene where our hero finally realized the reason behind our heroine’s strongest objection to their marriage. Little sister pointed it out, of course. The woman’s perspective. Our hero kissed our heroine several years ago and then promptly announced his engagement – to someone else. Heroine pops him in the nose and basically leave town to study to become a doctor. Then several years later, he kisses her again and she questions his motives, especially since he has enlisted her help in finding him a wife.

Or is it more effective to have a notorious scoundrel not kiss little miss perfect for a good chunk of the time they are engaged?

Sigh. Me thinks my scene will be filed under “Good idea, but it doesn’t work here”. The Story of My Life.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

It's hot. Damn hot.

(Paraphrased from Good Morning, Vietnam)

I think if I ever have a summer home, it’ll be quite far north. In Canada. Maybe in the southern hemisphere even.

I live in central Indiana, just about 40 miles, northwest of Indianapolis. Definitely in the northern half of the United States. I grew up two hours north of here, locally referred to as “The Region.” The Region is (in)famous for lake-effect snow coming off the southern-most tip of Lake Michigan.

The last several days have held temps at 95 degrees or higher with 80 percent humidity. The heat index has ranged over 105 for several days now. Yes, I know there are a lot of people worse off than I am. But most of them live SOUTH of here. You can kind of expect that sort of thing, say in TEXAS.

And I am coming down with an air conditioning induced cold. Ugh.

The dog is insisting upon ice cubes in his water dish. I think I’ll take him in for another haircut. He had one about a month ago, but a) his hair has grown and b) the previously mentioned heat. He is a miniature schnauzer and they don’t shed. You basically either trim, shave or pull the hair out. I don’t endorse the pulling method, at least with Trent (some breeds you can and they don’t seem to mind). He gets extremely grouchy if you do. In fact, if I don’t keep up with the haircuts, his fur gets all woolly like a poodle and mats up something fierce. Then if you have to work out the mats or cut them out, he really is not a happy camper.

The dog’s haircuts are $35. Mine are $17.00, $27.00 if I have it styled. And he has to have it done more often. Go figure.

Sorry if it sounds like I’m complaining a lot. I probably am.

It’s just HOT. Damn hot.