Sunday, May 23, 2010

Dear Charlie:

Today turned out to be a pretty good day. In fact, a great day.

It didn't start out that way.

See, I knew I had to get up early this morning when I went to bed last night. I hit the sack at around midnight (which is way early for me, thanks to my whonky work schedule), knowing my alarm was set for 8:00 AM.

Why? Because I knew I was going to see Pesh's play today. It's the last performance, and I wanted to see the whole product. Yeah, I'd seen rehearsals, but I'd never seen the play all the way through, and it's just not the same. Plus, it's dinner theater. Seriously. Dinner.

So I knew I wanted to get some of the evil kudzu yard mowed -- I swear I could bale and sell the results -- then get cleaned up and get over there by 1:00 at the latest. Because 1:00 is when they serve dinner. Ya know, the important part. Heh.

Knowing all of this, I lay down and... well... what happened next will only be a surprise to someone who's never read an entry of mine. Yeah. Couldn't sleep. At all.

Four o'clock came and went, and still I tossed and turned, but I did eventually fall asleep sometime after that. Unfortunately, that only made me very cranky when the alarm went off at 8:00. Ugh.

But I got up, got dressed, and was out tilting at windmills... er... mowing happily by 8:30. This lasted until around 10:00, when my mower died.

Admittedly, it could have been because I'm trying to mow knee-high fescue (hey, it's been raining for like three weeks!) with a cheap push-mower from Wal-Mart... that I bought 9 years ago... but when I checked, it was just out of gas.

Easily fixed, yes? No. Turns out, I had nothing but dribbles in the little gallon tank I keep in the shed. Lovely. I'd planned on at least another hour of mowing before showering up and heading on my way. Sure, I could go get gas, but by the time I'd gone somewhere and come back, I'd probably only get in another half hour or so, which, as high as the grass is, won't make much difference.

Screw it. I came inside, gulped down a bottle of water (boy, did it get hot quick, or what?), showered, and even fixed my hair. It was early, but oh, well. My mood had improved just by virtue of being squeaky clean.

That turned out to be a good thing, because the play -- an adaptation of Othello directed and adapted by Paxton Williams -- turned out to be completely entertaining. Oh, dinner was tasty and all (my compliments to the chef!), but the play....

And the audience "got" it, too. There were laughs and gasps, murmured comments, and much appreciative applause, and the cast deserved every bit of it. They were spot on, despite a few dropped lines, and really played to the hilt. And when Othello throttled Desdemona, there was even an astonished, "He really did it!"

Good times.

And then, when the play was over, those wretched people put me to the blush by telling everyone I'd done the set painting and calling me up to the stage so they could give me a gift. Can you believe that? What nerve!

And Pesh totally didn't warn me!

Okay, all joking aside (though that last bit is true), it was incredibly nice of them, and they are all awesome people. Especially after having seen the whole show, I am proud to have been a part of it. Everyone put in a lot of time and effort and heart into every aspect, and it turned out extremely well because of it.

My awesome.

Of course, now I have to ruin it by girding back up for Round 3 with the evil kudzu yard. So far, I'm winning, but I have my battle wounds.

But I will be victorious. Oh, yes. Like Othello over the pernicious Iago... no... wait. Um....

Like Hamlet over the very demons of indecision that haunted him....


Okay, like... um....

Aw, screw it. I'mma go mow.

Oh, and the gift? The incredibly thoughtful and welcome and awesome-sauce gift? An electric teapot. Have you ever heard of anything more handy? I'm having a spot (or two) of tea as soon as I get out of the shower.


Ahem. Mowing now.

[Edited to add: Three hours later, I've managed to beat the lawn into submission (for now; the kudzu refuses to lie down for long), take a cool and scrubby bath (and washed my hair again), and gulp down half a Coke. Probably not the best idea on that last, but hey. It sounded good, even if it's sitting in my stomach like a rock. I did have a bottle of water before hitting the showers, but I needed my fix!

I will definitely be having tea later -- perhaps some of the awesome stuff Pesh so thoughtfully provided Friday. Whee! Thank you, crazy tea lady!]

Friday, May 21, 2010

Dear Charlie:

Hey, guys! Why doncha click on over to my beloved sister's site and wish her a happy birthday for me, eh?

I'll be guest-posting over there after work this evening (not closing tonight, thank goodness!) about genre and how the concept has changed as far as publishing is concerned, but for now, just give her a few birthday wishes and maybe a hug or two.


Happy birthday, most beloved sister of mine! I love you!

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Dear Charlie:

I recently did an extremely entertaining interview with my friend, Soleil Noir (also known as Shannon J. Collins in some rather beastly parts of the interwebs), and she has been kind enough to post it on her review site.

Clicky clicky!

I'm pretty sure no one will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed doing it. Heheh. I'm weird that way.

Thank you so much, Sol, for being so awesome! You are full of win forever and ever and ever.

I'm just sayin.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

My Dearest Charles:


Just got home from a loooong shift to find an e-mail from my wonderful editor, Linda. What, pray tell, did this wonderful e-mail say?

Just that My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute hit the My Bookstore & More top ten! Eeee!

Even cooler, by the time I got home, it was up to #9! *does a little dance*

Thanks so much to everyone who's reading! I hope hope HOPE you like it, and here's to many more sales in future!

Can I use any more exclamation points? I dunno! I guess so!


Okay. I'm done. Time for bed.



Monday, May 10, 2010

My Dearest Charles:

Well, my dears, it's that time.

Yes, my book, My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prositute, comes out tomorrow. TOMORROW! Can you believe it?

Thanks to my awesome-sauce editor over at Samhain Publishing, my little story about a girl and her gigolo will hit the interwebs first thing in the morning. Give the ol' link a click tomorrow and, at the very least, check out the gorgeous cover art. Whee!

You know, I've tried not to make a big deal out of this and just kinda take it in stride, but reading through the final copy I received today has completely eroded that surface calm. This is awesome. People I don't know and will probably never meet will shortly (hopefully) be reading something that belched out of my head. That's a powerful feeling, and I hope everyone who suffers the slings and arrows of this quirky business of writing gets to feel it at least once.

What a rush.

So, dine well tonight, folks, because tomorrow we read!

...Er...I hope, anyway. Heheh.


Sunday, May 02, 2010

Dear Charlie:

Dude. It's May. When did that happen?

Oh, right. Yesterday.

So in addition to starting MayNoWriMo yesterday, I finally got started set painting for Pesh's play (scroll down a bit to the "next show" info). Whee! It really is fun to paint on such a grand scale.

I think I do better on a wall than on a canvas, but that could just be my own perspective. On a wall, I can make minute corrections that no one but me will notice. On an itty bitty canvas, any corrections tend to be obvious because EVERYTHING is small and detailed.


Yeah, when it's all done I'll see if I can't talk Duh Pesh Mode into taking a pic or two with her nifty digital camera and send 'em this way so I can post 'em. So long as I'm not actually in the picture. I'm seriously.

However, thanks to some domestic disturbance shenanigans outside in the street last night at, oh, 4:30 AM that kept me up until almost 6:00; getting up at noon; taking a nice two-hour lunch with Pesh to just kinda yak and have fun; and then six hours of set painting... I'm just now even THINKING about starting my MayNoWriMo words for the day. Heh.


And I'm blogging. Oi.

But I don't count the day a loss, and I still have as much time as I want, basically, to write. I don't work tomorrow -- though I'll be doing more set-painting in hopes of getting as much done as possible before another work week sets in and I possibly have to put off until next Sunday and Monday -- so I can sleep in a little later than usual and still be a useful member of society.

Heh. Shyeah right. Like I've ever been that.

So g'night, all. The Diplomat calls, and anyone who knows about him knows it's better to answer than to... ya know... die painfully.