This weekend I caught up on a little shut-eye by sleeping in a bit on Saturday and Sunday.  Not really late – certainly not as late as I would have pre-children.  PC (pre-children) I could sleep into the afternoon.  In fact, I’m so anti mornings that, if left alone, I can sleep until 11:00am regardless of when I went to bed.  I think that’s all part of the vampire thing I have going on.

ANYWAY, just because I’m sleeping in bed does not mean the kids pester me any less, it’s just that I have super natural sleeping abilities.  You can wake me up, have a complete conversation with me, and I can go right back to sleep no problem.  I’m the complete opposite of my mother in this regard.  So the kids were in and out of my bed.  At one point, I recall Sassy coming in to get a teddy bear out from under me (and I wonder why my back always hurts). 

For the rest of the day, she kept telling people that she’d pulled the teddy bear out of my armpit and thus her teddy bear stunk like armpit.  Then she’d cackle insanely.

I told My Honey that I had no dignity left.  When had I lost all of my dignity?

He replied sagely, “That’s what they demanded we use to pay for her at the hospital – your soul and your dignity.”

My armpit didn’t smell.  I checked.

I think Shoebox nailed this one as usual.

Since I’ve been writing like a maniac for the last two weeks, both with pencil and keyboard, I thought this especially interesting on my calendar.

Although she ranks as one of literary history’s most prolific authors, Agatha Christie never once set pen to paper.  She was afflicted with a learning disability called dysgraphia, which prevented her from writing legibly.  As a result, she had to dictate all her novels.  Here’s hoping the poor typist got combat pay!

I would like to point out that Ms. Christie wrote romance novels under a pen name, short stories and plays, and most memorably – 80 detective novels. 

I know that her secretary had a tough job, but I’m thinking too – how very frustrating for Agatha.  I write deep into the night.  What if she thought of something good or solved a plot problem and her secretary wasn’t around.

Gad!

As you may remember, a very dear friend of mine has taken it upon himself to pose for potential covers for my books.  Apparently, it’s become quite a hobby for him and he’s thinking about wardrobe and staging – every component of the cover.  And he keeps sending me pictures on his phone.

The following is a series of texts from us yesterday.  The beginning is a bunch of nonsense about the Stanley Cup Finals that we are both avidly watching.  Then comes the good stuff:

K: I have my next cover attempt for you

Me: All right.  Lay it on me.

K: This one is hilarious so I must get your word on confidentiality before sending i.e. no public access.

Me: Holy shit! I’m terrified.

K: Haha.  You should be.  I do enjoy trying to mock the ridiculous covers of romance books but I’m gonna need an oath.

Me: I swear on all I hold dear (cupcakes and Bruce Springsteen) I will not share.

Then he sent the picture – which despite his hilarity – I won’t share with you.  But it is really, really funny and charming in a way that warms the cockles of my sarcastic little heart.

But then the true hilarity ensues.  His wife finds out about it so he sends it to her.  In his words back to me: “This is so good… J wants to see the pic.  I say ok.  Send it.  Now, she sees her husband half naked in a pic he’s sending her and no problem.  But messy room!!”

How exactly like a woman is that?  Half naked pictures of her charming and hilarious husband and she’s freaking out about the messy bedroom in the background.  And I have to agree with her.  I would totally be mad if My Honey sent pictures of our messy bedroom regardless of what’s in the foreground.

To J:  Honey – I never noticed the bedroom.  I was much too amused at your goofball husband.

This is from one of my favorite blogs – Shoebox.com

I don’t know about you but I’ve attended these very meetings.  Sometimes they are in the guise of a soul-sucking conference call.

Someone actually asked me – ME – advice on getting published.  I told her what I know and directed her to a few places for more information, but really what it comes down to is persevering.  Getting published is way harder than writing the book. 

Even when you stupid book isn’t done yet.  But that’s anther post.

Anyway – on the note of perseverance, I give you this from my daily calendar.

It took Charlotte Bronte a while to learn the publishing game.  Her first novel, The Professor, was turned down by several editors.  Each time the manuscript was returned to her, she sent it to the next publisher without removing the rejection letter.  Soon it was circulating with a collection of rejection slips piled on top – not exactly a ringing endorsement for her writing ability.  No wonder The Professor was published only posthumously.

Oh dear, Charlotte!  Imagine how she must have felt once she figured this out.  Especially back then, when just mailing something must have been an exacting chore.  I can’t imagine.

Of course, she eventually figured everything out.  You know Charlotte as the celebrated author of Jane Eyre.

***As you may remember from a past post, there is an awesome agent that is interested in seeing my completed novel.  There is only one problem – I don’t have a completed novel.  The Sisters and I tore it all apart and I have been in the process of rebuilding it.  I even stopped working on it because stuff was happening with the novellas I wrote.  As we all know, that is just the call the universe is waiting for to prompt activity on a project you’re no longer working on.  So my new job is progressing agonizingly slowly.  I have no computer and that means I can do absolutely nothing.  I’ve been there for three weeks on Tuesday.  BUT that means that I have lots of time to write.  BUT that also means that I’m writing with a pencil.  UGH.  I’ve done well over 3,000 words with that darn pencil.

The reason I brought this up is, once again, to praise Google.  I wanted to use the word “decibels” in my story but then I worried that word didn’t exist in 1810 London.  So I looked it up on my phone.  Turns out no – sometime in the 1920’s they started measuring sound.  Writing historicals is such a pain in the ass.

***My Honey took me to a movie.  I got to see Prince of Persia.  It was a good action movie – lots of great sequences, the CGI is great.  I really enjoyed it – but, as you know, I love those kinds of movies.  I also love this:

 Ava does not think Jake is attractive.  I think Ava’s on drugs, or she fears that her husband will read this.  I don’t know, but the evidence proves that she is mistaken.

Also, My Honey wants to know what the other teams are paying for the Brazilian midgets they are importing over for their teams.  I have been flabbergasted by some of the other kids in this league.  They are all playing in the 5-6 year old bracket, but something is amiss.  Either we start utilizing the stupid law our brilliant governor enacted and check for IDs or we start DNA testing for Pele or Beckam genes.  Speaking of Beckam .