I did something!

Newest item in my inbox:
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Samhain Romance Submissions	9:28 PM (0 minutes ago)
to me

**This is an auto-response**

Thank you for your submission to Samhain Publishing's romance line.

Please allow 12 to 16 weeks for a response from an editor.  If you
haven't heard from us after that time please feel free to email for a
status update.

Samhain Publishing
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I really need to submit stories more often -- my heart was pounding just composing the query email.  :P

Were the world ending....

Just because the 13th b'ak'tun is ending doesn't mean that the world is. (I trust NASA.) But what if it were?  We hear all the time, "Live each day like it's your last!"

Well, that's not really very good advice, since if it were everyone's last day on earth, we'd be eating vats of whipped cream and punching our bosses in the face.  Or maybe that's just me....

But we ought to be able to find a happy medium, and not put off too long the things we'd really like to do in our lives.

I have two items on my bucket list, and I'm worried I've waited too long.

1.  Eat a deep-fried Twinkie.
2.  Ride in a rumble seat.

If Hostess really goes under, there may not be any more Twinkies.  And if my ass gets any bigger, it may not fit into a rumble seat.  So if I'm going to cross those two things off my list (and yes, I see the irony, that achieving the first may make it impossible to achieve the second), I've got to get my giant ass to a state fair and then to an antique car show, by way of many, many Zumba classes.  Maybe I won't get both of those items crossed off by Friday, but I'll make it a goal to get them crossed off by this time next year, in case the Mayans missed a decimal point or forgot to carry the one.

What are some of your bucket list items, and how do you plan to achieve them? 

gettin' stuff done!

I now have three first drafts finished:  Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece (~14k), A Cunning Plan (~40k) and Here Lies Treasure (~140k).  Yeah, that one will need a few cuts.

And I think I need to take a class on revising.  Maybe there will be something at Moonlight & Magnolias -- this weekend, y'all!


So who's up for NaNo this year?!! *headdesks*

In good news, my friend Ulysses' sequel is out!  Vampire In Suburbia is now available at the Amazon Kindle store, as is the book that precedes it, Desmond, which was previously published by Alyson Books but has been re-released in e-format.

Hey, at least someone is getting stuff finished.  :P

Saturday Snark - first try

Going to try Marie Sexton's Saturday Snark for the first time.  My godawfully long WIP pirate historical is sadly lacking in humor, way more angsty than I usually write, but here's an exchange that might qualify for the Snark blog hop.

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“Captain?”

“Aye, lad?”

“I must ask you to untie my hands.”

“And I must refuse your request.”

Philip drew in a breath and blew it out again.  “Please.  Sir.  I...I must answer the call of nature.”

“You’ve got to piss?”

“Y—yes.”

“All right.”  William opened a cupboard beneath the bunk and pulled out a tin chamber pot.  Setting it down on the chair between Philip’s legs, he reached for the buttons on Philip’s pantaloons.

‘No!” Philip shouted, recoiling so violently that he upset the chair and would have fallen to the floor had William not caught him.  The chamber pot went flying, ending up in the corner of the cabin. 

“Ho there!  Calm yourself, lad!”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you take a piss, that’s all!”

“No!  You can’t...please untie me, and I’ll do it.”

“You’re mad if you think I’m going to untie you.”  William looked him up and down.  “You’re a very dangerous young man, despite your appearance.  So you can let me pull out your prick so you can use the pot, or you can wet yourself.  Your decision.”

“Your chair.”  A glimmer of defiance under the fear made William blink.

“What’s that, now?”

“This is your cabin, isn’t it?  And it will be your chair soaked in p—piss if you don’t untie me and let me use the pot myself.”

“Hmm.  Clever lad.”  

guest blog post at Laptops & Lingerie

Hey, head over to Laptops & Lingerie and check out my guest blog post!  (Don't think about why I have time to guest there when I'm not even posting here, pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain, this isn't the blog you're looking for....)

AWAD serial - part 8: misoneism, magna carta, king's ransom

A.Word.A.Day serial – 7/10:  misoneism, 7/14/08:  magna carta, 7/17/08:  king’s ransom.

 

A WordA Day, by Anu Garg

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misoneism

PRONUNCIATION: (mis-uh-NEE-izm)

MEANING:  noun: A hatred or fear of change or innovation.

ETYMOLOGY:  From Italian misoneismo, from Greek miso- (hate) + neos (new). Ultimately from Indo-European root newo- (new) that also gave us new, neo-, neon, novice, novel, novelty, innovate, and renovate.

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magna carta

PRONUNCIATION:  (MAG-nuh KAHR-tuh)

MEANING:  noun: A document or a law recognizing basic rights and privileges.

ETYMOLOGY:  From Latin magna carta (great charter). After Magna Carta, a charter of political and civil liberties that King John of England was forced to sign on June 15, 1215. It was revised several times over the years, and it became an important symbol, establishing for future generations that there were limits to the royal powers.

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king's ransom

PRONUNCIATION:  (kingz RAN-suhm)

MEANING:  noun: A very large sum of money.

ETYMOLOGY:  From the reference to the large sum required to secure the release of a king from captivity. 

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Eric wanted to stay home, sprawled on the sofa, watching ESPN for the next week, or the next month, or the rest of his life, but HR had left him two voicemails on Friday, asking when he’d be back at work, so he figured he’d better get his ass to the office.  And he’d better start letting people know that Trudi had left him, otherwise they might start calling the police to look into where she’d gone.

But god, he knew what was coming:  the pathetic, pitying looks, the trite words of sympathy, and then the offers to set him up with any and all available women.  He’d have to get it over with so he could move on to the next stage of his life where things would be settled, where he could have his comfortable routine again.  It wasn’t misoneism to have things the way you liked them and not in constant upheaval.

He wasn’t even looking forward to fucking his way through all those women that would come flocking to a newly divorced man.  He’d had his share of pussy when Trudi first left him, because, hell, why not take advantage of  his new-found freedom?  He was a man, after all, and straight, and that’s what straight, unattached men did.  But now he’d started thinking that all those women would just cause more upheaval in his life.  They'd want his time, his money, promises of love, everything he didn’t want to give just then.  Wasn’t there some “Divorced Man’s Magna Carta” that he could use as a shield to stave off the ravening hordes of unmarried spin class instructors and co-workers’ wives’ divorced second cousins?

He just wanted to be left alone for awhile, or maybe to hang out with the guys, but all of the men he knew were half of couples, friends of “Trudi and Eric”, not “Eric’s buddies”.  He thought about Armand and his offer of a drink and a willing ear, but he pushed that option away.  Far, far away.  He would give a king’s ransom to never have met the guy, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to seek him out.  That would be as good as admitting that he really was gay.  Which he wasn’t.

AWAD serial, part 7: costive, atrabilious, linctus

A.Word.A.Day drabble – 6/30/08:  costive, 7/3/08:  atrabilious, 7/4/08:  linctus.

 

A WordA Day, by Anu Garg 

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costive

PRONUNCIATION:  (KOS-tiv)

MEANING:  adjective: 1. Slow to act or speak. 2. Stingy. 3. Constipated.

ETYMOLOGY:  Via French from Latin constipare (to cram together), from com- (together) + stipare (to pack or crowd).

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atrabilious

PRONUNCIATION:  (at-ruh-BIL-yuhs)

MEANING: adjective: 1. Gloomy. 2. Ill-tempered.

ETYMOLOGY: From Latin atra bilis (black bile), translation of Greek melankholia.

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linctus

PRONUNCIATION:  (LINGK-tuhs)

MEANING:  A syrupy liquid medicine, especially for treating coughs.

ETYMOLOGY:   From Latin lingere (to lick). Ultimately from the Indo-European root leigh- (lick) that is also the source of lichen (apparently from the way it licks its way around a surface), and lecher, but not lingerie (which is from the root lino: flax).

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But why was it so important that he set things right with this guy?  Why did it matter so much what a total stranger thought of him?  Except he wasn’t a total stranger anymore; he was the guy Eric had called a fag.  And it wasn’t impossible, in a city the size of theirs, that their paths would never cross again.  Better to deal with it now than take the chance of running into him somewhere that it would matter.

Eric examined the packages of sunflower seeds, tubes of toothpaste, packets of aspirin.  The good stuff, like condoms and cough linctus, were locked up behind the cashier, so anyone wanting those was SOL until Daisy got back...but there she was, following close behind waving-hands guy, her mouth set in a hard, don’t-fuck-with-my-friends line.  The guy saw Eric and walked right up to him, stopping a few feet away.  He crossed his arms over his chest, and stuck one hip out as he shifted his weight to one leg. 

“Okay, I’m here.  Say what you have to say.”

The voice, the posture, even the guy’s hair – dark with blond tips -- made Eric’s mind scream the f-word again, over and over.  He didn’t dare open his mouth, just in case it jumped out, so he waited, trying to bite back the word and willing his mind to shut up.

But the silence had gone on too long.  He knew he was being costive, knew that every second that passed made it harder for him to get out that apology.  So he sucked in a breath, blew it out, then said, “I’m sorry.”

Waving-hands looked less than impressed.  “Why are you sorry?”

“What?”

“Why.  Are.  You.  Sorry?” he enunciated, as if Eric were deaf or stupid or both.  “Are you sorry I’m offended?  Or are you sorry because a pretty girl told you off, or because you couldn’t buy your beer, or what?”

“I’m sorry because…because no one should be called that.  I’ve, um.”  Jesus, his heart was racing.  “I was in a bad mood and I took it out on you, and that was wrong.  So I’m sorry.”  A bad mood.  Hardly an accurate description of the atrabilious prick he’d turned into over the past few weeks.

Waving-hands seemed to be on the fence, but then he shrugged one shoulder.  “Okay.  Apology accepted.”  He stuck out his hand, not like a normal handshake, but with the palm down, like he expected Eric to kiss it.

Eric hesitated, then took it, turning it so he could shake it properly and withdrawing his hand as soon as he could. 

Waving-hands made a “humph” sound.  “I’m Armand, by the way.”

“Um.  Eric.”

“Nice to meet you, Eric.  You want to go get a drink and tell me why you were in such a bad mood?”

Hell, no.  “Um, thanks, but I gotta, you know, I gotta go home.”

“Of course you do.  Wouldn’t want to be seen out in public with a fag.”

Blood pounding in brain.  “Look, I apologized for that!  It doesn’t mean I want to go out on a date with you!  I’m not like that, I’m not like you!”

“I wasn’t asking you out on a date, you arrogant little shit!” Armand shouted, and god, could his voice have been any louder or higher?  “I just thought you might want to talk about whatever bug’s crawled up your ass, but never mind!”

Eric cringed, hoping to God that the store was still empty.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.  He headed towards the door but didn’t make it outside before he heard Armand say, “Daisy, sweetie, I know you meant well, but next time, tell him to go fuck himself.”