Editing Progress and Summertime Fun

I am finally starting to see the end of the tunnel as far as the rewrite on the Second Seal goes. I am currently reworking the climax and when I am finished with that, it’s just editing. It’s a good feeling to finally, finally have this thing looking and reading like a real novel. Hopefully the end is near.

Summer is nearly over and my oldest son heads back to school on Monday. He’s ready. I’m ready. The baby will be despondent because he’ll lose his buddy. The dog may also be a little blue because she’ll lose her buddy, too.

The dog of which I speak (Rommy) is a half-husky, half-cocker goof ball that we rescued from the dog pound in Fairbanks. She weighed 17 pounds when we got her and has since ballooned to 40. We’ve had to start feeding her diet dog food and she has slimmed down a bit. Texas has been an interesting experience in adaptation for her because she is a dog that loves to run and romp at -20. She also, without a doubt, belongs to my oldest son. They have a love/hate relationship. When we lived in Alaska and the two of the m played outside in the snow, she would wait stealthily until he was paying her no mind. Then she would blindside him, knocking him face-first into the snow. As a final insult, she’d steal his hat. It was great fun to watch.

The boy was outside today, squeezing the last few precious drops of freedom from his summer vacation. It was not long before he came bouncing into the house with a great smile on his face.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Oh, I was swinging,” he replied. “Then I stopped and Rommy came over and pushed me down.”

I pretended to be shocked. “Why did she do that? You didn’t pull her tail, did you?”

“No, I didn’t pull her tail,” he said, playing along.

“Did you tweak her nose?”

“No, I didn’t tweak her nose.”

“Did you tug on her ears?”

“No, I didn’t tug on her ears,” he laughs.

“Oh, honey,” I said, really hamming it up. “You didn’t tell her she was fat, did you?”

“No, I didn’t do any of those things! She just did it because she felt like it.”

Scamps. Both of ‘em.

Just another day amidst the chaos

Today:

The boys and I are stuck at home today because we are waiting on a very important delivery. Approximate delivery time: sometime between 8am and 5pm. We aren’t going anywhere. Nor can we play in the backyard because we would not be able to hear the doorbell. Plus, it’s really freaking hot. So we are resigned to being indoors.

It starts when the doorbell rings.

I answer it and find a salesperson. Not just any salesperson, either. It’s one of those people who is selling magazines supposedly to earn points to win some damn thing or another. The problem is, their patter is rapid-fire and non-stop, giving me no opportune moment to slam the door in their face.

As I stand waiting politely to turn them down, my oldest son comes running to the door.

“Mooooooooommmmmmm!!!!! The baby poured water all over your computer!!!!”

I tell the still-yakking salesperson to hang on an slam the door on them. On to my computer. The baby has, in fact, poured water all over it. I shake my finger at him and scold: “Bad, Baby! No!” His lower lip trembles. His brow furrows. Tears brew at the corners of his eyes and then …

“Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” He collapses on the floor in a heap.

My oldest son, who has keen powers of observation and a stunning grasp of the obvious, shouts at me: “Mom! The baby’s crying!”

“I can hear that!” I shout back. “Go get the paper towels! They’re on the counter!”

He darts off while I try to stop the flow of water that is running off the desk and onto the floor. He returns. No paper towels.

“I can’t find them!”

I head to the kitchen and grab the paper towels. They are sitting alone on the empty counter top. My son meets me in the halfway.

“Mooooooooommmmm!! The baby has gum!!!!”

I hand him the paper towels and tell him to get mopping. I chase the baby down the other hallway, into his room and corner him behind his dresser. Then I fish a wad of gum and paper (soaked in baby spit) out of his mouth. Once again, he collapses in a heap and wails. I leave him to his woe and go check on the progress of the clean-up. My oldest son in trying to mop up the water with half a paper towel and is really only succeeding in moving the water from the desk to the floor.

“Honey, you can use more than one,” I say and rip off a hunk of towels.

“Oh,” he says. Then he starts unrolling. The doorbell rings. I had forgotten about the salesperson.

Somehow, the dog has mysteriously entered the house from the backyard and charges for the front door, barking furiously. The doorbell is his invisible nemesis. The baby also hears the doorbell and (still crying) comes running as well. I open the door while trying to keep either of them from squirting past me and into the front yard. I slip out the front door, making sure I hang onto the handle. The baby (still crying) is pulling on it from the inside.

“Go ahead,” I tell the salesperson. He opens his mouth to begin his patter when I hear the telltale sound of the deadbolt. The baby has locked the door. Inside, I can hear the phone ringing. I ring the doorbell to get my oldest’s attention and the dog barks furiously. My oldest comes to the door, phone to his ear. He presses his face against the glass.

“Who is it?”

“You look busy,” says the salesperson, backing away from the house. “I’ll come back later.”

“You know who it is. Open the door. NOW!”

He lets me in just in time for me to see the baby, laughing and covered in flour, racing across the living room. As I turn to chase him, my son holds up the phone.

“It’s Dad,” he says. I take the phone.

“Hi, honey. How’s your day?”

A Little Teaser

Here is an excerpt from The Second Seal: Bernard's Prophecy (note the nifty new title)

As Marji lay in the ditch with a gun pressed against her head, she'd been certain she was going to die. Those had been the longest minutes of her life, just laying there helpless, in silence. He knelt beside her with one knee in the middle of her back and the barrel of his gun against her head. She tried to keep her face out of the slime in the ditch but figured since she was going to die, it didn't really matter. Her only thought was please, God, don't let me die like this. She was nearly hyperventilating but she didn't speak, didn't beg for her life. Marji feared that whatever it was that stayed his hand, that kept him frozen next to her with his gun against her head, wanted the silence. If she spoke, he would kill her. The seconds ticked by and she braced herself for the bullet. She hoped at the very least, it wouldn't hurt for long.

Then his cell phone rang. Marji twitched before she realized he hadn't shot her. It was just his phone.

Kane took several steps away from her. "Hello?"

Relief flooded through her. When he answered the phone he'd lowered his gun.

"Hello? Hello? Goddamn cheap phone," he muttered and jammed it back into his pocket. Then he gave Marji a cold, hard stare.

Run, she thought. Run, idiot.

She scrambled to her feet quickly but he was quicker. He tackled her at the knees, knocking her to the ground. Marji put her hand out to catch herself, but there was some sort of muck in the bottom of the ditch and she slipped. Face first, she fell into the muck with Kane on top of her. He wasn't a big guy but he was strong. Pinning her with his body, he hit her on the side of her head. The blow was hard enough to make her ear ring. Then he hit her again, And again. Then everything went black.

When she awoke, everything was still shrouded in darkness. Marji's throat burned and it hurt to breathe. Her head ached horribly and she was nauseous. But she was alive. From what little she could see and hear, she guessed she was in the trunk of Kane's car. Her hands and feet were bound and there was tape across her mouth. Unfortunately, the revolting taste of the ditch muck was still in her mouth. Marji felt her gorge rise but knew if she vomited with a gag over her mouth there'd no place for it to go except back the way it had come. She knew she didn't want to deal with that, so she took deep breaths and tried to mentally force her stomach to behave. Thankfully, it worked.

That wasn't the last of it, however. Most of her nausea was caused by the slight concussion she'd gotten when Kane knocked her out. It wasn't going away. The bad taste in her mouth wasn't going away, either. Then there was the whole experience of riding in a trunk. The exhaust fumes burned her throat , her eyes and her nose. It also didn't help the nausea. She could feel every bump in the road. Occasionally, they'd hit a big one and she'd bounce enough to hit the lid of the trunk. The lid didn't fit very tightly, either. It bounced and rattled with every bump and she was certain it would eventually pop open. Then she'd bounce out and hit the pavement at sixty miles per hour.

I'd rather have a bullet to the head than that, she thought. Then they hit another bump and her stomach lurched once more.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, thankfully, the car slowed. Marji thought they might stop soon. She was wrong. The car moved more slowly, but it was stop-and-go. There were also turns. Marji wished miserably that they would stop or at least get back on the highway. Where the roads were straighter.

Finally, they stopped. Marji heard the engine die and breathed a sigh of relief. The sudden silence was deafening. Then the trunk opened and daylight flooded in. She squinted at Kane's silhouette. He said nothing as he reached in and cut her bindings.

He yanked the tape off her face. "Get out."

She sat up quickly and the nausea hit her once more. It was stronger this time and, before she knew it, she threw up. It went all over the trunk and all over her.

"Shit," Kane exclaimed. He jumped back and glared at her. "You're fucking lucky you didn't get any of that on me, bitch. Fuck. Come on. Get out before someone notices. People don't usually ride in trunks, you know."

She climbed out slowly. She was still woozy and clutched weakly at his arm for support. He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling and another wave of nausea washed over her.

"You gonna hurl again?" he asked. She nodded. He managed to jump away just before she did so. Marji stood bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to calm her stomach and trying not to fall over.

Kane grimaced. "Warn me if you're gonna do that again. Now, move."

You have to play this game with fear and arrogance.

That is perhaps my favorite line from what may well be my favorite movie, Bull Durham. When Kevin Costner said it in the movie, he was talking about baseball. I, however, have often found it applies equally well to other areas of my life.

For example, my first career choice: Radio. I can clearly remember the day I decided I wanted to try it. I was getting ready for school, listening to the local morning show and I thought, “Pfft! How hard can that be?” I started working at the local radio station when I was 16 and still in high school (We broadcast at a whopping 1500 watts on the FM side. Oh, and it was FM mono with this hellacious buzz caused by the fact that the owner piggybacked the FM signal off of the AM transmitter. We were a force to be reckoned with). I started off running Royals games on the weekend and moved to the afternoon music show for the kids, which I did during my senior year of high school. The funny thing about it was that the guy who owned and ran the station showed me how to run the sound board one afternoon, then said, “Play whatever you want. I’m going in the back to take a nap.”

I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. So, I just sort of winged it. I took things I’d heard other DJs do, and did them in my own way (Little did I know that this is the age old way in which all radio people discover new bits and features for their shows. They steal them from jocks in other markets.)

I eventually moved on to a large market where I learned a lot of the mistakes I’d made in my first job. The hindsight was sort embarrassing and I guarantee that no tapes of my first radio job still exist (though I do have a few from when I was still just a pup). When I left my last radio job in Fairbanks, my Program Director told me: “I knew this was too good to be true. People with your talent and your experience don’t often end up in Fairbanks.” That was probably the nicest thing any of my many radio supervisors has ever said to me. But I won’t let it go to my head. Like many things in life, radio is a fickle mistress. Unless your name is Howard Stern or Ryan Seacrest, it doesn’t matter what you did yesterday. It’s what you do today that matters.

What I learned from all of that is that radio, like baseball, is a game of fear and arrogance. You live your life knowing that no one is better than you and that six months after you leave, no one will remember your name.

Though I’ve said this before in my life, I think I’ve finally left radio for good. Primarily because I have faith in myself and I think I can make this writing thing work. Yet as I embark on this, I feel once again like I am 16, sitting in a control room surrounded by equipment that I have just the vaguest idea how to use. But I have some ideas about what I wanted to do and a burning desire to do it. I still feel that I am feeling my way along in the darkness, knowing my goal is at the end. I know I’ve already made a few mistakes.

I recently read a piece in which another author was complaining about authors who … complain about other authors (no irony there) when they themselves have accomplished nothing. The author was very negative about those who did this, but I can understand the mindset. If you don’t think you work is worth being published then why should anyone else?

I think I can do this.

Fear and arrogance.

Things my mother taught me

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning."

My mom's biggest pet peeve -- when my brother and I wrestled on the couch.

2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
"You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

Reminds me of the time I was messing with our satellite dish (one of the big ones) and knocked it off its stand. I did a lot of praying that day!

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL.
"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!"

You could run from my mom because she wasn't fast. But she had great endurance!

4. My mother taught me LOGIC.
" Because I said so, that's why."

I'm convinced this is a parent's best friend. I knew I was an adult the day this phrase came out of my mouth.

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.
"If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the store with me."

I never broke a bone as a child. It was probably so I would always be able to go to the store.

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
"Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."

This particular pearl of wisdom comes not from my mother but from my friend's mom. It is something we should all live by: "Always drive the speed limit because you never know when someone will throw a bag of nails out the window."

That woman was a genius! Funny thing was that it worked on my friend!

7. My mother taught me IRONY
"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about."

What does this even mean?

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
"Shut your mouth and eat your supper."

I remember reading Little Farmer Boy (Laura Ingalls Wilder) as a kid and coming across the scene where Almanzo gets in trouble for talking at the table. I always thought that rule alone would have doomed me as a pioneer child. I could never keep my mouth shut.

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!"

I don't know about this, but I am certain my mom had eyes on the back of her head and spies all over town!

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
"You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."

I still hate spinach.

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER.
"This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."

And still kind of a slob.

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
"If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"

Seriuosly. A million times. She counted.

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE.
"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."

I always liked the Bill Cosby addendum to this: "And I can make another that looks just like you."

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
"Stop acting like your father!"

In my case, the bad example was my grandmother. It worked, though.

15. My mother taught me about ENVY.
"There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't have wonderful parents like you do."

The older I get, the more I discover that this one is actually true!

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.
"Just wait until we get home."

And I would hit the ground running. See 3 for the result.

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING.
"You are going to get it when you get home!"

I refer you to the above.

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
"If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that way."

I think the very act of having a kid embues one with some sort of medical knowledge. Mom kisses always make boo-boos better.

19. My mother taught me ESP.
"Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold?"

I am convinced my mom either had ESP or a vast intelligence network. MY husband once interviewed for a job and discovered his interviewer was from my hometown. Turns out he was the older brother of one of my brother's friends. I never even knew the guy had a brother. The next time I talked to my mom, I mentioned this to her. She said, "Oh, right. How is Jeff?" How the hell did she know that?

20. My mother taught me HUMOR.
"When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."

I have often thought my brother and I got some of my parents' best personality traits. My mom has absolutely no sense of humor, but loves to read fiction and loves sci-fi. My dad is very funny, reads only non-fiction but hates sci-fi. We kids have all those things (except the hate for sci-fi).

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT.
"If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."

My mom turned me from a picky eater into the exact opposite. I am very easy to split a pizza with.

22. My mother taught me GENETICS.
"You're just like your father."

Again, it was Granny. My grandfather's pet name for her? Toad. I kid you not.

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS.
"Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?"

My most common retort to this: "Weren't you there?" Again, my mom has NO sense of humor.

24. My mother taught me WISDOM.
"When you get to be my age, you'll understand."

The price of wisdom is old age. And $1.67 . Exact change only.

25. And my favorite: My mother taught me about JUSTICE.
"One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!"

I'd be good with that. :-)

This is news, but is it good or bad?

I got this message from a friend:

I don't know if you have a Hastings Book store there but ours here buy books back, and guess what I saw on the shelf.. yep you guessed it YOUR BOOK. That means someone bought it and then resold it to Hastings but still your book is in a major store.. I thought it was good news.

This just goes to prove that I will go to ANY lengths to get my book in a major chain!

Wanna go to Vegas and get married? 'Kay, sure.

August 3, 1997 -- A historic day in the annals of Western Civilization. It was the day that the Hubby and I, after dating for only five months and being engaged for two, threw caution to the wind, flew to Las Vegas and began our lifelong committment to sitting on the couch and getting fat together.

Break out the booze! We've made a decade! Free elephant rides and pantyhose for everyone! Huzzah!

New York, New York -- We stayed next door at the MGM Grand and got married someplace in between. Despite my intense fear of heights, I actually rode that damn rollercoaster because I promised my husband I would. I hyperventilated and cried the entire ride. When it was over, I flung myself on the 100 degree sidewalk and hugged the ground. That sooooo sucked. But the rest of it has been pretty good.