Hillybilly Handfishin’, Y’all!

  • August 15, 2011

Last night I was channel-surfing in bed and I stumbled upon Animal Planet’s Hillybilly Handfishin’. I had watched it the week before, but I was drinking sauvignon blanc distracted by my laptop and didn’t pay close attention. I paid more attention last night and I’m glad I did. I think I’ve already proven I like these kinds of shows. And by these kinds of shows I mean the ones that are over the top and show people experiencing things that most of us can’t imagine ever happening in real life. Like those clueless baby mamas on TLC’s I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. Remember in THIS POST when I shared my thoughts about that?

This is a picture of Skipper Bivens, the host of Hillybilly Handfishin’. That’s him on the right. My observation? Skipper is one hairy dude. That’s his best friend Scooter on the left. I have one burning question: Who the hell named these men? I’m guessing you have to be kind of badass to walk around with these monikers even though I’m pretty sure they’re just nicknames. Probably. If someone named Bubba shows up next week I will not be surprised.

The show started off with a tagline: Stick your hand or foot in a hole and you never know what you’re gonna find. This is wrong on so many levels. I’m not sticking anything in anywhere unless I know what’s waiting for me and that is just good common sense people. And if Hillybilly Handfishin’ wasn’t a total laugh riot all on its own, in addition to catfish there might be cottonmouth snakes and BULL SHARKS living in those holes. Okay maybe not bull sharks. MAYBE. Plus the water in the stream? river? lake? creek? (or crick if you’re a total redneck) looks all brown and poopy, like the catfish live in a giant, dirty toilet bowl.

As most? some? all? of you know, my husband Cowboy Dave hails from Oklahoma. Sort of. He lived there for 8 years and I watched an old videotape of him once and he had an accent which I razzed him about even though it was kinda hot. And being (sort of) from Oklahoma, he knew all about catfish noodling (but swore he’d never done it). I think it’s safe to say that all the Oklahoma’s been taken out of the boy though because the other night Dave had some wine and watched a pretentious foreign film with sub-titles. Skipper probably drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon and watches rodeo.

The other day a beetle fell out of my ponytail when I was at the pool and I think my lounge chair must have been positioned on top of a nest of spiders because after I spotted the 7th one crawling on me (and drew a bunch of attention to myself by jumping off said chair and doing the spider dance while screaming) I decided I was done with all the suburban wildlife and spent the next day indoors with the air-conditioning and my Kindle. So I am not an ideal candidate for this show (don’t let the cowboy hat I’m wearing in my profile photo fool you. I’m wearing it ironically because I am totally not a cowgirl and only listen to 70’s music).

But Stacy and Shelli, who were on last night’s show, were ideal candidates. They hail from Boston – Stacy’s a bartender (with enormous boobs) and Shelli’s a personal trainer (with enormous biceps). I tip my cowboy hat to these girls because they exhibited some total badassery and I salute them with a can of Budweiser. But they weren’t brave at first. At first they were all freaked out because they found a bug in Shelli’s suitcase and then they each found a couple bugs crawling on them and they did the screaming spider dance and I felt a kinship.

There was also a brother-sister duo (Devyn and Tyler) and two cops from Chicago (Dan and Tony).

Shelli (the personal trainer) caught the first catfish. It was either that or arm-wrestle the Chicago cops so everyone could see how tough and fearless she was. She did awesome.

Stacy (the bartender with big boobs) caught the second. You go girl.

Now it’s Devyn and Tyler’s turn. Tyler thought it would be fun and bonding and meaningful to take his sister noodling. Devyn probably wanted to sit on the couch in her comfy yoga pants sipping a glass of wine and watching season three of Sex and the City. Yet there they were. Maybe Devyn can give Tyler a gift certificate for a Brazilian wax for Christmas and then ask him how his man-parts feel. It only seems fair.

THIS is what happened the last time I went fishing with my brother, back in like ’87 or ’88. I can’t remember exactly when it was because I tend to block out traumatic things.

It was all fun and games and BUD LIGHT TALL BOYS until Georgie hooked me and we had to drive to the walk-in clinic and have a purple Mister Twister extricated from my face with a scalpel which is like the biggest buzzkill ever. And Georgie said he was sorry, and told me he felt terrible, but he does not look sorry at all in this photo. So fishing will probably not be my first choice for a recreational activity that my brother and I can enjoy together. To clarify, first choice would probably be wine-drinking.

Tyler’s sister Devyn is so scared to go catfish noodling that she looks like she might poop her pants (which would totally go unnoticed because of the murky, brown, toilet bowl water everyone is standing around up to their chests in). But I’m proud of Devyn. She redeemed herself. Check it out.

If you were paying attention, you might also have noticed Stacy’s boobs and Shelli’s biceps. Need to watch it again? Go ahead.

So now everyone’s caught a catfish except for Devyn’s brother Tyler, and Tony and Dan, the Chicago cops. Even though Dan’s chest is like 17 axe handles across, and he’s super manly, he can’t find a catfish to save his life. Neither can Tony. So they’re feeling around in all those holes, desperately, frantically, trying to find their balls some catfish and finally, finally they succeed. Tyler does too, and I am odly invested and proud of all of them by now.

I was manipulated into watching – and enjoying – a show I only wanted to make fun of. I cheered at the screen. I want to drink beer and do push-ups and play pool with Stacy and Shelli. I want to get a mani-pedi and see a chick flick with Devyn. And you can bet your Wranglers and your can of Skoal that I’ll be watching next Sunday.

So well played Animal Planet.

Well played.

Re-post Monday – My Totally Fictitious, Highly Dysfunctional, And Completely Inappropriate Advice Column

  • August 1, 2011

Happy Monday everyone! I stumbled upon this old post yesterday when I was doing some clean-up on the blog. I originally published it in February of 2009, but I don’t think anyone read it back then. I don’t have time to write a new post today, so I hope you don’t mind if I recycle this one. Maybe Mondays on the blog can be re-post Mondays from now on?

Here are my totally fictitious answers to totally fictitious problems for totally fictitious people I don’t know because they’re totally make believe.

Dear Tracey,

My husband and I recently moved into a new home. The next door neighbors brought us a pie and introduced themselves. They seemed nice enough and they have children the same age as ours.

I am concerned about a few things, however. We invited them over for cocktails last weekend and it got weird toward the end of the evening.The husband gave me googly eyes and then touched my boob when he reached for his drink. He also wanted to know if I‘d show him “where the master bedroom was.”

Meanwhile, his wife had my husband cornered in the kitchen and she was trying to rub her body up and down his leg. My husband said she was purring like a cat and told him she needed to take a shower because she was a “dirty, dirty girl.” I managed to cut the evening short by pretending to pass out on the couch while my husband hustled them out the door.

Before they left they invited us to their home next weekend to meet several of the families that live in the neighborhood. We don’t know what to expect and neither of us is remotely interested in becoming a swinger. My husband and I have a great relationship and he’s not interested in anyone else’s hoo-ha. I have no desire to get up close and personal with my neighbor’s wiener either. How should we handle this unfortunate situation?

Signed,

We didn’t realize we moved to Swingtown.

Dear ‘We didn’t realize we moved to Swingtown’,

Being disease free is very important to swingers, so I have no choice but to recommend that you start a rumor in the neighborhood that you and your husband both have uncontrollable, rampant, super-herpes. It’s the only way. If either of you ever have a really gross cold sore on your lip it would go a long way toward validating this rumor. Please also mention frequently that you are allergic to latex because a die-hard swinger may not be put off by one little STD.

You also need to identify the non-swingers in your neighborhood, invite them over for drinks, and do some serious damage control. They may not believe you don’t actually have super-herpes, but since you aren’t going to try to have sex with them, they probably won’t care.

I believe swingers and non-swingers can peacefully co-exist. If you find that’s not the case, wait until the housing market improves, stick a for-sale sign in the yard, and move to a normal neighborhood. You might want to do a better job of vetting your future neighbors next time. Good luck!

Dear Tracey,

I’m a member of the PTO and I’m working on a fundraising committee with three other parents. There is one mom who is really starting to piss me off. She keeps sending elaborate e-mails with flow charts, Excel spread sheets, and summaries about everyone’s responsibilities and she has suggested “goals and benchmarks” for completing everything. I heard through the grapevine that she’s an out of work former business executive that got fired late last year, probably for being totally annoying.

The other moms and I are not her “minions” and I don’t appreciate her trying to turn this fundraiser into the social event of the year. We are supposed to be organizing a bingo game, bake sale, and a raffle so we can raise money for new library books. I’m about ready to tell her to shove her ideas about “swag” and “black tie only” up her butt. And seriously, if she asks me one more time about the dress I’m wearing to the fundraiser, I will throttle her. I’m wearing jeans and so is everyone else.

Signed,

Drama with another mama

Dear ‘Drama with another mama’,

Working on a committee is never easy, especially when someone has decided to use the fundraiser to fill the empty void created by losing their job. She is probably wishing she had an excuse to get dressed up again and hasn’t been able to get used to the fact that wearing sweats every day is perfectly acceptable.

Remind her of the common goal to raise money for books. And since it might help to make your suggestions in a language she understands, why not put everything into a nice PowerPoint presentation so she can feel like she’s at work again.

Then, ask her to come to your house and discuss the fundraiser over margaritas. Show her how awesome it is to drink on the job when you’re not getting paid and can’t get fired. Get completely hammered and make fun of anyone working on the fundraiser that you don’t like. Then drunk dial her old boss and hang up when he answers (remember to *67 first, natch).

My prediction is that you’ll be BFF’s in no time and the fundraiser will be a smashing success.

Dear Tracey,

My life sucks. I got fired from the insurance company where I’ve worked for ten years because the cute, blonde receptionist they hired didn’t like me. Since she gives my boss a hummer every day at lunchtime, she has become the most powerful and influential employee in our department and she got me canned.

Then my boyfriend Jason broke up with me because he’s in love with some whore named Terry. I ran into Jason and Terry the other day when I stopped at Kum and Go for a bottle of wine and a Slim Jim. Terry has an Adam’s apple, a five o’clock shadow, and was holding Jason’s hand. Terry is also way prettier than me and acted like he’d never seen someone at Kum and Go in pink flannel pajama pants, purple Crocs, and yesterday’s underwear.

I’ve also gained some weight so in an effort to lose a few pounds I started taking Alli, the over the counter weight loss drug that Wynona Judd recommended. I had one ill-timed cheeseburger from Sonic and crapped my pants in the car on my first date with a hot guy I met on Match.com. Now he’s got a big orange stain on the upholstery of his passenger seat and I’m (surprise!) still fucking single.

Lastly, I had to spend money I don’t have to sign up on eharmony.com because word’s gotten around at Match.com that I’m a “shitter”.

Signed,

Should I just give up?

Dear ‘Should I just give up’,

When life hands you lemons, grab a cocktail shaker, sugar, and vodka and make yourself a lemon drop martini as big as your head. Consume. Repeat. Consume. Repeat. Consume. Black out. Problems, poof!

And seriously, wouldn’t you rather know you and Jason both liked boys sooner, rather than later?

I know jobs are scarce in this economy but try to look at your recent firing as a good thing. Treat this as an opportunity to switch careers and only accept offers from companies with butt-ugly receptionists.

As for Alli, taking a drug that makes greasy, orange poop leak out of your butt is never a smart move. Please listen to me and not that washed up, fat country singer Wynona Judd, and stop taking it immediately.

Trust me, things can only get better. Good luck to you!

Do you have a problem you’d like my help with? If so, leave it in the comments section of this blog post and I’ll answer it for you. Remember, no question is too outrageous or inappropriate for me to handle. Just make something up.

I do it all the time.

Obviously There Can’t Be Any More Mommy-Daughter Weekends.

  • July 25, 2011

Dave and Matthew went out of town last weekend leaving Lauren and I home to fend for ourselves. Getting those stinky boys out of the house is always nice, and Lauren and I like to plan special things to do together. Spending time with Lauren is, after all, priceless, and we’re making memories that will last a lifetime.

Holy freaking bleeding wallet.

Lunch at Panera $
Fake eyeglasses (she has about 5 pairs and can probably account for two of them) and big, blingin’ Hello Kitty ring at Claire’s Boutique*
Bunch of hoochie mama clothes semi-inappropriate for eight-year-old at Justice
Take out dinner from Macaroni Grill
Two theater tickets, popcorn, and candy
Quarter for wishing well thingie at the mall (that’s just like throwing money away)$.25

Spending time with my daughter? Priceless.

Sorta.

Okay not really. All those recipts were like bursting out of my wallet. I had to bust out the calculator when we got home just to reconcile my checkbook.

* Oh hi, Claire’s Boutique? Yeah, I’m *not* sorry for almost knocking over that rack of earrings with my ass. Make your freakin’ store bigger or limit the number of middle schoolers wandering around inside. Your choice.

Fiction Friday!

  • July 15, 2011

Happy Fiction Friday everyone! I hope you are all having a delightful day. I will be spending the afternoon preparing for Matthew’s family birthday party that we’re hosting tonight. My baby boy is turning twelve (sniff, sniff). Tomorrow he is having two of his buddies over to spend the night, eat junk food, and watch the movie Paranormal Activity (he has been begging me to let him watch it since last fall). “It’s your nightmare,” I told him. “Just don’t wake me up at 3 a.m. when you’re scared because I will boomerang your butt right back to bed.”

Why yes I am a stellar mom, thanks for asking.

Anyway, as most? some? all of you know, I have decided to self-publish my novel On the Island. I am hoping for a September 1st release and I’m hard at work preparing everything. I will be sending the manuscript to my freelance editor on August 1st, and then I’ll do a final line edit and make sure the formatting is correct. The novel will be available for Nook and Kindle users, plus some other e-reader formats, and in paperback as well.

I wanted to share the image I’ve chosen for my cover. This is an actual beach in the Maldives (which is where my story takes place), and I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. Plus my main character has long dark hair (and often wears blue) so it seemed like a no-brainer. I also love the colors.

Here’s a VERY ROUGH mock-up of what it might look like with the title (which needs to be centered properly, and much bigger) and my name. My very awesome friend Penne, who is a graphic designer, is going to help me make sure it looks professional (and not like something I might have, ahem, whipped up on MS Paint), and my super awesome critique partner (who is a traditionally published author) is going to write a blurb for the cover.

So, what do you think? Is it eye-catching? For those of you who have read the manuscript, does it capture the essence of the story? As my friend Elisa and I discussed, it’s not very “stranded on an island” but it does invoke (I hope) the romantic aspect of the story. I think it looks very women’s fiction-y which is super cool since that’s the genre of my book.

Let me know your thoughts if you have a free moment. I’d love to get your input.

Have a great Friday and a great weekend everyone!

Tracey

What Dave Says, What Tracey Says, And What We Really Mean

  • June 22, 2011

The other day I made an appointment with a facial plastic surgeon. I’d already visited him once for Botox, but I decided it was time to try a little Juvederm* because my friend Amy has a theory that women age one of two ways: you’re either a wrinkler or a sinker. Wrinklers have crow’s feet and horizontal lines across their foreheads. Maybe some laugh lines and other various creases. Sinkers, on the other hand, aren’t very wrinkly but they lose volume in their faces which causes grooves, furrows, and other undesirable divets.

I’m a sinker. I’m not very wrinkly, but I have a few areas where there is a noticeable loss of volume occurring, specifically above my upper lip.

I called the facial plastic surgeon’s office and the woman I spoke to made me want to jump in my car and drive there immediately. She had tried Juvederm and she loved it.

I knew Dave would probably not understand my desire to have gel injected into the area above my upper lip (the same way he didn’t understand my need to have diluted botulism shot into the furrows between my eyebrows). This is akin to the confusion I experience when a man tries to tell me how much better/clearer/superior a television program is when viewed in HD (sometimes, just to mess with my dad, I say, “You’re right, that one IS clearer!” except I point to the non-HD channel).

So this is what I said to Dave: I want to try Juvederm but I’m going to wait until my contract job ends because if something goes terribly wrong I’ll be super embarrassed if I have to show up at work with a giant trout-pout. What do you think?

This is what Dave said: If it’s really important to you then go ahead and do it.

This is what Dave really meant: Egads! How much is it going to cost to keep my wife from morphing into some kind of freaky, troll-like creature? Jesus, by the time she’s fifty her face will be a giant clusterfuck of poison and drywall spackle.

Me: So you’re cool with this?

Dave: Sure.

Not long after this discussion, the T.V. in our family room stopped working. It’s six years old and apparently the lamp inside burned out. Dave started lobbying for a new T.V. right away. “It’s been six years, Tracey. Those lamps don’t last forever.” I agreed that they probably don’t and then suggested something really crazy: “Why don’t you take it in and have it repaired,” I said. Dave said fine, he’d take it in. Unfortunately, not only were the lamps burned out, the color wheel was too. Repair estimate: $400. Dave mentioned that he could get a brand new T.V., comparable or even better to what we had, for $489. We could still repair the old one, but other things might go wrong soon and then we’d have to put more money into it. Since I was really only half paying attention by this time, I said, “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t make me come with you to buy it because that shit bores me silly.”

A few days later, Dave went on a recon mission to Best Buy and American to compare prices. He cornered me when he came home.

This is what he said: So they have these smart T.V.’s now and you can get streaming netflix, and check your Facebook on the T.V., and pull up websites, and all kinds of things! Wouldn’t you love to check your Facebook on the T.V.? You said the other day you wouldn’t mind signing up for netflix. And they’re only $1200!

This is what I said: Wow, the smart T.V. can do all that? That is amazing. And you’re telling me we can have netflix, like streaming right on the T.V.? Technology sure has come a long way!

What I really meant: I will never check my Facebook on the T.V. because my laptop is right over there. And Jesus Jones, I couldn’t care less if we owned any T.V.’s at all**. I rarely watch network television, especially in the summer, and if we didn’t own a T.V. I’d never have to be subjected to the crap you like to watch (namely Hitler documentaries on the History Channel, old James Bond movies on obscure cable channels, and the constant, insipid dipshittery of Tosh.O and Jackass). And this will be one more electronic item that I don’t know how to work. It’s bad enough that Matthew had to label the components in the basement because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to turn on the Wii or play a CD.

Dave: So you’re cool with the smart T.V., right?

Me: Sure.

So that’s how it works in our household. Everyone gets what they want, harmony is maintained, and we operate on a strict tit-for-tat basis.

I’m just afraid of what Dave will ask for if I ever get those new boobs I’ve always wanted.

*Did I like Juvederm? Eh, it’s okay. I was very conservative with it so you can’t tell I got it which probably means I’m the biggest dumbshit to ever walk the planet.

**Except I’d want to watch Shark Week because that show totally rocks even though they need some new clips because I’ve seen that one chick get her leg bitten off by that Great White Shark like hundreds of times. It’s still awesome, I still think that *maybe* her friends will pull her into the boat in time, and she deserves a medal for bravery because she’s completely zen about the whole thing.

Fiction Friday!

  • June 17, 2011

Happy Friday everyone!

I hope you’re all enjoying the summer so far. Here in Iowa, we’re still waiting for it to arrive, but I’m confident it will make its appearance one of these days. Our 40-degree shifts in temperature, and the incessant rain is making everyone a bit cranky but the roller coaster weather doesn’t bother me too much because I am unemployed (by choice) and I’m loving being at home with the offspring for the summer (never mind that I promptly shipped my talkative eight-year-old daughter off to acting camp for the week). I do plan to return to my contract recruiting position in the fall, but in the meantime I’ve got 8 weeks left to catch up on sleep and work on my tan (and I’m grateful that I’m able to do that).

I have been (slowly) querying my manuscript. I have sent approximately 14 queries, which is a pretty low number, and have not received any nibbles. Basically, no agents have requested the manuscript yet so either my query letter isn’t working, or my premise is not something agents are interested in. I have a feeling it’s the latter. I did have one agent give me feedback on my first chapter/synopsis (this was via a contest win) and while it was very helpful, and she told me she didn’t necessarily feel this way, she said that editors would probably have a knee-jerk reaction to the premise (she didn’t say they would drop my query letter and run screaming from the room, but I can read between the lines).

I won’t lie; this makes me sad, especially because those who have read it (I think I’m up to 17 readers at this point) have been overwhelmingly positive with their feedback, and have told me how much they loved the story and that they were still thinking about the characters days later). However, my premise IS unique in that it doesn’t fall neatly into one genre. Those of you who have read it know what I mean. It’s part women’s fiction, part romance, and part adventure. I sat down and wrote the book I wanted to write, and I couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out, but I do need to acknowledge that I have not written something that is in line with what’s selling right now. And probably won’t ever be.

Lest you think I’ve written some porn-y, shocking book, the title is On the Island and it’s a desert island book. Think Castaway with two people. Or Lord of the Flies without the killing and savage behavior. I love desert island books, and I’m a big fan of Lost and Survivor (not to mention The Blue Lagoon), so that’s what I wrote. I put my main characters in a lot of survival situations in On the Island and they were exciting to research and write. It’s set in the Maldives which was a place I knew nothing about. Looking back on it now, this book was so research-heavy that I’m not sure I ever want to do that again. I also know how to build a fire without matches so if you ever want to go extreme-camping, I’m your girl.

One of the hardest things has been receiving form rejections on the same day I receive feedback from someone who has actually read the manuscript. I was reading a rejection letter and at the same time I received a text from someone that said, “I loved your book, I couldn’t put it down, and it made me laugh and cry.” I texted back and said, “Well that’s wonderful because I just received a rejection letter in my inbox.” I’m not taking the rejections personally (okay maybe a little). I know that agents reject because they don’t think they can sell the manuscript or they don’t love the premise. But I won’t lie: form rejections will take the wind out of your sails and your confidence will plummet.

I’m at the point where I’m leaning toward self-publishing via Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing program. I could also publish to Smashwords and my book would be available to Nook users as well. For those that don’t have e-readers, they can download the Kindle and Nook applications to their desktop, laptop, tablet, or phone. My book will probably be priced at $2.99. I would rather go this route then let the manuscript languish on my hard drive forever. I have contracted with a free-lance editor, to make sure the book is as polished as it can be, and I’m also researching book covers because you do have to provide your own if you self-publish and it can’t look like something a demented six-year-old designed and then drew with crayons. I’m connecting with a lot of self-published authors right now, via Twitter and blogs, and their excitement is contagious. There are definite benefits to self-publishing such as complete control over content and distribution, and also the freedom to write what I want. The only deadlines I’ll have are the ones I self-impose.

I’m also really, really immersed in my second novel, Covet. I would love to have it polished and ready to publish by this time next year. Will I query it first? Probably. The premise is definitely more mainstream and this book is solidly in the women’s fiction genre so that may help. Or I may decide to self-publish that one too. I have no idea at this point, I just know that I’m falling in love with another story and the characters have taken up permanent residence in my head and that is why I write (incidentally, Covet is NOT the book I mentioned in my Shiny New Ideas post. It’s an idea that came to me shortly after and it knocked the other idea right out of the running). It explores a similar theme found in On the Island and that’s good for building a readership (which is totally putting the cart before the horse, I know, but I’m pretty sure I’ll continue writing books so I might as well work toward author branding while I’m at it).

One last thing, if you are one of my blog readers, and I know you via real life or Facebook, Twitter, etc., and you’d like to read the manuscript, I’d be happy to send it to you. I am hoping that those who have read it would be willing to post a link to the Amazon listing if/when I do self-publish (sort of like a virtual book launch) which probably won’t be until mid-August. If you are interested, please e-mail me at [email protected].

In the meantime, enjoy your summer!

I hope your weather is better than ours.

Dudes, Louis From Interview With The Vampire Totally Works In My Building

  • May 19, 2011

As some of you know, I work as a contract human resources recruiter for a large mortgage company here in Des Moines (I won’t mention the name but it rhymes with Bells Cargo). My work bff Tami and I usually saunter down to the employee cafeteria in the morning for breakfast and gossip and one day a few months ago we were dumbstruck when we saw Louis from Interview With The Vampire standing in line to get an omelet. Or some o-neg. Whatever. It’s not important. And I mean Louis as portrayed by Brad Pitt because Louis is totally a fictional character and doesn’t actually exist. Anyway, when we spotted him we stood there with our mouths hanging open for a good thirty seconds. We might have also elbowed each other.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to snap a picture of him with my BlackBerry but the zoom function does not work for crap and I couldn’t get close enough without, you know, drawing attention to myself and making him think I was a complete whackadoodle. Which I’m not.

This is what he looks like: Long, blonde hair – sometimes in a ponytail, sometimes down – stubble (just the right amount), and sexy vampire-type eyes. He might also be wearing eyeliner but I try not to stare into his eyes in case he tries to glamour me. And he’s really skinny. Like I could not get one of my thighs in his jeans if someone was pointing a gun at my head. This does not detract from his looks, I’m simply pointing out that he’s tall but very, very lean. Also? He can be wearing anything from a blinged-out hoodie with skinny jeans or a pinstriped, three piece suit from the 19th century (three piece as in vest included). Seriously. And every single woman in the cafeteria is checking. him. out.

But the other day he wore something that I almost couldn’t comprehend and how he came up with this wardrobe choice I’ll never know. Maybe he woke up and thought, hmmmm…..I work at a large mortgage company in Iowa. What should I wear today? Oh, I know! My long, black, fur coat and a fedora (tipped at a jaunty angle, natch). Chicks! Will! Stare!

That’s about as silly as me showing up somewhere in a *poncho, beret, and feather boa, but somehow he pulled it off.

What’s even more entertaining is watching women strike up a conversation with him. Sometimes Tami and I like to watch girls fall all over themselves trying to engage him. And by watch I mean totally eavesdrop which is how I know he bought the fur coat in Greece.

So. I just wanted to tell you all about the guy Tami and I refer to as vampire boy or VB for short. People have a tendency to think Iowans have no sense of style and that we walk around in bullshit denim overalls with corn in our hair.

But let me tell you, there’s a dude in Des Moines that can rock vampire chic like nobody’s business.

*Unless I’ve been drinking and then it makes total sense. Stylish! Unique! Quirky! (but in a good way).

P.S. I apologize for the plethora of exclamation points. I don’t know what came over me.

P.P.S. I also wanted to use the word plethora because it’s a great word and I haven’t used it in a while.

It’s Spring Cleanup Time in the ‘Hood!

  • May 14, 2011

We have something known as spring cleanup day here in the ‘hood. The city lets you dispose of pretty much anything junking up your garage – except maybe anthrax or dead bodies – and everyone drags all their crap out to the curb and the garbage trucks roll up and make it disappear. You can almost hear the collective sigh of relief as all the detritus of the last year gets carted away.

Dave and our eleven-year-old son Matthew are very interested in spring cleanup day for totally different reasons. Dave thinks he’s finally going to emerge the victor in the “battle of the garage” while Matthew has adopted the “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” motto as his personal mission statement; you can almost see the little wheels turning in his head. Free stuff! At the curb! He and his buddies, armed with cell phones and walkie-talkies, like to case the ‘hood on their bicycles looking for the highest quality garbage. The early bird gets the crap so as soon as those piles start showing up you better get a move on. Seriously, our beautiful suburban ‘hood looks like the set of Sanford and Son right now.

The neighborhood to the north of us had their spring cleanup day a few weeks ago. Matthew and his homies were hard at work scooping up the most desirable garbage in the suburban version of dumpster diving. One night while Matthew was out scavenging my cell phone rang. “Hey mom,” Matthew said. “It’s starting to rain so can you come pick me up?”

I asked him for his location and jumped in the car. When I pulled up to the curb a few minutes later, Matthew was standing next to his bicycle and a waist-high pile of crap. All I could think was, Dave is gonna shit kittens when he sees this. Matthew had found two (two!)stereo tuners, circa 1983, and a turntable. I immediately got a Rush “New World Man” earworm and thought fondly of my junior year of high school. Matthew’s expression was one of sheer adoration. He’s built himself quite the young man cave in the garage, and I knew just where those tuners were headed. And since the whole point of spring cleanup day is to rid our garage of unnecessary stuff, I knew Dave was not going to like that one bit.

Being the cool mom that I am, I helped him load his bike and everything else into my Explorer and we took off. Thankfully, Dave wasn’t home so I told Matthew to get it unloaded and hide it behind the snowblower or something.

Surprisingly, Dave didn’t really care but he did give Matthew a deadline: “It needs to be out of the garage by spring cleanup, or I’m taking it to the curb.” Matthew agreed, and now one of those tuners is sitting on his dresser and I am not thrilled about that.

Our next door neighbor had a garage sale the other day. Matthew carted the turntable over and slapped a price sticker on it. Someone snapped it up in record time but not before he and Matthew haggled back and forth for a while. Matthew finally pocketed his money and walked away, triumphant. Well played Matthew. Well played.

Matthew mentioned the turntable this morning at breakfast which reminded me of something I’d been meaning to ask him. “Matthew, what did the guy who bought your turntable look like?”

“I don’t know. He was about 5’7″. Gray hair.”

Bingo. I’d put money on class of ’79. And my guess is that he carried that turntable to his car humming a little tune.

Something by Rush perhaps.

Fiction Friday – Shiny New Ideas

  • April 4, 2011

I’m feeling a bit out of sorts this week. Now that my manuscript is complete, and I’ve started dipping my toe in the query pool, I don’t know what to do with myself.

After getting up at 5:00 a.m. for the last year, not having to get up and write feels really weird. I’m still getting up early, but now I’m just dinking around on Twitter and reading blogs before I head off to work.

A couple months ago, when I was still polishing the manuscript, Dave said, “You’re not going to write another book are you?”

“Oh God no,” I said. “I want my life back. I need to catch up on sleep. Start exercising again. Read a million books on my Kindle.”

But here’s the thing. Now that I’m not writing, I don’t know what to do with myself. And I want to write another book. Just thinking about writing again makes some of these angsty feelings go away.

So many people don’t finish their first book. They get to the hard part, which – at least for me anyway – is the revision stage, and they get a Shiny New Idea, with Shiny New Characters. And pounding out a first draft with this new idea, and these new people sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than ripping apart the current manuscript and fixing everything that’s wrong with it. I never had the urge to abandon my manuscript, though, for two reasons: I was going to finish what I started, dammit, and I didn’t have any Shiny New Ideas. And that worried me for a while. Ideas are a dime a dozen, and you can’t copyright them, but I was sorta wondering why I wasn’t having any. It could have been that I was so immersed in my current manuscript that the part of my brain that would have handled those new ideas was blocked off. At least I think that’s what happened because the minute I started querying – you know, all of one week ago – those old characters left my mind and Shiny New Ones started flooding my head. I now have about 37 post-it notes stuck all over the place and I opened up a word doc that I titled New Book Notes.

So Dave? DAVE? Are you reading this blog post? I don’t think you are so I’m going to admit something.

I was fibbing.

I fibbed.

I’m a big giant fibber.

Common advice for writers is that the best way to get your mind off the agonizing query process is to start writing something else. Put your manuscript out there, and query widely, but start focusing on a new project and just write.

So I’m going to. My contract position ends at the end of next month, and I’ll be home with the offspring all summer. This will be a good time to start writing the first draft of my next book. I want to experiment with point of view and an expanded number of main characters. This book will require quite a bit of research and I’ve already started on that.

Regardless of what happens with book #1 (and sadly, as a debut author whose manuscript will languish in slush piles all summer long, the odds of getting an agent are pretty slim), it’s the writing that I really enjoy. Don’t get me wrong – rejections will hurt, but that’s all part of the path to publication and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Some of you may remember the psychic party I hosted a while back. Dixie is a psychic who has done several readings for me. It’s always been just for fun (I don’t have her on, like, speed dial or anything), but some of the things she’s told me over the years have been right on the money. Anyway, my friend Bobbi and I went to see Dixie for private readings about eleven years ago. As she was talking to me, she said she thought it would be a good idea if I wrote a book someday (and she didn’t know I liked to write so when she said it I sat up a little straighter). She didn’t say anything about what would happen if I did write a book (and I wouldn’t want to know anyway), but she did say, “I just think when the kids get a little older, you’ll want something just for you.” I thought what she told me was pretty cool and then I forgot all about it.

A few months ago, when I was really in the thick of revising and polishing, Dave and the offspring were giving me a hard time – no one likes it when mom is busy, at least in my house. Dave has always been supportive of my writing time, and I’ve always been careful to make sure it balances out with whatever he wants to do (and don’t forget Matthew and Lauren because Dave and I put them before any needs of our own, as we should). But I was having a bad day, and all I really wanted to do was open my laptop and get lost in some writing. I *might* also have had a bit of PMS. But anyway, I said something about being tired and then Dave said something about me not getting enough sleep, and then I said something about how important the book was to me, and he said some more things, and blah, blah, blah, and then I yelled, “I just want something for me!” And then I went, “OMG.” Because I had forgotten what Dixie had said until the words came flying out of my mouth.

Maybe I sound totally selfish, but now that the kids are older I don’t feel like I need to spoon-feed everything to everyone in this house (Dave included). And I get up at the ass-crack of dawn to write so that I can minimize (as much as I can) taking time away from my family. I think that it’s easy for moms to put things they want on the back-burner sometimes, and I’m definitely guilty of that. I’ve spent almost twelve years either as a SAHM, or working a contract/temporary job so that I can be home when the kids need me, and I’m eternally grateful that I can do that.

But Dixie was right.

I do want something for me.

P.S. I swear to God I still have a sense of humor.

Fiction Friday Query Edition

  • April 1, 2011

Hey blog readers!

I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been spending what little free time I have on my manuscript, and I’m happy to report that it’s been edited, revised, polished, beta read, and polished some more. I’m finally D-O-N-E, done.

I realized over the last few days that I’m just tinkering with the manuscript. I’m moving commas only to move them back when I read the sentences again a few days later, and that means it’s time to send the manuscript out into the world.

Here are the final stats:

Word count: 81,000
Genre: Commercial/Contemporary women’s fiction written in an alternating dual narrative.
Months to write: 7
Months to revise/polish: 6

I want to send a giant shout-out and thank you to Meira, Trish, Tami, Stacy, Stefani, Penne, Elisa, Heather, Beth, and Taylor for not only agreeing to read the manuscript, but offering their support along the way. I really appreciate it girls!

Now it’s time to start sending query letters. I’m excited but also anxious. I remember last summer being envious of all the writers posting about querying their manuscripts on the various writing blogs and message boards I frequent, and now it’s my turn.

The query process is a long one, and I’ll be sending the letters out in batches of 5-10. Once I’ve received a certain number of rejections responses, I’ll send more. I expect to be querying through the summer, and I’ll keep you posted if I get any requests.

Maybe you can cross your fingers for me. Or send alcohol. Both would be greatly appreciated.

Happy Friday everyone,

Tracey

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