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Children’s Literature has reviewed The Ex Games! The review is posted on BarnesandNoble.com.

Of all things that have surprised me about becoming a published author, of course the nicest is getting lovely e-mail from my readers. And one of the worst discoveries is that when your novel is reviewed by a Fancy Major Prestigious Reviewing Entity, your publisher does NOT land their helicopter on your front lawn and present you with a wax-sealed envelope with your review inside! You have to find the review yourself while bumbling about the internets.

Anyway, I’m happy. The review is not glowing, but it’s imminently quotable, such as

“The romantic drama heats up the snowboarding slopes in this teen-centered romp...”

or

“Engaging and page-turning from the start, the plotline centers on Hayden, an avid snowboarder and her high school love interest and ex-boyfriend, Nick. The tension between the two sizzles, and the stakes are raised when Nick challenges Hayden to a snowboarding competition, which quickly becomes the talk of the town.”

or even

“...the dialogue pops and the details are immediate and relatable. Hayden is an easy-to-like narrator, and her athleticism and tendency to speak her mind set her apart and help her avoid becoming generic. The supporting cast of characters adds additional fun, especially Hayden's competitive, realistic, and hilarious brother, Josh.”

See how nice the review sounds when you use elipses? I’ll take it! Thank you, Children’s Literature.

I still have not seen a blog comment by my actual hilarious brother, btw. *tapping foot*

In other news, some of you have told me you can’t find Going Too Far in bookstores. You can always order it online from BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon, etc. If you don’t have a credit card, just ask your local bookstore to order it for you. Check their policy first, but most bookstores will order it at no extra charge to you, have it for you within a couple of days, and keep it behind the counter for you until you pick it up, as if it is something super-secret and delicious.

That's the question of the month at the MTV Books Blog. Come share your story!

I literally went to bed on Christmas Day eve and didn't move for 24 hours. Awesome. Wait, that's not true, my shootin' arm was active as I was hooked into Falloout 3 all Saturday and most of Sunday. I LOVE THAT GAME. [And guys, I'm not a first person shooter gamer. Except for how I am when I'm shooting zombies.]

But I deserved the downtime, imo, because I spent the lead--in time to X-Mas doing a hell of a lot of sewing. How much? I put on DVDs and had those going while I did nothing but sew together birds: ALL of the director's cuts of the LotR trilogy, the entire UK Office series, including the Christmas special, and seasons 1 - 3 of the US Office. That's a lot of sewing.

Sally girl?



Sally derg? Who wants to see how I made those? Who's a good girl? Who has the stinkiest poots?! YOU DO! *scritch* ( Quick, look under here while she gnaws on her bone. )

Now if you'll excuse me, Imma eat something and play some more Fallout 3. Pchoo! Pchoo! [ETA] Aww, I just read that Kim Peek died. (He was who "Rainman" was based on.) He and my sister saw the same neurologist and attended similar therapies together. My folks got to know him and his family rather well. RIP, dude.

OH MY GOD, the new Yuletide site has been down for... how long now? All that fuss, all of those promises to people who didn't want their stuff moved to a new place, and it's down? LOL. I know, I shouldn't laugh, that's not kind to those of you whom are vexed over this, but HOLY CRAP. 10 year old code is still 10 year old code, no matter where you move it.

This is a quick summation, because girlfriend (boyfriend), I have some eye rolling to do with y'all. My MiL was in RARE FORM (translation: her usual horrible self) and got a verbal smack-down from my sister, which is awesome. And I will never ever EVER handcraft anything for her ever again. EVER.

And now I'm going to grab a tin of fudge (oh my god, I made almost 7 pounds of fudge just on Christmas Eve, 5 pounds of caramel-turtle brownies and a cheesecake that I DIDN'T EVEN BRING OUT. Dessert for this week, then?) and go get on the new PS3 (whoo!) and play Fallout 3 while my husband uses his device from the future on his one pair of black dress shoes. (An automated shoe polisher! Who doesn't need that?! *crickets*) LOL.

It was a great holiday for everyone, minus the bitchery of said individual. The food was great (if I say so myself) and plentiful, my family appreciative (minus said individual) and once everyone had cleared out, I took a muscle relaxer, a pain pill, and two glasses of wine and slept for 11 hours last night. MERRY BABY JESUSMASUKKAH!

Yen Tan is a film director that I've worked with several times. His latest movie, Ciao, is finally available for pre-ordering on US Amazon. Because Australia and NZ are totally boss, it's already available for purchase Down Under. (There's a German release on January 21, as well.) It's a quiet, beautiful (and very sexy) movie about two men finding love after a mutual friend dies. (This is not the typical gay film festival movie where someone dies BECAUSE they're gay. This is a lovely movie. *g*) It's won all sorts of awards on the film festival circuit.

Support the GLBT and independent film community and help make this a big seller!

Have a happy holiday for those that are starting your celebrations, and have a happy backside of the celebration you just wrapped up for those that celebrated Solstice and Hanukkah. And for atheists like me, happy Wednesday thru Friday! :D

(And now I go back to sewing the rest of these damned birds. Oh my god, my hands are cramped into claws. CLAWS!)

It occurred to me a few weeks ago, watching some figure skating, that it's undergoing the same sort of slump as publishing. I mean, seriously, if I hear Swan Lake or Romeo & Juliet or some truncated, horribly edited version of Rhapsody in Blue or An American in Paris again as a program, it'll be too soon.

As for the skating itself? Feh. It's all "let's grab the blade, yank it up behind our heads, in as many improbable (not to mention, boring) variations as we possibly can." All because of the points. I can't remember the last time I saw a skater who actually appeared to be skating to the music. (Oh, for the days of Paul Wylie and the Brians and Michelle Kwan.) It really hit me this morning as I was listening to the soundtrack from the film, The Duchess. Even twenty-five-odd years after my last competitive skate, I'll still hear a particularly evocative piece of music and begin choreographing programs and long for the feel of the ice beneath my blades. Except the likelihood that I'll ever hear this music on the ice any time soon isn't high. Because it's not what the judges want to hear/see. I remember some years back, the commentators on a competition talking about why you heard the same pieces of music over and over and for example, over again. And the commentator who was a former skater (might have been Paul Wylie, actually) said it was always a risk to use something new because the judges liked the familiar. Not that they objected to new music and unique costumes or anything, but generally, they wanted to see certain kinds of costumes and hear certain pieces of music, ostensibly so they could focus on the skating.

Which would explain why these days, it's difficult to tell one skater apart from the next unless someone really deviates wildly-- then they're branded a "rebel" and have to be that much better in order to succeed. Sound familiar?

Within the context of publishing, this is equal to the "We want different, but not too different. Stick within the parameters we set (i.e. the rules) and you'll have a better chance of succeeding." Yes, both disciplines are grounded in having a firm grasp of fundamentals; tools that allow you a greater ease in creating your art, however, in the end, those fundamentals aren't the rules to which I'm referring.

What people seem to forget is that at their core, both of these pursuits are first and foremost, creative expression. You're inspired by the music to create beautiful forms on the ice, to leap high on an explosive note, to spin or glide in a spiral or spread eagle during a long, elegant passage, to recreate a pattern of rapid staccato notes with light, effortless footwork.

You read a news story or experience an event or are privy to an exchange and a story idea is born and you want to express it in narrative and dialogue. You use the ingrained basics to create art, be it via movement or language, but ultimately, it's your individual form of expression.

And the thing is, I'm just not seeing the joy being expressed. These pursuits are hard enough to master on their own-- there's got to be something driving that desire and generally, it's a joy in what you do. Yeah, there's a large measure of competitive fire involved too, but in the end, it's the joy that's the real payoff.

So I find myself wondering, not for the first time, at what point did we allow the gatekeepers to become so important we decided it was okay to sacrifice creative expression at the altar of oft-times arbitrary rules? That it was okay to sacrifice the joy?

Another one of those passages with which I was driving myself nuts. Three hours spent trying to get the meaning I wanted across, watching the meaning change subtly and reveal new layers making me go "a-ha" at the same time it make me want to absolutely cry because it meant I needed to tweak further. However, I think I finally got it to where I can leave it-- at least for the time being.

From Between Here & Gone—it's 1965, they've just arrived in Vegas, and Natalia is facing some unexpected ghosts.

***

Jack handed the young man a couple of folded bills. "Thank you." Drawing my hand through his arm, he led us through the heavy iron and glass doors and into yet another new world—one that resonated with a shocking echo. The men, all sleek, pomaded hair and snowy dinner jackets, the women on their arms clad in lamé cocktail dresses and richly beaded gowns, capped by furs and jewels and elaborate lacquered updos. Exuding the air of exotic, privileged creatures as they strolled past vibrant hibiscus and bougainvillea, breathed in the heavy, jasmine-scented air while a sultry bossa nova drifted from hidden speakers. As if drawn by some unseen force, I drifted away from Jack, running a fingertip along a glossy leaf, a scrolled railing, taking the ambience in with a distant eye, such as one might observe an artistic masterpiece.

So surprising, this lush and tropical setting, defying both the arid desert and garish nightlife beyond its boundaries. So familiar… and yet—

Completely, utterly alien.

So often I'd tried to call the memories up for myself, trying to keep them alive. Even with no intent of ever returning, it had been an attempt to retain a piece of the girl I'd been, however small, in the sea of concrete and metal that was New York. Dancing with Jack on the dreamy, moonlit patio of the Beverly Hills Hotel had come closer than anything else in long time, draping itself around me with a melancholy sweetness, but this— Faced with as close to a recreation as possible, I was struck by the realization that it wasn't simply my acute awareness of it a fantasy sprung from desert sands.

It was more the sudden understanding that it no longer felt as if it fit. That it never would again.

"So unexpected," I said softly.

But I am drowning in a sea of brown boxes.

This is just my dining room.



And here's my little Charlie Brown Christmas tree. We considered stacking the boxes in a pyramid and stapling tinsel to it, but we refrained.


Two weeks and counting...

Two weeks from today movers arrive.

Two weeks from Wednesday, they take off with our worldly possessions.

And two weeks from Friday, we fly to Seattle on the final leg of this particular journey, which is simultaneously, the first leg of our new journey.

Then I fall down go boom.

On Friday I filmed a commercial for a geriatric care facility. ( The Golden Years seem a bit tarnished. )

Just... they can't all be disposable, folks. Are some of them racist? Yep. Grumpy? Negative Nancys? Sure thing. But maybe you'll be a force to help change their minds - and maybe you won't. But I bet you'll feel better for trying. And for those of you that are caring for your elderly and/or infirm parents: you have my utter respect, and I wish you a bit of peace of your own this holiday. It's a hard job that doesn't get enough credit. Just know that I admire the hell out of you.

And to the one hater that told me to STFU and quit with the podcasts, dude, just take me off your reading list, dummy. Okay, this was the episode that had Snookie getting cracked in the face. Eesh. Again, I had to break it up, but they're seamless when you play them.

I swear to god, I love this show. It's absolutely crack and KUH-RAY-ZEE. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Part one
Part two
Part Three

( transcript for those that can't dl )

I got a surprise commercial shoot today (whee!) which means that I'm about to leave and won't be back until lunch-ish. Which means that my planned podcast of the Jersey Shore won't happen until after lunch. Which means, okay, I'll stop that. Does anyone even care about my thoughts on yaoi? douchebaggery? This was the episode when Snickles got popped in the nose, if that helps you any. (That was actually pretty intense and horrible, poor little orange oompah loompah!) So I'll leave it up to a poll if I should spend the time making a podcast, or if it's just my Nana listening to it fifteen times.

(And I like making them, it's good voice over practice. But hey, if they're irritating, that's good to know. I'll just sit over here like a dog in the dark eating wet cigarette butts, I hope you know. What, you're too good ta listen to someone talk? Mr. Big Shot podiatrist too busy to call ya mother? I was in labor for nine months, yes, the whole time I carried you, I was in labor, but did I complain once? My feet looked like Challah bread... [/Linda Richman] Lol.

[ETA] Suck it, haters, it's up. ;)

Poll #1500589 TRW: Oompah Loompah-land (Jersey Shore) podcast
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 23

Stoney, I would like you to

What I need you to unnerstan is:

A'right a'ready, I gots ta get ready to be a hot nurse. The call didn't ask for a hot nurse, but I can read between the lines. (Lol. Way to fast track yourself to getting dumped by your agent!) (Oh, and I spent SEVEN hours cutting out felt birds yesterday. I scheduled a massage for tomorrow morning. Hunched over a counter for hours? I feel like I'm a semi-colon. *kee-rack*