Friday, November 21, 2014

The Wisdom of Eeyore

On the corner of my desk sits a tiny plastic figure of Eeyore.  He's flat on his butt, looking forlorn, and holding his tail - which as fallen off. Again.  (And he was incredibly dusty until I picked him up to write this post - but hey, I'll leave my poor housekeeping skills to another day.) 

Eeyore is my favorite Winnie the Pooh character.  Long, long ago, I was attracted to his whole dour, 'woe is me', pessimist schtick, and while I'm a much more positive person, I still love the dude.

In fact, I have some quotes from my old pal Eeyore to share with you today.

"This writing business. Pencils and what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it."

"When stuck in the river, it is best to dive and swim to the bank yourself before someone drops a large stone on your chest in an attempt to hoosh you there."

"They haven't got Brains, any of them, only grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't Think."

Heh.  That Eeyore.  He kills me.  So wise. 

Who's your favorite Winnie the Pooh character? 

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

I miss him most first thing in the morning



Last week, I had to make the painful decision to put my little guy, Teddy, to sleep.

I shed a ridiculous amount of tears as I wrestled with making the choice, but the act of actually doing it felt right, and I'll always treasure the last, sweet moments we shared.

I miss him terribly, but it's the early mornings that are the worst.

I'm not a morning person and I hadn't realized just how reliant I'd become on his bouncy, sunny nature to start my days off right.

Every morning he'd jump up and greet me with unabashed joy.  He'd run to the door and look back at me with his bright eyes and perpetual grin, as if to say, "Let's go! It's a great day!"

It was his enthusiasm for life that pulled me through some of the darkest days of my own, and I miss his light.



Tuesday, November 18, 2014

False Confessions!

The 21st is False Confession Day. Make one here (just don't say something that could end up hurting you or others):


JB: I LOVE brussel sprouts, and lima beans, and people who take up more than one parking space, and people who conduct loud cell phone conversations while in public places, and jello!

B.E.:  I'm actually a dude.

Monday, November 17, 2014

The Things You Learn at Writing Workshops!

I recently attended a writing conference in Surrey, British Columbia. One of the many helpful workshops was given by Dr. Kim Foster. Kim Foster is a suspense author as well as a practicing physician.



One of her workshops was How To Kill Your Characters Correctly. Who could resist? Certainly not me. That’s how I’m able to regale you with some interesting facts.

 CPR and Defibrillation (Prepare to be traumatized.)

  • CPR is generally not very successful. I know. Downer. (Probably because people administer it incorrectly and do not stick with it long enough.) In Emergency Rooms   resuscitative efforts last a really long time. Like an hour.
  • The purpose of CPR is to keep the blood flowing. It. Does. Not. Bring. You Back. To. Life. 
  • It’s not pretty. If done right you can count on cracked ribs. 
  • Defibrillation shocks the heart into stopping with the hope of resetting it. You would never use it on a heart that has not stopped beating. So when you’re watching the TV and the hospital cardiac monitor flatlines? There’s no pulling out the paddles and yelling clear.

 Bullet Wounds

Turns out your character will survive despite that bullet lodged in her shoulder. No need to dig it out with a penknife. Unless your character is a trauma surgeon in the possession of sterilized equipment and knockout drugs. Then go for it. Otherwise, chances are your character will live another day. The heat from the bullet actually helps cauterize the wound and helps prevent infection. Then it’s off to the hospital once they’ve escaped or been rescued from the desert, the cave, the haunted house, or the rodent-infested warehouse.

We talked about comas, knife wounds, poisons, and deadly infections. It was delightful.

Some helpful links:

Lab Tests Online (A public resource for information on lab tests and diseases.)

Med Terms (A medical dictionary for laypeople.)

The Writer’s Forensics Blog (Written by DP Lyle, MD)

 For me, it’s usually a case of ignorance is bliss. But I also trust the author has done their research. What about you? Does it need to be probable? Or will possible do?

Friday, November 14, 2014

My First Friday

I remembered! 

Hey, with as crazy as this month has been, I'm celebrating the little victories. 

Problem is, I'm so brain-fried, I have no idea what to talk about today. So here's a pretty picture:


That's what writing 60K words in a month will do to you folks.  (Yes, NaNo is 50K in a month, but my goal is 2K per day so I can have this finished by mid-December.)  So forgive my NaNo brain and enjoy the flowers.  They're the last wildflowers of the fall, I think.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date

Technically I'm not late YET.

The deadline for the ninth book in the CONFESSIONS OF A SLIGHTLY NEUROTIC HITWOMAN is Friday and I'm struggling to meet it, so this will be a short post.

Here's a quick peek at a snippet of an unedited scene:

Zeke frowned. “I suppose that since the police confiscated your tire iron you don’t have any other weapons in the car.”
I thought of the gun Ms. Whitehat had provided, in its hiding spot beneath the driver’s seat. “Just Barry Manilow.”
Zeke looked at me the way people often look at my mother who lives in a mental hospital.
“It’s a CD,” I explained hurriedly. “If you break it, it’s sharp and could cut someone. Want it?”
Instead of answering, Zeke marched resolutely toward the front door of the apartment building. I hurried to catch up with him.
As we drew near, I saw that the door wasn’t closed completely because someone had splintered the wood surrounding the lock.
Silently I followed Zeke through the doorway and up a flight of stairs, taking care to avoid the sticky pile of who-knows-what on the third step from the top.
Half the hallway bulbs were burnt out which meant the walk to 2C was eerily dim.
My stomach roiled queasily, but I wasn’t sure if it was because the place reeked of rotting garbage and stale pot smoke or plain nervousness.
Pausing outside of 2C, Zeke and I stared at one another.
“Now what?” he whispered.
“We knock.” Before he could protest, I rapped loudly on the door three times.
I held my breath, straining to hear the sounds of movement in the apartment. All I heard was a TV droning in the next door unit.
I reached for the doorknob. Miraculously it turned and the door slowly swung open.
“You can’t go in there.” Zeke grabbed my shoulder to prevent me from stepping inside.
I shook him off. “You stay here.”
“And do what?”
“Be a lookout. Warn me if someone’s coming.”
“How?”
“I dunno. A secret signal.”
“Like what? A bird caw?’
I nodded.
Cupping his hands to his mouth, Zeke called, “Caw! Caw!”
I winced. “That sounds more like a hamster on crack."

I know I'm not the only one working crazy-hard.

Tell me Killer Friends: What kinds of killer projects are YOU tackling this month?

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

In Honor of Veteran's Day

We'd like to thank all the men and women, along with their families, for the service and the sacrifices you've made.