Blah Blah Biddy Blog

Sarah And the Several Trials of the Equine Market

2010-09-09T20:36:00.002-05:00

Let's discuss shopping for horses for just a second. (Yes, I know I haven't updated in forever. I am also not actively shopping for another horse, this ad was emailed to me and I thought the horse might work for friends to ride. And I wanted to talk about the experience.)

One: When you answer an ad, and show up on time to see a horse, be aware that there are potential problems since the horse is already saddled and bridled and waiting. Be concerned that only the trainer rides him and not the owner, no matter what the reason. Do not let their effusive praise about your riding skill on the horse or how much he liked you go to your head. Do not ever buy on the first trip out.

Two: On the second trip to see the horse, if you liked him, show up EARLY. When the horse is already being saddled a half hour before you are due to arrive and the owner and trainer look concerned about you being early, your internal alarm bells should go off. When said horse is more hyper in the round pen being lunged before riding than he was the first time, is more work under saddle for the trainer than before and the trainer hesitates in complying with your request to see him largo (a fast paso fino gait) and then canter under saddle, it is perfectly acceptable to walk away at this point.

Three: If you choose instead to ride the horse again, realizing once mounted that he is indeed too much horse for you and then decline to purchase him for that reason, do not let your (my) lack of self-esteem make you feel bad when the owner claims to never have a problem with the horse getting too excited, or feeling out of control and difficult to stop. After all, you rode him, she didn't. Just thank them, wish them luck, and leave.

Four: Try not to spend the rest of your day beating yourself up for not buying a horse that you didn't need in the first place and isn't as nice a Paso Fino as the ones you already have.

The Satire I Wrote for World Lit

2010-02-02T22:03:00.004-06:00

I'm really only posting this because my prof said she loved it and I could use a little affirmation at the moment; tough week. The assignment was to write a satire and this is what my brain provided. I actually voted for and LIKE Obama so no offense is intended, but I am frustrated with the way things are going just like the rest of America.

Quick update: I made Dean's List, got into Phi Theta Kappa and actually should graduate with a two year associates this spring. Hoping to move on to Troy University for my bachelor in nursing, but will be happy at LBW doing LPN then 2 year RN first if I have to do so. Other than being a poor college student (send money or food!) things are so awesome right now, praise God.

Toodles,
Sarah

The Yomama Extravaganza

A long, broken line of people who are obviously tired, dirty and weary, walks out of step from one another on an empty road. There is no destination in sight. If they were to look behind themselves, they would no longer be able to see where they had started from; the road behind is as empty as the road ahead. They do not look, however, anywhere but at the road a step or two in front of their own feet.

One man’s head pops up as he hears a man yelling. He looks around for the source of the voice. None of the other people have seemed to notice.

Over on the far right of the left side of the road, seemingly from out of nowhere, a colorfully striped circus tent has appeared; its lines are crisp and its size reminiscent of a single stall port-a-potty. A man stands there, wearing a ringmaster’s costume that is shiny new and sparkly with distracting sequins.

“Step right up, step right up! Let’s be clear, this is the greatest show on earth! Bring your family, bring your friends. Heck, bring your dog to come see the Yomama Extravaganza!”

The ringmaster spots the man watching him from the line and beckons to him. “You there, friend, step over here and let me show you some change you can believe in. We’ve got the greatest show on earth, and you won’t want to miss it.”

The man hesitantly steps out of line and walks over to the tent and the ringmaster, both of which seem out of place amidst all the gloom with their clean, bright newness. He takes the proffered hand tentatively and regrets doing so almost instantly when his arm is pumped up and down vigorously.

“What’s your name, friend?”

“Joe.”

“Joe. You a plumber, Joe?” The ringmaster laughs heartily as if he’s just told an outstanding joke.

Joe is confused. “No, I’m a specialty carpenter. I build beautiful furniture and cabinets, refinish wood floors, that kind of thing.”

The ringmaster keeps laughing. “Of course you are, of course you are. Good times though, good times.” He continues to smile and laugh.

“Not really. I can’t find a job. I’ve been out of work for months.” Joe tries to take his hand back but it is caught in a firm grip.

The ringmaster stops laughing and quickly assumes a concerned expression, gripping Joe’s shoulder with his free hand, turning their handshake into an awkward sort of man-hug. “I understand, Joe. I’ve been down the road you’re on. Not walking it of course, but I’ve driven down it and seen with my own eyes how things are. I promise you things are getting better.”

Joe shakes his head. “Not for anybody I know. Hey, what is this place?” Joe finds himself released abruptly.

The ringmaster steps back and throws his arms open wide. “I am Yomama and this is the Yomama Extravaganza!”

“Not the Ringling Brothers Circus? I thought ‘the Greatest Show on Earth’ was their slogan. You can’t just use someone else’s slogan, can you?”

Yomama laughs again. “Yes, we can, Joe. Yes, we can. We can do anything, Joe, we can be the change we want to see in the world. We’re creating jobs and improving lives. Why, right through these doors, you can find a whole new life for yourself. Make your dreams come true. Admission is just one dollar. “

Joe doesn’t look convinced, but he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one faded dollar bill. “I don’t know, Yomama, this is the only dollar I have left and I need something to eat.”

A little sleight of hand and Yomama has Joe’s dollar in his own pocket. Putting his arm around Joe’s shoulder he walks them through the tent flap into the tiny tent. There is barely room enough for them both inside. “Don’t you worry, Joe, you’ve never seen anything like me before. I’m the very first one you know.”

“First one of what?”

“Why, the first honest man!” With a hearty laugh, Yomama throws open the back flap of the small tent and pulls Joe with him as they enter an enormous area, full of color and sound. It seems to be a shiny carnival with happy people having a wonderful time.

They walk by booths that have people playing different games. One particular game catches Joe’s attention; contestants are throwing darts at a board. “Rats,” he hears a man call out. “I won ‘hope.’ I really needed to hit ‘food stamps.’ That was my last quarter, too.”

“Yomama, what’s that smell?”

“Pork. We have lots and lots of pork. Any way you want it: roasted, chicken-fried, fricasseed, sweet and sour… all pork. Oh, hey, take a look at this!”

Yomama walks Joe over to a strength testing exhibit, where Joe can see a small skinny man picking up a large sledgehammer, preparing to bring it down on a mechanism designed to ring a bell. A large, muscular man is leaving the exhibit as they approach it, muttering unhappily under his breath. “Scabies? I win scabies? Who even gets that anymore!?!” Joe turns his head to watch the man walk away, and misses the swing of the hammer.

His attention is called back to the game when sirens start going off, a brass band begins to play and confetti to fall on the small man who seems to have won the grand prize while Joe was distracted. In the crush of people, who all seem to be television reporters and camera men, Joe is separated from Yomama.

Afraid to wander away on his own, Joe tries to get close enough to hear the winner being interviewed, see if he can tell what’s been won. “I’m a scientist by trade, you see, and my non-profit agency and I will use this one hundred million dollars to study the life cycle of the North Florida Sand Flea.”

“Is that something people eat?”

“Oh, no, no. Nothing like that at all. But people catch them to use them for bait in
fishing and I’m hoping the study will help put an end to that barbaric practice. Make the poor sand flea a protected species.”

Joe can’t help himself, he interrupts. “I’m looking for a job. Do you think there is something I could do for your project?”

“Sure, we’ll have lots of jobs. Do you have a degree in marine biology?”

“No.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“I don’t actually have a degree. I’m a carpenter.”

“Hard luck, that. Well, I’m off. I have to go purchase some new shovels for the project and then get to digging on the beach for the sand fleas.”

“Wait! I can dig! Please, I really need a job.”

“No, no, all these jobs have to go to marine biologists; they have special training in digging for these sorts of things.

Joe watches helplessly as the scientist scuttles off, much like the sand flea he wants to protect. He sees no sign of Yomama anywhere. Joe’s attention is caught by a couple coming out of a stall marked “MR. BRAIN… See the Amazing Mr. Brain! He can answer any question, solve any problem!” The pair are both obviously upset.

The wife is in tears, the husband tries to console her, his arm around her shoulders. “Honey, don’t worry, we’ll find another way. Maybe I’ll get that new job, the one with health insurance. We’ll keep trying to find someone that can help us.”

“I just don’t understand why someone would think that the answer to needing Medicaid and not qualifying for it because we don’t have kids would be for me to get pregnant? Why would he think I could do that if I need a hysterectomy because I nearly bleed to death every month? How does that make any kind of sense?”
Joe cannot hear the husband’s reply as they walk away.

Heaving a sigh, Joe leans against a wall, deciding to wait for Yomama in an out of the way location. He’s seen enough of the Extravaganza, he wants to leave.

A few minutes pass before he sees Yomama walking in the midst of a happy, singing crowd. Joe calls out, “Yomama, this same circus came to town eight years ago. There’s nothing new here. Show me the way out.”

Yomama smiles and waves, but does not seem to have heard Joe. Joe draws near enough to hear the singing.

OBAMA*
(*To the tune of Hosanna from Jesus Christ Superstar. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feWcodU51QY)

CROWD

OBama
Hey Bama Bama Bama OBama
Hey Bama OBama
Hey OB, OB fix my life for me
Bama OBama
Hey Superstar

JOE

Tell the people to be quiet, bet the media would like a riot.
This common crowd, you have them wowed.
Tell the mob who sing your song that they are fools cause you are wrong
Things will get worse. You’ll drain our purse.

CROWD

Obama
Hey Bama Bama Bama OBama
Hey Bama OBama
Hey OB, OB, you won’t lie to me
Bama OBama
Hey Superstar

YOMAMA

Why resist the change I’m going to bring?
Nothing can be done to stop my planning.
If every pen were stilled
The progress would continue.
The laws and rules themselves we’ll rearrange.

CROWD AND YOMAMA

OBama
Hey Bama Bama Bama Obama
Hey Bama Obama

CROWD (alone)

Hey OB, OB, stop the fight for me
Bama Obama Hey Superstar

YoMama

It won’t take long,
I’ll bring our soldiers home
Hope you’ll learn it for yourselves,
We are one tribe. I say
There is not one of you
Whom I would not call brother.
The brown, the white,
The black, the red.

CROWD and YOMAMA

OBama
Hey Bama Bama Bama Obama
Hey Bama OBama

CROWD (alone)

Hey OB, OB, give me some money
Bama Obama Hey Superstar

Joe watches the group walk away. He returns to the circus tent where he and Yomama entered, ignoring the carnival fanfare. When Joe reaches the road again he looks up and down it at the line of people; none of the people he was in line with are there anymore. Joe sighs, lowers his head and starts the long walk again.

(I ran across the ‘Oh Bama Hey Bama, Bama Bama Oh’ bit somewhere and even though I voted for him, the song demanded to be written—I hate when they do that. The rest of the satire evolved from there.)

Three Days On

2009-08-12T10:27:00.002-05:00

One last update about chickens. They are still here at the moment and this morning I'm even more impressed with poor Buddy. The littlest hen was his half sister and they were similarly feathered. I don't know where she went and hid, but this morning she is back. She could have been back yesterday and I was so tired I just didn't notice. Now I have no doubts that Buddy got between the dog and his flock. I think if more people put others before themselves like that, I'd like humanity a little better.

Started the new job last night. I'm going to enjoy it. One resident has an adorable little yorkie; I can go get puppy hugs whenever I need them. And I get to do a lot of walking around so I should get fitter like I did during the three weeks of clinicals. Home health (for my clients anyway) involved a lot of sitting around on my butt, even more so than the office work. So I'm glad to be back where I'll be busy yet at night there will also be time to study for school. Yay!

Speaking of school, the biology exam is tomorrow morning... send me prayers and positive energy at 10:00 a.m. central if you are so inclined. I'd *really* rather start LPN school this semester rather than next.

And in case I wasn't busy enough... the fashion designer daughter of my last client is writing a really, really interesting tell-all book about her experiences in the industry and in Hollywood. It's been partly typed and her agent wants some more work done on it and some revamping done. So I've got that job, too, and also for the other books she wants to write. Fascinating lady with a fascinating history and a really good and honest heart.

The sheer number of connections I'm developing, the constant pull on me to the entertainment field by circumstances and coincidence is really mind boggling.

Gotta run, I'm pulling a first look at things together for the designer and then I have to go to work. There should be some biology studying in there somewhere, I hope so anyway.

Toodles,
Sarah

On the Resiliency of Chickens OR Ode to a Rooster Named Buddy

2009-08-10T23:06:00.006-05:00

The Cock of the Walk. A saying which apparently originated in the mid-1800s because of the average rooster's proud walk around the farm, watching over his girls and babies. A rooster is supposed to be a protector, you see. That's his main job. In a large flock, roosters establish a 'pecking' order (yeah, I'm sure chickens are where that phrase came from, too) and one rooster is in charge with perhaps several junior roosters in inferior positions. But they are all supposed to take care of the ladies. Okay, well, generally only the alpha rooster gets to, er, TAKE CARE of the ladies (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), but they are all supposed to watch over the flock. I'm digressing. It's late and I'm good at digressing.

I've blogged about it before; I keep chickens. Lots of other animals, too, for that matter but I enjoy my chickens. Useful and amusing creatures. I came to the decision Friday that I needed to let this flock go live with someone else; the workload is just too much with me planning to go to school. I very sadly reached the same conclusion about my parrots and placed them with friends on Friday (where they'll be happy but right now I'm miserable and the silence is deafening). At any rate, my chicken flock includes five hens that I bought as adults and six (three hens, three roosters) that I raised from babies. The six I raised from babies are about eight months old, all friendly and a few really like to be held.

Buddy was one of those chickens at one time. He was really outgoing and affectionate and the only one to earn himself a name, because he was always underfoot and I kept telling him 'watch out, Buddy' as I'd trip over him. A few months ago, he hit a growth spurt and reached maturity, became the Cock of the Walk; he decided he was awesome and mom...er, I wasn't worthy of petting or holding him any more. He never developed any aggressiveness like some roosters do, and if I did pick him up he didn't fuss, he just didn't like it anymore. I got the feeling he didn't think all this affection was manly but I do know that having five mature girls to keep, um, occupied was probably pretty exhausting. I don't have any pictures, but he was a big, beautiful multi-colored boy; just a heinz 57 mix known as an 'easter egger' since he came from hens that lay colored eggs.

This morning when I got home from work, he was gone. And the smallest of the hens was gone. See, the chickens here have the small front and side yard because the dogs get the big back yard. But the dogs also get the come and go of the house when I'm not home. For some reason, out of the blue, one of the dogs decided to pop out one of the window panes (old house) and pop out the screen on the window in the front yard.

When I saw what had happened, I was sure I would have no chickens left at all. They slowly came out of hiding as I called them and put food out, after I blocked the window up. They settled down as I talked to them but there was a tense, spooked feel in the flock. None of them seemed to look for the littlest hen, but they definitely looked for the strong leadership they were used to getting from Buddy. I haven't found the littlest hen, and I sort of assume I'm not going to find her.

Within two hours, the flock had gone on about it's business as if neither Buddy nor the little one had ever been part of the flock. Which is very strange. They remember me, they remember where the feed is and what time of day they eat. They couldn't possibly forget the rooster they listened to so closely for so many months in just a few hours. I've reached the conclusion, perhaps sentimentally, that the flock accepted the death as a normal, expected part of life and moved on, that fast. It hasn't been that many months since I lost two hens to a hawk before I made some coop changes and their reaction at the time was very similar. People think chickens are stupid; I'm just beginning to realize how resilient they are. Like ants-knock over their hill and they just start over from the beginning again.

The smallest of the three roosters (who had always been the middle man and remains very cuddly with me) had actually gotten out of the fence somehow and away from the danger. He abandoned the ladies and earned himself a name in doing so: Noel (Coward). It doesn't really matter now, of course, since it's definitely in the chickens' best interest to go live somewhere else at this point. But Buddy... well, Buddy was a rooster of a different color altogether. And here's where the curse of the writer's vivid imagination comes into play.

All Buddy's girls and the most junior rooster were very, VERY well hidden when I got home. The dogs were all inside the house (the window is so low to the ground, even the pug can jump out and in from that height), things were very quiet. I have the strangest little John Wayne/knight in shining armor picture of what happened. See, I found Buddy in the house, almost all the way through the house. I've got a big, offending dog with a few little well-deserved wounds on her face. And while I can find clumps of feathers that belonged to the littlest hen, I can't find her. I can't get the picture out of my head that Buddy got the rest of his flock to safety, put his junior in charge and went into the house to get her a' la Bruce Willis.

Intellectually, I know that's not possible. Intellectually, I know that he got between the girls and the dog the way he should have and died because I wasn't there to stop the dog from taking a fantastically flapping new play toy back into the house. But it's a very romantic and noble death my way, isn't it? I still feel craptastically guilty, of course. They may just be chickens to most people, even to the people I know that keep chickens themselves, but they meant a lot to me. Buddy was my friend. Even though I'd decided I couldn't keep them anymore (and will move the remaining flock in the morning I suppose), I wanted to picture them as fat, happy chickens for years to come. And now I can't.

Rest well, Buddy. I'm sorry this happened to you but you did a good job with your ladies and I'm proud of you for that. I'll miss you.

Toodles,
Sarah

I'd Like My Vindication To Go, Please. Hold The Smug.

2009-08-04T14:05:00.005-05:00

I won the unemployment appeal. Yep. I won, I won, I won. I'm tickled. Elated. Relieved. It changes so many things about my near future. Whew. I'm trying hard not to do the football end zone dance of smugness, particularly because my knees just can't take it and smugness is not a good thing. But I'm very happy. I know it wouldn't have happened without some very good advice and some very strong prayer warriors behind me. The shiny new relationship with God is an awesome thing; very much like the Verizon Wireless commercial where the user is surrounded by Verizon Wireless employees. Only this Celestial Wireless plan is (generally) invisible and does not limit my minutes of usage each month.

At any rate, now I feel a bit free to explain some of what has gone on since the DCF job ended with so much drama. So, got put on leave January 29th, lost the job permanently February 23rd. Pretty much did nothing but sress, worry, pray and go to church during that time period. During early March I did nothing but pray and go to church and whine a lot about everything. I was new enough to believing in God that I was pretty sure He'd take care of everything if I just stepped back and let Him. So I managed to put everything down where He could get to it. And get to it He did. I certainly do not have a problem free life now, by any means, but I have a fantastic new sense of peace and purpose about it which is nice. I only lose sight of that fact occasionally now, mostly on bad nights and by the morning it's generally passed.

A special note to my friends who are pagan: If you ever convert to Christianity, be prepared for some ugliness between the time you make the decision and get baptized. Make sure you surround yourself with clergy who are experienced in spiritual warfare and can help you out with what you'll be going through. For all that I thought what I was involved in for years was benevolent and for all that it appeared that way during my time with it, it sure was ugly about letting me go. There is a book in the story somewhere, I promise you.

Mid-March I decided to have a hysterectomy. Let me just say how highly I recommend this procedure, ladies. Everyone should have one. Husbands, give your wives one for Christmas. Forget the mani/pedi parties and botox. I predict groups of women having hysterectomies together to be the next big beauty treatment. I very rarely have hot flashes, take no hormones, have fewer mood swings than before and am in a lot less pain. So maybe it's just me, but I'm only wondering why I waited so long to have one.

It is incredibly interesting to me that the same abodominal incision procedure that I had two years ago to remove an ovary (which left me nauseous and in pain and lengthy recovery for months until I was myself again) was performed again this time with such different results. I wasn't nauseous at all, got out of bed and motored around the next day and left the hospital the next morning. Had it on a Tuesday, was in church kneeling carefully at the altar rail on Sunday. The nurse told me when she took the staples out that the doctor had told her he'd never had a patient do so well post op and that she herself could see a huge difference in how I felt compared to the last surgery.

Credit for that goes to God and the prayer list at my church... because they took me off the list after two weeks and I could feel a noticeable difference in my tiredness and rate of recovery after doing anything. It's really the most tangible thing I've got to offer about proving God's existence. My first and less extensive surgery, where I came home to a mom taking care of me, was much rougher and harder to recover from than the surgery with the same incision, much more extensive work done, much longer time under the anesthesia and I came home to no one but me. Had more animals to take care of this time, too. And the only other difference was the people praying for me. Enough testifying, I'm not really comfortable with it. I'm just sharing what happened, is all-my truth, if you will; you all know how I share.

So, mid-April (yeah, that fast) I started CNA school. That finished the first week of June and I went to work. If I can pass the Biology placement exam next week, then I can CLEP biology 103 and start LPN school this fall. If not, I have to take biology 103 and start LPN school next spring. I've already quit the first job, a home health job, because while I enjoy the patients immensely I'm constantly being put in positions I'm not comfortable being in. Plus when you work in a 24 hour care environment and your relief doesn't show up, you can't leave; and if the company can't find anyone to come in, you can't leave. That happened to me a couple of times, and cannot happen while I'm in school, so it was just not the right situation for me.

Believe it or not, it's also time for me to start writing again. He Waves Fire is not going to be the novella it was conceived as but I have figured out how to do a series. Given the new way I feel about certain things, the heat level is being toned way down and while the romance is a focus of the book (and will be the focus of any series, the relationship I mean), it isn't really a book about them getting groiny with each other. And I find I didn't really have a knack for writing too steamy anyway. (My friend Jackie Barbosa does... if you want love scenes that will set the page on fire or melt it down into goo, go read her.) After all, there are only so many ways you can describe an act that broken down into it's component parts is a lot like playing with legos in the mud. You're going to get dirty and the only way you'll enjoy yourself is if the right tab went into the right hole.

And I suppose that's as good a place to close as any.

Toodles,
Sarah

Previously on blahblahbiddyblog

2009-07-18T20:23:00.007-05:00

When I last updated this blog, I was still waiting for the continued unemployment hearing to take place so that I wouldn't say anything I shouldn't. You see, a few DCF folks still find this blog really interesting and think I don't know that they do. Even though it's tacky of me, this video is dedicated to those folks. You know who you are (and those of you who know I've no problem with you also know who you are and can ignore this):

I haven't updated because believe it or not, the situation is not completely resolved yet. The PART THREE of the unemployment hearing will take place on the 28th of this month. And it is partly my fault it wasn't able to be resolved in a single hearing because I've been so darn busy-really, really, really unbelievably busy- that I didn't get my paperwork out in good time. I know this. On the other hand, DCF claimed they didn't get stuff I faxed to them, so whatever.

So, what's good to know right now? Let's see... leaving the paralegal field behind entirely. Have a new vocation, one that I prayed myself into. Nursing. I finished my CNA training in June, am awaiting a test date, and am expecting to start LPN school in August.

I'm hoping and praying to move from my current location to nearby southern Alabama (Yes, I said it, southern *ALABAMA*. I'll pause for a moment while you either laugh uproariously or recover from the shock, depending on how well you know me.)

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Better now? Okay. I have the chance to rent a small home with lots of land where I can have the small farm I've always dreamed of having, horses and all. The same family has owned this land for generations and there is no intent to sell. If this works the way I hope, I'll never have to leave.

What helped me make the decision to go was the subject property's remarkable/uncanny identical-ness to a safe space I created in my mind for a prayer exercise I was led through by someone during an inner healing session. So I'm a little freaked out by it and also pretty excited. There are things I'll be doing once I get to the land, of course, dreams I'll be able to fulfill finally. At least that's the plan.

I never hear from B and I never hear from the folks who have her unless I'm a few days late getting the subsidy payment into the mail to them. She was the first person I thought about when I heard Michael Jackson had died, because she loved him and his music and wanted to meet (i.e., marry) him. I don't hold anything against her really and at times I miss her, but so far no desire to try to repair anything; I did the best I knew how to do and got shot down repeatedly for it from all sides except the adoption caseworkers. They had no help for me, no advice, nothing but pats on the shoulder and "we think you went above and beyond the call of duty" (yes, a direct quote) and a "come see us when you're ready to adopt again and we'll find you a younger child who is a better fit." (Also a direct quote.) I think I've mentioned that before, too.

I just don't see it happening. I was too badly burned. If it had only been the situation with B, I might be willing to try again even after the loss of my job, my home, my sanity and what little self respect I'd had to start with. But it's the straw that broke the camel's back as far as people are concerned, as many of you know. The part of me that wants to be part of a family, to have a husband even, is being beaten into submission by all my wounds, scars and fears. The lions are beating the lion tamer, if you will. And one of the things I did during the downtime between losing the job and starting CNA school was have myself spayed, so there will be no natural children either, though that was unlikely to happen in the first place. So most of the time I'm happy enough alone with my animals and for the times that I'm not, there is always Hagen Daaz. Cause if there *was* a man made to be my partner, odds are he's been hit by a bus or lives on another continent. And don't even get me started on my tendency to be attracted to the completely unattainable. Blech, enough of that.

At any rate, my schedule has been insane. Since graduating from CNA school I've worked in home health and spent nights at client's houses more often than not. My animals miss me, I miss them, etc. I've been working most weekends (only not this weekend due to having a cold I caught from an elderly client and am not allowed to work) and missing church, just when I need that community the most, but at least I get to go occasionally. It'll all work out in the wash though.

Here's hoping that the next update has a final ending to the DCF employment saga. Before I go, I have to confess to a small amount of petty glee about something, a really ugly and small enjoyment of something that is really beneath me to find funny under the circumstances, but I am anyway. The attorney that I had the problems with, who worked so hard to get me fired... months later I have heard from several separate sources that she has gained a lot of weight. It's terribly tacky of me, but I have to confess to considering it a bit of poetic justice. Now just wait until the managing attorney who believed her about everything finds out how often she comes in late, leaves without permission for the day and falsifies her time sheet. Hey, not my problem, right??

Geez, if one of the priests or deacons I know reads this, I'm so going to be in trouble. But those of you who've stuck by me this long deserve to know that the old saying is in fact true: what goes around, comes around.

Toodles,
Sarah

It's Not Over Yet

2009-05-05T19:08:00.002-05:00

They continued the unemployment hearing. We were about 45 minutes into it when the judge realized she hadn't allotted enough time to cover the issues. The state has to produce some documents for her and I have to subpoena everybody I have ever met in my entire life. Well, not really, but close.

Gotta say that even though I'm not upset or anything by the continuance, I am (hours later) still so tense, jumpy and anxious after having brought everything back up that I truly believe I have PTSD after everything to do with B and this job. My BP is through the roof and my fibro pain is yelling a big ol' howdy. Sigh.

Even though that's not where I go, I wish the Catholic Church 5 miles away had night hours-I could use some time kneeling at the altar right now.

Gotta run send a knee-mail to God... toodles,

Sarah

What Do You Mean You Want An Update???

2009-04-29T01:30:00.002-05:00

Okay, okay... for all (one) of you that have been pestering me, I'll post a short update. And in a few weeks I'll post a more thorough one, after my unemployment appeal hearing is held.

Yes, I got fired. No, I still can't find a job. It's been very hard to deal with and I'm working through a whole lot of stuff right now. On the other hand, it has not been all bad. (Though if you feel like donating to the 'keep electricity in Sarah's house fund, by all means feel free. Okay, I'm mostly kidding about that.)

I'm hoping to feel like writing again soon, if for no other reason than to actually finish a project. I don't know that this blog will ever have anything to do with parenting again, of any kind. Funny, I was told by the adoption agency that when I healed from this and was ready to come see them about finding me another child. A younger, better fitting child. I wanted to know if they had posted a 'Lost' ad for their missing sanity yet, but strangely enough they did not find it as amusing as I did.

Thank God for my sense of humor, stalwart friends both new and old, and thank God for God. (Is that redundant?)I did not find God on the corner of First and Amistad, but I did find Him. I was baptized on Easter Sunday. Whatever faith you practice, I've seen some amazing things happen in my life recently. And I wouldn't be here now if I hadn't; I was so close to giving up completely.

I know He's breaking me down to rebuild me the way He wants me to be. Right now, however, I feel about as together and 'with it' as Mrs. Potato Head. I wonder if I can get UPS to deliver a Mrs. Potato Head to Heaven, to see if it will satisfy the apparent urge to move my ear to the middle of my forehead and put a hair bow where my mouth should be located? On the other hand, since I don't know what's going to come out of my mouth lately any time I open it, perhaps the spare parts box is where it should be anyway.

Stress wreaks havoc on your lucid moments. If anyone asks you why *my* chickens cross the road, it's to help me figure out where I left the car keys.

Toodles,

Sarah

No, really. Please just shoot me.

2009-01-29T09:21:00.000-06:00

I just got put on leave. I only have a week and a half of vacation time, after that it's unpaid. The investigator assured me this morning when I spoke to her that she would close this as soon as she could since it was so open and shut.

I was just getting my head back together and catching up on all my work, too. I truly believe that they will fire me even though the allegations are false. I was careful to let the managing attorney who put me on leave know that I already had a lawyer involved, so maybe I'll get lucky.

This makes the situation with Cowboy look like a walk in the park. I have never been more miserable or felt more hopeless in my life. The only bright side to the situation is that if I lose my job I can surrender my rights to B, put her back in the system and keep that family from having her.

I need some hugs and I need some prayers. I am not doing well.

Sarah

Somebody please just shoot me now.

2009-01-27T12:02:00.000-06:00

So, the FP and B have spent the last hour hanging out in the lobby of my DCF office. First they needed her SSN and then they weren't sure what they needed and where they needed to go to get her 'licensed' and/or screened. God bless the PI supervisor in my office, he handled most of it for me after I got them her SSN.

But the upshot if it is that I was warned several times (and she even said to the super) that if this wasn't able to be taken care of it today she was done. She was tired of putting her family out, blahblahblah. Mind you she said all this in front of B so that B now will feel like the system kept her from a family that really loved her, again.

So I'm opening up a betting pool. Who wants to guess what day and time this week they call me and tell me to come get B? Any takers? The investigator thinks they are going to send her back, too, if that helps your decision.

Sarah, who would very much *like* to get off this merry go round now, thanks so much.

Pins and Needles

2009-01-26T09:47:00.002-06:00

So. Foster mom did not return my call at all this weekend, the one where I said that 'as agreed, I'm calling to arrange a time Saturday to bring over B's things.' My attorney had agreed to go with me (she's such a great friend) to be safe, she figures if they were willing to lie that much they were willing to lie again to have me arrested for showing up. And I have been advised at this point to just keep the stuff and wait to be contacted further. "If they want it, they'll come get it." So I will do as advised and have also let the investigator know that they didn't return the call so I'm not trying again as advised by legal counsel.

I want to clarify something that looks kind of bad when I wrote it last post. The part that said rather than bring B home next time they want her gone I will still take her to a shelter. My writing friends (and the few family members that read this) need to understand that this foster family is (well, was) a (licensed) therapeutic home. I'm not a therapeutic home. If B is failing in a therapeutic home, it is not in her best interests to be returned to a non therapeutic home where failure would be guaranteed. Particularly since she has stated that she will call in abuse reports again. If she is calling in abuse reports because I am abusing her, then she is not safe in my home. If she is calling in abuse reports because she is angry at me for something and doing so for revenge, then I am not safe in my home. B needs something that I cannot provide for her in my home. I have my doubts about the foster family being able to provide it for her, but the plus side is that without other kids in the home she can have all their attention.

I am certain that I have not heard the last of this. I gave the supervisor that they also blame for the loss of their license a heads up this morning about them calling in the abuse report. See, the adult daughter works in this building. I have some professional contact with her, but not much. Supervisor has lots of professional contact with her. I wanted to make sure she was on her guard. Anyway, she says that they will have it in their heads right now that if they can prove me an unfit mother then they can be foster parents again. So I'm supposed to be ready for things to get very ugly. Lovely. Just lovely.

Anybody in NW FL willing to sell me a small farm cheap so I can move?

Sarah

Bad Things Do Not Always Happen To Good People

2009-01-23T15:38:00.000-06:00

And for once I can lump myself in the good people category.

The *&^*^!(*#&%*(%*!*(#^%*(!% foster parents called in an abuse report on me. Yesterday. BEFORE I met them to cash the subsidy check. No wonder they were so insistent that it be done yesterday.

Fortunately I had all the paperwork I needed to prove I had not abandoned B, copies made for the investigator, and the information that this was just retaliation for them losing their foster license. Investigator found that very interesting. Never actually *said* it was them, but was completely satisfied and said I had nothing to worry about. They are putting 'me' on a tracking status for the purposes of prosecuting further false reports.

They even made the bizarre claim that I had told B I wished she would break her leg and break her jaw and get it wired shut so I wouldn't have to listen to her anymore. WTF?????

The only thing she was concerned about was how long I thought the placement would last. Said on their part, if they never get another foster kid, it will last until B turns 18. But that I expected B to be unhappy in about six months. Told her I would 'agree to take her home with me' and instead take her to the shelter to avoid the kind of drama we had the other night and she thought that was fine.

I still have to take her stuff to their house tomorrow. :-( Any of you guys feel like coming to FL to witness for me? I don't have anyone to ask, really, I'm considering the possibilities of a deputy, but I don't know that they'd agree to go. Suggestions there?

Sarah

The (Hopefully) Last Update About This Family Stuff

2009-01-23T08:55:00.004-06:00

So, last I posted, the family that has B had been avoiding my call right up until they called me on Sunday night to tell me it wasn't working out and I had to come get her. I was told that B didn't want to come home, so I made it clear that I would need some time to find her an alternative placement. I made it very clear that B would not be returning to my home under these circumstances. The mother claimed that while B had bad attitude they could deal with it, and though she admitted that the sister had told the truth when she said that B was trying to talk the current foster placement out of being adopted at all (much less by the identified family she's been visiting with for three months) that these were not the reasons that they were asking she be removed.

Oh, just to be clear, this is a private situation between us even though they were at one time formally B's foster parents. I did my pre-adoptive visits while B was with them.

So... the reasons boil down to there not being enough space in the house and that B was in a room normally reserved for foster care. Not only that but another adult daughter had moved back home with her toddler - again - and they were sharing that room with B. That B was sleeping on a cot and though B didn't mind and didn't want to come home, she just couldn't bear to see B live like that. And the main reason was that the mother was just laboring under too heavy a load, that she was exhausted and her husband was sick and etc., etc.

So, fast forward to Tuesday when I have managed to secure a bed at a shelter facility B has been to before. We would attend therapy together weekly while she was there and she could be placed in Job Corps or another program out of that facility or come home if some miraculous breakthrough was had. I notified the only people I could reach mid-morning about the bed and that I needed to pick her up that night. They *still* took her to a city about an hour away and kept her out till 10 that night. After calling and calling and calling with no answer to any of the three numbers I had, I showed up at 8:00, where the adult daughter who had not been answering the phone had apparently been home all night. I refused to leave. I didn't want to lose the bed.

When they got home with her at 10:00 p.m. and I notified the mother that B had a bed at this house where we would have therapy and she could go to Job Corps from there, she refused to release B to me. If I was going to "throw her to the streets without a family", then they would just keep her. I told them that it wasn't up to them, to have B pack her things, she was indeed going. That she had told me she physically couldn't handle it so how I could I believe that this would be the best placement for her? Then B refused to go. I told them all that if I called the sheriff a deputy would put her in the car and transport her for me. "If that's what you have to do," B said. B knew I would do it.

Before I go back to my car to get my cell (the battery was low so it was charging, unfortunately) the family started grilling me in the most horrible way about obviously not loving B and what was my definition of love and what had I expected adopting a therapeutic child and why did I bother to adopt anyway. It was horrible. (And btw, what they define as unconditional love is demonstrated by allowing your thirty year old daughter to move home whenever she wants rather than stand on her own feet and take care of her son herself. Personally, I call that enabling. Oh, well.)

The mother said if I took B to the shelter she would call in an abuse report. I asked her if she really wanted to go down that road with me, because it would be a false report since I was making appropriate therapeutic arrangements for my child, and that she would *know* it was a false report since she is a licensed foster parent and knew all this as a matter of course. She said she didn't care, that to her it would be abandonment since I had an obligation to provide a roof and food and clothing to my child, not turn her over to someone else.

Eventually, rather than deal with the trauma of a law enforcement call, the very real possibility that B would run away from the shelter and faced with the reality that B was still happy there and still wanted to stay-not to mention the fact that they'd efficiently and in a very practiced way verbally destroyed me, I agreed to let her stay and gave them the custody agreement. I left the house at nearly midnight and, of course, immediately fell apart. Called my poor mother on the way home and woke her up. Was incredibly, incredibly upset for about twenty four hours. Wednesday I cried to friends at work, and remember that I work for CPS so I was crying to a caseworker, a supervisor and a system lawyer.

So, is there any good to come out of this situation at all? I think so. I think that B coming into my life taught me that I'm not really cut out to be a parent at all, no matter how much I truly love B. I think that since I 'lost' to the foster family after B had seen me fight and win many battles on her behalf, I think she believes that they will be strong enough to keep her safe and will love her no matter what. Mind you, she won't be able to handle that in a few months but I don't know that she'll call or anything.

I think this situation with the foster family happened so that the foster parents would *finally* get caught in their web of lies and policy violations (not abuse, just blatant disregard of the rules and some laws) by the system and lose their foster license.

Because that happened yesterday. The only reliable information I have about it is that they were without foster children for a long while due to problems with their inability to follow rules and policy and that they were given a second chance with a few short term placements. The foster child B was trying to talk out of being adopted was the only one left after the others had reunified. They failed to add their adult daughter to their homestudy, they failed to add B to their homestudy and then lied to the worker about B living there. Claimed she lived with a neighbor (possibly the only adult daughter they have living out of the home, she and her husband are next door).

And apparently the Cymbalta has kicked in because I'm not feeling at all smug.

Toodles,
Sarah

Well, Crap

2009-01-18T19:37:00.003-06:00

Just got a phone call from the FP who I have been trying to reach by phone for a week and a half now. They're sending her back. I have to pick her up Thursday. B doesn't want to come back here either. Foster Mom says she has agreed to go to Job Corps, but wanted to get started from their house, which they won't agree to let her do.

Pray for two things: 1. That I can get her placement somewhere before Thursday, and 2: That the Cymbalta I just started kicks in before Thursday in case I can't.

Toodles,
Sarah

Sunshine and Roses... NOT

2009-01-12T16:08:00.001-06:00

So, Friday night I signed the custody agreement. It needs signatures of the former foster parents, so I've got the original with me. I've tried and tried to reach them on Friday night so I could bring it and the rest of B's things on Saturday. Spend the day with the attorney friend on Saturday and never hear back from them. She figures they are avoiding me. She's right.

I spoke to the adult sister that works here today, the one that is one of the root causes of the problem. Well, the roots that don't rest with B herself anyway, or me, if I'm honest. I'm not perfect or blameless.

Anyway, seems that all is not sunshine and roses over there. B's had bad attitude, been trash talking and behaving inappropriately. They are now not sure if this is going to work at all. And the adult sister apologized to me, because at first she thought that I was being mean and had really kicked B out of the house. They've caught B in some lies now, and that sort of thing, that changed her mind.

I told her that before they decided to just pack her up and send her home that we all needed to sit down and talk to her together about Job Corps. And I told her that it was because I didn't want B back in my home. Sigh.

I was just beginning to unknot and uncoil that ball of tension and stress. I truly think that having shared with the adult sister that she's not wanted here now will have some impact and they will not want to send her away, at least for a while.

On the plus side, one of the caseworkers here, who I adore, has worked with the residential treatment side of things for years before she came to do regular casework. She'll walk me through getting her into a facility if they try to send her home because with her history and now failing in a therapeutic home (even unofficially) all she'll have to do is say that's what she wants/needs and they can make it happen. Plus she recommended the Sheriff's Boys/Girls Ranches here, so I have some hope at least.

I feel horrible saying that I don't want her back in my home, but... I really don't. I can't trust her at all anymore and I'm still so angry at her for the abuse report that I can't be a good parent to her.

Hoping for some good advice and support here.

Toodles,
Sarah

2009-01-07T09:45:00.003-06:00

Tonight I meet with my attorney to sign custody of B over to the foster parents that had her when she was placed with me. The place she hated living when I met her. The rest of this blog entry is filled with I, I, I and me, me, me, just so you know. And whining. Lots of whining.

The week before Christmas B screamed at me that she'd rather live in DJJ than live with me anymore and that she never should have left their home. So I gave her permission to return to them, they of the enabling and sabotaging behavior. And because they make a "Lifetime Commitment" to these kids, they took her. I've made it clear to B and clear to them that this is B's choice, not mine. But I allowed it because I could not go through what we went through in September again.

Back in September, when the big problems first started-not coincidentally the anniversary of her move in date- B called in an abuse report on me. It was on her cell phone. As were the text messages to her friends bragging about having done it and the end result was that I could not force B to get a job, nor could I enforce her having to do chores. I was there when the investigator told her that if she didn't do her chores I had to do them. I was there when she told B that I could not even force her to stay in school because she was 16. So, not only did I almost lose my job over this because I work for our child welfare agency, but I lost any ability to parent her at all. Going back to counseling didn't help.

You experienced adoptive parents will realize that B was given all the control in the house which made her feel unsafe. She had to no longer believe that I could keep her safe. Add to that the holidays and her 17th birthday looming right after the move-in anniversary plus the fact that she'd never lived anywhere this long and I don't know that I could have done anything to alter the course we were set upon. I truly don't know if I would have done it if I could, never having forgiven her for falsely accusing me or trusting her with anything again. After all, any time anyone background checks me again, for a transfer in my own agency or trying again for a correctional officer position even, I will have to relive this because I will have to explain it and career options that were once open to me will be (unofficially) closed.

I'm embarrassed at work and embarrassed in my personal life. I am injured financially. I have suffered the loss of relationship with the only person I will ever call 'my child' yet she's hurt me so badly I'm not sure I would choose to try again to repair it. I have failed to heal this child, mostly because she does not want to be healed. And now I doubt that she will ever heal, or succeed, because this family will not take her to the special school program I took her to and she is no longer able to attend public school because of having entered this program. She will not pass a GED. There is nowhere for her to work. So she'll sit at their home until she turns 18, just like she did after getting expelled for drinking on campus when she was with them before.

And it causes me to question, yet again, what's wrong with me that I'm so hard to love, so hard to live with? That even a child who had nothing and no one to call her own before I gave that to her wouldn't stay either. She's probably not even most of the problem here, I probably am. I have failed again and this time I further damaged an already badly damaged child.

I'm so very, very tired. I don't sleep well. I eat everything that's not nailed down. I've lost my sense of humor. I pray constantly now, so I guess there is a silver lining. I just wish it brought some peace to me. My fibro is flaring up very badly from this stress and I'm constantly in pain now. I have to force myself to get up and go to work and it gets harder and harder to do every day. Because, really, what's the point?

An Update For Those Who Worry

2008-12-05T10:12:00.003-06:00

Guys-

Thanks for the kind words and thoughts. Things are still rough at home for me. In the oblivious, irrational nature of the very emotionally damaged and used to living in chaos, my daughter acts as if nothing has happened and says I should be totally over it. Sigh. Local (i.e., not online) friends and family are not terribly supportive and more with the 'I told you so.' If not for the support of the online friends and experienced adoptive parents and the unconditional affection of my four-leggers and my parrots.... Animals are so much easier than people, except in the middle of the night when they are stealing your pillow or your covers.

I've wanted to be a parent, an adoptive parent, for so long and with this first one having gone so badly wrong in so many ways and so quickly... I no longer want to be a Cindy Bodie, Tudu, Theresa or Sharon. I don't want to do this again. Having wanted this life for almost twenty years, having gone into it with eyes wide open and no rose colored glasses on and still having been so wrong about myself and what I can handle... it feels kind of like re-evaluating whether I want to be caucasian or a woman or an air breather. It's been such a big part of my life for so long that I don't know what's left now that the drive to do this is gone. I feel like a hypocrite and a failure, which is just a fantastic way to spend the holiday season. (rolls eyes)

Let's not talk about the fact that I also feel like a quitter, since I'm struggling to be polite to my daughter, much less be a parent to her. It's not fair to her, since everyone has always given up on her and she was simply testing me to see if I'd do the same; intellectually I know that. Emotionally though, I did give up. I feel betrayed. She's only in my house and family now because, working for CPS, it could cost me my job if she wasn't. We're not in counseling now because even the therapist said it wasn't helping, that she didn't want to change or accept responsibility.

I don't know where to find these bottomless pits of love that some incredible parents find for their kids who assault them physically and betray them every day in a hundred other ways. I would *rather* she had assaulted me physically. I would have handled that much, much better. I would rather she had burned down our home-the loss of every pet we have and everything I own would have been easier to deal with emotionally for me. And of course, some remorse or regret on her part would be nice, but she calmly maintains that she'd do the same thing over again and doesn't regret it.

The other area where real world family and friends don't get it is the lack of understanding for me not finishing the book. It's very hard to write hot, exciting romance when it feels like someone did the mexican hat dance on your heart and soul. Hell, it's very hard to *feel* anything when you're doing your dead level best to stay numb because you're tired of hurting. So, I didn't get it finished, though I am trying. The publisher still wants to see it when it's done, as a stand alone rather than part of the series and that's a huge relief. Something to look forward to at a time when I'm trying to redetermine the course of my life.

I'm looking for a convent that allows the writing of romantic and erotic romantic fiction along with the keeping of animals. Any ideas? Because right now the other options are 'crazy reclusive cat lady' and the female version of 'Norm from Cheers' (and I hate bars and don't like being drunk).

I doubt I'll blog again before January, so Happy Holidays all.

Toodles,
Sarah

Murphy's Law

2008-10-20T13:59:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry to have disappeared again but am glad to know I've been missed. The old saying that if anything can go wrong it will is so true. In a case of perfect(ly awful) timing, my emotional special needs adopted teenage daughter did something colossally mean, terrible and vindictive. Nearly brought down the house of cards altogether and I'm not sure our relationship will ever be the same again. We're in counseling, needless to say.

I have until the end of October to turn in He Waves Fire but I am beginning to doubt it will be finished. Sigh.

On the plus side, I won tickets to last Friday's Michael Buble concert and had a blast. The man is an incredible showman with an amazing voice. I highly recommend anyone who can manage it that they should go see him live.

Toodles,
Sarah

But why is the rum gone?

2008-09-19T08:28:00.003-05:00

Happy International Talk Like a Pirate Day, me hearties!

Talk the talk or walk the plank HERE.

That is all.

Because I Work Best Under Lots And Lots Of Pressure

2008-09-01T10:37:00.003-05:00

Support my efforts!

As if doing thirty thousand words in thirty days just for the sake of it needing to be done wasn't enough, there is a great fundraiser going on for Cystic Fibrosis. I suspect that I won't have to share any information about the disease with most of you; it's pretty well known. I'm not trying to raise a lot, just $100. If you want to donate, click on the banner and it will take you straight to my account.

I'm also participating in my friend's 30k in 30 days challenge, which she is doing because she has work due on October. I'm hoping that my words will count both places and that I haven't somehow cosmically committed myself to doing sixty thousand words in thirty days because I think I'd just have to shoot myself if that was the case.

Back to writing!

Toodles,
Sarah

Last Update For a While

2008-08-29T08:37:00.002-05:00

This is the last time I'll make the blog rounds for a bit, except for updating my WIP counter because I love that thing to death.

Why? Because the publisher emailed me last night and requested the full manuscript of the partial I submitted. Yay!

Now I just have to WRITE it. Thpt. That's correct. No happy little elves are going to magically pop up and present me with a completed manuscript. This we all know. It's just never been driven home for me before.

So, you guys behave, keep writing, keep parenting in some cases and WISH ME LUCK.

Toodles,
Sarah

It's Not Quite As Bad As I Thought It Would Be

2008-08-26T08:29:00.005-05:00

So, I submitted my admittedly rough partial to that call for firefighter themed novellas last night. And while I'm very upset at myself for letting my distraction make me forget to put the required contact information and stuff at the top of the partial's page (the daughter was rambling on and on, giving me a play by play of a conversation she had with a guy who likes her but who she doesn't like), so far the whole thing isn't that bad.

Of course, how upset can I get if I get rejected for this submission? It has been hard work so far, but only a few weeks of it. It's not like I put months and months into it, though by the time I finish it I will have. After all, the best I could get at this point is 'we are interested in seeing the finished manuscript, keep writing'. I'm going to keep reminding myself that when they say 'thanks but not thanks'. But I'll keep writing it either way. I think it's going to be interesting and a lot of fun.

Don't know how many of my FanLit cronies will like it. It's a contemporary (gasp!) not a historical. I still think the only historicals I have in me are Bloody Rose and The Story of Arthur and Johnathan. M/M is apparently popular in certain sectors so I figure I might as well write it. They were a lot of fun. And okay, possibly the story of Tony Darlington. He was such a nice guy. Maybe too nice though.

I'm seriously considering sticking roasted chicken in this novella somewhere, just for old time's sake. I realize it's an erotic romance not a cooking novel, but hey they gotta eat sometime. I can guarantee no purple feathers, no cats (well, probably no cats) and no pot of chocolate.

I also just bought my domain for the year. www.samanthabagley.com Don't get excited. There isn't anything there yet. I decided my mother could just get over me writing erotic romances under that name.

And the name that I love for my mainstream thriller/screenplay stuff?? Taken for at least two years by a personal business related site. Bah. Oh well, not going back to that WIP any time soon. But maybe one of you has an idea about using the name Chris Hawes in a website that is still easy to use? chris-hawes.com is available and that's how Jim Butcher has his site, a squatter owns the other. Any thoughts on using the hyphen? I might go ahead and just get it while I'm spending the money and getting sites set up.

Toodles,
Sarah

I Finally Did It!

2008-08-07T09:46:00.003-05:00

No, I haven't finished anything yet. But I did send off my money and my application to join the RWA. A big step for someone to whom that $100 represents lots of possibilities.

I haven't started making up the lost work on the novella yet, because I've had an idea to submit for a Liquid Silver call for submissions about firefighters. It's due on the 25th of August (you can find more information out about it at the Romance Divas forum if you are interested) so I've got to get cracking on it. More research today and tomorrow, but I hope to have it mostly written by Monday!

I write well under pressure. Avon made me think so and so I'm going to try and prove it.

Wish me luck!
Sarah

Well, darn it.

2008-08-04T10:24:00.003-05:00

It's been a crazy week here, lots of miscellaneous business and busy-ness to take care of. I had hardly any time to sit down and write, and the first time I did I opened my WIP file to find that, somehow, about the last 80% of it was gone and I practically have to start over. See, I save my work online, on a free site, so I won't lose it. I write it there, so I don't have to worry about updating forty files. Apparently that system is not working so well anymore. I have now entered the age of the thumb drive. I will now also spend ten minutes each time I'm through writing by updating the progress in several different files/places, I suppose. I hate redundancy, but apparently it is a necessity in this day and age. I imagine I will also save the finished things that I care about on a cd so I don't lose them. Not to mention emailing them to myself. Yikes, this is a lot of work.

I did have a great time participating in several virtual workshops while the rest of you folks were living it up in San Francisco. I got some great information about building my eventual website, plotting erotica novels, researching historicals and much, much more. So, that's even more stuff to save into a Word file, email myself, save on a hard disk and a thumb drive. Sigh. But during all this workshop business I sold my 65 gallon aquarium (spending an entire Saturday breaking it down by myself because my daughter was getting paid to work by my brother)even today (Monday) I am still quite sore. I spent yesterday shopping and looking at the water in Destin with my mother. Yes, I actually began my CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. I'm scaring myself, too.

I had an incredibly weird dream last night: I spent two hours talking on the phone with an attorney I know. He told me he was divorcing and fighting for custody and really liked me and wanted to get to know me. Somehow this took two hours and at the same time I was folding laundry... in my childhood home. That my parents' no longer own. None of us even live in the same state. I was on the family, plugged-in-the-wall phone. I asked him to call me right back on the cell number when I was done with folding the laundry so I could continue talking to him in my childhood bedroom. He agreed and then didn't call. So very, very strange. Please bear in mind that I hardly know him, never see him or talk to him anymore, never think of him and have no idea why he was the particular person to make an appearance in this dream. Bizarre. Theories welcome.

Not much else going on here. Still trying to convince myself that the WIP is worth re-starting and that most likely I will actually like it better the second time around. Here's hoping. I need more coffee.

Toodles,
Sarah

Another Round of Life Imitates Art

2008-07-24T14:15:00.005-05:00

Some of you Avon FanLitters may remember hearing about a particular and strange problem I suffer from with my writing. I find it worrisome enough that I may never write anything ever again that isn't a historical. Having it happen yet again, even though it wasn't bad, made me realize this is probably the reason that I never finish anything. What is it??

A recurring problem I have with everything I write coming true. Yes, you read that correctly. The things I write have a tendency to come true. I keep saying that I am going to write a cure for cancer, but haven't done so yet. Someone I once cared about a great deal died laughing (almost anyway) when I discussed this with him, thinking it was the height of arrogance to believe that I *caused* any of the things that had happened. He so completely missed the point; I think the things that particularly inspire me are a type of precognition that I have no real control over.

I'm going to give a quick rundown of the sequence of events before mentioning the most recent. In college, in a small town, I started work on a romance novel involving the bust of a meth lab run by one of the mythical college's chemistry professors. Three months into working on the book, one of the real college chemistry professors was busted for running a meth lab at the college. I thought it was funny, never finished the book because real life intervened and completely forgot about the coincidence.

So a few years later I move to NW Florida, where my brother assures me I don't need to worry about hurricanes because they hadn't had a strong one since Opal. But I started a romance novel centered around a fierce hurricane hitting the area I was in. Here came Ivan. Okay, didn't think anything of it, still don't. Put the book down during the evacuation and picked it up again shortly after returning home. There came Katrina. Wasn't me, kept working. Then came Rita. Okay, a bit spooked and completely put off the topic of hurricanes, I put it down. The next spring rolls around (i.e., hurricane season) and I pick it back up again. Here comes Dennis. That was enough for me, I haven't touched it during hurricane season again.

In the middle of all that, I started a joint project (there is independent verification for this one) with a friend involving improperly reclassified and subsequently sold military land which was then being improperly developed by a builder and a local lawyer. They were violating lots of laws including a murder. In our book, the military was investigating the land deal and an undercover was investigating the mysterious disappearance (actually the death of) of a paralegal. A month or so after we started working on this project, she calls me and tells me to grab the paper. Front page news: Local builder and prominent local attorney are arrested in a land development scheme involving land that used to be military. The circumstances were eerily similar to our plot, save that there was no murder (so far as we know). Sigh.

Too much for me to ignore at that point, since it had happened with *everything* I had seriously attempted to work on. A few months ago a friend at work told me she was going gambling in Biloxi and if I could write that sort of thing would I please write her winning a big jackpot. She told me the week she was going and so I didn't get much written but I did get a good outline and the basic idea down on paper... er, bandwith. She came home with more money that she ever had before, though no big jackpot. I blame that on the short notice. :D She promises to let me know earlier next time.

The only project I've worked on that *hasn't* had something come true about it is my serial killer thriller, thank God. But since I set that in Atlanta, I could be wrong. Anyone from there know if there is a series of completely unconnected men turning up dead after being ritualistically murdered during sex? If so, let me know. I can point the GBI in the correct direction.

So, that brings us to the present day. I've been working on my little erotic romance fairly diligently. It's not a complex plot. It's intended to be a novella, something I can finish and revise fairly quickly and attempt to market. The opening of the book takes place with our hero and heroine in the local courthouse during a thunderstorm. They get stuck in an elevator together. Sexual hi-jinks ensue. So yesterday, after 15 years of frequently being in courthouses and never having had the power go off in one during a storm... yesterday I am in the courthouse. It is pouring down rain, thunder, lightning, the whole nine yards. I am smiling to myself about the similarities as I push the button for the elevator. The elevator bings, the door starts to slide open... and the power goes off. No, I didn't get stuck and tragically if I had there wouldn't have been a hot deputy stuck with me.

I wouldn't have minded if it had though. I still need to find out if elevators have emergency lighting. Anyone know? In the meantime, I'm going to try writing a short where the author wins a million dollars. Just for research purposes, you understand. A control group, as it were.

Toodles,
(A thoroughly wigged out)
Sarah

May I Have The Envelope, Please....

2008-07-22T10:06:00.003-05:00

I'm a little late blogging, because I haven't felt very well the last few weeks. Having lots of problems with my fibromyalgia again, which I suspect is mostly due to the very real stress of giving up my cockatoo and sending all but one of the seven kittens we had running around the house to new homes. I loved all of them and very much wanted to keep every one, but ultimately let my daughter keep the one she liked best and placed the rest. Sigh.

So, I have some exciting news, even though it's more my news by proxy. I may not have an agent. I may not have published or even really finished anything yet. But by God I am Emmy nominated! It's true!! FanLib was nominated for the Primetime Interactive Media Emmy Award for one of their projects last year with The L Word and Showtime. I worked on that project a lot, so I claim this Emmy nomination in the interests of being able to say, one day, that I was part of something really cool. Yay! Hopefully, we'll win and I can say, at my high school reunion, that the most interesting thing I ever did was win an Emmy.

Next I'm shooting for an Academy Award for Best Screenplay. Or a RITA.

Toodles,
Sarah

Happy Birthday To Me!

2008-07-10T21:20:00.002-05:00

So. Today I'm 38. Years Old. Or Years Young. Mostly Years Old.

Today was a good day. I took the day off work and got B enrolled in the adult high school. She starts next Monday afternoon with testing and the program itself on Tuesday. I will officially have my evenings to myself again from 5-8 pm, Monday through Thursday. Whatever will I do to occupy my time??

I'm feeling pretty positive about the changes I'm making in my life, even though they don't yet involve eating right and exercising again. I'm still stuck on the career track though. The only thing I have ever wanted to do consistently through my life, my entire life, is write. I guess what I'll be spending most of that time on is my writing, then. I hope, I hope, I hope.

I've got a little bit of time before bed. I think I'll whip out that erotica short I'm working on and angst over building in conflict for a while.

Toodles,
Sarah

A Blog Entry About Nothing

2008-07-08T11:31:00.002-05:00

It was a week of absolutely no accomplishment in anything whatsoever, so I'm pretty much blogging about nothing. Don't guess that's too unusual though.

Did nothing but rest and try to relax over the holiday weekend. Considering I've been letting a great deal of stress build up, I really needed it. B spent the weekend with a former foster mother. As it turns out, the FM had just lost her umbrella cockatoo suddenly the previous month. My umbrella cockatoo has been pretty unhappy for a while now, too many changes and not enough attention. So my heart is breaking (again) but I have let Shasta go live with the FM to see how it goes.

The house is so quiet without her, the other four are never so noisy. I miss her horribly and part of me hopes it doesn't work out, though I know she'd be happier in the long run with more attention and less competition from other animals and people. Part of me is very angry with B for not following my directions in the first place and getting Shasta to where she screamed all the time, because the noise problem is her fault, not mine. The reduced amount of attention is my fault though and that wasn't likely to change any time soon.

No progress at all in writing this week. Just not motivated I guess. I look back in this blog even and realize that I have 'tense' issues all over the place and can't make myself care about it at all. Must get better, I was coming along so nicely with my erotica short.

Days like this are why my blog is named what it is, days of boredom, ennui, blah blah biddy blah.

Toodles,
Sarah

Tiny Favor; Really, Really Small

2008-07-01T12:00:00.005-05:00

The people that ran Avon FanLit and HarperTeen Fanlit, in other words, the company I work for part time called FanLib, are curious about something. They have asked me if I can put together a list of alumni who have gotten deals, or agents or things of that nature. I know some, but not all. So, help a gal out here and let me know!

Not a whole lot of writing getting done here at the moment, since I've manage to (get my brother to) finish installing my fence!! Yay! All that's left are gates. I put together my compost bin last night. Have to plant pear trees tonight. This weekend I will get the asparagus planted and build at least two square foot garden boxes and get seeds in them. But on the plus side work is really slow right now at the day job and I'm getting a few words done here and there.

Though my mother has just moved here from Arkansas and is living with my brother (how else do you think I managed to get the fence finished so quickly!!) they are going to visit my other brother in Virginia this week. The brother I visited last year during what I should call the Cowboy Crisis. I hope their car tour of the Kennedy Center isn't as extensive as mine.

That's more news than is really fit to print but I'll print it anyway.

Toodles,
Sarah

I'll Follow The Sun

2008-06-23T10:46:00.028-05:00

On Sunday, June 22, 2008, comedian George Carlin died. In the grand scheme of things, I don't suppose his death is terribly significant. I certainly don't think he'd want anyone to make a big deal out of it, unless someone could make it funny. His death holds some personal significance for me because he was my favorite comedian and had been since I was about sixteen. His view askew of the world and everything in it helped form many of the opinions and beliefs I hold today. I hold him and his work in great esteem, though I know his humor wasn't for everyone. His views on religion in particular were offensive to many, but he always made me think about things. He didn't seem to think less of any one group of people than another. I gather he basically thought we all sucked, equally and without discrimination toward one group or another.

His death comes during a time where I was already struggling with certain things in this world, ugly things that--while they have always bothered me--have truly been difficult to deal with after finding out this week about the death of Sophie Lancaster in England. It happened in August of 2007 but hits the news fairly frequently since that time, particularly now that her murderers have appealed their sentencing. I admit that I didn't run across any news about it until I read a tribute to her on FanLib.

Reading this simple tribute to a stranger moved me enough to go to the myspace memorial page (In Memory of Sophie). That page moved me to tears from watching the videos, then reading the news articles I searched out about the subject. Why this outpouring of emotion over the admittedly tragic death of someone I don't know? I think the death of Sophie Lancaster just hits close to home for me. She was beaten to death by a group of strangers while trying to protect her boyfriend--who almost died and admits that he wishes he had. Why? Because they were different. Because they were Goth. And if you ask me, because they were also totally non-threatening. A predatory group of drunken teenage boys in England runs into easy prey: two young adults who were kind to them, who offered them cigarettes and friendly conversation, and no self defense whatsoever.

Has this ever happened to me or anyone I know? Thankfully, no. I've been picked on all my life for being fat, but while that is also discrimination it is miles away from being violently assaulted. My religious beliefs have ostracized me, at times, from family members and are not widely publicized because I don't want crosses burned in my yard any time soon. I admire anyone who voluntarily is different, who chooses to express themselves regardless of potential consequences for doing so. Sophie and Robert had been harassed and Robert had been physically assaulted before, simply for dressing in the Goth subculture. They chose to be true to who they were rather than hide themselves for safety. I admire that, because I've not been that strong myself. I think the Gothic subculture is pretty cool. I like the look; I like the music. I even have a tongue piercing but that's neither here nor there. My daughter would prefer to dress Goth but can't quite bring herself to do it. Sophie's death hits me so hard, I think, because the reason it happened is at the root of what is wrong with the world today. Hatred of something or someone different from the self. Hatred is usually rooted in fear, which has a tendency to be expressed violently when people or groups of people are desperate to prove that they aren't actually afraid.

In the grand scheme of things, the assault on Robert Maltby and Sophie Lancaster and Sophie's subsequent death don't really mean a lot. Less than George Carlin's really, because he was a celebrity and the world certainly worships celebrity as if it were a religion and not a reward for dubious good fortune and hard work. But I want things like this to stop happening. Because no one--not individuals, not groups, not even whole countries--has the right to assault someone just because they believe something different.

The thugs that committed this murder aren't just killers; they are thieves. They stole from Robert Maltby, who will not have the life he had planned for himself; the life he wanted to live with Sophie. They stole from Sophie's family. They stole Sophie from the lives of the people who loved her. They gave while they took, though. They gave Robert a lifetime of survivor's guilt and undoubtedly a fear of being anywhere in public; a lifetime of missing Sophie. They gave Sophie's friends and family a gaping hole in their lives where Sophie used to be which will never be filled. All because these two were Goth and those thugs weren't; because the thugs were raised to think that violence was okay and a perfectly acceptable expression of dislike or fear. And they are cowards, choosing to kick a man when he was down and kick a woman for shielding that man with her body.

I'd like to be able to write something profound and moving that will change people. Something that will make others stop hurting people who haven't done anything to them, who have just simply been something or believed something they didn't agree with. I'm not that eloquent. If I was, I would say something that would help stop discrimination against gays and lesbians in these "United States" (United so long as you are one of "us" and not one of "them, whatever group "them" is at any particular moment), so they could marry and raise a family without living in fear. Something that would help stop the racism and bigotry so prevalent in this country, something felt by members of all races. Something that would make certain religious groups realize that just because they believe something doesn't mean that anyone who believes something different is going to hell; that just because they worship one way doesn't make someone else evil for worshiping another way. Something that would help people accept that not everyone is the same as they themselves are; that it's okay and nothing to be afraid of when someone is different. But I can't. I can't even wipe out the racism and religious bigotry that exists in my own family. I can't stop child abuse, which I desperately want to do. I can't make people care about things they don't care about.

It was just one attack on one small group of people, you say. Just one death, you say. Yes, it was. Yet this one small attack in one small part of the world on one uncommon way of life is a snapshot of the big picture. The whole world *is* just this way. And I can't express how much I wish that it wasn't. I can't find the words to change the world seeing as I can't even find the words to change my own family. Heck, the people that most need to come to the realization that we *can* all live without hating and hurting and killing one another are the very people that will never stumble across this blog entry or anything else that might change their minds.

For what little it is worth, to the people that hate others--whatever group that may be--I say "Fix your own damn problems and stop blaming them on others." To the religious groups of the world determined to bring everyone to their way of thinking--whether through violence or changing the law because you represent the majority--I say "You are not the right hand of the Divine, whether you call the Divine God, Allah, whatever. God will change those who want to change. God will interfere in what He/She/It wants interfered with. Accept that not everyone is or has to be a Christian or a Muslim or whatever and that not being what you are doesn't make someone a bad person. Your morality is not the morality of the rest of the world and pushing, proselytizing and legislating will not make it so. Live and Let Live!" To those who believe that these things are not their problem because you aren't gay or black or Goth or pagan or vegan or whatever, "remember that the hate, intolerance and prejudice you ignore today, you may be a victim of tomorrow."

God Bless Sophie Lancaster and Joe Pesci Bless George Carlin, where ever they are.

Toodles,
Sarah

Everything you ever wanted to know about Buffy the Vampire Slayer but were afraid to ask.

2008-06-21T10:44:00.004-05:00

Not much for me to blog about at the moment. It's been a long week but I did finish up one writing project, the results of which are below. Still working on fencing outside, still need to get my asparagus planted and now the two pear trees are here and need planting, too. Need more hours in the day where I'm not exhausted!! I have not yet done any of the advertising that I need to for this whole private millionaire thing to start for me at all, but I hope to do one or two ads this weekend. The nice thing about doing some survey sites is that I can do surveys when I'm brain dead and yet not sleepy, unlike writing which I seem to need to be almost giddy and hyper to do well.

My Buffy the Vampire Slayer 411 is published over at FanLib's No Hiatus blog. Links to part one and part two are at the beginning of the article. It's everything anyone who might have had a question about Buffy would want to know if they were bored and had nothing else to read. If you decide to read it, remember that you don't have to hit pause to take a potty break-the whole thing is really long. And I would like to disclaim the use of the word 'unbalance' in part two. Yes, I know it should have been imbalance, but I had a completely different sentence to start with-one that used unbalanced, changed it at the last minute and failed to make the change to imbalance. Just so we know.

I hope everyone has a great weekend; here I go, back to work.

Sarah

Conflict!!! Well, lack thereof...

2008-06-16T17:46:00.003-05:00

Those of you who remember my writing from Avon FanLit may remember that my most oft received criticism was about lack of conflict. Apparently, dear readers, this is not a lack I only suffer from during writing contests. This new little novella/short story/erotica thing I've been zipping right along on is still zipping right along.

In fact, it's zipping right along so much that everyone has a bluebird of happiness on their shoulders. Butterflies, fairies and rainbow colored soap bubbles are floating around everywhere because everything is just so damn perfect for this couple. Remembering that this is a sex-driven plot, it still has a HEA so I still need to break them up at some point. I've got them together. I know what I'm doing to get them *back* together after they break up. What I don't know is why they break up in the first place!

Because I have been reliably informed that bondage sells well in these eroticas, I'm perfectly happy to include that. Could our hero's extreme reaction (he has to be the one to break it off for the get-back-together scenario I have planned to work, at least I think he does) to this type of play be too much for him emotionally and cause him to break it off in panic? Is that enough?

And if I go that route... gee, anyone know whether or not a Dom heroine flies at all?? If it doesn't, I suppose an experienced Sub could educate a novice Dom and make him the way she wanted. I'm over complicating this again I suppose. But it's apparent that conflict does not come naturally to me in this genre.

In other news, I'm about 95% finished with my Buffy 411, thank goodness. I know FanLib will be happy to have something to run. I'll post a link to it when it's up.

Toodles,
Sarah

Turn and Face the Strange

2008-06-15T09:38:00.003-05:00

Things have been busy and good here. Though this weekend I haven't gotten anything done outside due to a combination of bad weather (which makes me feel bad) and 'that time' (which makes me feel bad). I've been fairly productive inside though. I've been working hard on an idea I had last week for a short romantic/erotica piece that is just moving itself along nicely. Yay! Still haven't finished other writing obligations (boo) but I'm trying to go where Snoopy takes me rather than force things. Is that the lazy man's way of writing? Or just a method sort of guaranteed to make sure no project ever really gets completed?

I've got pear trees here to plant and still need to plant the asparagus (they came in as bare, dry roots that are dormant, so I've got a little time). The blueberry bushes are coming along nicely, lots of little buds and blooms so maybe next spring I'll actually have some on the vine. I'll have to do some research about what cultivar to get next, since my first choice blueberry isn't going to get here until fall.

In the near future, you'll probably see some real advertising on this blog. I've been following along with my 'parenting blog friend' Sharon as she tries out money making opportunities on the internet. Surveys and that kind of thing. I've not been doing surveys long so I'm not making much money, though it is working for her. But she recently got going with something called the Private Millionaire program and is actually making money with it. So I joined last night. And I have to advertise to get people to my sites, of course. In order to do that I'll have to offer 'reciprocal advertising' in many cases, which I will put here. But I figure it's worth a shot, she's made her initial investment back, which was not big and for her it all came out of survey earnings anyway. It's a downline kind of scenario, so I'm interested to see what happens.

I'm going to add a link to my site on my blog, too, and of course, please feel free to try it. It hasn't been much work so far, though I did spend the money to have them make the sites for me, but so did Sharon. I don't normally do these things but someone I trust said it is working so I'll suspend my disbelief and cynicism long enough to try it. A note of caution though-if you do try it, when they say bookmark all the pages, they do mean bookmark all the pages. I'm sure I'll be talking about it a bit either way.

The Private Millionaire

Even if I don't make tons of money, maybe there will be a book plot in here somewhere.

Toodles,
Sarah

Big Momma Is Right!

2008-06-10T13:43:00.004-05:00

Well, it's early days yet, but I think it's safe to say that Cindy Bodie (a/k/a Big Momma Hollars) is right about gardening. Last night I planted the first two blueberry bushes, the first of my live plants to arrive. I usually hate getting dirty, playing in dirt and (shudder) cow manure compost, but I relished it. Digging the holes left me sweaty and tired, but the satisfaction I got from blending peat moss, compost and sandy soil by hand in the hole before putting those little sticks with tiny flowers on them in the ground was immense. Pouring water on the small mounds of dirt felt like I was pouring my troubles out on those poor things; hope they'll live in spite of it. I even enjoyed hiking most of a five gallon bucket of water out there today at lunch, since I overslept and didn't water this morning before work. I'm still waiting for two blueberry bushes in a different cultivar and after planting the first two have decided I have room for a few more bushes in yet another cultivar. Think I'll wait for the rest of my stock to get here and get going first, though.

Today I need to plant my sweet potatos and since they are late being planted and I've not yet built my raised beds, I'm just going to slap those puppies in a piece of partially shady ground and hope for the best. I've also got to get the fence line going on the side front yard, because the asparagus desperately needs to be planted. Funny how reluctant teenaged daughters make that fencing task more of a chore than it needs to be through lack of assistance. And can I just say that gates are important in fencing systems? I nearly poked my eye out and/or broke a leg last night walking in the woodsy area around the outside of the fence to put in the blueberry bushes. I didn't have the right hardware for the gate I bought so my brother just fenced the whole thing and plans to add gates later. Mind you, later is subjective with him. I'm still waiting for him to finish the remodel of my bathroom he started two years ago last November.

With the help of a good friend who is experienced in these matters, I have selected my erotica writing pseudonym: Sarah Blue. Hopefully some of you will get the reference. If not, oh well, it will fit on book covers easily. Funny how I feel so much like I have to get the *business* of writing settled before I can get to the creative work of it. I'm just weird that way. I've been so distracted by getting things off of the Avon FanLit site that I still have to finish my Buffy 411 final blog for FanLib and also add a new chapter or few to my Buffy fanfic there, Mr. Giles' Neighborhood. But, at least I'm working hard. Both mentally and physically, so go me! And can I just mention that I love my first ever grill that I stimulated the economy by treating myself to? I cooked on it for the first time last night and probably will again tonight. Squee!!

I'm going to take a minute to plug a friend of mine's works that I just finished reading. Ladies and even gentlemen, whether you read historical romantic fiction or not, these short works are tastefully intriguing and really rather stimulating. Interesting and unique storylines that you can pretty much finish in the half hour break you take from not strangling your little RADish or from pounding out your own novel. Do yourself a favor and pick up the e-books Carnally Ever After and Wickedly Ever After from Jackie Barbosa. Just don't do what I did and buy/read them at work; I'm going to be wound up the rest of the day.

Toodles,
Sarah

Benefit Auction

2008-06-08T18:15:00.004-05:00

Thanks to Tessa for posting the announcement on her blog, I'm just passing it along. Most of what is being auctioned is great books to read, folks, so whether you are a writer or a parent you'll want to participate.

Benefit Auction for Alyx's Children

One of the long time members of the forums at The Bulletin Board of Authors Eloisa James and Julia Quinn has lost her husband. He had been ill for some time, having contracted hepatitis C at age six, during a heart surgery. While waiting for a liver transplant, his condition worsened and he passed away at the end of May of this year. They have three children. Auction proceeds will go to an educational fund for them. The auction runs until June 27, 2008, at midnight, so get on over there and snag some autographed copies and advanced reader copies from your favorite authors.

If you don't see anything you like, buy it anyway. You can give it to me for Christmas. I'm bidding on the critique from Joanna Bourne. So now I've got to go write something, in case I win. Cart. Horse. Sigh.

Toodles,
Sarah

Good Night and Good Luck

2008-06-06T10:00:00.008-05:00

I'm glad to see some friends come back to my blog and hopefully more will follow. That's what I get for cave trolling instead of whining. At any rate, rather than being able to concentrate on getting my existing work done and obligations met, I'm busy saving everything that was important to me on the Avon FanLit site. It's coming down and going away, folks.

In revisiting that establishment to take what I can with me, I am reminded how much that contest meant to so many of us. So many players have gotten agents and contracts and have finaled in the big contests, in large part because of the confidence they gained at Avon which enabled to them actually take that next step. I have a solid, enjoyable job with a great group of people because of it, and hopefully I'll find my muse again and will publish someday. Though sometimes I really fear that Avon FanLit was my allotted fifteen minutes of fame. Either way, it was a moment out of time (granted, a big chunk of a moment) that we will never have again. To quote MaggieinMaine, "an excerpt from her sixth round parody Good Night, and Good Luck, which shall forever immortalize you [Note: er, she meant me, oddly enough] and these hallowed halls!"

“The Bottom 503 Club, long known as THE celebrity and wanna-be place to hang out, has lost its Mayfair lease and will be closing its doors on October 27. Manager and Dancing Queen Skirbo spoke to our reporter Terrence Topten-Plunkett earlier today.

Street scene in front of Bottom 503 Club. A red double-decker tour bus goes by. Skirbo waves the end of her feather boa at it and tucks a strand of hair behind her tiara.

“This is indeed the end of an era. How does it feel for the Bottom 503 Club to come to such an inglorious---some might even say ignominious---end?”

“We knew it couldn’t last forever. It only felt like forever. We’ll all go back to our own WIPS now.”

The reporter’s face lights up as he thrusts the microphone closer. ‘The Bottom 503 Club used whips? How about chains and leather handcuffs?’

“No, no, you cretin. That’s works in progress. Although I declare there has been plenty of masochism involved since the club first opened. And I won’t even mention the suck pledge. You’ll take it all wrong. I want to thank everybody for supporting our efforts, except for the bandits. You know who you are and you should be ashamed! Bad karma! Poo on you!’ Camera pans away jerkily as Skirbo shakes her fist.

Back inside the studio. Fanny is seen hastily stubbing out a cigarette.

“The site of the infamous nightclub will be razed to accommodate a clinic for chocolate addiction and depression. Already there is a waiting list in the hundreds to occupy the first beds."

You all realize when I finally have the funds and the freedom to attend a convention that I'm wearing a tiara and a feather boa, along with a t-shirt proudly proclaiming myself Queen of the Bottom 503? I find it ironic that just as I proudly reclaim my title and determination to succeed, I lose the very thing that gave me both in the first place? Bittersweet much?

Moving on to other related matters, I have been spending the moments of my work day which don't occupy much of my brain pondering what the answers might be to a few questions I have. These issues have driven would-be writers mad for decades, I'm sure. Just because I don't have to decide on whether to use a pseudonym any time soon doesn't mean I'm not deeply concerned about it. I've been mulling over two, and considering the use of both since I want to work in two very different genres. Samantha Bagley, which is my deceased father's first name (well, Samuel anyway) combined with my mother's maiden name. I actually like the ring it has for romance/hot romance. And for contemporary novels or screenplays, I'm considering Chris Hawes, which is my mother's maiden name (Christine) combined with my father's middle name. Fairly beefy and masculine. I've never given it much thought, assuming I would always write under my own name, otherwise how could I rub it in anyone's face at the high school reunion? Having matured some since those days though, I realize there are legal issues to consider about people just randomly being able to locate me in real life. Plus, even if I publish erotica, my mother will do enough bragging on me for the both of us.

The second question relates to agents and querying both agents and publishers. Do you wait until you have one completed, solid manuscript that you are happy with before querying either? If you are happy with what you have three chapters in, do you do ahead and query and hope to God they give you six months to finish if they actually request a full? What, what, what? Now that I'm truly determined to move forward, I sort of want to go all out, and what better impetus than a query letter sent out to make you finish a book? Hmm. Then again you could wind up with egg on the face when they ask for it eagerly and you have to say, 'sorry, just now winding up the first half of the book, give us a while, eh?'

The third question relates to the Romance Writer's Association and contests. Two subjects, but really one question for me. The RWA and contests both cost money. I understand that some contests don't require a full manuscript, that a few chapters is all they want, so that's why I ask this question now. How important is it to join the RWA pre-agent, pre-contract, pre-BOOK? It's a big chunk of money every year plus there are no local chapters in my area. I would have to join the online chapter (which I'd prefer anyway) which is another chunk of money. From reading friends' blogs, I do know that many of them enter contests and many of them have done very, very well for themselves in them since Avon FanLit came about. Are they a good source of professional feedback on your manuscript? Are they just something to pop into a query letter, in the same way that me saying I was Queen of the Bottom 503 would be (if I was querying Avon)?

I'm spending large chunks of time mentally struggling with these issues at the moment, just so you guys know and feel compelled to give me answers. Even if it is just to say 'you really don't need to worry about that right now, kiddo, just get words to paper'.

On a personal note, I'm moving forward with getting my therapeutic foster care license. The two boys that I was not chosen to adopt before I met B were placed with a couple who disrupted on the older boy. He was the one I actually got to spend some time with and really liked. He's coming into the program I'm getting licensed in and they are willing to place him with me if I hurry up and get the license. Funny how life works.

I think I've rambled on long enough. Time to go pull my Avon entries and comments down. I've got just about everything else. Anyone who wants the scene assignments can email me; I got them off the moderator page. Goodbye once again, Avon FanLit. We'll never have another experience like it.

Toodles,
Sarah

Hello, my life, how I've missed you.

2008-06-02T10:13:00.013-05:00

Well, my cave troll phase is over. It will probably return, but hopefully not with the same vengeance. Most of you will notice that I deleted my previous lengthy and mostly whiny blog entries. It had to do with getting sick of my own behavior and I hope never to repeat most of it. Or talk about it. Or even remember it. Let's just bury that past and hope it stays there.

Before I talk about writing, I would like to mention that at the moment, most of my spare personal time is taken up with my yard. Fencing my yard. Digging out the twenty years of accumulated junk from previous owners that I missed initially because it's been buried under twenty years of decomposing leaves and pine straw. I stay scratched up and sore, but I feel pretty good. I should mention that in the last three or four months of pity partying (i.e., stress eating) I have gained back the forty pounds that I had lost before having major surgery in December, 07. That's discouraging as hell, but I'm ready to get back to it; ready to eat better and work out again. It's the first time I've actually yo-yo'd on my weight. This time I'm hoping to just plain yo. I need to do that because I'll start correction officer academy in August if I don't get hired sooner. Things with my daughter are going well, but nothing new to report there.

My efforts to get back to eating better and exercising have begun with the yard. I have the back yard finally fenced (thanks brother!) though gates are needed so the lawn mower doesn't actually have to come through the house to cut the front yard. I'm working on running the fenceline for the front yard now. I have ordered plants and seeds to begin gardening. Efforts will begin with peach, pear and apple trees for the back yard (I plan on putting some citrus in this fall); blueberry bushes and grapevines, to train on the new fence; strawberry, tomato, asparagus and potato plants to plant upon arrival and seeds to start in the early fall when things are caught up. My method of choice? Square Foot Gardening. Take a look: squarefootgardening.com. The book tells you absolutely everything you need to know about growing stuff in a small space; I'm terribly excited about getting started. The only real expense is the initial purchase of soil ingredients and the frames/grids for the beds. I'm hoping to save money in the long run, eat better and be able to produce most of what my family and pets need in the way of fresh fruits and vegetables every month. Next I rip out the carpet in the house and put down tile, but that's enough about that.

I've started writing again. I've guest blogged over at FanLib a few times, and I'm finishing up the last part of an informative article about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the television series. I'll post the link to that and the first two parts when it's finished. I've posted the first two scenes/chapters of the Mr. Giles' Neighborhood fan fiction that I am using to cut my writing teeth on. The link will get posted when it's finished. I have a few further blogging obligations at FanLib, where I still work part time, but after I finish the fan fic I'm going back to my own original works. I'm leaning towards working on Bloody Rose at this time, for those of you who know me as the Queen of the Bottom 503. I am taking my title back; someone pass me a tiara and a feather boa, hold the chocolate.

Toodles,

Sarah