Cutting up

Who would've thought that a four-year-old would be so determined to have homework?  Lorelai got a box of art supplies for her birthday and has been diligently cutting paper into tiny pieces and coloring/marking everything she could find.  (Stay tuned for purple hands at a later date.) 

This is yet another example of what happens when I'm doing housework/playing on Facebook/trying to revise my novel:

Maternal Karma

So, I've done a bad, bad thing.  I told my four-year-old daughter that people who don't eat breakfast are more likely to be overweight than those who do.  Sure, I was telling her the truth, but I didn't feel too hot about introducing the subject of weight to a preschooler.  That said, I was desperate because she refuses to eat breakfast before going to preschool, and I feel for her teachers and classmates if she gets hungry.  I swear she was a suffragette who mastered the concept of hunger strikes back in the day.  Besides, it worked!  She ate her breakfast.

Once again it's Monday.  Once again Her Majesty doesn't want to eat her breakfast.  Once again I remind her of the importance of eating breakfast and, finally, mention the threat of obesity.  She looks me in the eye and says, "But you ate breakfast, and you're fat.  I'm not."

You can't argue with kid logic like that because, ladies and gentlemen, it's maternal karma.

Monday's moment of truth

Okay, blogosphere, I still weigh 151.5.  Even though most folks save their confessions for Friday, this is my confession for the day.  I'm hoping that the new school year and my new calorie counting iPhone app will help me make some progress, but I'm still wrestling with my sprained ankle.  Funny thing about that:  I won't be able to use it for another 5 to 7 weeks.  Apparently, most cardio actually requires you to put weight on your foot in one way or another.

That said, I put my Jillian Michaels protein in my oatmeal this morning, so I'm sure to be ripped by Wednesday. : )

Our first winner!

I know it's been forever, but I wanted everyone to see that I did, indeed, reward Pamela Mason with her very own bottle of Mad Housewife wine. And I learned to stick with things that ship from this point forward.

If you see Pam, congratulate her!

Dear Harlequin,

We have to talk about the titles you choose for books these days. As an intelligent woman with an advanced degree, I don't turn my nose up at your category offerings. No, I consider a good category romance to be a fine sherbet, a way to cleanse my palate between courses of meaty literary and nonfiction books. Your stories of heroes and heroines who grow and change in order to triumph over adversity and find true love bring a cathartic twinge to my usually cynical heart.

Alas, I have to confess I feel stupid carrying around books that pertain only to cowboys, firemen, and secret sons. Some of them sound like personal ads--Dusty: Wild Cowboy, comes to mind. What about His Hired Baby? The first thing that comes to my twisted mind is a bounty hunter baby or a petite mafioso. And just how many books do you have that play on some version of a cowboy and a son? I love cowboys as much as the next girl, but the picture on the front would probably suffice to get the point across.

The first Harlequin I ever read was by Leigh Michaels and called Sell Me a Dream, an appropriate title considering the heroine sold real estate. My best friend Janette and I also were great fans of Flirtation River by Bethany Campbell--another title you don't see every day. What about The Daddy Trap or The Ties that Blind? (also by Leigh Michaels) I'm pretty sure Penny Jordan's Man-Hater was a provocative title back in 1984, and what about her Dangerous Interloper or Island of the Dawn? Are we women so simple that we have to have short titles devoid of all symbolism in order to pick up a book? I hope not.

So, Harlequin, keep up the good work finding intelligent authors who craft wonderful stories that are, for the most part, for women and by women, but please work on those titles. Heaven knows romance authors have enough trouble getting respect without being saddled with short, unimaginative titles. More importantly, I'm awful at titles and could really use your help. After all, I wrote a prospective Harlequin called "Married to the Mortician." Obviously, I could use a little help with titles myself.

Most Sincerely,
Sally

Okay, folks, what are some of your favorite or least favorite titles? (No need to list "Married to the Mortician;" it didn't exactly make it to publication.)

I'm Not Dead Yet!

Just wanted to write something down on my poor, poor neglected blog. Alas, Moonlight and Magnolias Conference is taking up a great deal of my time so I may not have many new posts here for a while. There's also the question of laundry and, once again, finding what has died in the kitchen. (The latter is particularly disturbing because the kitchen is relatively clean at the moment.)

Stay tuned for a heartfelt letter to Harlequin about their titles, a Monday reality check about my quest to lose weight permanently, and a Day in the Life of Lorelai. These are posts that have been nebulously planned in my gray matter, at least.

In the meantime, for the sake of my sanity, please sign up for Moonlight and Magnolias and bring along 2 or 10 friends. It's going to be a great conference for a great price!

Maggie Finalist!!!

After complaining to Stephanie Bond that I had never so much as even placed in a contest, I managed to win the Duel on the Delta with Beulah Land and the Happy Hour Choir. Then, on Friday night I found out I am a finalist for this year's unpublished Maggies with the same manuscript! It's some stiff competition, but I can honestly say that it's an honor to be nominated. (That and my manuscript goes to Latoya Smith of Grand Central, and there's not enough room for all the "yay"s that should then go here for that.)

It all goes to show we should always keep plugging along. It's only taken 13 years and 5 manuscripts to learn some valuable lessons and to find my voice and genre. You can find out more about those lessons on Thursday when I blog over at the Petit Fours and Hot Tamales.

Pardon me, I'll be walking on Cloud Nine!

News from Nationals

Ladies and gents,

I had a blast at Nationals. Free signed books, people. It was a dangerous place for me, especially since my TBR pile was already approaching the height of the Big Chicken.

That said, all the news that is news? I did get two requests for partials of Beulah Land. (Yay!) And more big news? Starting this week or next, I'll be moving to a once or twice a week format.

For today, I have to go be a mom. Not feeling so super, but I'm glad to be home on mommy duty and super-excited to work on the "writer" part, too.