Sunday, May 23, 2010

Shoo fly

There is a fly in our house. He's been buzzing around all weekend trying to find an exit with little luck. And if he tries what he just did again, he may be exiting our apartment in the belly of Mr. Hefty...

As my previous post noted I am in the process of perfecting something that is never quite perfect, my query. I escaped to the bedroom to make a few more adjustments but didn't realize I was followed.

In order for you to understand what happened next I need to tell you about my hair. If it was a perfect world I would permanently have my hair pulled back in the cutest darn ponytail you ever did see. But nothing is perfect, so today I'm wearing my hair down which means I'm sporting a nice mop-like style. I have a tendency like most girls to fiddle or adjust my hair while focused on something. At one point I reached up to adjust the hair falling against my right temple and that's when I heard it.

Buzz.

What the crap?

I reach up and run my fingers through my hair.

BUZZZ!

No way! The stupid flying maggot has taken shelter in my hair. And I promise you it's not because it smells. Pantene was applied and rinsed with great care this morning.

At this point I'm thinking, "Gross! A fly just landed in my hair and decided, 'This is nice. I think I'll stay.'"

Seeing that this rest stop was not approved by me, I stand up and make my way to the mirror. I toss my hair again just to make sure and...

BUZZZZZZZ!!

Heck No!

At this point I'm vigorously tossing and combing my hair, irritated as all get out that this stupid fly won't leave me alone. I reach the mirror and carefully inspect my locks looking for the intruder. I don't see or hear him anywhere else in the room so I wait. Did I kill him? Ugh, I hope his remains aren't still in my hair? Has he crawled to the other side of my head? Is this all a game to him? Then I hear him again.

No, he's not still in my hair. Somehow he managed to make it safely behind the blinds, taunted by an outside he cannot reach. (He, he!) Satisfied at his dilemma, I returned to the couch where I'm now typing this post. My attacker is still at bay for now, but if he knows what's best for him he better keep on the move or his next landing might be his last.

Now I'm going to pull my hair back.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Query Bound

To my fellow writers who are currently embarking on the mind numbing journey of writing a query: May the pithy force be with you! (Yes I'm watching Star Wars as I type. Part 5 The Empire Strikes Back.)

By now, like the novel, my query has once again undergone reconstructive surgery. I spent most of yesterday and a good chunk of my morning preparing, yet again, a suitable summary of my 360 page book into two paragraphs. I know, piece of cake right?

Wrong!

A query is not only the concentrate to someone's hard pressed orange juice, it also needs to be this eye-catching, heart pumping prose an agent will never forget. Like when Jake Sully first experienced the world of the Na'vi in his Avatar body...he just couldn't get enough. (Gosh this blog is riddled with sci-fi references :)

So with a few more updates and some cleverly placed flattery, my query will be ready to face a new round of Jedi agents. Hopefully this time around my "lightsaber" skills will catch someone's eye.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

One of those strange things...

How often does something happen to you that's just plain strange?

My average is less than a percent, but I might have upped it to a whole number the other day. It was a casual afternoon. I was enjoying a baseball game, despite the intermittent allergy twinges, with my co-workers. It was early in the 9th and a gust of wind blew through our section. With it came an unexpected friend, a yellow butterfly.

The wind's overpowering gust carried this little creature past the people in front of me until he landed on my seat. It was hard not to miss his arrival with his bright exterior. His landing was less than smooth as I watched him clumsily try to right himself. When I noticed his difficulty I offered him a hand, rather my thumb. And this is when it happened.

Without any hesitancy he not only accepted my offer of assistance, he gratefully crawled all the way onto my thumb and stopped there, content. Now I don't know about you but butterflies don't willfully crawl onto my fingers everyday. Despite my desire to be someone like Mary Poppins who can sing along with birds in a conversation, nature has never latched onto me like my little friend did.

I watched him in great shock, for not only did he seem happy to remain perched on my thumb but he also seemed to trust me. At one point another evil gust of wind blew through our section, and like a mom throwing my arm like an added seat belt towards the passengers seat, my other hand flew up to protect him from the gust. Now most rightfully skiddish creatures would retreat at this sudden movement, but not my little friend. He just sat on my thumb. And he did so for another 15-20 minutes without any sign of retreat. At one point his tongue even gave my skin a taste as he crawled further down my thumb toward my palm.

Now if you recall I mentioned this all began at the beginning of the 9th inning, and all things must reach an end. Seeing that I couldn't very well take my little friend with me, I don't think the car ride would have suited him, I carefully encouraged him to take refuge behind a steal beam where the wind's dauntless pursuit could not reach his frail frame.

I hope he's made it further than the ball park. Maybe found a nice little garden where he can settle, marry and make other yellow butterflies. But wherever he is today, I am grateful for the moment he gave me. One of those strange little things...

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Changes, Changes, Changes...

I should have known it. I should have known my book would assume yet another transformation. And I officially understand why it takes so MANY years to "finish" a book. Writing is the easy part...editing on the other hand, well that's a whole different ball of wax :)

After almost three years of development, my book is a seasoned patient of reconstructive surgery. Should I dare say I'm done? Never! Then it won't ever happen. Although at this point I'd like to hand it over to someone official who can tell me to stop (he, he).

Just thought I'd share this simple update of my book's current state of fluid completion. The next couple of weeks I'll address things like punctuation and sentence flow and then...

Anyone interested in taking a look???