One Year and Seven Random Facts

Despite January marking the one year anniversary of this blog (Wow, that's a lot of philosophical bs), this is an inaugural MEME, tagged officially by Marilyn, unofficially by Maureen:

The rules of this MEME:
Link to the person who tagged you.
Leave a comment on their blog, so their readers can visit you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your blog.
Include links to their blogs and let each of them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Here goes:

1. The only celebrity I've been close enough to smell was Ted Nugent. I know, right? Oh, and I got a hug from Scott Thompson Baker. If you weren't a GH fan around 1988, this will mean nada. While googling for a picture of him as Colton Shore, I ran across this beaut of him as Kudak'Etan in a Star Trek DSN episode. Do you recognize him now? I assure you, my encounter was infinately more satisfying with him than with the Motor City Madman.

2. I once roamed the dark streets of Munich, lost and alone for four hours when I was 18.

3. I prefer beer to any other form of alcohol. My favorite? Warm German beer mixed with lemonade.

4. I've seen a ghost.

5. A T.V. addiction I'll rarely admit to: Little House on the Prairie

6. I once wrote to Paramount Pictures under the pretense of an article about positive media influences on teenagers to satisfy my Richard Dean Anderson infatuation. They sent me a press kit so complete, the only things missing were duct tape and the chewing gum he used to make a bomb in season one. Can anyone say "shrine"?

7. There was a moment--a brief flash of near-death--nine years ago that I don't remember. I believe that instant was filled with nothing less than a guardian angel, and I've often wondered if it was one of those pre-ordained "exit" moments some believe we have in our lifetime.

And, in the interest of not wanting to unleash bad MEME karma, I tag: Sandra, Sherry, Jayliss, Andrea, Delores, Shannon and Melanie.

Nay, Meme Away

I don't run across too many memes that center on books. When I do, I have to play even though no one tagged me, which could be breaking some kind of blogosphere rule. Since I am Ringmaster of this Vortex, I say, "Nay, meme away." Mercy dictates I edit out the one about Twilight lest my blog visitors break out into fits of narcissistic angst and a sickly pallor, though the rest have a decidedly teen vibe to them. Let's channel that from our past, shall we?

1. What are you dying to read this summer?

Mostly, I'm dying to read my name on Publisher's Lunch. Or that Hugh Jackman is requesting permission to follow me on Twitter. For now, I'll settle on The Seance by John Harwood, a gothic, Victorian thriller. All over that.

2. Where do you hang to read a book?

I hang in the car while the baby-on-board, Toyota-lovin' mama in front of me at the ATM itemizes her wallet before and after her transaction. I hang at breakfast, always better than a dose of Meredith Viera. I hang on my favorite over-sized chair when Sir Cat allows me.

3. What was your favorite book when you were little?

Hands down, The Giving Tree. I had two copies: One with apple juice and Cheetos stains and another with the inscription 'Laura, may you always be like the tree.' Most days, I am.

4. What's the last book that made you all emo?

Angel Girl by Laurie Friedman. I know Herman Rosenblat's story is not true, but somehow it doesn't matter. A thousand other stories like it come from tragedy because love transcends all.

5. What's the scariest book you've ever read?

Stephen King's Gerald's Game. Out of all his books, this one really creeps me out.

6. What's the funniest book you've ever read?

I had a cartoon book when I was in high school, something like 101 Funniest Ways to Die. I never sit beneath a ceiling fan that I don't think about that book.

7. If you lend a book to your bff, how soon do you expect to get it back?

If ever, great. Books should be shared.

8. Snacking while reading-guilty?

Aside from the breakfast thing, which somehow falls outside this personal rule, I don't ever snack while reading. Too distracting and messy.

9. Name a book that needs more zombies.

Wellsey's The Time Machine. And yes, I'm on a quest to use this graphic as much as possible.

10. What's the most random thing you've ever used as a bookmark?

A dry spaghetti noodle

If you're here, I tag you. Answer one or all in the comments so we can pretend we knew you when angst was your predominant vibe.

1-2-3

I found this meme-okay, I stole this meme-from another writer's blog. Since I'm knee-high in revisions, cracked black pepper popcorn and re-wetting eyedrops, and can't produce a coherent thought to save my hero's life after today's word count, here's the rules:

1) Post an excerpt from page 123 of your work-in-progress
2) If you write short or haven't made it to page 123 yet, post from page 12 or 23

There's no official tag (because that would be-well-annoying), but if you're reading this, we'd love a quick sample of your writing. Leave us a taste here or let us know where we can find it on your blog. If you're a reader, post us a line from page 123 of the novel your bookmark is parked in, along with author and title.

The Night Caller, page 123

"I have proof. A nightgown and this," Evan scrambled to the drawing and unrolled it. "Her sketch. She left them both in the floorboard. For me."

Margaret's blank assessment of the tree, the white spaces of light, triggered a spark of annoyance.

"You don't believe me."

"I believe she's real to you. Those things could have been there for years."

Evan's controlled exhale flowed hot past his rigid nostrils. She could have spouted concrete quantum physics disproving his theory and it wouldn't have changed his mind.

"I'm not crazy. I'm not like my mother."

Margaret rose and placed her hand, warmed through the chipped stoneware, on the back of his own. "I can't say, Sweetheart. But there are worse things than loving someone you can't see. It's loving someone you can, but you can't feel it back anymore. Love is always a gift, no matter what form it takes."

A vise cinched Evan's throat. He didn't trust himself with anything else, so he nodded and found comfort in the tape measure. Fastened in on itself again.

Have fun and post away...

No Cooter Jokes. I Promise.

I was going to post this today...



because I'm feeling snarky and the 1-2 combo of Lost(Holy Volkswagon on fire, Batman!) and Life on Mars trapped in the 70's is really doing a number on my nostalgia gene. Then I received this super-sweet celebratory card from Pam complete with The General Lee and I had to post it:


from Pam's blog Wednesday:
Then, when the nominations were announced and I frantically checked my category, I didn’t see my name there, but I did see somebody familiar—my separated-at-birth friend L.A. Mitchell. Somehow seeing that she had been nominated eased my pain of not. And she’d also better watch out in D.C. because I’m bringing a freaking bullhorn to the ceremony and when she wins, the only thing the crowd is going to hear is me yelling and my bullhorn playing “Dixie”, just like the horn on the General Lee.

The General Lee is now the perfect symbol of our writing journey. It's road-weary and the doors don't always open, but it takes flight on rare and special turns and it'll get us there. Thank you, my friend!

Vesper has bestowed a sisterhood blog award on me and a meme of twenty five authors who've influenced my writing (thank you!!). Though I feel very Daisy Duke to her Elizabeth Barrett Browning in the blogosphere, I shall give it a go on Monday. Until then...

Favorite Dukes of Hazzard memory...go

Creative Blogger? Me? Pshaw.

Vesper, ye of the wish-I'd-written-that prose, has awarded The Vortex a creative blogger award. I shall try to give my acceptance speech before someone jumps on the podium and declares it should go to another with far greater soul and fashion sense. My candy-apple posts and pop culture cracks hardly seem worthy of such a thing, but I do have moments of serious navel-gazing introspection. Like here. And here. But for now, the award's rules state I must offer up seven trivial things about me. I'll strive for fresh here, as my prior memes are just this side of the TMI border:

1. I've always wanted a Jeep, but I settled for a Toyota. I love driving my standard shift and think everyone should have one so drivers will stop 4-way multi-tasking behind the wheel and just drive.

2. A large percentage of high school and college I b.s-ed my way through because my writing was like a new penny, mint-clean and eye-catching but not worth much. The teachers/professors who saw through it were the ones I most admired.

3. I've chased tornadoes multiple times with teams of meteorologists.

4. My greatest fear is being submerged underwater in my car.

5. When I was five, I decided to be a teacher. I never once wavered from that decision and never understood people who can't find their place in this world.

6. Ave Maria makes me cry. Every time. Unless sung by chipmunks.

7. I carry a blown-glass smiley face in the bottom of my purse. It was given to me by a very special person and I always seem to re-discover it when I most need it.

I usually break meme rules and refuse to pick someone to continue it, but since the challenge is given along with accolades and adoration, I choose:

Jen, Melanie, Sherry, Pam, Robin, Laughingwolf and Sandra this time around.

Thank you, Vesper, and thank you all for being such a special part of my blogging world. On the topic of trivial randomness, we'll usher in the weekend with this question: Other than the standard items (credit cards, money, driver's license, etc.) what is one interesting item you keep in your wallet?

Holy Jim Caviezel, I'm Flying My Freak Flag

You know that Cheese-Whiz holiday movie called Unlikely Angel starring Dolly Parton? I adore it. So instead of doing a random holiday meme that I was tagged with two days ago, I want to sum up how I feel about this time of year by getting all up into this movie.
If you haven't seen it, it's about a less-than-angelic singer who dies and visits St. Peter at the pearly gates. He refuses her, but not before he gives her a second chance to earn angel wings. Her goal becomes to bring together a family that has lost the emotional ju-ju Hallmark says families should have this time of year. Story goal set, St. Pete drops a ticking time bomb to ensure you won't swig down the sap on a hearty sip of egg nog and nod off: by Christmas Eve. He drops her on this family's front lawn with a guitar. Because, really, who would Dolly be without her guitar?

The family mistakenly assumes she is the new nanny-stop me if you've heard this before-because the troublesome children have exhausted all other nannies. But Dolly's got spunk and a penchant for breaking out into Christmas carols and warming their adolescent hearts. She can't replace their dead mother, but she can be a go-to girly-girl because the overworked, overstressed non-Dad-of-the-year simply has no time for them anymore. He's emotionally vacant. Dolly plays matchmaker and brings cheer to a grieving family. At the risk of a no-surprise spoiler, she accomplishes her feat of bringing Hallmark to the family by midnight on Christmas Eve, thus earning her wings and a primo spot in the choir of heavenly hosts. Ick, you say? Whoa, there. Back up that four-wheel drive.

My opinion of this movie could be colored by my love for Dolly. At the risk of waving my freak flag in a parade of pop culture mainstream, she has a space in my ipod parked right next to Pantera and Avenged Sevenfold. Her I Will Always Love You voice has got to be about the closest things to angels singing as it gets. Like a preview of heaven. She has never apologized for who she is. She's never had to. She has risen above that which has defined her-which, don't get me started, but anyone who has ever told a joke at her expense has never known the emotional pain that goes along with that particular feature-and crafted an empire based on old-fashioned Southern values. Let's face it, the world could use a heaping dollup of that gravy on its plate.

The movie is trite and loaded with saccharine, but Holy Jim Caviezel, it makes you feel good at the end. For that one Christmas Eve night, all is right with the world. As it should be.

And please don't get me started on holiday Folgers commercials. You really don't want to go there.

If you want to fly your freak flag and watch, CMT is showing Unlikely Angel on December 21, 24, and--when else?--Christmas.

Why Six? I Have No Idea.

Who am I to stand in the way of web karma? Thanks to Melanie, I'll subject everyone here to a self-indulgent display of six unspectacular things about me. Maybe someone will realize we were separated at birth or that my simultaneous affinity for Sebastian Bach and Willie Nelson is wholly disturbing and block the Vortex feeds. Nevertheless...onward.

1. My musical tastes are polar. In one day I can wax nostalgic on Johnny Cash or Waylon Jennings and remember long family car rides across the Texas panhandle when I was ten, then turn on the arena rock satellite channel and know every word of an Anthrax song. Top forty makes me want to pull my fingernails out with pliers. I use music to connect to my stories and characters, but I can't listen while I write.

2. I try not to eat while I write-it's distracting and messy-but if I do, it's either the heavier-than-a-brick lemon bar at Spot #2 or it's black pepper popcorn in a porcelain snowman bowl. Hey, it's hot here. A girl can dream, right?

3. My most hated chore is matching socks. Normally, I'm a patient individual, but it all seems so cyclical and pointless. I'd rather send the masses to kneel at the altar of the sock basket each day. Dig, people. Dig!

4. In most of my recent dreams, I'm back in college. I have no idea what this means.

5. I completely understand why the show "Wipeout" is such a hit. The host's sarcasm along with my propensity to giggle madly at the ungraceful, physical misfortune of others-and myself-has evoked tears at times. This, no doubt, comes from the same place within that has appreciated History of the World, Part 1 and Airplane more times than should be allowed.

6. My secret writing fantasy is to ghostwrite a series for beginning chapter book readers that is so wildly popular, movies and McDonald's tie-ins soon follow. The income stream will make me independently wealthy so I can afford a mountain cottage to hole up in and write commercial fiction.

Here's where I deviate from the rules. If you like, pretend I tagged you. If the thought of a meme saddled to your web persona like an albatross leaves you cringing and clicking your browser's back button, have no fear. Everyone here is off the hook.

Have a great day!

A Good Cause and A Ghostly Pause

Today, I'm entering a bid in Brenda Novak's Fourth Annual Online Auction to Benefit Diabetes Research. And no, it's not the autographed photo of Fabio. I'm waiting to indulge my of-late preoccupation with him until I'm at a future Romantic Times convention, when he's tired and saucy to see where his grasp hits, geographically speaking. Be sure to visit Liz Maverick and Marianne Mancusi's Rebels of Romance blog (RT convention, Day 4 Part 1) if that joke jettisoned your pre-java brain.

Items in the auction range from once in a lifetime getaways to your favorite author's mountain cabin or beach cabana to handcrafted jewelry and gift baskets; autographed author and celebrity merchandise to critiques and lunches with heavy hitters in the publishing industry. People who can make a difference in a writer's career, much as you can in the fight against diabetes. Pop over there if you haven't already and help Brenda reach her goal of $300,000 this year.

I've been tagged by Marilyn, similar to my 1-2-3 post; and at the risk of venturing into non-fiction like Maureen, my autographed copy of Ghosts of East Texas and the Pineywoods by Mitchel Whitington called to me. First the meme; then, as Paul Harvey would say, "the rest of the story."

page 123:

"Right before she died, she looked up at a nurse and asked, "Are my babies all right?" The nurse immediately notified the County Sheriff that there might have been infants involved in the wreck, and the officers scoured the creek bed for the rest of the night. They pulled the car out, of course, and even got volunteers with hunting dogs to assist in the search. The bodies of the three infants were never found."

This comes from the Sad Tale of Cry Baby Bridge near Dekalb, Texas. Legend has it that a woman who lived in the countryside was driving back from town a quarter century ago with triplets in the backseat along with her groceries. She'd seen a friend at the store and gossiped as the afternoon stretched long. Worried her husband would be upset because his dinner wouldn't be ready on time, she rushed home, rounded a sharp corner just before a one lane bridge and slid off into the creek below.

To this day, when two cars meet on opposing sides of the country bridge and a driver honks three times to pass or wave the other on through, and the night is warm enough to roll down the windows, it is rumored that passersby can hear the sounds of babies crying in the night.

And the rest of the story? After further investigation, author Mitchel Whitington discovered Crybaby Bridge is an urban legend that dates back to the 1970s with tales from similar country bridges from Oklahoma to South Carolina. Had you, didn't I?

If you love paranormal non-fiction magnified with a lens of local flavor, it's a fun read.

What I'm reading now: Dixie Cash's Since You're Leaving Anyway, Take Out the Trash.