STINKY, SWEATY BOOKS

Yesterday in Playa del Carmen…

I strolled the book section…

Of a department store called Liverpool...

I didn’t expect to buy anything…

Because all the books are in Spanish…

But even so, I like to look at the cover art…

And then…

*heart races*

I came upon a measly little orphaned shelf…

With some books—in English!

And they were current!

There was John Grisham…

Tom Clancy…

David Baldacci…

Nicholas Sparks…

Anne Rice…

Even Jodi Picoult.

SQUEE!!!

Now mind you…

I have devices to read e-books…

And I understand the convenience of e-readers…

And how many books I can store on them…

(and I have)

But still…

It’s not the same as…

Being drawn in by the book’s cover art…

Picking the book up…

Reading the back cover blurb…

And then…

Smelling the book.

(hope the security cameras didn’t catch that)

Kindle, Nook, Kobo Glo and all other e-readers…

May change the way people read books…

But they can’t change the way I feel about books.

And really…

What do e-readers smell like?

Stinky, sweaty palms?

So?

Ever sniff a book?

If you have an e-reader…

Have you ever sniffed it?

Always, Em-Musing

BOOK KILL

Saw a dead dog on the highway…

Which made me think of agents.

Oh, wait…

That doesn’t sound good…

Actually, seeing the dog got me thinking…

That even though there are deer here in Mexico…

I’ve never seen a dead one on the highway.

I guess they don’t go running out in front of cars…

Like they do back in the States...

They stay in their own habitat...

Because the jaguars and pumas...

Keep their population in check...

And that’s what got me thinking about agents…

And publishing houses too..

You see….

Just like big cats...

Agents and editors keep mediocre…

Or worse—the real stinker books in check.

Well, they used to…

Now anyone can print anything.

Is that a good thing?

Is an over population of books…

As bad as an over population of deer?

Is keeping the book herd thin best?

Oh, hell…

I don’t know.

It was a bad night tossing and turning.

Before I fell asleep last night…

I had asked my muse…

To come up with a post for my blog today…

And this is what she came up with…

Maybe I need a big cat…

To keep my stinker blogs in check.

Always, Em-Musing

ENERGY FLUX

Jinxes…

Do you believe in them?

Here’s a scenario…

Something good happens…

Like a favorable response to a query…

And you’re requested to send more…

You wanna jump up and down…

Call your family and friends and go, SQUEEE!

But?  

Will your vain enthusiasm…

Jinx the process?

But then…

If you believe in the concept of a divine matrix…

That ALL things are connected…

And one thought, good or bad, can feed off another…

So that if you stay mum…

And act like the response you got was no big deal…

Have you then sent out ‘it’s no big deal’ vibes?

And the matrix honors those ‘it’s no big deal’ vibes…

So that the agent who requested more…

Looks at your submission and goes…

“Eh, this is no big deal.”

And in essence…

You’ve sabotaged your future success…

With your ‘it’s no big deal’ energy vibes.

What do you think?

Do you believe in jinxes?

Or a divine matrix?

How much do you believe energy…

Either positive or negative…

Can dictate your future or success?

And where do you put your energies?

Always, Em-Musing

I HEAR WHO?

“Leigh. Wake up.”
I heard this at 4:29 this morning…

A split second before the alarm went off.
Hmm?
Often, I’ve woken up…
Just minutes or seconds before the alarm…
But never have I heard my name being called.
And who was saying my name?
Was it me calling me?
Or some other entity?
Like a spirit guide?
Have I, they, it  always called my name…
And I just never heard before?
Or was this the fist time?
It’s known we humans have an inner clock…
That operates without us having to do anything.
So? Was my inner clock waking me?
Did it not trust the alarm on my clock would work?
And then I got to wondering…
If my inner clock is communicating with me…
Maybe I can communicate with it…
Maybe at night…
After I say my prayers and before I fall asleep…
I can tell my clock…
"Slow down!
You don’t have to age me so fast.

Or how about rewinding a decade?

Or even just a few years?"
After all, it’s my clock…
Shouldn’t I be able to control it…
Rather than it controlling me?
What about you?
Ever hear voices in the night…
Or anytime of day...
That you can’t identify?
Who or what do you think it is?

Always, Em-Musing

CLEANING FLUID

The other day, I splurged. I hired a cleaning lady…

I should have been thrilled…

But I felt wired…

Like ten cups of coffee and an impending panic attack.

While on one hand (complete with cleaning rag)

I knew this non-cleaning time…

Would be a great time to write and submit.

But on the other hand (with another cleaning rag in it)…

As I sat at my computer to write…

I couldn’t…

I had to see what she was doing…

To make sure she was cleaning ‘my’ way.

I was stealth.

Unfortunately though…

I saw her stiffen each time I stood behind her….

Watching each swipe she made.

Finally, I realized I was stalking her…

So I made a cup of joe…

Went back into my office…

Sat down at my computer…

Turned on the Internet radio...

And took a deep breath and e x h a l e d…

I felt my mind relax, flow.

“Senora, he terminado.”

“What? Oh your done? Great.”

I looked at the clock…

Wow, four hours…

My house was clean.

But more important…

Four queries sent and four pages in my W.I.P.

I know it doesn’t sound like a lot…

But that’s OK.

A process is beginning.

And you?

What do you do to concentrate on writing?

And has your writing been fluid lately?

Always, Em-Musing

I DECLARE WAR!

WAR!

Remember that card game?

Well, I recently played it with my cleaning lady…

But we didn’t play it with cards…

But rather with cleaning products.

Her first time over…

I went over how I like my house cleaned…

I started off with explaining the benefits of a Swiffer…

That, mind you I risked having confiscated….

A few weeks ago at Cancun’s airport customs…

It was after that, that the war began….

Me:  For wet floors, I use a sponge mop.”

She: “I’d rather use a wet mop,”

Me:  “I want you to use these micro fiber cloths.”

She: “I like to use my own rags to wipe things.”

Me:  “I want you to use water, bleach or vinegar…

She: “I like to use Fabuloso. It’s better than your 

       cleaning stuff.”

Me:  Oh, no, no, no! You must never use Fabuloso!”

She: Glared at me like I just pinched her baby

Me:  “My house is not caca or barfy dirty…

       It’s just dusty and dirt dirty…

       It doesn’t need to be disinfected.

       OK, yes, the toilet is icky…

       Then use bleach. But that’s it. ”

She:  “But I’ve always used Fabuloso.”

Me:  “I don’t like chemicals.”  

She: “You can’t be clean without Fabuloso.”

Me:  “Yes you can. And besides, it’ll ruin my floor.”

She: “But all women use Fabuloso.”

Me:  “But I’m not all women.”

She:  Glared at me.

Me:   Glared back.

She:  Glared even harder.

Me:   “Look, this is my house. If you don’t my rules…

        You can—

Whoa!

What was I doing having a stand-off?

Not too many cleaning women speak English…

I could wind up being the loser here if she quit…

And I’d probably have the same stand-off…

With every other cleaning woman.

So…

Perhaps I’ll reconsider some things…

But never, never  my stand on Fabulosa…

Because…

I—Declare—War—on—Fabuloso!

So?

Think I’ve got OCD—Obsessive-Cleaning-Dissorder?

Have you ever been obsessive about something?

What was it?

Always, Em-Musing

SCENTS AND SCENTABILITY

Clean… 

What is it a matter of?

Sight or smell?

Here in Mexico…

There’s a cleaning product called Fabuloso…

Not so fabulous to me…

Besides cleaning dirt off of stuff…

Fabulosa can remove grout…

And take the finish off of natural tile. 

(I’ve seen it happen at the condo I rented) 

This product comes in all sizes…

Even five gallon containers…

And has over twelve different scents.

Hmm?

Having smelled the fumes of Fabuloso everywhere in Mexico…

I wonder…

Is Fabuloso the Mexican idea of what clean smells like?

I know some people think the smell of moth balls is clean.

Me? Oh, yuck! Smells like granny’s closet.

For some, the smell of pine makes them feel clean…

And others, lemons, oranges, and even cucumbers.

And if you’ve ever traveled the Pennsylvania turnpike…

You know what they think clean smells like. Yuck again!

My kind of clean?

I’ve been known to sniff Murphy Oil Soap and get high.

And then I got to wondering even more…

If a clean scent is so important in our lives…

How important is a clean scent in your novels?

Have you ever used a clean scent…

As a major or minor part of a story?

And what about you?

What smell makes you feel clean?

Always, Em-Musing

CHAIR-IRRITABLE EVENT

OK…
I’m settled in my new  house. mostly…
Got my office together, somewhat…
So I seized the day, a few days ago…
And sat down to write and also send out queries.
At end of the day though…
ARRGGHH!
My back was sore…
Really sore.
Why, I wondered?
It’s the same chair I’ve always had…
Same—wait a minute…
The time I’m spending in the chair has changed.
I’m talking seven hours I spent in this chair…
And besides my back being sore…
The circulation in my legs was almost cut off…
And my butt had fallen asleep…
Please don’t ask me to explain…
How a butt can fall asleep, because I can’t. 
(and don’t ask about the sensation when it woke up) 
I then scrutinized my chair…
For heaven’s sake! The seat was mini. 

(trust me, many things are mini-sized here in Mexico) 
I never noticed the seat before…
Probably because I’ve never sat in it…
Long enough to feel pain.
So?
What’s a writer to do?
This writer bought another one and…
Ooooh! Ahhhh! Oh, yeah baby!
If you know the Dinah Washington song… 
 “What A Difference A Day Makes”…
Than you can sing along with my new lyrics.
Here goes… 
What a difference a chair makes…
Sitting hours and writing…
Now my body is delighting…
And there’s no more pain. 
So?
Ever experience a bad chair?
What lengths did you go to remedy it?
Or are you one of those writers…
Who can write anywhere under any circumstance…
In any chair?

Always, Em-Musing

WRITER'S FEET REWRITE HISTORY

I believe the wheel was not invented by caveman…

So his life would be easier...
But rather by cavewoman…

Because of her feet. 
Let me explain…
Since I’ve been here in the tropics of Mexico…
My feet have widened…
My bunions have doubled in size…
And my calluses have thickened every which way.
“Beach feet!” my friend Donna told me.
“Huh?” I said.
“From going barefoot and wearing flip flops all the time.”
“Why?”
“Shoes kept your feet in place.
Now your feet are all over the place.”
And that’s when I knew why the wheel was invented.
My theory goes like this…
When caveman made shoes for cavewoman…
Her feet looked better...
From then on she wouldn’t settle for wide, callused feet anymore…
No more going barefoot in the brambles and over rocks…

But then she didn't want her shoes to get dirty...
So she demanded the wheel to be invented…
So she could be wheeled around and not ruin her shoes.
So next time you scoff at how many shoes women need…
Remember…
If it wasn’t for women loving their shoes…
To keep their feet neat…
The wheel would never had been invented.
I think the history of the wheel needs to be edited.
So?
Anyone else experience beach feet?
Or got an addition to shoes?

Always, Em-Musing

AUTHOR IN A JAR

Ah…
A new year…
And for me…
A little reverse concept…
It’s, out with the new...
And in with the old…
Face creams that is. 

(don’t laugh) 
Each year, my New Year’s Resolution is…

To finish all jars of face cream…
Before I buy another. 
(I said don’t laugh) 
You see, I buy so many creams…

I could stock a warehouse.
Not only have I bought all these creams…
But I also bought the hype—Youth in a Bottle!
After looking at all the jars and tubes…
My brain scrambles…
Trying not to calculate how much I spent on them.
And then…
A thought popped up…
Like a middle-aged pimple…
What if I combined all the creams?
Would it create the ubberist cream of all?
Or would each cancel the other out?
I figured at least I should try before I pitch them…
You see, as a writer...
I’m on a mission to stay looking good…
For when I become a published author. 
(I said don’t laugh) 
But then...
I can’t be the only writer worried about image…
What about you?
Do you have an image of you as an author…
That you maintain?
What is it?

Always, Em-Musing

WRITING COMPANIONS

If you’ve ever traveled to another country…

You know you have to fill out a customs form…

To answer questions like…

Are you carrying pathogens, samples…

Goo gobs of money, etc,etc.

Of course I always answer, no.

Then…

Just a few days ago:

Scenario: Customs at Cancun airport.

Characters: Me and a Mexican customs agent a.k.a MCA

MCA:  Are you a salesperson?

Me:    Am I a salesperson? No! (laughs, unwisely)

MCA:  Then why do you have a dozen of these boxes?

Me:    (getting excited) They’re my Swiffers! I just moved into

         my new home. I need these to clean. And if my 

         house isn’t clean, I can’t concentrate and write. 

         You see, I’m a writer.

MCA:  Why don’t you buy them here in Mexico?

Me:    I can’t get Swiffers in Mexico. I tried everywhere.

MCA:  Why don’t you just use a broom or mop like 

         Mexican women?

Me:    (getting more excited)  Because nothing cleans a 

        floor better than Swiffers.

MCA:  (looking at me like I’m a nut) And these bottle and cans?

Me:    Oh, that’s Old English and my stainless steel 

        cleaner.

MCA:  Are you sure you’re not a salesperson?

Me:    No, really! I’m Swedish.

MCA:  What does that have to do with it?

Me:    Next to sex, we Swedes love to clean.

MCA:  (clearly NOT amused)

Me:    (getting teary eyed realizing that was a stupid thing to say)

          You’re not going to take away my Swiffers are you?

MCA:  Glares at my stash of cleaning products then 

         waves me on.

Me:    Muchas gracias! Muchas, muchas gracias!

Phew! That was a close call. And really, please don’t think I have OCD…

It’s just that a girl has to clean how a girl likes to clean so she can write. Right?

And what about you?

How right does your world have to be to write?

Or...

If you moved to another country…

What product couldn’t you function without?

Always, Em-Musing