THE ITCHING HOUR

Superstition says…

That if your right palm itches, money is coming your way

Well last night…

I woke up out of a sound sleep…

With the heel of my right foot itching incessantly.

So?

Being it was my right foot…

Does it mean I’m going to lose money?

As I scratched, I asked myself, why would I lose money?

Then I realized that I shelled out some bucks for RWA Nationals.

What if I’m going to be a big loser there?

I quickly chided myself for thinking negatively.

It’s probably only a mosquito bite, I thought.

But there’s no blood source on a callus.

Yikes! Spider bite?

After all, the spider I almost killed got away.

Revenge?

Naw.

My cat was sleeping by my feet.

If there was a spider there, surely she would have pounced.

Then all of a sudden…

Different parts of my body started itching.

Do you know how hard it is to scratch a back while lying on it?

Hives?

Naw.

I hadn’t eaten anything new or suspicious.

I glanced at the clock—2 A.M.

It was too early to get up and start writing.

I was actually expecting it to be 3 A.M…

Because isn’t that the witching hour?

And this incessant itching sure felt like…

Some evil imp was attacking me.

Hmm?

I had to find a way to get my mind off of the itching…

And the spider…

So I started reciting my pitch…

That is actually part of my latest version of my query letter.

(yes, I know, yet another version)

Over and over I recited the pitch until…

Sweet sleep came upon me…

And I woke up at my usual time of 4:30…

Feeling very positive…

About my pitch and…

NO ITCH!

Always, Em-Musing

DEAD BRAIN TALKING

I feel brain dead today.

RWA Nationals is two weeks away…

And I’m still working on my pitch…

Designing a business card…

Maybe even a promotional piece…

And of course putting together my wardrobe.

I hear the hotel will be freezing!

( at least I won’t be bloated)

I also need to find photos on the Internet…

Of the famous authors that are going to be there.

Like Nora Roberts, Debbie Macomber and more…

So if my luck has it …

And I wind up standing next to one of them (yeah right!)…

And they're not wearing a name tag (they don't need to)…

I'll recognize them and won’t say something really stupid like…

“So what do you write?”

And speaking of name tags …

I just read in RWR…

That being a "newbie," I’ll be wearing a bright orange name tag.

At first, I didn’t like that I’d be singled out like that.

But then I figured…

If I do say something stupid (very likely)…

Whoever I'm talking to…

Will take pity on me because…

They’ll know I've just got a bad case of…

Newbie nerves.

Always, Em-Musing

BANANAS FOSTER . . .

As readers of this blog know…

I have a mortal fear of spiders.

And recently…

I discovered a secret about them.

Many of you think spiders are just harmless little critters who…

Mind their own business until we (me) humans…

Stumble up on them and WHAP them with a shoe…

Putting me out of my misery.

Well, I’m here to tell you that spiders…

Are more cleaver than we can ever imagine…

They can read!

And I can prove it.

Yesterday morning…

I began figuring out what I’m going to wear to RWA nationals…

And I pulled out a tan shirtwaist dress from the closet to try on.

As I laid it on my bed…

Out scurried a black spider!.

Of course I screamed…

And of course it darted away before I could get a shoe.

For pity's sake!

What did this spider want in this dress?

Then I noticed something that made me go, “HUH?”

We all know spiders hide …

In banana shipping crates…

And sometimes in grocery store banana bins.

And I had bought this dress at…

Banana Republic!

See what I mean?

Coincidence?

I think not.

Always, Em-Musing

WICKED GLEE

They say you should confess your sins

To cleanse your heart…

And soul.

So here goes…

This past weekend I indulged…

In reading wicked pleasure!

No, not erotica

Not porn…

And not even scanning the obits.

No, I read with glee about other people’s misfortune…

In…

The National Enquirer

Mea culpa!

But I couldn’t help it!

The headline caught my attention.

“Plastic Surgery Shockers - Over 50 new photos.”

I know, sick right?

But in my defense…

At my age…

There’s not much I can do to make me feel better about how I look…

Except to see movie stars at my age…

Who look worse…

Even after plastic surgery.
Mea culpa!

Always, Em-Musing

OY STORY

After watching my grandkids last week

And hearing them beg me to tell them scary stories…

It got me wondering just what kind of story…

Would scare the bejeebers out of me?

Well, I have a writer friend who writes paranormal…

Below is an excerpt from something she wrote in an email just this weekend. 

I don't know what I just did but the last half of my book and the final edits have been erased. I have no other version except the file without the last 40 hours of work.  I hit some button that gave me a tiny text box on the cursor then it deleted a ton of stuff and said 'too many corrections in this file. I hit undo and nothing happened. I am left with an excerpt of 1 paragraph from the last eight chapters. The rest of the rewrites, edits are gone. I sobbed and screamed hysterically then called the computer store. They might, I repeat might, be able to recover a previously backed up version.

AHHHGGG!!!!!!!

There was only one thing I could to calm down after reading this frightening tale.

No, not booze…

Carbonite!

I finally quit procrastinating…

And subscribed.

Hope all of you have a backup plan too.

Always,  Em-Musing

I SHOULD HAVE GNOME BETTER

Yesterday…

While babysitting my 3 grandkids plus 1 other…

I became the victim of my own bad plot.

And all because I tripped on Kit Kitteridge…

My granddaughter’s American Girl doll.

WHY can’t they pick up after themselves?

That’s it! I had had enough!

“Hey guys!” I yelled out. “Come here.”

They gathered around, not sure why I called them.

Now maybe because I had just seen a Travelocity TV spot…

But more likely because I read Chuck Sambuchino’s Writer's Digest blog on Wednesday…

About his book How To Survive a Garden Gnome Attack…

That I came up with this half-baked story.

“You kids need to learn not to leave your toys everywhere. And you want to know why?”

Their blank faces told me they didn’t and that they really didn’t care.

“Well, if you leave your toys out anymore…

They’ll disappear!”

“Why?

“Evil gnomes will steal them.”

“Where do they take our toys?” they asked.

“They take them to children who’ll appreciate them. Understand?”

They nodded and gave me that, yeah whatever glare then took off.

And who could blame them? Such a weak scenario.

Fast forward a few hours…

 And I have to load the kids up in the van to go somewhere.

“Come on you guys we gotta go! Are you ready?”

“Yeah, we’re ready they chimed, barreling down the stairs.

And I was too except…

“Have you guys seen my flip flops?”

They shook their heads.

“Are you sure?”

They nodded.

“I left them in the hall.”

They shrugged their shoulders.

I circled the house once more.

Even checked the bathrooms.

But my flip flops were nowhere to be seen.

“This is ridiculous! Are you kids sure you didn't see my flip flops?”

They shook their heads.

Hmm? Were those smirks on their dirty little faces?

“Maybe the gnomes took them?” my oldest granddaughter said.

“Yeah, the gnomes!" the other three chirped in.

And there they were…

Four kids staring at me, grinning.

A SHOWDOWN!

Now what?

Admit that there are no such things as evil gnomes who steal stuff? They’d never believe me again.

Play along with their game? But that would take time, I had to get going!

Admit to myself I’m getting old and forgetful and couldn’t remember where I put them? NEVER!

So I circled the house one more time.

Finally I spotted my flip flops under my briefcase.

Hmm? I didn't remember putting them there.

After putting them on …

I smiled at the kids…

They smiled back…

Oh, no!

A DRAW! 

Who would cave first?

Well, there was only one thing a grandma could do…

“Who wants to go get some ice cream?”

“We do!’

Yeah, I know…

Unfair advantage.

But it was the only way we could all save face.

Always, Em-Musing

DEVIL IN THE DETAILS

Trust me…

There are worse rejections…

Than a rejection letter.

Yesterday…

(and all this week)

I’m babysitting for my 3 grandkids…

Plus one of their friends—Jack.

“Mom," my daughter said, "if you’re going to tell stories to the kids, don't tell scary ones. Jack gets nightmares.”

So there I was…

2.P.M…

Surrounded by 2-six-year-olds and 2 seven year-olds…

Closing in on me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

 “We’re bored!” they droned.

“Go back outside and play.”

“It’s too hot.”

They did have a point. It was 95 degrees.

And there’s only so much water you can force feed a child.

“Why can’t we watch TV?” they whimpered and whined.

“Because your brain will turn to mush.” I answered. “Maybe I can find some chores for you to do. Or maybe you guys need to take a nap.”

I thought surely that would send them scrambling to find something to do.

Nope.

They stood there looking like four leaves of wilted lettuce.

“Ya know when I was your age I used to–“

“I know, Grandma! Tell us a story!” 
Suddenly, four limp kids found new energy and began jumping up and down.

“OK, sure. I can tell you a story."
We walked into the family room…
They gathered around me…
Their eyes were glowing.

Especially Jack's.

OK, there once was a fairy princess–”

“No, Grandma, that’s boring!'
Yeah, boring!  Tell us a mummy story!”
"Come on, Grandma, tell us about vampires or witches, or werewolves!"
Oh, I wanted to. I really did.
But I could imagine it's 2 A.M. and Jack waking up with nightmares about evil creatures or even the devil and my daughter's friend really upset with me.
And besides, I gave my word that I wouldn't.
And so I continued, "Now this fairy princess lived–"
"BORING GRANDMA!" "my three grandkids bellowed.
"But it's a good story!"
"Don't care! It's still boring!" 
And off they ran.
Aw! 
It's the first time they rejected one of my stories.
Hmm?
Guess my grandkids are proof of what they say…
It doesn't matter if you've got a great story…
If your first sentence isn't a grabber…
Your audience goes bye bye.


Always, Em-Musing

PITCH PERFECT

Wanted to share this link that I saw today on the QueryTracker blog where Laura Rennert from the Andrea Brown Literary agency explains the elements of a pitch.

 http://querytracker.blogspot.com/2010/05/building-your-pitch.html

Have a great Fourth of July weekend!

Always, 

Em-Musing

CELL BLOCK

Cell phones…

I love them.

They’re handy.

And fun…

With cool ringtones…

And handy accessories like…

Built in cameras for pics or videos…

Text messaging…

MMS messaging…

Internet access…

Email capabilities…

Bluetooth…

MP3 player,

Radio…

And GPS.

When I got my first cell phone…

In the early 90’s…

It came in what looked like a black cloth lunch bag…

And had a real phone handset.

Back then, I thought I would only use it or emergencies.

Ha!

That’s if talking with every friend, every day is an emergency.

But speaking of emergencies…

I had one yesterday…

I was leaving Panera's after meeting with writer friends for coffee…

(Yay! We nailed down a pitch for me for RWA Nationals.)

And was in my car at an intersection…

Waiting for the light to turn green…

When all of a sudden…

Red lights lit up my dashboard!

A strange alarm sounded…

And then my car went dead!

Not even the hazard lights would work.

There I was, feeling vulnerable…

While angry drivers whizzed by honking.

Finally, two nice men pushed my car…

To the side of the road while I steered it.

After thanking them profoundly, I took out my cell phone…

To dial AAA…

But…

Couldn’t see the screen!

Because the sun was shining brilliantly!

Arrgghh!

I then hunkered down beside my car… 

Forming a human canopy…

To block the sun so I could see the screen on my cell phone.

But only barely!

Arrgghh!

So to all you cell phone MFG’s…

Is it too much to ask…

Being that your phones can connect with satellites in outer space…

And I can talk with people located around the globe…

That you come up with technology…

To deal with solar rays…

So we, your mucho dinero paying customers…

Can see the cell phone screen…

In the sun?

Just asking.

Always, Em-Musing

OLD BATTER UP

It’s show time!

Well, not literally.

It’s not like I’m going on stage or anything.

But then William Shakespeare did say:
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."

Hmm?

I wonder, at sixty, which act I’m in?

It still feels like I’m only…

In the bottom of the third, going into the top of the fourth.

No wait, that’s baseball.

And I digress.

The show time I’m talking about is me…

Practicing pitching…

With a few of my writer friends…

At coffee this morning.

And I’m more nervous than if I was pitching at RWA Nationals.

Why?

Because if I strike out at RWA, I can slink away, never to be seen again.

But if I strike out with my friends, I’ll be seeing them for a long time.

Hmm?

On second thought…

Maybe my “pitching” is more like baseball than I thought.

I’m either going to hit a foul ball…

A base hit…

Or…

Is it possible?

Have I practiced enough?

Maybe I’ll hit a home run!

But it doesn’t matter…

Even if I whiff*…

We’re on the same team…

And…

These ladies will always…

Root, root, root…

For the home team.

Always, Em-Musing

* Whiff - a strike out or to strike out