For the Criminally Inane

I have lots of friends, some microwave friends, some casserole friends and some rotisserie friends. The microwave friendships usually require little effort or sacrifice. Relationships are formed quickly and then are over with, not very satisfying. They're like when I talk to someone behind me in line at the grocery store, we laugh, we complain, but we don't call each other for babysitting. When I was in school, they were your classmates that you didn't hang out with on the weekends. We'd joke, compare homework, but it never really went any further than that. Casserole friends. Most of my friends fall here. Casseroles require a little bit more effort, various ingredients, more work, but are more satisfying. I love hot crispy cheese that gathers in the corners of a casserole cooked in the oven. These are the friends that are probably parents of my kids friends, my neighbors. Then there's rotisserie. Slow basting and roasting over a fire, laborious turning o

The ideas that are coming to me now are for an older audience than YA. The last few stories I have written deal with gals in their young twenties experiencing adult life for the first time. Why do I write about this age group? Those early years of finding out who I was in the world were so deliciously fun for me. I had so many options in love, career etc. And I hadn't made any huge mistakes, so I wasn't burdened by regret. That's an exciting time. I want my protagonists to also have more opportunities to do things that girls in YA just can't do--move away and live in a foreign country all by themselves, for example. What I worry about writing for this audience is that girls ages 18-20 are living life, they don't want to read about it. I remember being that age and having my own experiences with love, real love, not just high school crushes. There was no way I wanted to read a book about someone else falling in love at that point in time. The story I was

A couple of months ago, my family and I went to our city library. We always head straight to the top floor where the kids picture, Juvenile and YA books are shelved. Since I consume a great deal of YA literature, hanging out in the YA section is pretty much the only place to go. My husband is looking at Manga and I have a book, and we're sitting in the seating section when one of the library workers comes over. She points to the scrawling cursive above the shelves that says, "Teen Lounge." "This is for teens only," she says. Then she asks us to leave. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa? I didn't know you can discriminate against age at a tax-payer funded institution! The one and only teenager who was sitting there, gave me a look that said, "This lady is crazy!" I was so mad, I almost said something, like "I read YA, I should be able to lounge here!" Instead, my husband and I slinked out, annoyed that someone would even care, and didn't even chec

A friend of mine (thank you!) posted Carrie Harris's website because she thought I might be interested. Win a Kindle or a mentorship. Uh, hello! Totally want the mentorship. I can buy a Kindle. Thanks for hooking me up! So here's my blog entry that will give me one more chance to win. Hm, never heard of the book, but I'll have to check it out! I'll let you know what happens.

My husband and I have discussed funky chemistry a lot lately as my current WIP involves a ton of it and I want to make sure I get it right. I was trying to describe to him what it was like and he had no clue, hadn't an idea what I was talking about. I guess he's never felt it. I couldn't explain how it's like feeling the other person wanting you. Obviously, we're missing funky chemistry from our relationship. (Note: it's not necessary to have funky chemistry to have an emotionally strong and healthy marriage. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's because we don't have funky chemistry that it works.) Then, a weeks ago, my husband comes home from the pub and tells me this story. (No, he wasn't imbibing alcohol, he was drinking root beer.) While he and his friends were snarfing pizza, he noticed this woman across the room. Every once in a while he'd catch her staring at him. Now, my husband is hot and when he's wearing his white shirt and