SK had a fever last night, so he’s home today. My sister’s school had a ski day and she doesn’t ski, so she’s here. My husband decided not to go to work today. So, while TK went to school, I still have a full house. Just swapped a fourteen-year-old boy for a fourteen-year-old girl.

Yesterday we played it low-key and watched a couple of movies.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: Indy cheesiness, eye-rolling, entertaining and I liked it.

I Am Legend: Not, not, not, and I didn’t.

Then the Superbowl. I’d planned to root for the Colts because I didn’t like the way the Saints played against the Vikings and I’m rather tired of “Who dat”, but once the game started I found myself incapable of cheering for Peyton Manning. So I rooted for the Saints and the Saints one.

My favorite commercial: Google. I never would have guessed thirty seconds of search results could make me weepy. I was all awwwwwww. Not surprisingly, the three males in my house didn’t get it.

My least favorite: GoDaddy. They’re just sleazy.

Pardon me while I shout…

WOMEN WATCH FOOTBALL, TOO!

On February 28th I’m going to give away TWO $25.00 gift certificates to any online bookstore (that offers gift certificates)! Entering is easy!

1) Sign up for my newsletter! I’ll neither share your email address nor inundate you with mail. But if I have exciting news to share, you can have it delivered straight to your inbox! (You’ll be taken to an Access Romance page thanking you for subscribing and letting you know you’ll be getting a confirmation link by email. It only takes a second to click and I think it’s there because of spam laws. Thanks!)

…and/or…

2) Become a “fan” of my Facebook page!

On February 28th I’ll randomly draw two names—one from the newsletter mailing list and one from the Facebook page. If you do both, you’ll have two changes to win!

Yesterday I realized I didn’t have a copy of No Surrender on my iPod Touch. I like to have previous books in a series at my fingertips so I can refer back to descriptions of characters and events while writing the current book. The problem—my author copies weren’t on the Macbook.

How much do I detest having to fire up the old Toshiba laptop? I actually considered buying a Kindle copy of my own book so it would automagically appear on my iPod. Go ahead, you can say it. That’s pathetic. (Side note: my husband says I actually sneer when I have to use the PC desktop for his business now. I’m quite sure he’s exaggerating.)

Instead, I decided it was time to set up Calibre on the Mac and get that all straightened out. Then I found the zip file of digital author copies in my email archive, downloaded them, converted through Calibre and sent the book to my iPod Touch.

Where I was horrified to find all of the italics missing. So horrified, in fact, that my initial impulse was to immediately buy every device and program needed to check every format of my book. The italics are present in the PDF version, but what about the others?

Is it a side effect of running it through Calibre and onto my device? Are the countless people using Calibre to convert to ePub and sending it to their devices not seeing the italics?

Excuse the melodrama, but that overwhelms me with a need to put my head between my knees and take deep breaths so I don’t pass out.

There are so many things in the writing industry authors have no control over. But the one thing I absolutely control is my craft. I choose the words I put on the page. I choose how they’re presented. If a word or a sentence or entire passage is italicized, it’s because I chose to present those words that way. Deliberately. For a reason.

Perhaps the italics is for emphasis in dialogue. Or it signifies a text message or a note or a memory. A bit of internal dialogue to be set apart, even from a deep POV. Sometimes it’s used when the POV character’s remembering a bit from a previous conversation.

His taillights faded into the distance and she knew he wasn’t coming back. Her honesty had come too late. Why couldn’t you trust me with the truth?

His taillights faded into the distance and she knew he wasn’t coming back. Her honesty had come too late. Why couldn’t you trust me with the truth?

The reader’s going to get it. She read the previous conversation during which the words were said. But the italics are like a visual clue to the reader’s subconscious and without them, she’s going to stumble, even if it’s only for a few seconds. She’s not going to stop and reread a passage very many times before she’s annoyed with your book.

There’s always talk about digital publishing’s effects on an author’s career. I just never really considered its effect on an author’s craft. I’m dismayed to think about how many readers aren’t reading my words as I intended for them to be read.

Yay! I thought of all kinds of things to blog about while the blog was broken but, of course, I can’t remember them now. One minor note—you might notice a slight lag when you comment. Just be patient a couple of seconds and it’ll go through. (Unless it thinks you’re a spammer, of course. It happens sometimes. Poor Heather always goes to moderation every time she comments and I can’t figure out why.)

So what’s been going on during the brief down time?

My upcoming Carina Press release has a new title! The book formerly called JUST JOE will henceforth be known as EXCLUSIVELY YOURS! Pretty excited about that.

I’m multitasking projects:

Working on DG4. The big picture’s settled, but I need to figure out where the story actually takes place. And I’m really having some trouble figuring out where to start the story. From the villain’s POV? Isabellas? Jack’s? I’m not really seeing it. Did write a really fun scene in which Jack gets tased by a cop, though. Bzzzzt!

Also working on a proposal for the sequel to EXCLUSIVELY YOURS. Joe’s brother, Kevin, owns a sports bar and craziness, love and happily ever after ensue.

The opening line:

Every time the New England Patriots chalked one up in the win column, Kevin Kowalski got laid.

So back to work for me! Oh…right after I call the groomer. Poor Mini looks like something that fell out of a janitor’s mop bucket and dried in the sun. I think she’s got dreadlocks in her tail. Lucky groomer.

So the blog will temporarily be rather plain and difficult to navigate. My website design is actually a WordPress theme and, after switching hosts, it’s being slightly temperamental. At least with the default theme, the site’s useable.

Hopefully it’ll be pretty again soon!

Last night, the husband and I watched Identity, a 2003 movie I’d never heard of. In flipping through the on-screen guide, I stumbled across it and recorded it on a whim. An hour and a half later, after the kids went to bed, we watched it. What made me hit record on a movie I’d never heard of? John Cusack. That was enough.

It also stars Ray Liotta, Amanda Peet, Alfred Molina, John Hawkes and John C. McGinley. I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t recognize Rebecca De Mornay. And here’s the blurb:

Stranded at a desolate Nevada motel during a nasty rainstorm, ten strangers become acquainted with each other when they realize that they’re being killed off one by one.

Probably as late as two-thirds of the way through, the husband asked me what I thought of it and I shrugged. “Meh. Pretty standard cheesy horror-lite. But it’s not like there’s anything better on.”

Then some stuff happened. We both perked up a little and when the movie was over, we said simultaneously, “That was a pretty good movie”.

The twist was not only awesome (though, I feel, a little scientifically wonky), but the writers played fair. The clues were there to be found, from as early as the opening credits.

But I couldn’t help but wonder—how many people turned the movie off halfway through? Not only was it standard killer picking off guests at isolated motel fare, but it wasn’t even that good. If John Cusack hadn’t been in it, I would have shut it off. Or if the husband had insisted on finishing it out, I probably would have read.

If it was a book, it probably would have been relegated to the DNF column. And that would have been sad because the last third of the movie was interesting and unique and compelling.

So that’s the writing lesson I took away from the movie:

It doesn’t matter how incredibly awesome your show-down scene is or how mind-blowing your ending plot twist. If the lead-in chapters aren’t also compelling and interesting, the reader may never get there.

Unless you live under an internet-free rock, in which case you’re not reading this, you know Apple revealed the iPad yesterday. I’m not going to bother grabbing links and photos of the thing because they’re all over the damn place. But, while listening to live audio in the background while watching pictures being posted from the event, I had several thoughts.

It’s a giant iPod Touch, but with the ability to run big programs (iWork, iPhoto), not just apps. It’s pretty and shiny and new and I’m going to hate being the only kid on the playground who doesn’t have one. But there a couple of reasons why I’m not currently pitching my tent outside an Apple store. (Besides the fact the nearest Apple store is two hours from here.)

Prior to the announcement, I did a little waffling between buying the Macbook and waiting to see if the mythical iPad was really coming soon. (I, like many others, assumed the iPad would go for about $1k.) In the end, it came down to the keyboard. An on-screen touch keyboard is cool and I use the one on the iPod (iPad Mini—heh) a lot, but do I want to write a book that way? Yesterday they demonstrated the keyboard dock which enables you to use an external keyboard, but then it’s a desktop unit. I think it’s a cool toy and will also be a great professional tool for some, but for writers? I have no regrets about going for the Macbook.

There are two things that, as an iPod Touch user, I was looking for in the iPad and didn’t find:

First, support for Flash. Sometimes while browsing the ‘net on the iPod, I get a little blue Lego block that means there’s Flash there my device doesn’t support. In one of the pictures from yesterday’s event, you can see the little blue Lego block on the iPad.

Second—and to me, most importantly—no multitasking. Since not being able to run multiple apps simultaneously on the iPod drives me batshit crazy, I can’t imagine how I’d react to not being able to do it on what’s supposed to be a fully functional device. And, if I remember correctly, that Droid thing or whatever it’s called can run multiple apps, so the technology’s there.

I understand that the apps pick up where you left off. If I’m writing in Docs to Go and I need to look something up in Wikipanion, I have to hit the home button and leave Docs to Go. Pull up Wikipanion and search for the information. Hit the home button and open Docs to Go. Even though it puts the cursor where I left off, if I have to go back and forth a few times, checking things, that’s a pain in the ass. I want to swipe two fingers horizontally across the screen to flip through apps.

I have a feeling I’ll end up with an iPad. How could I not? They’re so shiny. But I’ll probably try to wait until the second generation. Maybe it’ll have multitasking.

Oh, and on a random note, I have no problem with the name. Many people wondered if they had any women in on the naming sessions and the “now with wings” jokes are flying like mad, but that didn’t cross my mind until other people brought it up.

Legal pad.

iPad.

The Short Kid doesn’t have quite the plot-problemsolving savvy that the Tall Kid does, but he doesn’t like being left out of the action. What can he do? Try to convince me that Devlin Group needs a gun like this. (And maybe a cool camouflage wristband, too?)

He was a little disappointed when I very gently pointed out that a Nerf gun probably wasn’t the most efficient weapon to take into a gunfight, but the Stacey inability to ever be wrong give up didn’t skip over the short one.

Modifications were discussed at length.

Needles inserted down the center of the dart that released a deadly poison upon puncturing the target.

Injecting the foam body of the dart with a liquid explosive that blows up on contact.

A tiny microchip on the surface of the dart’s suction cup that would be deposited on the target and then spontaneously combust.

I’m not sure what they decided on because I went to make supper and left them to it. But considering how often I get shot in the butt, I think I should start paying more attention to the darts.

If you’ve friended me on Facebook, you might have seen my message yesterday regarding my new Facebook page. As more of my family has discovered Facebook, I’ve struggled with the intermingling of personal and professional, so the time has come to separate them. If you’re Facebook friends with “author me”, I’d greatly appreciate it if you became a “fan” of my new page. (That feels so pretentious, but it’s Facebook’s terminology so I’m stuck with it.) I’m going to wait a few days before changing my regular profile back to family only. In the meantime I’ll have to think of something good to give away in a Facebook fans contest!

I’m reading Dear John by Nicholas Sparks, despite knowing I’m probably going to want to chuck the Sony Reader at the wall and throw myself off a bridge at the end of it. How did Mister Anti-HEA end up on my Reader? I’ve been seeing the trailers for the movie for a bit, admiring young Mr. Tatum. Due to a couple of free books at the Sony eBookstore, I ended up shopping there and Dear John just sort of jumped into my cart.

Even worse—after impulse buying a book I’m probably not even going to enjoy for $9.99 at the Sony store, I found out it was only $4.39 for Kindle, which is my preferred way to read. Yes, that royally pissed me off.

Had a little adventure this morning I could have lived without. It started raining during the night and, while it didn’t freeze, it washed away the protection of packed snow and crud built up over old ice. The roads were fine taking TK to school, but then I backed into our driveway. It’s got a good slope to it, and I parked at the top where the tar was bare so SK and I could get out without slipping and sliding as we did trying to get it in. Our truck’s an access-cab, which means my door has to stay open to open the back door, which opens backwards. I opened that and, as I helped SK out, the truck started moving backward.

Oh, hello.

So I sort of tossed SK (who’s a bit heavy) toward the neighbor’s driveway and reached in to push the brake, which stopped the truck. Not realizing it was my weight against the open door that actually stopped it, I reached my right hand up to the steering column to make sure it was in park. Then I switched hands so I could push down the e-brake. I moved a little bit. So did the truck. Shitshitshitshit.

SK: Do you want me to put a rock behind the tire?

Sure, ’cause having my child crouch down behind 3000 pounds of rolling vehicle is an awesome idea!

Me: No! Stay in the neighbor’s driveway until I tell you to move.

SK: Maybe you should call Dad.

Thanks a lot, kid. I’d rather Dad not know anything about this, but since he’s more often than not greeted at the door with “Dad! Guess what Mom did today!”, that’s not going to happen.

So with few options, I walked the truck back a little bit, until it seemed to grab and it stopped. Okay. But now I’ve got to get SK behind the truck to the door so, just to be safe, I pushed a little on the door. The truck took off backwards down the ice like there was an Olympic gold metal at the bottom.

I had a split second to choose between me trying to stop it or sacrificing the front porch. About the time I was drafting my “Honey, about the porch…” speech, the truck stopped again, a few feet shy of the house.

I threw some blocks behind the wheels and called it good at that point. Of course, now I’m wondering if I should have thrown it in four-wheel-drive up at the top, while the front tires were on clean tar. I know that makes all four wheels turn, but I don’t know if it makes all four wheels not turn in park.

Anyway, it was an interesting adventure for 7:30 on a Monday morning. Now I have SK—who’s home with a stomach ache—looking out the front window every two minutes to tell me if the truck’s moved.

And how’s your Monday?

If you looked at the Christmas pictures I posted, you might remember that the Tall Kid showed up bright and early to open his gifts fully dressed, right down to the belt and that fastened top button.

And here he is eating his breakfast before school:

One note—thanks to crappy cellphone camera, it looks like he’s wearing a sweater vest, but he’s not. That was last year. This year’s vest is a fabric one, like you’d wear under a suitcoat.

He’s got his own style and that’s fine, but there’s something that sets his clothes apart from the rest of the family’s other than the look.

They have to be ironed.

I do own an iron. If somebody dies suddenly and I don’t have time to take our funeral clothes to the cleaners for pressing, I’ll even try to remember how to use it.

But during his kindergarten screening, the only thing TK couldn’t identify was an iron. (As if it’s his fault his parents wear jeans and t-shirts.)

Since I can’t afford that fancy dryer system with the attached steaming closet, I’m trying to make do with a rolling clothes rack. The idea is that I can take the shirts and pants directly out of the dryer and hang them on the rack, where they can stay until I pass them off to TK. They don’t have the precisely pressed look, but they don’t look they were shoved under the bed, either.

Once I assembled the rack in the kitchen, realized I couldn’t get it down the basement stairs, took it apart, carried the pieces down to the basement and reassembled it again, that’s what I’ve been doing.

Sadly, my dryer doesn’t have a buzzer, so by the time I remember I need to get TK’s clothes out of the dryer before they wrinkle, they’re already wrinkled. What’s a mother to do?

Iron, right?

It’s actually easier to throw a damp washcloth in and dry for another ten minutes, setting the oven timer so I can be standing in front of the dryer when it shuts off.

TK needs to find himself a wife pretty damn quick, because this is getting old.