But last night’s dream was different because the apocalypse hadn’t already happened – it had just started.

I was searching for a new location for ARWA to meet (go figure), but instead of calling around, me and a couple of the other members (Hi Marina! You were there. ) were going around and visiting locations (all of which in real life would in no way work, but whatevs). We were nervous because gang activity had started springing up around the city, and we had to be careful what areas of town we traveled through. We visited an empty carnival tent last and then went to my house to discuss. Next door, instead of the apartment complex that’s really there, was a rickety Victorian cottage, and the woman who owned it was renting out the basement and the attic space. Some members of the committee were interested in using one of those to meet in, but I had a bad feeling about it – ghosts or something. Besides, the rooms were cramped, dark, dusty, and required tiny stairs to get up or down into. Somebody asked if I had a problem meeting in a private residence, and I tried to explain that that wasn’t it, but I couldn’t figure out how to adequately explain my issues with this space.

Then all these people showed up on my porch with sleeping bags and backpacks of clothing. Violence was rampant on the north end of town (in the very un-Austin looking city – it looked more like Berkeley, CA, actually), and they needed a safe place to sleep. In the dream, I was connected to them through teaching (even though nobody in the group was somebody I taught in real life – in fact it was children and their parents instead of teenagers). I let them inside, and we abandoned looking for a new place to meet to take care of them.

The rest of the chapter started setting up bedrolls and making sandwiches, but me and one other person needed to leave the house to check up on some people (for me, I think it was my sister) who were in the north side of town, somewhere in the vicinity of the violence. We didn’t have a car and we didn’t even think about phones (maybe  in my dream reality they didn’t exist?), so we took off on foot down the sidewalk. In reality I have no idea who this other person was, although in the dream I knew her, a young woman with a shy, artistic temperament whose hair was usually naturally blond but sometimes black (and always up in a careless French twist – how’s that for a random detail to remember?).  We carefully navigated our way, trying to avoid the areas where we were most likely to run into gang violence. The scariest area of town was a street near the football stadium where an Asian gang had taken up patrolling, and they were vicious, killing anyone who came into the area with clubs and knives. In fact, that gang had gained so much power that we noticed other racial tensions lessening as people tried trusting each other for safety. We watched a couple of  black men in ghetto-thug attire (but one had beautiful waist-length braids) approached by two twittering, blonde Jackie-O types. The tension between the four of them was intense, but when the girls got up the nerve to turn to the men for help, the men stopped a gang of muggers who wanted to drag the ladies into an alley and beat them to death, and asked no reward for their heroism.

After the artist chick and I worked our way around several roadblocks while trying desperately to avoid the stadium, we found ourselves at a ‘Y’-shaped crossroads just south of campus. Shots were fired, and a man in a suit standing right next to me dropped, bleeding out all over the street. An ambulance came. I think the artist chick got into the ambulance with the suit guy.

I continued west, heading toward the stadium (because my destination required it), but before I reached the stadium, I ducked into this cave-like underground building where a ritual, complete with incense and chanting, was going on. It was a Norse cult (not like scary cult, just… odd), and they were mourning the death of their seer who’d been killed in the violence outside. Odin was there, standing before a throne made of rock and wood, but he was weak; I think he’d been shot, too. Someone cast runes, and they asked if I could read them, since their seer was dead. I was scared that I couldn’t do what they wanted me to, but I decided to give it a try. I had to, the city was in ruins and we needed to try to stop what was going on around us, or at least survive until things stabilized into whatever new world order was coming. I went into the circle of worshipers and knelt to see the runes…

And I woke up.

Nathan Fillion’s Twitterfeed

Is Nathan Fillion the BEST person to follow on Twitter? I think so. Today, the topic du jour is Double Rainbows (you don’t need to watch the whole thing, just enough to get the idea… there is no “punch line” at the end or anything. Then watch:

(Warning: This video is not as cool if you haven’t seen the original Double Rainbow video I linked to above.)

Slush Pile Hell

What will we wacky writers think of next to insert into our query letters? Even if you don’t write, this is dang funny.

And here’s a one off I found from SPH’s twitterfeed, but it’s worth a look. Ever wonder which famous writer your style most emulates? Find out with I Write Like. With various pages of my manuscript, I got Dan Brown twice, Harry Harrison once (Soylent Green was based on one of his books), and  a writer who shall not be named a fourth time  (wildly popular, but not my favorite author…um…). (But for various blog entries, I got David Foster Wallace (2xs), Jack London, Margaret Atwood, Arthur C. Clarke, H.P. Lovecraft, and… Dan Brown. Twice (including this very post).)

(Update! With the addition of the list of authors my blog looks like, the writer analyzer has changed the post to be more indicative of H.P. Lovecraft’s style.) (And with the addition of that update, it has reassigned me to Harry Harrison.) (OK, back to David Foster Wallace… I really need to quit doing this and send out query letters.) (Yup, we’re consistent with DFW; query letter time.)

On a personal note, I finished edits for Angel of Air and Earth and sent my first query yesterday! Double  rainbow all the way across the sky!!

1. I love swimming. It is one of the few exercises that doesn’t feel like exercising, and…
2. … it’s really good for you to boot.
3. We have a neighborhood swimming pool that’s both free and within easy walking distance.
4. Walking to the pool passes by the firehouse.  Scott, if you’re reading this: this entirely has to do with my appreciation for the work these selfless men and women do for our society. Go firemen. Everybody else who’s reading this: seriously, is firefighting not el mas guapo profession in the world? Is there like a headshot included with the job ap? I have never seen an ugly firefighter. Go firemen.

On the other hand…

1. I have to put on a swimsuit. I don’t have a terrible figure or anything, but until I’m actually in the water, I always feel so dang conspicuous in a swimsuit… walking 5 blocks in a swimsuit is far for me.
2. I have to walk to an alternate location to work out.  Yeah five blocks is close. But I have a history of only being successful with workout programs I can do from my house and/or backyard (made easier by our array of kettlebells, a pull up bar, rings, a pilates ball, and a yoga mat — my husband takes his workout seriously).

So… this was a risky maneuver. There’re two perfectly valid excuses for not working out, on top of the general whininess the topic typically induces. Risky indeed.

But this morning, I actually got my act together. I put on a swimsuit. I snagged a kitchen timer. I wrapped myself in a sarape my mother brought back from Hawaii in an attempt to feel less conspicuous (it almost worked). I got to the pool, and there was only one other person using the lap lane. I set my timer and got into the water.

Once I start working out, success can pretty much be declared, because, for me, inertia works both ways.

Five minutes into laps, the lifeguards pulled everyone out of the pool. Apparently the chlorine machine wasn’t pumping right and we weren’t properly chemicaled. Maintenance was coming… some time… probably today. I consoled myself by playing on the swingset until actual children wanted to use it, then I walked home.

Exercise fail.

But in the five minutes I had actually managed to get the breathing up (yes, I push myself really hard… and I’m a complete wuss) and by the time I got into the house, I was hungry. It being lunchtime, and in a snit over the universe subverting my honest effort at doing a good thing, I decided to eat. I go to the fridge and pull out random stuff to throw into an omelet (and that word totally looks spelled wrong, though my spell check assures me it isn’t). This is a common meal in our house; grab leftovers, cheese, and any assorted jarred vegetable type substances, heat in fry pan, add eggs. I accomplished parts one and two, then opened the fridge for eggs.

We didn’t have any.

Now, we ALWAYS have eggs. Buy them like 3 dozen at a time. My husband consumes them in spectacular quantities. So my assumption that we would have eggs for an omelet was not completely unfounded, however wrong it might’ve been this morning. So there I had leftover shrimp, sun-dried tomatoes, hearts of palm, and garlic fried up and ready for some congeal-y goodness to make it into a meal. I looked back into the refrigerator. And found the carton of egg whites Scott and I bought a few weeks ago to practice making whiskey sours with.

I check the expiration date; today! (OK, I just looked at a clock and technically it was yesterday, but when I looked at the carton I was thinking the wrong date in my head… the fail continues…) I don’t know about you, but for me personally, “Expires on” means “Valid Through” … but even more vital, there’s a smell test that may either shorten or extend the recommended date on the package.

Oh… if you eat at my house, please understand that my lack of concern for expiration dates applies only to food that I fix for myself. For guests, I scrupulously adhere to standards of packaging and cleanliness than would make you proud and not at all afraid to eat at my house. If you’re not me, you can eat in confidence and safety at my house.

Anywho, back to the story. So I perform the smell test. Smells completely blank.  But we had opened it awhile ago, and some things have an expiration date and a “once opened use within…” stipulation. I can’t find one. Smell it again. Pour egg whites into the frying pan on top of my nice assortment of foodstuffs. Then I find the “Once opened, use within seven days” stipulation. It’s been… longer than that…

Food fail.

I pour the rest of the egg whites down the drain and return to my omelet (which is now looking more like a frittata – there’s no way I’m folding this baby). I stare at my fritamelet. I’m hungry. Egg whites cook up pretty just like they’re supposed to. All I smell is garlic. You know where this story is going.

And so I just finished my fritamlet and  am waiting for the pain. I think I’ll be fine. But I’m glad it’s afternoon, because this has most certainly been a morning fail.

Yes. My eyelids.

Apparently I had an allergic reaction to a new eyeshadow I tried. At 5:30 in the morning I woke up with itchy eyes, but  figured I was imagining things. Got up to go to the bathroom, finally decided to turn on enough lights to see my eyes and reassure myself nothing was wrong, and after an inordinately long time getting my eyes adjusted to the lights, discovered my eyelids were red, had tripled in thickness, and wouldn’t open past the half-way point. My husband (who get up around that time, anyway) put me on anti-histamines. I hopped on the internet while my eyes teared up uncontrollably (bright light does that; I’m typing in the dark right now) and determined that I for sure did not have pink eye – pink eye makes your sclera red; I just have red eyelids. For the rest of the day, any time I need a laugh, I just have to look in the mirror.

Hopefully, though, it’ll be better by tomorrow; I have theater tickets with my folks! Regardless, I think I’m going without makeup. At least without eye makeup.

On a completely other topic, my sister is spending a month in Africa on a Fulbright-Hays scholarship. If you want to see what she’s up to in Tanzania and Rwanda, check out her blog! I’m so excited for her and her awesome journey!

**Afternoon eye update: I think I’m doing better, though I’m still not sure what I’m going to look like tomorrow for the show tickets. I’m developing a bit of a bruised look under my eyes. Kind of like I’ve been in a fight.

And as a romance writer, I’m afraid “heavy-lidded gaze” has an all new and less appealing connotation.

It was awesome.

Also, just attended a soft opening at a local restaurant: Uchiko. Wow. Went with one of Scott’s coworkers who is (in)famous around local restaurants for his friendly demeanor, awesome taste and ability to pack down obscene amounts of food.

I kept up with him.

If you’re ever in the Austin area, go to Uchiko. Tell Mare and Tim I said “Hi”. Eat the mackerel sashimi. You won’t be sorry.

*sigh*

It’s not really that bad. I think I just left it at the theater on Sunday. And I basically remember the schedule. But! The exciting part is that the schedule is all about finishing my manuscript and querying it by next Monday! Yup! I’m that close to finishing my third novel. Biiiiiig thanks to Jenna and the Pitts for helping me see what I need to do to whip it into shape. I’m really proud of it! Watch out NYC, here I come!

• 5/25 Happy Birthday to Scott! (my husband)
• 5/27 Laura’s staying the night!!! I miss my sister.
• 5/28 Baked a chocolate hazelnut torte with ganache icing; everybody approved. Yay for flourless deserts that don’t suck!
• 6/01 Einherjar Day. The Asatruar have made Memorial Day a religious holiday. Viking-kin promoting gratitude toward and the honoring of those who died in battle to a religious duty? Go figure. But as the daughter and granddaughter of veterans… I like it.
• 6/02 Out at the lake for nearly a week – came home with a tan and not a burn. Yay sunscreen!
• 6/03 OK, I am now officially obsessed with Big Bang Theory. I have memorized the theme song and sing it all day long, much to the annoyance of, well, me. I’m the only one here.
• 6/04 Lighting for Charlie Cox (I did the lighting design for Paradox Players latest show) opened well. I’m still mad at the board, but I’ve mostly figured out what I’m doing with it. Programmers should not be in charge of labeling buttons on a device intended for artists. (and this is coming from an ex-programmer who moved into the arts)
• 6/05 Thanks to the ARWA critiquers for giving me my first comments on TJC (see earlier article on my latest WIP… that’s work in progress for the non-writers). You have stoked my enthusiasm!
• 6/06 Doors are all installed in the addition! One more item on the endless checklist checked!
• 6/07 Happy 1st birthday to Miss A!!!! What a precious little person you are. And good for you for disdaining the cupcake. May you reach your 30th birthday with the same disinterest. Your hips will thank you.
• 6/08 Don’t want to edit AAE, I want to write TJC. (hmm… maybe critique session enthusiasm has its down sides) But… but…. but… I’m soooooo close to being DONE with AAE. Then I’ll have something new to shop around. And I need to get it out there before angels are sooooo last week. And I’ve PROMISED myself I’ll have it done before conference starts on July 27th. Which is absolutely easy-peasey doable…. if I sit down and edit.

My last two weeks in a nutshell. Jet-setting, globe-hopping, party-hearty, celebutante fascinating me.

Though I must defend one of the names, Cash, as something that I have used for a character in a novel. But in my book, it’s the nickname of someone who’s real name is Cassius (a Latin name pronounced CASH-us (or CASS-ee-us in old, old Latin, but most people use the medieval Latin pronunciation now)), not a name in it’s own right. And if my name was Cassius, I might shorten it, too.

Otherwise… I’m finally at work on my epic fantasy of Heaven and Hell whose name I’m not telling the general public because I’m so dern excited about it. (I usually am lukewarm on my titles, but this one was so obvious and perfect… and I keep checking Amazon because I’m frankly shocked that it’s not already the title of a book.) Anywho, I was having a rough time because in the story there’s this initial brouhaha that happens… and then there’s a loooong time where stuff happens which is important, but the enormity of the stakes aren’t yet evident. And as any writer knows, stakes are key. But, thanks to my spate of fantasy reading, I’ve figured it out. Multiple plot threads. Der… I’ve been reading too many urban fantasies and romances where the plot necessarily centers on one or two people, and really, that’s not gonna work for this story. So now I have the plot line that’s going on in Heaven (the original one) and the plot line that’s going on in Hell (the new one that’s got very obvious stakes)… and eventually they are going to come together at the magical twisty moment in which the intensity of the stakes for all concerned get ratcheted up to epic.

I think I’d been worried that I wasn’t capable of balancing multiple plot lines (I almost wrote plot loins… I must be in RWA), but now that I’ve accepted the challenge, it’s really exciting and words are just flowing onto each new blank page. I’ve found that I need to work on one story and then open a new document and write another one, and then I’ll start putting them together. But I LOVE characters. I love their diversity and their strengths and weaknesses. I love bad guys with bits of good and good guys who fail. I love how viewpoint often determines who’s the hero and who’s the villain. And in a story about betrayal and forgiveness, having multiple viewpoints is exactly what I needed to add facets and shadings to questions of what is good and what is evil.

So… I’ve started on a blurb already, and here it is (and, OK, nobody reads my blog, so I’ll include the title):

The Judas Club is an epic fantasy of Heaven and Hell where angels, demons, the damned and the blessed struggle for identity and meaning after the worths of their souls have been judged – and the story of the Black Angels who straddle both worlds, braving Hell to offer the lost a second chance at salvation. (Here I need to figure out how to sum up in one or two sentences what the main characters’ GMCs (goal/motivation/conflicts) are (and there’re six of them – two Black Angels, a soul in Heaven, a soul in Hell, a demon and an angel). I’ll likely have to pick a couple and leave out the rest.) Until Jeshua of Bethlehem brings them all together to once again turn the establishment on its head – and dare the most dangerous rescue mission in the history of Heaven or Hell.

Wanna read it? I know I want to write it! It’s my fourth novel, and I’m drafting it now!!

Now it’s on to a short story that I started awhile back think I can finish pretty quickly. This one I think I’ll actually try submitting around to see how it goes…

It was a weeding the yard sort of day; not very exciting, but quite productive. Eventually I’m going to have a house with curb appeal, and that’ll be sweet. Now if I can just make myself vacuum on a regular basis.

Have you been watching Alex Reads Twilight? If not, here’s the first one, but if you want a good laugh you should check ‘em all out. He’s done through chapter 13 and they’re pretty much a riot.