Holy bat crap!

What did I do to my hair? Why did I do this and why didn't someone stop me?

My husband was going to do a photo shoot for me for some publicity photos. For some dumb reason, I decided to color my hair, not the whole thing, just the pesky damn grays that seem to be taking over my head. I went to the store, bought a professional brand that looked harmless enough. Just a ten minute coloring. How bad could this be? The box looked like it would match my color, my unnatural color that is, but no! I get this dark red brown/purple thing going on.

I feel like I'm 17 again and life as I know it has come to a stand still. Oh god, I hate it! So much for the photos.

Sigh. Oh well. I guess it could have turned out green or worse, my hair could have fallen out. I think I'll be washing my hair every ten minutes now.

Calgon, take me away!

Okay, I have a focusing problem. I admit it. I'm finally finished plotting out book two, the sequel to Soldier's Embrace. Now I need to start going through it to make sure it's all plausible and the ends tie up nice and neat. But seriously, I can't focus anymore. Do you know how long it took me to get to this point?

I sit at the key board and then finally when the monitor has faded to black screen from waiting so long I start twirling in my chair and thinking about chocolate and where I can get it. So I trudge down stairs and I start rummaging through cub boards to find the hidden chocolate. Once I have it, I head back up stairs to where the black monitor is waiting for me, but wait, did I do the dishes?

I pause. Yes. I did them this morning during my AM writers block. I start back upstairs again and notice from the corner of my eye that my husband knocked the pillows off the couch and they're on the floor. I can't have that! You'd think I'm a neat freak, but really, if it weren't for writers block, my house would never get cleaned.

So, I trudge downstairs and thrown them back on the couch and fold up the blanket that's laying on the floor. But wait, what's this beneath the blanket? One lone sock. One sad little sock, alone and homeless. I must find its mate. So I go to the laundry room and hunt through the laundry and in doing so, I find a fondue pot that my husband and I got for our wedding 13 years ago. We've never used it for it was one of three. Not that we ever used any of them but now, when I should be writing seems like the best time to bust out a machine I've never before found use for.

Something about opening this box reminds me my neighbor turned 60 several days ago. I bought her a plant and they weren't home to drop it off. What about now? Now is the perfect time to stop what I'm not suppose to be doing to deliver a plant that I should have delivered two days ago. So, off I go. I only stay an hour because I'm suppose to be writing and I really need to research St. Louis historical hotels. But, I'm still craving chocolate. So, before heading back up stairs, I go into the kitchen to find that bag of said chocolate when I find the mess I started with the damn fondue pot.

Here it is, Saturday night and I'm trying to get these stupid metal skewers back into the box. After all, I'm suppose to be writing. How am I ever going to get book two done when I'm stuck doing this crap? I guess I was groaning and cussing because my husband comes down stairs and staring at me, he leans against the wall.

"How's the writing coming?" he asks.

I drop the box with this dramatic groan and turn and glare at him.

"I haven't been able to write, because I had to clean the living room because of the mess you made and then I had to do laundry because you left your clothes laying all over and then there's this mess laying all over the kitchen table..."

He stops me with a raise of his hand and a roll of his eyes. "Don't blame me. You came down here looking for chocolate, didn't you?"

Scary. Did I mention that we've been married for 13 years?

Grrr....wake me up when the book is done

I must confess, I've been really struggling with book two of Soldier. I've started once again scrapped the first 50 pages, completely different than the last 30 I deleted a month ago. I made a promise to myself, and to my husband that I would be done with the rough draft by August. Guess what? Not gonna happen. Maybe I should just tuck Eric and Elizabeth in the back for a while and work on something else. The Boiling Point, perhaps. Except the research gives me nightmares.

I wonder if Stephen King has this problem.

I love Soldier's characters and they speak to me, begging me to bring them back. To what, I don't know. Sigh. I'm hunting through history, hoping that something reaches out and grabs my attention. I'm getting some nice reviews on my first novel, both from mags and fans, so continuing the story is something I want to do.

My husband wants more sex. In the next book, that is. : ) I don't think I feel comfortable with writing erotica, or reading it, but I really won't know until I give it a shot.

Any ideas anyone?

How to insult a doctor in 2.1 seconds

I had to call a doctor yesterday to request authorization for a patient to be off his blood thinners for an epidural steroid injection. The doctor was new to me, a Dr. Cochran.

I was alone in the office. Humming to myself, I picked up the phone and called. The doctor herself answered.

"Hi, Dr. Cockring?" I couldn't believe I said it! I felt my face heat up and knew I was beet red. What the hell was on my mind anyway. Freud would have a field day with that one. I tried to contain the spontenous laughter, but couldn't. Maybe the God of stupidity would take pity on me and she wouldn't hear the difference in the name.

"It's Cochran."

Nope. I guess the God of Supidity was either out of the office or wanted me to suffer. She was not amused. Not in the least.

Still trying not to laugh, I knew I had to ask for authorization for the injection. Once the call was over, I couldn't hang up fast enough. And how I managed to calm myself I'm not sure.

Thank God I didn't ask her for an erection instead.

RWA meeting

I went to my first Romance Writers of America meeting yesterday. I'm not a member, I went as a guest. I can have two guest visits a year without paying the membership but it was still 30.00 bucks for me to get in. Nice people. They had a speaker, an agent from New York talked about how to write a query that is professional and then once she signs you on, what is expected from her to help you sell.

One of the things she mentioned really hit home. She said when you have a contract with a publisher, you have to make yourself write. You owe them your books, or at least a manuscript for them to turn down. You are now a business and you must conduct yourself as one. She pounded on the table to emphasize, This is a dream, people! You, who are published have won the dream and now the work really begins! No kidding.


I missed her beginning, but she had a great sense of humor. She used this analogy about writers being the ship and she is the wind. Said it about three times and then at the end of her talk, she happened to turn around and saw all these paintings of ships behind her. She started to laugh, and said "Oh my god, I just realized there are ships behind me!"



Members all had this white plastic badge with their names on it, so newbies stood out with that "Hi, my name is" stick and peal tag on. These heads of San Diego's chapter went around and talked to people, getting their names and chatting. This woman asked me if I was a writer or a dreamer who never wrote anything and was here to get a push. I told her that I just published my first novel and was here to get info on what to do with it now.

She congratulated me and then asked how long I had struggled to get it into print. I know the struggle she was referring to, just not with this book. When I told her that, she made a face and moved on. I have to admit, it felt good to be the subject of envy of such a coveted prize as having a book published.

I took what she said about making sure you have another book to follow up on to heart and will be writing all day today. I watched TV last night, so tonight I have to write. I have set the goal of September for myself as well to have the first draft fully written.

A Closed Mouth Gathers No Foot

Just recently I was interviewed on the radio regarding the writing of my romance novel. I was nervous. The only other time I had been on the radio is when I use to call radio stations with a British accent requesting to hear Beatles songs. Yeah, I was stupid enough to say I was from Liverpool and attempted to pull off a horrible souse English accent. Well, at least they found me entertaining, they put me on air for God sakes!

Anyway, I've called into the pod cast station and Kat Johnson comes on and introduces herself to me. In the background is this automated woman counting down the minutes we have left. My heart is racing.

I'm asked if I have a segment to read. I swallow hard and say yes. And then we're on.

I laughed through the entire interview! My God, this is serious business and I'm cracking jokes. She asks a question, none of which I can remember now and I laugh and answer, then laugh again. I learned two things about myself during the interview. One, I don't listen. (I hope my husband doesn't read this) and two, I have a lisp.

During the interview Kat comments on my novel including the research of West Point. I'm still thinking of the last topic we were talking about and contemplating my giggle through that answer, Fort Laramie. West Point in is in New York. Fort Laramie is in Kansas. Kat begins to tell me how she lives near West Point and starts talking about how beautiful the river is, but I'm thinking Kansas. My mind goes blank. I search my brain for research knowledge on the Kansas territory. Where the hell is a beautiful river in that part of the country? I think I stuttered, stammered and finally just...giggled.

Thank God I didn't speak.

Then came time for me to read. I read the excerpt from chapter three and began to blush as I'm reading on air about sex, wants, desires. Well, at least I didn't giggle, but I did lisp.

Damn it! When did I start doing that? Here I'm trying to entice people to find my characters provocative so much so they whip out their credit card and buy my book and I sound like Cindy Brady.

All in all I think my first interview turned out fine. In between each laugh I had a piece of historical information and a polite, (even if I don't remember it) response. It's archived so I can always go back and listen to it. And giggle.

I can be at least thankful that I didn't sneeze.

Okay, this is kinda freaky...

I went to the library yesterday for their used book sale. Not really looking for anything in particular, I stumbled upon a book I snatched up for research purposes. It's a book on witchcraft, mythology and spells. Cool! Used book stores make me cough so once I started hacking, I took my book up to the counter and laid it on the table.

Everyone around me stopped talking.

I know everyone around me stopped talking because I complain all the time that libraries have dropped their whisper rule. Now it was suddenly quiet. I looked around and five or so employees were staring at my purchase. The lady I had brought it up to asked with a smile. "Wow. You sure you want to buy that?"

I explained it was for my new novel, hoping someone would question me about my old novel and how to purchase it. Nope. I paid for the book and went home. Made myself some vegetable soup, curled up on the couch and started to read. There was a whole page on herbs and what they are good for, what time of night to pull this root when the moon is full and how not to summon a 'dwarf' or fairy. I laughed. I thought it was funny. I took notes, thumbing through the book, making note of spells and herbs.

Later on that night I called my mom to check in. She asked me what research I was doing. I'm researching puritan New England, customs, witchcraft, she loved the idea. I then told her about the book I bought.

"Oh Julie, I'm going to say a prayer for you tonight. Don't mess with that!"
I laughed. "It's fine mom! Did you know marigold boiled in warm alcohol can summon trolls?"
"Julie, I'm telling you, that's powerful stuff. I wish you wouldn't read that!"
I assured her I was fine, though she promised to pray for me every night.

Once I got off the phone, I then I went on line and started reading about the legion of the Bell Witch. Okay, that I have to admit was kind of creepy-it was raining, foggy and cold outside and here I am at the computer reading stories about witches casting spells and unseen beings slapping people around.

My husband was pulling an all nighter at work and asked if I could help him stay up. We went out, drove around and got breakfast about 3:00 A.M. came home and watched t.v. Still awake, I turned on Ghost Hunters 100 anniversary episode and started watching. About halfway through I got tired, took off my glasses, laid them on the nightstand next to me and went to bed. I had them on to watch t.v. Anyone who knows me knows I can't see without my contacts or glasses.

When I woke, I reached over to put on my glasses and they weren't there. I looked on Kyle's bed stand, not there either. I looked under the bed, behind the bed, nothing. We pulled apart the bedroom, both nightstands, all the clothes, my office, the downstairs, the kitchen the bathrooms, the closets, the laundry room, Kyle's office. Not there.
I was suppose to spend the whole day writing, but instead I had to go buy new glasses.

Hmm, I'm thinking that maybe I shouldn't have laughed about the dwarf.