Happy Belated Solstice!

Everything’s going well. It’s just that I spend every waking moment either typing or doing the basics of keeping the household running. Will post soon about the convention and all the GREAT stuff I learned or figured out. Perhaps this latest book is evidence that I’ve had a breakthrough or epiphany as to how to cut down on word count without losing voice. Monday morning, BAD HEIR DAY goes out.

I’m already editing down NICE WORK so it can go to the agent along with CAMILLE’S TRAVELS.

Mama (Jodie) has a lung infection and asks that anyone who’s so inclined please pray and/or light candles (or whatever) on her behalf, so that she gets well and that her COPD recedes again. If you get “down” in that disease and don’t get better, you have to carry an oxygen tank on your back; that idea panics her, and she and the doctor believe that she’s not at that point. Still, she’s been worried for a couple of weeks. I think she’s already better. She’s on prednisone, large doses, and is meaner than two pit bulls rasslin’ in a pillowcase. But anyhow, that’s what happens. You take six pills of cortisone, and the pituitary feedback system says to the adrenal glands, “What the #*&$ is this? We’re out of balance. There should be equal amounts of adrenaline and cortisone.” And the glands reply, “That’s not ours. We didn’t put it out. But here, have a rush, on us.” So you have panic attacks on the first day or two until the system adjusts to the idea. She took Valium to stop the freakout and was therefore simultaneously panicked and too weak to run through the house screaming (and would have been too short of breath to do it anyhow.) Ack! It’s sort of mostly because she smoked, so it’s tough not to be somewhat angry at her for helping this disease take root . . but on the other hand every cool cat smoked back then, and of course she had to be cool.

Unlike me. I like being the freak. Le freak, c’est chic! Laughing at the cool crowd because only a couple of them are naturals. The rest of them are desperately paddling underneath (like ducks) and totally insecure. Poor things!

What am I doing NOT TYPING on a book? Back to the QWERTY mines!

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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