Give a Great Swamp Welcome to Alison Stone…

Okay everyone, settle down and take a seat. 

Eerie, one of your Zombie’s is munching on the Hellhound’s tail.  Mischevious and Adile, if you two don’t knock it off, I’m tying a boulder to your tails and dropping you in Dreamer’s moat.  Smokey, you’re creating a haze even Snarky can’t cut through.  Quirky, could you open that window behind my Knight? Let’s get some Swamp Gas in here.  Prankster Duo, for the love of Pete would you please stop trying to get Angel Boy to launch from the ceiling beams!

Finally! Are you all ready?

Great, so be good and give it up for our guest-the most awesome Alison Stone!  Her debut novel, Random Acts, is now available so afterwards, we’re doing a trip to the bookstore!

  Listen up and find out how she got sucked into the crazy world of writing…

Why do I write?

I ask myself this question every so often. Like when I’m stuck on a plot point or when I’d rather be reading or watching TV or cleaning the toilet… Yes, some days it seems like I’d rather be doing anything other than writing. So, why do I do it?

Is it for the money? (Okay, you over there, stop laughing.) Even if they don’t admit it, I think most writers hope their book will be the next big thing. But who can actually predict these things?  I’d settle for a nice income, never mind a seven-figure income. Yet, if it’s income I’m truly after, why write? I could go back to my former career as an engineer and make far more money than I do as a writer. However, an office job wouldn’t give me the flexibility I have as a writer. Don’t get me wrong, I work long hours crafting my stories, but I’m home if my kids need me for something—like a ride or dinner. J

But why write? Is it because I have the burning desire to tell a story? I can’t say I have one particular story that needs to be told. Rather I have a lot of ideas bouncing around my head. Once the idea to try writing took hold, I couldn’t let go. There is something about the challenge of writing and fitting all the pieces of the story puzzle together (I write romantic suspense) that intrigues me. It occupies my mind.

The other night my husband and I went out for dinner and we discussed my new career. My debut novel, Random Acts, had just been released. I told him how I really hoped this new career would provide income to help send our children to college. Then, like usual, I started to doubt myself. Wouldn’t my time be better spent working at a job that paid me an hourly rate or one that paid a salary? My awesome husband equated my budding writing career to starting a business. My husband, an engineer, told me one of his co-workers quit to start a machine shop. He has the expense of a new building, machines and salaries. My writing career is also a new venture, but my overhead is low. I have the expense of my laptop and my time. I love the analogy. I have worked hard over the years to build a solid foundation. From here, I need to continue to produce quality books and build my readership. I am excited my second book, Too Close to Home, is coming out on August 7^th. I also have other books in the works. From here, I will grow my business.

Writing is one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done. A few years ago, shortly after I signed with my wonderful agent, I received a crushing rejection from a New York publishing house.  This was not the first time my work had been passed up to the senior editor for possible acquisition only to be rejected, albeit with a “good rejection.”

The editor raved about my “clean writing style” and she was “eager to get Alison under contract and happy to read anything she submits.”  But this was the third time I had come so close, but yet so far. I was ready to throw in the towel, when my wonderful friend and critique partner—who always gave it to me straight— sent me his e-mail:

If an editor said “I’m eager to get her under contract” I would have swooned. Do people still swoon? You’ve got it, kid. Don’t give up. At the very least, what a model for your kids on what it takes to succeed. Am I blowing smoke up your derriere? Nope. Close only counts when people use it as an excuse to bow out. Look at the many writers who struggled. I’m talking good writers who managed to believe in themselves no matter what. There are too many fools out there who make it because they are blind to their own BS. You just need to find your own unique voice, blend it to the “smooth, clean writing style.”

This e-mail is over three years old, but it still sits in my inbox. I write because I enjoy it. I write because I hope to have a solid career. I continue to write even when the mountain seem insurmountable because I want to show my kids that sometimes you have to work hard—very hard—to achieve your dreams.

Much thanks to Alison for braving our Swamp and visiting with us!

Alison Stone graduated with a degree in industrial engineering from Georgia Tech. After working in Corporate America for a number of years, she retired to raise her young family. Soon the writing bug bit. After years of conferences, critique groups and writing, Alison sold two manuscripts that will be released in 2012. She claims it was easier to earn her engineering degree. Random Acts is her debut novel. To learn more about Alison Stone please visit www.AlisonStone.com.

Check out Random Acts…

Second chances can have a terrible sense of timing.

As a child, watching her mother always pick the wrong man left Danielle Carson wary of opening her heart to anyone—except Patrick Kingsley. But circumstances came between them and left Danielle with a broken heart. Now she buries the pain of what might have been by channeling all her energy into her career. When a family crisis brings her back to her hometown, she is forced to face the past—and the disturbing fact that her sister’s car accident was staged to mask a brutal beating.

A police officer and widower, Patrick guards his heart as fiercely as he guards his beloved daughter. Seeing Danielle again unexpectedly reignites their old flame, but no way will he introduce a woman into his daughter’s life. Certainly not one whose values on faith and family are so different from his own.

Despite their best intentions, they are drawn together—until Danielle learns Patrick had a hand in putting her sister in harm’s way. Her fragile trust is crushed, but Patrick is the only man who can help her stop the villain before everything they both love is destroyed. Faith, family…and their second chance at forever.

Run, don’t walk, and get your copy now!  Available at:

Samhain Publishing: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/alison-stone-pa-1705.html

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Random-Acts-ebook/dp/B00795G1X4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334076604&sr=8-1

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/random-acts-alison-stone/1108890294?ean=9781609288242&itm=1&usri=alison+stone

Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Random-Acts/book-OSXUgDoMQ0aVm-JoFxmVXg/page1.html?s=QoeSfSCRk0m4in6w2_-prQ&r=1

Also available at Sony and iTunes.

Prepping for Guests…

Okay all, time to drag out the straw broom and tie it to the hellhound’s tail so we can clear off the dust and spiders from the front porch.  I’d ask the Prankster Duo to do it, but that would result in legendary whining.  Besides, they’d probably do the same thing, make the hellhound do it.  In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get Knight in Slightly Muddy Armor to polish himself off (*snort* just realized how that sounded!) and add a little shine to his outfit.  Maybe I can swing by Swamp Thing’s place and see if she has something that will cover up the stink from Eerie’s Zombie horde.  If not, I’ll snag a few of Dreamer’s pretty flowers.  Don’t tell her though–it might upset her if she finds patches gone from her garden. She does such an amazing job with those leafy things, I’m seriously impressed.  Most of mind tend toward brown and flaky. No worries, we can blame Mischevious or the small gypsy tribe of brownies trying to pretend they’re not hiding in the Trecherous Forest.

Are you wondering at the burst of Spring Cleaning I’m embarking on? It’s because next week I’M HAVING A VISITOR.  Yes, indeedy, instead of trotting over and posting on someone else’s blog as I’ve been wont to do for the past month and half, this time around, she’s coming to me.  So who is it?  It’s Alison Stone.  She’ll keep you on the edge of your seat with her thrilling suspense novels with just a touch of heartfelt romance.  I thought it was time we brought a little love and light into the Swamp–it’ll help make Dreamer feel more at home.  Besides, Alison is an awesome writer–so I had to share.

So you must come back next week when she’s here.  Bring your witty charm and fabulous humor and show her we’re not too backwoodsy here in the Swamp.  Share the love and make her feel at home.  I promise we’ll keep the Zombies penned up and Mischevious occupied with something shiny–that why she might come back.

Plus, if this all goes well, I’m thinking of inviting a few other friends to pop in every month.  Especially since I really, really need to buckle down on Shadow’s Moon now that we have our release date for Shadow’s Soul (Book 2) on 6/23/12!

Just an update–I got three chapters in, had to start over, pulled teeth out of a snail, and now I think I finally know where Xander’s going to take us.  You’d think by the third book the story should just merrily stroll along.  Oh no!  No, instead it decides to play hide-n-seek in the middle of a black hole.  Never fear, I’ll take it down–one way or the other.

So until next week…

Be good but not too good!

–Wicked

Happiest Place on Earth

Yes, I’m dodging out of doing a big post again–you guessed it, traveling.

But something to ponder as I head out to sunny SoCal and to see Mickey–what is it about Disney?  What is it about a happy ending that captures our imagination, that makes us return again and again?  It doesn’t apply to all stories, but I find the most powerful ones, the ones that stick with me, are those that are at least hopeful, if not outright exuberant and uplifting.

Perhaps I’m alone and you prefer more sophisticated, nuanced, grey tales.  Dark, edgy, etc., etc.  I do too–not everything can be happy and shiny.

But sometimes, I just want that simple tale, the one that begins with “Once Upon a Time” and ends with “…and they lived happily ever after.”

Whatever you prefer, I hope all your days are happy this upcoming week.

May the Force be with you,

Jedi

Life Interruptus…

I managed to drag and beat into a readable pulp a whole whopping SEVENpages of book 3.  I spent backbreaking hours sucking back frappacinnos as I hunched over my most precious Macbook Air with my ears plugged into my current playlist to bring those pages into the world kicking and screaming.  Exhausted I went home, corralled the Prankster Duo and knight in slightly muddy armor from the hypnotic trance of the latest video craze of SWTOR and we were sitting around the table to enjoy the wonderful world of Pizza Hut, when an almight noise emerged from the night.

Knight and I jumped up, grabbed our sharp pointy and edgy things, set the hellhound to watch the Duo and emerged onto the porch.  The unholy wails were coming from Eerie’s side of our little enclave.  For a moment I was worried his undead pets had slipped their leashes, but it was much, much worse than that.

Eerie’s got a steady head on his shoulders…most times, so this very explosively loud outburst was not normal.  In our Swamp not normal generally means mud is about to hit the fan.  I left Knight to stand guard and slid into the early evening to find out what the hell was going on.  It wasn’t long before Snarky and her whip were imitating a shadow to my left and Quirky and his quarterstaff took his spot on my left.  That pompous soon-to-be-new-pair-of-boots, aka Mr. C. Dial was lounging in his front yard, tsking about how he had been told this was such a nice neighborhood, such a pity. 

Ignoring him, our little trio made it to Eerie’s place to find Smokey trying to force a bowl of…well…something into Eerie’s shaking hands. The poor guy looked like a magnitude 10.0 was happening under his hairy feet.  A whisper of sound announced Jedi’s arrival and down the trodden path a pair of headlights bounced our way.  Great, the Muses were heading in.  Good grief, it was a frickin’ party!

It took a bit, but we finally got Eerie to tell us what was up. 

Mischevious was gone…flown the coop…flocked away!

His collection of shiny bits was still scattered around his perch, and we couldn’t finop…flocked away.

d any sign of forcible abuduction, but Eerie’s convinced he’s been raven-napped.  He’s even posted a rewarde for info.

Suspects are not exactly littering the ground, but personally, after seeing the little tete-a-tee between our Raven and Pompous Ass, it wouldn’t surprise me if that walking luggage set had something to do with it.  I told the old man with the tool belt to take a break on the flask thing and sent my muse with him to go listen to the talk down at the Swamp Shack.  Maybe we’d get lucky and the two of them will hear something.

In the meantime, I’m keeping my eye on that yes-man down the road, just in case. 

If you have any info on Mischevious, do me a favor and let Eerie know? He’s at 777-7777.

As for the writing thing, as I trudged home it hit me, those seven pages…yeah, they weren’t going to work.  During the walk home, I steamed and stewed but at least I know where I’m going to actually start now. Problem is, Shadow’s Soul needs to make it’s way to my editor.  I haven’t been very good at multi-tasking with this third book, so as frustrating as it is, it’s going to the back burner while I stop procrastinating and buckle down for editing hell.  A few more tweaks and it should be a done deal.  Then on to book 3….

Wicked

Pen vs. Keys

Have you ever thought about the way you write?

I can imagine you now, shaking your head in disbelief and pity, threatening to take my lightsaber away for good and confine me to Dagobah forever.  But hear me out.  My question doesn’t concern so much your plot, or characters, word choice, etc., but rather, the actual means by which you produce a story.  That is, do you actually write?  Do you type?  Or something in-between?

I tend to do both, but admit that typing often wins out for convenience as well as speed.  I used to write everything out when I was a kid, filling notebook after notebook full of fantastic drawings, maps, timelines, the works.  Granted, most of it was blatant copying (or probably pretty close to what is called fanfiction now) and not very good, but I keep those notebooks as a symbol and reminder of how far I’ve come.

Can we do the same with the keyboard and computer screen?

I don’t know.  I don’t have any hard or fast answers.  These days I find that my drafts go on the screen first, but that back stories and extraneous information–what I’d been filling up those notebooks with in the first place–still stay solidly in my journals.  I can’t let go of that pen and paper.  Even when the dwarves gather ’round to revise, we all pull out our paper copies and proudly flash Sith red pens of doom.

I think our writing has and will continue to be changed by our different methods.  Stories used to be only oral, after all.  I’m pretty much okay with whatever method, as long as the bad gets wrung out of the system.  For now, I’ll stick with typing on the big things, but whip out the pen for refining.  But I’m glad to know that I do have a choice in the process if I ever need to shake things up.

What do you think?  Does the way you write affect your story?

May the Force be with you,

Jedi

The Horrifying Blank Page…

So with 2012 off to a stumbling start and the fact that it coincides with the fact that I have to start an entire new book from scratch, I thought I’d drag you along each week as I trip my way down the writer’s path of creation.

From previous entries you’ll have noticed that I thought I was doing well.  I had what I thought was book 3 all plotted out.  I even used an actual outline this time around.  I was so puffed up with a sense of accomplishment, which lasted until I gathered at the Swamp Shack with some of the other Dwarves.  Then my puffiness deflated into an oozing pile of goo.

They weren’t overly mean.  I mean I could hear Eerie whispering with Mischievous and only made out a few words: “How the Fur Flies might work”, Quirky just kept saying over and over again, “No, no, no…”, Smokey perked in with an occasional “Did you say you created a book tree? What’s a book tree?”, Jedi  just held onto her Yoda Zen-like opinion  of “Write, do not write, there is only plot” and Snarky, she kept stroking her whip while giving me the evil eye.  Seriously, really not the normal bloodbath but still…

After much debate, some ducking of flying objects I reluctantly had to admit that yes, this would make a fantastic book 4, and I needed to go back and not cheat my future readers and follow  (no spoilers allowed) this particular character for book 3.

So I spent a few days tossing sharp edged things at the wall to see what would stick.  I scratched out a new plot outline, which was similar to pulling teeth with no Novocain.   So now I have a plot that will work with the overall story arc but I can’t get my opening scene to gel!

My typical application of Lady Clairol is just not up to the challenge of covering my spontaneous eruptions of white hair as I labor to bring forth the bestest opening scene ever.  However, this time instead of worrying over the bones of it, much like the hellhound and his decapitated duck from Christmas, I’ve given my self until this weekend to get it together.  Because come Swamp Gas or Zombie hordes, I will begin this book this weekend.

Defenders of Creativity

Here in the swamp there is one day every month that I look forward to with baited breath and giddy excitement–the first Saturday, that joyous day when I make the trek through our stomping grounds over to Smokey’s place where delicious and enticing aromas waft like catnip through the air.  This time I left not only the Prankster Duo and the hellhound behind, but even my knight-in-slightly-muddy armor stayed at home.  He was muttering something about playoff tournaments and had pulled out his old high school jousting thingy. The Evil 7 were meeting for our monthly eat-n-gab and I was anxious to fling a few ideas off of them.

As I made my way through the swamp even the Zombies had a small pep to their normal shuffle-drag so it was more along the lines of shuffle-drag-hop.  Mischievous was tormenting our newest arrival-Mr. C. Rock Adail.  There were bets circulating on how long before Mr. C. Rock-AnAss lasted before someone decided Mrs. Swamp Thing needed a new pair of boots. I was down for a month, but we’ll see…

As I basked in the inspiring atmosphere of the other dwarves, it hit me why these other six individuals are so important to me as a writer.  I thought I’d share these pearls with you all…

1.  They are the only ones I know who can understand that the voices in my head do not equate to a psychotic break, but are in actuality–character development.

2.  Just because I think I have developed a perfectly awesome plot outline for book 3 and should be lauded for my brilliance, they will be the ones to shake their heads with varying degrees of pity and indulgence as they slash my ego down to size with, “Awww sweetie, this is great.. but it’s not book three, this is book four.”  Only they could walk away unscathed from pointing out my mistakes.

3.   They push me to stretch my limits to a breaking point and sometimes even get me to reset those limits somewhere completely new.  Who else could would understand my fear of writing a character who’s not tempered into a lethal weapon by a torturous past?  I’m sure Freud would have a field day with me, but only the other Evil 6 get why the thought of writing a character with a happy past makes my skin clammy and cold while my stomach twists into a Gordian knot.

4.  They’re safe.  Strange concept for a motley group like us, but oh so true.  With them, it doesn’t matter how twisted, dark, wildly inappropriate, weirdly humorous, or silly the concepts are, I can share them and know they aren’t wondering when I’ll hit their house in the middle of the night in a white mask or show up in a white jacket with buckles in the back.  Every writer needs somewhere to bounce all sorts of things around, just to see where they’ll hit or what ideas they’ll spark.  With my group, I have the freedom to do that without worrying if they’ll think differently of me because of it.  They already know I’m warped, so no use in hiding it.

5.  Without them I wouldn’t be working on a book 3, book 4 or even considering 5-8.  We may  have all moved into the Swamp at different times, from different spots in our meandering journeys, but they become my cheering squad, my cattle-prods, my stinging whip of determination and my life saving rope of sanity in the very perilous world of writing.  They’re the ones who can make sure your characters are being true to themselves and their world, your plots may twist and turn but smooth out in the end, and you don’t ever stop writing.

6.  They understand the importance of taking time to dream.  Each of us have had to learn how to snatch our precious dreaming time from the clutches of the real world.  Every writer needs those precious minutes every day.  Time to flesh out those voices in our head, add topography to those worlds we’re creating, and finagle a few twists and turns in those pesky plot lines.  Others may snark at taking time to dream when reality is an oppressive monster, but we understand just how vital and necessary the skill is to our artists souls.  And we guard it zealously with no apologies.

The first Saturday of the month may provide me with lots of adult conversations that seem to be lacking in every day life, but it’s also my time outside of time. It’s a chance to share laughter, ideas, and insights with individuals who are my friends and defenders.  I take huge comfort in the fact that together we become formidable defenders who protect the tiny pieces of our souls that we set into story and lay on paper and place before the intimidating eye of the world.

Wicked

New Year, New Story…

Okay so the New Year has arrived and it’s time to get back to writing.  Shadow’s Soul is out being eviscerated, I mean critiqued, by the other Evil Six so I decided to start the year off write…I began to plot out Raine and Gavin’s next adventure.

But to get to this point took time.  Here’s a little insight into the schizophrenic maze known as a writer’s mind. 

I’ve spent the last few weeks prepping the Prankster Duo, the knight in slightly muddy armor, and the hellhound for the holidays.  We had to hunt down holiday gifts, bind them and then deliver them out to the other Swamp residents.  The Swamp Thing family has had a rough time this season so we had to sneak in late one night to leave their gift on the doorstep in an effort not to be dragged into their “martial discussions”. The Prankster Duo managed to get in and get out without any major setbacks (fires, explosions, dismemberment, etc.) while delivering Smokey, Quirky and Jedi’s gifts.  The knight and I took on the tougher residents. Evading Snarky’s newest whip was perilous and dropping off Eerie and Mischievous’ gifts, well I won’t go into detail. Suffice to say the hellhound was in need of some bone therapy afterwards, and knight’s armor had a few more dents to add to his collection.  Don’t tell Eerie, but I think I lost a blade to one of the shambling hordes.

Regardless, we made it through the season.  The Prankster Duo has increased their weaponry supply with some new additions and they’ve been tormenting the zombies scuffling through the Swamp.  The hellhound was quite pleased with his decapitated duck and unidentified leg bone.  Overall it was a lovely Holiday!

While hunting down and setting sneaky traps for our holiday gifts, I decided to pare down the towering pile of nightstand books and got caught up with some of my favorite stories.  When I finished with that, it was time to face the ominous quest looming on my horizon… the creation of my next book.

For those not familiar with a writer, let me explain why your writer friends seem to morph into bi-polar maniacs with multiple personalities in-between their Works in Progress (aka WIPs).  We all fear the blank page or screen that mocks us with its whiteness. 

Typing the last word on your last story is a relief, until you realize you have to start all over again.  Regardless if you’re doing a stand-alone or a series, beginning a story is terrifying.  Let’s follow along with my neurosis as I begin a new WIP.

First question that hits—can I do it?  Can I really get another three to four hundred pages that will keep a reader on the edge of their seat? Am I all tapped out? Was writing that last book, was that it?

A few deep breaths and a handful of chocolate later I’ve managed to smash that stupid voice into silence.  Yes, I’m a writer, damn it, I can do this.  I’ve done it before.

Next question—so do I continue with Raine and Gavin or do I let other characters have their own story? Should I go back to that other story line and take a break from Raine? If I continue with Raine, I’ll have to pitch to my editor for book three, if I don’t I’ll have to go back out to the vicious world of pitches and throw myself on the mercy of another editor.  What to do?

I re-read the 125 pages I have of the other WIP and it hits me…this isn’t going to work without some major re-writing.  Where do I start? Should I throw it away and just start from scratch? I mean, I really like some of it, but other parts are going to have me sporting a Sinead O’Connor look real quick.  Oh man, maybe it’s not so smart to go back to that one just yet….okay let’s think about Raine. 

What do I need to do next? Where is the overall story arc going? Every book has to accomplish something or why write their story? Fine, let’s torment the newly established couple, throw in some twists and turns and then…miracle of miracles, words are spitting across the page.  A plot emerges.  This is good, I haven’t lost the ability yet. 

Okay so I have a plot, but I’m still thinking this year I’d like to get two books done, so where do I focus?  How do I choose which gets to be done first? The massive re-write or begin Raine’s latest adventure?

Dear God I think the voices in my head are going to stomp my brain into mush and it will leak out of my ears and then neither story will get written.  ARRRGHHH!!!

I manage to piece together Raine’s story and I’m turning over how to re-write the other story, but in the meantime those around me are giving me a wide berth.  Maybe it’s the fact I’m continuously mumbling under my breath while wildly gesturing to get the voices to lower to a dull roar, or maybe it’s the fact that while eating a lovely dinner with family, I blurt out, “She’s being hunted by a psychic psychopath!”

Chairs scrape a few more inches away from me, the Prankster Duo just shake their heads, and knight simply responds in a gently voice, “Do you want some more chocolate, babe?”

And the year has barely begun…

Wicked!

Holiday Merriment with the 7 Evil Dwarves

Once again the 7 Evil Dwarves gathered around the Swamp Gas Fire and exchanged annual gifts of merriment.  Not only is it the one time of the year we cut Smokey a break and bring in our own nourishment, but we also drag along significant others.  Since the Prankster Duo was busy gutting bits of wire and plastic with other miniature humans, my knight in slightly muddy armor and I loaded up with essentials and headed out to trek on over to Smokey’s place.

Me-”Did you get the pies?”

Him-”Yeah. You didn’t have to make them did you?”

Me *snort*- “Please, if the other six wanted to experience a near death experience they’d go taunt Eerie’s Zombies.  I picked those up from Knaves’ End.”

Him *looking very relieved*–”Great.”

We added a couple of new cold steel blades to our outfits, grab the gaily wrapped gifts, leave the hellhound half a boar and some water, set the perimeter defenses and headed down the road. We passed Sunny’s place where a veil of mist swirled in a thick mass.  Poor Sunny, we’ve been trying to get supplies through, but the black hole of chaos is holding her under siege.  We’re going to have to send in a search and rescue team soon and drag her back out.

The cackling of Mischievous’ laughter rings out from above while the moans and shrieks of the Swamp Thing trail behind him.  I can’t quite make out what he has clutched in his talons, but it’s shiny.  One day, the Swamp Thing is going to use him as her Thanksgiving centerpiece.

We pass by the Filet Your Own Deli where my Muse is enjoying her time off and playing a game with the white haired guy sporting a tool belt.  I can see the flash of blades in-between the smack of cards being slapped upside foreheads.  There’s a hungry, evil smile gracing her pale face that sends shivers down my spine, but the old guy just bares his teeth, takes a swig from the old flask at his side and flicks another battered card on the scarred table.  I shake my head as we continue on.

The snap of leather snaking through the air sends me into an instinctive crouch.  Belatedly, I realize that Snarky is just testing out her new bullwhip.  Grumbling softly, I straighten and get a good look at her newest accessory.  Purple…niiiicceee.  I might have to find out where she got that one.

Snarky *checking out the pies in knight in slightly muddy armor arms*–”That better be chocolate.”

Me-”As if there’s any other kind.”

Snarky *narrowing eyes*- “You have two?”

Me – “Nah, offering second option for those of us who OD on sugar today. Sugar Free Apple.”

Snarky *waving a dismissive hand*–”I’ll stick with chocolate.”  A sharp squeal comes from inside her house, and the smile that appears is the same one I’ve seen right before she hands me back my drafts dripping in red. “I need to go check on the ham. See you soon!”

A little further down the road, we pull up short as we watch Eerie fighting over a bottle of Werewolf Hunter’s Moon red with a fairly persistent pair of Zombie twins.

Eerie–”Let go you brainless lump of flesh! Even if your brain was working you couldn’t appreciate this vintage.”

It’s entertaining watching the on-going struggle between my short friend and the Brainless Wonder Duo.  The scuff of boots against gravel announce the arrival of Quirky, Jedi and her other half.

Quirky–”Who’s winning?”

Me-”Not sure yet.”

Jedi-”I’ll put ten on the twins.”

Quirky-”You’re on.”

Me *thinking about the last time Eerie got cornered by the horde*–”I think I’ll just watch.”

Eerie–”A little help here!”

Knight in slightly muddy armor–”I don’t know, this is kind of fun to watch.”

Before anyone else can move, a black feather dive bomber manages to distract Twin 1 by introducing talons to eyeballs.  I grimace.  Those stains are never going to come out.

Me-”Have you considered enrolling your horde in Zombie training courses, Eerie?”

Eerie-”What are they going to teach them? They already know drop dead, gnaw and claw.”

I take the pies from my knight–”We’re going to be late.  Go help.”

He takes out his shiny new sword and cuts the legs out from under Twin 2. Literally.

Eerie stumbles back and cradles his bottle carefully. Smoothing down one of many flyway strands of hair, he’s all dignity.  “Thank you.”

We make it to Smokey’s door without further incidents and his lovely Italian counterpart welcomes us into their home.  The next few hours pass in a blissful haze of food, friends and laughter.  Gifts are exchanged, stories are shared and barbs are traded.

Remember during this busy season–this is what makes the holidays–laughter, love and friendship.

Treasure yours as I do mine!

Merry Holidays everyone!

Wicked

Happy Thanksgiving…7ED Style

It’s the time of year when everyone does the Why I am Thankful blogs, so I thought I’d join along in my own unique way.

Here in the Swamp there are many things to be thankful for this year.  Let’s begin, shall we?

I am thankful for…

…the Prankster Duo.  Who else in my life would make me consider the deep, dark mysteries of the world  with  such scintillating conversation gambits such as:

                “Mom, can I borrow Siri for a second?”
“Umm..sure…why?”

“I need to look up a word.”

“What word?”

“Fart.”

Startled silence… “Why?”

“My friend said he did and it was ‘an explosive sensation from between his legs’.”

I try really hard not to hit my brakes and cause a five car pile-up as I try to find air to drag into my lungs.  My precious 9 year old…oh dear…. “Um, honey, perhaps you should think of another definition.”

“Why?”

Right, how to answer this one without him thinking his mother is a pervert…oh wait…. “Okay, because that definition could be interpreted in a way you would find really gross.  How about  ‘explosive flatulence’?

“Hmm…okay…should I ask why it would gross me out?”

“It has to do with boys and girls…”
“Okay enough said, I’ll stick with ‘explosive flatulence’.”

…my knight-in-slightly-muddy-armor who has stayed beside me while Eerie’s Zombie’s have trashed our yard and the hellhound has seeded the same yard with many landmines.  Not only has he braved that terror, but he has successfully save many an electronic devices from being tested for aerodynamic properties when they refuse to cooperate with me.  Considering how often that temptation occurs, he’s my hero, because recovering drafts from broken pieces of plastic and wires is really hard!

…my hellhound, without whom my floors would not hold themselves down, but float away into oblivion.  Only he could figure out the strategic points that will keep them grounded and still manage to be where ever I have to walk.

…Starbucks and the lovely baristas, because they have saved many an unsuspecting person from violent death while supplying me with my needed caffeine fix that makes sure all my edged accessories stay sheathed!

…Snarky and her bloody whip.  Let’s be honest, without the combo of the two there’s no way I would have dredged up enough courage and armor to brave the pit of submission hell and finally, FINALLY got a contract!

…Eerie, Mischievous Raven and the herd of corpses that tend to trample my lawn.  Not only has he obtained some seriously good wine from the Werewolf monks, but he shines forth humor in the darkest moments and that is truly priceless.

…Quirky for reminding me why cynicism is not always the best thing to use for protection.  His ability to strip down situations to bare bones makes him invaluable to the Evil 7.  Beside it’s fun to watch him squirm!

…Smokey and his fabulous recipes.  However, I’m still not to sure about the octopus and whatever that was that one time in the Swamp where he and Eerie got together.  Strange, but if you don’t tell me what it is, I won’t think about it! It’s nice to know that even if you can’t pronounce character names, you can cook!

…Jedi and her bravery.  I mean, really, think about it.  How brave would you be to walk into a steamy Swamp filled with gods-only-know-who, talk to the short. stumpy guy with the beady eyed raven trying to pry a zombie arm from the Swamp Thing while the Prankster Duo goes screaming by with some weird contraption spitting flame, while Snarky tries to hold back the horde parked outside her porch with a 12 foot whip?  Really, our neighborhood doesn’t need a watch, more like napalm.  We’re glad you survived the welcoming committee and decided to stay!

…BFF, Ang, because who else would dare take me to a move about a sparkling vampire who hatches kids from eggs and an alpha wolf that doesn’t kill for leadership and can’t pronounce his someday mate’s name, and then let me go Science Mystery Theater on it for two hours.  She even held back the prepubescent horde armed with lip-gloss and sparkle and their mothers from trampling me under their keds.  Only a BFF like that can be trusted at your back.

…to all of you for taking the time to follow along, even when the insanity that lives inside me spews outward!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!