Had to Share!

Got this email today and I had to share it. It's awesome!

This is an actual letter from an Austin, Texas woman sent to
Proctor and Gamble regarding one of their feminine products. She really gets
rolling after the first paragraph. This was PC Magazine's 2007 Editors'
Choice award-winner for the best letter sent via e-mail.

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for
over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the
LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go
horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of
running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts.

But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary
Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough
to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I
can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a
little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? I'm
guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now.
As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through
my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be
transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife
skills.'

Isn't the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no
doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your
customer's monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know
about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our
intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You
surely realize it's a tough time for most women.

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America
is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings
me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of
cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my
uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive
backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'

Are you f------ kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of
your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling,
laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything
mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James?
FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be
anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and
Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to
the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to
end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you have to
slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say
something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or
'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong'.

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective
immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I
have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though
I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss
your brand of condescending bullsh!t. And that's a promise I will keep.

Always…

Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX

Quotes from Dennis Lehane's Sacred

Little guy has been sick with a cold, which has settled into his chest, and it bothers him mostly in the middle of the night. So I haven't been sleeping much of late. This means that I'm nodding off by 8:30 pm and haven't been awake enough to post.

In the absence of anything interesting to say, here are two of my favorite quotes for Dennis Lehane's Sacred:

"I bent and wrapped my good arm around her waist. I lifted her off the floor, sat her on the sink, and kissed her as her legs curled around the back of mine and her sandals dropped to the floor. For at least five minutes, we barely came up for air. These last few months, I hadn't just been hungry for her tongue, her lips, her taste-- I'd been weak and light-headed from wanting." Patrick Kenzie about Angela Gennaro.

"The ornament of beauty, Shakespeare wrote, is suspect. And he was right. But beauty itself, unadorned and unaffected, is sacred, I think, worthy of our awe and our loyalty." Patrick Kenzie.

OneRepublic

I love this video. It's so visually appealing, and the front man, Ryan Tedder, isn't only a phenomenal singer and songwriter, but he's hypnotizing to watch. Grace and eloquence while emoting class rage. I love it. Love his voice.

I'm a sucker for that raw emotion-charged quality in a voice. That's why I love Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 (particularly their first album, Yourself or Someone Like You, which I pretty much wore out).

This has quickly become one of my favorite bands. I love their song Secrets as well.

Procrastination

Hmmm. Black and white or color?

Fun with the camera

Retro

This is for my girl Deb, who has been nursing a broken heart for far too long.

Sunday Morning

Did get another scene in yesterday, so that was good. Went to the graduation party, which was wonderful. Many lovely people and yummy food. Little guy is big enough that I don't have to chase him too awful much anymore. I just have to watch that he doesn't run toward the pool or the road, which is nervewracking enough.

But there were two golden retrievers there and the critter loves dogs. The dogs were excellent with him, and one of them took on the role of babysitter for a while, following him around and making sure he didn't get hurt.

Spent a lot of time in the pool with the critter. He had a blast. Thank God for that pool because the weather was horrible. Sweltering. Ugh.

But today, we're all shot. The little guy is still sleeping. Big guy is too, which isn't unusual hehe.

So I'm going to open the document and try and get another scene in before the bean wakes up. Got my iced coffee at hand (made it yesterday and put the entire pot in the fridge for today) and my playlist open. So here I go!

Fly-By

Good parking lot session this morning, then took the bean to the part. Great time with him, especially getting caught in the rain. I chased him around while he giggled and ran away from me. Little scamp.

We were soaked when we got back to the house. He's napping now so I'm going to try and get at least another scene done. Graduation party this afternoon. Hope it isn't as hot and humid as they're calling for! Blech! Can't like it.

Blither for a Rainy Evening

I had a big, long post which got eaten by blogger for some odd reason.

Short version - Got talked down from the ledge by mother who reminded me that at the end of the writing of every book, I think that the books is complete drivel, nothing but a jumbled mess, which isn't good for anything other than making paper airplanes with and tossing out the window.

Realization that in this day and age, writers need to do more than just write. We have to become crackerjack marketing managers for ourselves, and to that end, I need to plan to go to a convention/conference in the near future (well, probably next year), so that I can network and make contacts. Since my little guy is getting bigger, I feel better about leaving him with Daddy or Mimmie and Papa for a day or two.

Grateful that my fella doesn't think I'm a nutjob when I stare out a window for endless minutes, playing scenes out in my head and hearing the voices of characters. I look at him to find him grinning and me, and sometimes asking me what scene I see, or sometimes just grinning, because he knows me and I don't have to explain.

I don't understand what he does when he's got an engine apart and he's planning what step happens next with the race car, but I appreciate it. Same with him and my writing. A mutual respect for what the other does, without having to know the mechanics or process of it (which is good, because my eyes would glaze over pretty fast). Though sometimes we might talk about process.

I love him because he's my friend, and we have an incredible mental connection. And he often knows what I want or need before I do, because I'm not likely to ask. I've always done things for myself. But damn, it's nice when somebody can read your mind like that. It really is freakin' awesome.

He knows when I'm cold or hot and will adjust the temp in the truck. He knows if I'm getting thirsty when we're watching a movie and will offer me water. He knows if I find the radio too loud or soft and will adjust the sound. And he knows when I need to just chill. And it'll be at the moment it pops into my head when he'll give me what I need.

It's uncanny, really.

Anyway, he's the only man I've been in a serious relationship with who isn't in competition with the writing. He deserves a damned klondike bar for that:



Anyway, Lee Child is waiting on my bed for me, and he's far too tempting to stay away from any longer. So I'm off.

I Write Like. . .

Pasted the first scene of Dirty Business into this writing analyzer. Hehe. Pretty nifty. Got it courtesy of Kat Richardson, whose books I love.

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I've never read James Joyce, but I'm not surprised that I write like an Irish writer. The Irish are natural storytellers, and anyone who has Irish family and/or has grown up in a celtic neighborhood knows this :)

I love listening to stories. I love when somebody shares things about their life with me. I find it endlessly facinating. What brought them to the point their at now? What shaped them?

Anyway. Guess I'll have to read some James Joyce now.

Gettin' There

Got only one little scene done yesterday. I'm realizing that my last several scenes are shorter than most. Not sure why, except that maybe it's because it's nearing the end, so there's a sense of urgency to the scenes. More action that packs more of a punch.

But it means that I'm writing more of them. So it's taking more than the two or three scenes I thought it would. Which is okay, because I'm still almost there.

Very busy day. Tired and bleary-eyed.

Over and out.

Um . . .

A few of the songs I uploaded to my Project Playlist this time didn't take for some reason. They may still show up. Two other Late Night Alumni songs. Anyway, I put Buckcherry's Crazy Bitch on it. If you're easily offended, do NOT listen to it.

It's dirty, and I like it. Yes I do. I like Buckcherry. They're raw and raunchy, and sometimes that's just what I want to listen to. Night all.

Daaaayum!

Finished three short scenes. Got a few more to go before I type "the end", and in celebration, I bought a cute black pair of sleep shorts with "the end" in white lettering going across the butt. Very cute. Love them.

But came across this video while doing my playlist. Woooooooweeeee! Hot.

Fly-By

New playlist. Little guy gone with daddy to get his hair cut. I'm taking advantage in between doing loads of laundry.

Later all.

Love Michelle Branch

Eureka Moment

Okay, I said I wasn't going to write. But I did say I'd be thinking of the book. I have no choice in the matter. So while I was not writing last night it occurred to me that I'd completely dropped a character.

This is a guy who I was wondering if I'd keep or not. It turns out that he's too interesting to me to cut him. So he stays. This means I need to write him into the rest of the book. However, I don't think he needs to have a lot of page space.

As it turns out, I think that him not being on stage much works out for the story even better, because I've discovered in a kind of moment of clarity eureka moment today that he's much more important than I thought he was, but in setting his role up for the next Leah book. So I don't need to write a bunch of scenes with him in it. I just need him to make another appearance or two. Some part of me must've known this, otherwise he'd have been all over this book by now.

He's just cool. I really like him.

And he came to me pretty much fully formed, which means that he's been lurking in my subconscious for quite some time.

He's made his purpose known. So he stays. So we'll see how he does.

The time stamp on my posts is way off. I noticed that the last post said I wrote it at 6:09 pm or something. It was actually 10:09 pm. So I need to fix that. I never noticed this before. Never looked at the time stamp, so it's probably been going on for quite some time, if not for as long as I've had the blog.

It's 9:05 pm right now, for the record.

And I'm heading off to read. Not writing.

But I am.

No rest for the wicked :)

Soulful Writing

Visiting Justine Musk's blog tonight, I came upon her latest blog entry on putting more soul into your writing. I love this post, because it validates what I've been doing with this book in particular. It also explains why it feels so raw to me. I've had to take breaks here and there in the writing of it, to get a bit of distance when it felt like too much. It's been the most challenging book emotionally for me to write.

I was having a conversation with my mother on Sunday a.m while I was making a big breakfast for my boys. While I was waving a spatula around, I agonized over whether this book was too dark, too emotional, too . . . much. I still do. She's awesome because what she really does is lets me think out loud and answer my own questions, really. She's a sounding board. I figure a lot of shit out this way with my books.

The story cuts deep. It's emotional for me. And tonight I'm so glad that I found Justine's blog entry on the topic, because I think I'm on the right track. Funny, the closer I get to the end, the less I want to write the end. I don't know if this is just procrastination or maybe that something isn't right with the story and I subconsciously know this, or if I'm having separation anxiety.

But brooding over pans of eggs, sausage links and bacon, I did discover at least that a character I really didn't want to kill off has to die. It's horrible for me, but if she survives it cheats the story and the reader. Strange, because this character never actually steps onto the page or says even one word of dialogue, but her presence is strong in the book.

*Sigh*

I'm taking the week off writing this book, and I'll get back into it on the weekend. I'm giving myself permission to take a break. Which isn't really a break, anyway, because the story and characters will be running through my mind anyway.

I had to smile at her suggestion of timed writings. I've been doing timed writings ever since my little guy was born. I have no time to dawdle when it comes to the writing. I sit my ass down and I bang out a scene or two while he's sleeping or in a parking lot, or whatever. Also, nano was another lesson in timed writing. And Justine is right. You do get right to the good stuff. No time for padding or ruminating.

This is also probably why this book feels so raw. Everything came from the heart. From my gut. I think I'm feeling a bit scared of it right now.


You know the feeling. Like when someone makes you feel too much and you need to catch your breath. But every second you're away from them, you miss them and you think about them. You remember their touch. Their scent and how it lingers on you after you leave each other. The sound of their voice. The turn of their lips when they grin. The shade of their eyes when they crinkle at the outer corners when they smile.

It's like that with writing too. For me, anyway.

Okay. Sleepy. Over and out.

Busy Weekend

Fella back from Korea yesterday. Had some catching up to do.

Kids birthday party today. The daughter of friends of ours. Great time! Loved seeing them. But I'm shot. Just whipped.

Goin' to bed early tonight. With a book. Somebody else's.

Second Wind

As it stands, I need two more scenes. Maybe three. This can change, of course. But I'm almost there. Almost finished the second draft. It's actually just a couple/few scenes short of being a completed, if rough, book now. I'm just filling in the last of the candy bar scenes.

Almost there, almost, almost, almost . . . there. . .

Checking In

I'm quiet lately because I'm deep into the book in my mind, and it's kind of a Zen place to be. I'll be here constantly until I type "The End". Happens with every book. But it means that I'm not very conversational or chatty at the moment.

Making things a little more challenging on the writing front is the fact that my little guy discovered how to climb out of his crib last night. So my concentration level was zero as I had to keep getting up and putting him back into his crib. But it's a new game for him so he's really diggin' it. So it might be a while before I can do night writing without nodding off.

Heat wave here in NY suuuuuuucks. The atmosphere is heavy and oppressive. Can't like it. Makes me feel like I've been run over by a truck. I know a lot of people are feeling the same way. I much prefer the refreshing Sept/Oct air. I'd be happy with that weather all year round.

Struggling once again with the "I suck/I don't suck" routine. I slide in and out of both so quickly lately. I know all of my favorite writers experience the same thing. I think if what you're writing matters to you, you do experience self-doubt. It's just really nerve racking because we really have to take it on faith that what we're putting on paper will be worth reading to somebody other than ourselves.

And so it goes. That's all for now.

Evening Chillin'

Lying back on the reclining sofa listening to this:



I love Late Night Alumni. Love. Them.

Dialogue Snippet.

His name hung on my tongue as we kissed, but if I allowed myself to murmur it he'd hear the depth of my longing. He'd know how much I care. Leah Ryan. Dirty Business (Previously titled A Sudden Frost).

Happy 4rth!!

Happy Fourth everyone! Gonna make it a quiet day because it's going to be sizzling hot out there. Maybe fill my little guy's little pool for him and let him splash around. My fella's going to mow the lawn and tinker in his garage. Just a low key day. Niether of us want to be out in the blasting sun in a crowd of sweaty, cranky poeple today.

So far today I made banana pancakes, washed the floors and did some laundry. It's not even 11 o'clock yet. Hope to do some writing today. Yesterday's parking lot session didn't work out all that well because I was tired. Went to bed too late, having taken my little guy to the drive-in to see Toy Story 3.

That didn't work out so well. He didn't want to stay in his seat and bounded all over the truck, yelled greetings to the people next to us (on both sides) during the movie, and turned on the wipers, honked the horn, powered the windows up and down and kept locking and unlocking the doors. So we had to leave. Ah well. Maybe next year.

Anyway, I didn't get to bed until past 11 o'clock, which is too late for me, because I'm up early.

I know. Wild woman, huh?

Speaking of which. I must be a total square. I'm the only person I know who hasn't had at least one hook up. Meaning one night stand. Everyone else I know has had at least one, if not many. Not me.

Not that I'm looking for one because I'm not. I don't feel like I missed out or anything. But it just struck me as being a little odd.

I'm kind of reclusive though. And waaaaay cautious. I've never put out that vibe even going out with my girlfriends when I was in University. In fact, I put out a get the hell away vibe. I don't have an extremely high trust level.

But more than that, attraction for me is an intricate process. I'm attracted to personality, but it has to be a particular set of factors involved. Never been attracted to just a physically beautiful person. Or a jock, or money, or whatever. In fact, money has always been a mark against a potential suitor. I can't relate to it. It's foreign to me. Completely alien. So it's actually something that repels me from a partner.

If he had money, he'd betta have had one hell of a sparkling personality, because I just didn't care. And he'd betta have been doing something good with some of that cash, and not just flashing his shit all over town. The couple of guys I dated who came from money didn't last long. They had never struggled. Never known what it was like to not have whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. The sense of entitlement was always the clincher. And then the power imbalance of them being a have and me being a have not. That was especially tough for me back then. Buh bye.

There was one guy in high school that I liked. I didn't hold the fact that he was gorgeous and had money against him. He was funny. Great personality. A lot of fun. But he drank a LOT. So I wouldn't date him. But I did a few term papers for him. He said one day,

Him: "You will do my papers for me but you won't go out on one date with me?"

Me "That about sums it up. Yes."

Him: "It's because my family has money, isn't it?"

Me: "No. It's because you're a friggin' lush. You come to school drunk every day. You're a train wreck, man. I don't need the grief."

Him: "Okay, but aside from that, why won't you go out with me?"

I did like him. I hope he stopped drinking, for his sake.

Anyway, I'm thinking of this whole attraction thing. It's definitely personality for me. Somebody with fire and passion. Somebody driven in some way. Beauty is just the topping on the sundae.

So no hook-ups for me. I just never had any interest.

Makes it tough to write about a character who hooks up, though.

I'm rambling. Have a good day everyone!

Oh. My. God!

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!! Only problem is that I have to wait until November for this sexy little thing.