First of all, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Hope you all are enjoying the holiday season.

If you recall, a few weeks ago, our hundred pound German Shepherd, Schultz, found a box and had a great time playing with it. Many of you commented that we should give Schultz a box for Christmas. Well, we took your advice and did just that.

We gave him a box that was almost as big as he is, and then took him outside and let him do whatever he wanted. Let me tell you, the dog had a blast!   He began by ripping down the sides. He clamped on to the box with his big mouth and shook his head ferociously. He threw it into the air. My husband caught it and held it high above the dog. Schultz jumped up and grabbed it. He tore it some more and pranced around the yard with a piece in his mouth.

This little charade went on for about twenty minutes. By the time Schultz was done, the box was completely ripped apart in very small pieces.

My husband picked up the pieces and dumped them into our recycle bin. "Thanks, Schultz!" he said. "Now I don't have to cut up the box."

It's good to have a German Shredder!

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'Tis the season for baking Christmas cookies. I've been in full swing at my pad, making all sorts of delightful confections. This has not gone unnoticed by the cookie monsters. They lurk in shadowy places, waiting for me to put the cookies in tins and leave them unattended.

The first cookie monster attack occurred about a week ago. I had baked a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies. (I only bake this recipe at Christmas because they're so decadent.)  The recipe yielded 60 cookies. I placed the cookies in tins, and hid most of them. Unfortunately, it's a little tough to hide that many cookies. One tin was not concealed well enough. Sure enough, the cookie monsters struck. The next morning, the tin was not in its place. When I opened it, the cookies were missing. And the little monsters didn't even leave a thank you note.

I was determined not to let this happen again. I baked a batch of different cookies while the monsters were out. I put them in tins and hid them in the cold basement. I figured they'd be safe there. Unfortunately, the smell of cookies lingered far longer than I had anticipated. As soon as the monsters returned, they smelled cookies.

"Where are they?" the biggest monster asked.

I scowled. "I'm not telling."

"Oh, yeah?" The biggest monster grinned. "Come on," he called to the little monsters. "Let's go find the cookies!"

Their noses led them right to the stash. With a look of triumph, they opened the lid and started munching.

Next year, I'm buying a cookie safe, and locking it down. I've had enough of these cookie monster attacks!

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When we started the publishing process we had no idea what we were getting into. Our book was written, but what were the next steps after having it edited and “ready to go”? We learned a lot along the way, and we'll share some of the highlights here. 

Stephanie Robinson, Unicorn Writers' Conference

1. If you want to write books, start going to writers’ conferences. We gained something from every one we attended, and it’s also awesome to be surrounded by so many people who share your passion for writing. Very inspirational!

 

2. If you decide to go the traditional route, it is important to research the agents you would like to query. You want to make sure the person representing your book loves it too! Be patient. After you write your query and send it off- you’ll have to wait for 1-3 months before you hear back about whether they would like to pass, see a partial manuscript, or read the whole manuscript. During this time- keep writing. Work on your next book!

3. Once you connect with the right agent, you will sign a contract with them. Read it over carefully and check it with other professionals before you sign your name. Make sure you understand what you are agreeing to and what they will do for you. We were thrilled to sign our contract with Talcott Notch Literary Agency, but we’ve heard nightmare stories from friends who had contracts that weren’t acceptable.

Gina Panettieri, Talcott Notch Literary

4. Your agent will start querying editors. After you’ve found the right agent, they will know what to do during this process and will check in with you to let you know where and when they are sending your work. When you hear back from editors, you will typically receive general remarks that you’ll need to consider. Remember, reading is subjective and even JK Rowling was rejected before her first Harry Potter book was published.

Signed contract with Delacorte Press

5.  When you sign with an editor you will most likely do a happy dance and run around screaming, like we did. Depending on the size of the publishing company the time frame to begin edits will vary. We signed our contract in October, but didn’t begin working on edits until March. The editing continues as the art department works on illustrations and cover art for the book. Once all the pieces are in place, the book is printed as an ARC- advanced reader copy.

 

6. ARCs have errors and the publishing company is working to fix them, but time is limited to get them done and errors cost money to fix. We read through our ARCs and made a list of all the mistakes we found. We were able to fix one of them because it isn’t easy to fix them at this stage, but luckily the editors had already fixed the other mistakes we had found (though we didn’t know for sure until the book was out).   

The ARCs for THE SECRET FILES OF FAIRDAY MORROW

7. After the ARCs you will keep working on your other writing while you wait for trade reviews to come in. Ours came a few months before the book was out.

8. Release day! You'll be a bundle of nerves seeing your book out in the world. It's exciting, but you may feel a little vulnerable. Make sure to celebrate and enjoy the moment!

Voila! The finished product.

If you decide to publish traditionally, take your work seriously and protect your creative space. You are your own best advocate, so believe in yourself and fear not the unexpected! ;)

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Let me tell you about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Which was actually kind of funny, in a weird sort of way.

Georgia, the fine state in which I live, had experienced a drought. We had no rain for a couple of months. Well, that all changed on the day my son and I were scheduled to go Christmas caroling with a nice group from church. Of course, on that day, the heavens opened, and the rain came down. Mama got soaked. Did I mention it was cold?

Then, I came home (still wet and cold) and did some laundry. Except I had a little problem. Somebody had lost the cap to the laundry detergent. You may or may not be familiar with how the mega-sized liquid detergent bottles work. There are actually two spouts. One is a spigot, where you press a button and detergent flows out, and the other is the cap, where you can pour it out. Since my washing machine is a tall, super high power thing, it's much easier to use the spigot. Which I did. But I didn't notice that the cap was missing on the other opening. Guess what happened?  As I used the spigot, I tilted the container. As I did, liquid detergent poured out of the top, onto my head, and on my clothes.

So now, I was cold, wet, and covered in detergent.

But that's not all.

I went down to the kitchen to pack my kids' lunches for school. As I reached for the sandwich bags, which were on a very high shelf in the pantry, I knocked something over. A glass bottle of shrimp cocktail sauce. It splattered on the floor, breaking in a million pieces, covering me, the cabinet, and the floor with red goop.

All I could think was, why?   Why couldn't the shrimp cocktail sauce have fallen first? And then the detergent, and then the cold rain. At least I would have been clean. But no. I had to end my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day  as a strange-smelling, cold, grouchy, irritated catastrophe.

Oy!

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This is part two of my family's Thanksgiving shenanigans.

So, I had spent two days baking and cooking for our Thanksgiving feast. I made pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, pumpkin pie, a cranberry walnut tart, green bean/ corn casserole, squash casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, and a sixteen-pound turkey. It was a ridiculous amount of food.

My family devoured everything, and complained about how stuffed they were afterwards. I'm sure you're familiar with the story if you live in the good old USA.

Four hours later, at around 10:00 PM, I walked into the kitchen and found my son, my daughter, and my daughter's friend mixing ingredients. That's right. They were getting ready to bake.

"What the heck are you doing?" I asked, completely flabbergasted. "We have a ton of food in the refrigerator. You don't need to make more. Besides, it's way too late to be baking and eating even more food!"

"But, Mom," my daughter said. "You didn't make monkey bread. And it's never too late to make monkey bread."

Ugh!

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First of all, I'd like to wish all of my American friends a very Happy Thanksgiving!

As I was preparing our traditional Thanksgiving meal of turkey and the fixings, my son came up and made a face. "We're having turkey, again?"

I made a face back at him. "Of course we are. It's Thanksgiving. We eat turkey on Thanksgiving."

"We should try something different."

"Like what?"

"Turducken."

"What?" That sounded like some alien life form.

"It's a turkey stuffed with duck and chicken."

I thought he was making this up. "There's no such thing, Bubba. Don't be ridiculous."

He grabbed his handy dandy computer and pulled up a picture. "Here it is!"

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It's time for another (late) Question of the Month hosted by Michael D'Agostino. This month's question has to do with a first kiss. I can't remember the details of the question, because it's lost somewhere in my vast quantities of emails. All I'm going to say, is that I was thirteen years old when I had my first kiss, and it wasn't from my husband. That's more than you ever need to know.


Now for the story:


As you know, our German Shepherd, Schultz, likes to chase deer. There have been several stories here about him doing so. But there has never been a story about the Mama chasing deer. Yep. That's right. This crazy old lady decided to teach those oversized rodents a lesson.


Schultz was in the backyard barking his head off. I looked out the window to see what the problem was. A herd of about ten deer was casually grazing behind our fence. Schultz was doing his best to make them go away, but the deer, being the insolent lot they are, didn't care. It's like they were totally disrespecting the dog.


Disrespectful deer really tick me off. So I got on my shoes and jacket and went out into the yard. The rodents stopped momentarily to look at me, and then continued. I'm sure they thought they were perfectly safe. There's no way any creature on the other side of that gate could get to them.


They were wrong. I walked over to the gate, lifted the latch, and walked onto their side. You should've seen the look on their faces! They bolted toward the river. I followed. They stopped at the bank and looked back at me. "I see you," I said. "And I'm coming to get you!"


They knew I meant business. They ran through the river to the other side. Up the hill they went, until they were out of sight.


I think the deer and I have an understanding. No more disrespecting the dog. If they do, they have to deal with the Mama!




I have one more thing to say. I seem to be having some trouble commenting on some of your blogs. I can type my comment on your page, but there is no way for it to be published. Not sure what the problem is. For those of you who have Google sharing capabilities on your page, I've been sharing on Google and commenting there. If you don't have that, you won't be seeing any comments from me, even though I'm reading your posts. Just wanted to let you all know. Hopefully the problem will get fixed soon.   
    

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Yeah. I know. I've been MIA for a while. I'm the coordinator for a big concerto competition, and I've been super busy working on that. I have a brief moment, so I'll share a story before I disappear again.


My son wanted a Halloween party. Since I've been so busy, I wasn't really feeling like doing one, but I did it anyway. I decorated the house. These decorations included silhouettes of bugs and rodents. The entire entranceway had them all over the walls and floor. It looked pretty cool.


When the guests arrived, they commented on how good it all looked.


"I like the bugs you have outside around your door," one of the guests said.


Outside around the door? I didn't recall putting any out there.


I went outside to see what he was talking about.


Do you know what I saw? Swarms of June bugs all around my entrance. It was a major infestation! The place was crawling with them.


Guess Mother Nature did her own decorating!


(Hope y'all had a nice Halloween!)  

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When I got my teenaged daughter a ukulele for Christmas, I didn't think it was going to become a new trend. My daughter really took to the thing, and started going on YouTube to learn how to play all kinds of songs. Whenever her friends come over, she plays. And so do they. In fact, all of her friends now have ukuleles.


Now they have a new thing:  The Ukulele Club. A group of girls bring their instruments and strum tunes during lunch. I guess it's rather entertaining for everyone.


The trend seems to have caught on. The other day, as I drove my daughter to school, we saw another young lady walking, holding her ukulele. "Do you know her?" I asked.


"No, but now everyone wants to play the ukulele."


I guess so. I will say one thing. When my daughter and her friends are in my car, and I'm driving them some place, I never have to put on the radio. They bring their ukuleles and provide the music.


In case you want to hear some good playing, here's a video by IZ, which kind of inspired me to get the ukulele in the first place:

 

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It's time for Question of the Month hosted by Michael D'Agostino. Actually, it's past time. I'm late again. Oh well. The question is, "Have you ever had to make a difficult decision which you didn't want to do, but you knew it was for the best?"


The answer is, yes. I've actually had to make quite a few of them. One of the more recent was during my move from Ohio to Georgia about three years ago. I was the president-elect of the Ohio String Teacher's Association. My term as president was supposed to begin just as I was leaving. I was looking forward to serving as president, and I had a lot of big plans. I could've done it from Georgia, but it would have been a challenge. So I decided to step down and let someone else who lived in Ohio take the position. It was very disappointing for me, but I knew it was for the best.


Have you ever had to make any difficult decisions like that?


Now for the story: 


I was sitting at the dinner table when I heard a cell phone ring. It didn't sound like mine. A few seconds later, my son came into the kitchen.


"Mama, you have a call."


I turned around, and found my son holding a rather peculiar looking phone. It was yellow and shaped like a familiar fruit. But it had writing on it.


"Dude," I said. "What's this?"


"A banana phone. You'd better answer it."


So I did. And I had a nice conversation with the monkey on the other end.

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Our hundred pound German Shepherd, Schultz, is now six years old. (Which means I must've been blogging for six years, since he was just a puppy when I first started.) The dog is rather smart, but he never seemed to know my name. He knew "Daddy," and "Bubba," and my daughter's name. But not "Mama."


Time and time again, we'd ask him to "get Mama." and he never would. He'd go to the window and look out, even though I was standing two feet away from him.


Well, some kind of connection finally happened in his dog brain. The day he turned six, he figured it out.


"Go get Mama," my husband said.


And he did!


We made a big fuss about it.


We asked him the next day, and he remembered.


It's been a whole two weeks, and he still knows who I am. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

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My twelve-year-old son had a class field trip to a place called Biz Town. At Biz Town, the kids are given grown-up jobs. They spend seven hours that day working their grown-up jobs. My boy's job was as CFO (chief financial officer) of Delta Airlines. I don't know how the boy got selected for that one, but he was the man.


He had one of the largest offices in the place, and a steady stream of "employees" consulting him about budgeting and payment issues. The boy was kept busy the entire day. While he enjoyed one of the highest salaries, he was not thrilled with the small amount of free time he had. "Everyone else got to check things out, while I had to sit behind the desk and deal with piles of papers!"


"So, how did you do?" I asked.


"We didn't go bankrupt," he said.


"That's good," I said.


"But we only ended up with $200 for operating costs for the next day."


Hmmm. Well, at least it's nice to know that Delta Airlines has lived to fly another day.


Before I go, I want to let you know I'm giving away free downloads of my book, Ten Zany Birds, on Smashwords. If you'd like to get one, follow the link and use coupon code WJ95M. Offer expires October 26, 2016.

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My teenaged daughter doesn't like to clean her room. Ever. I keep telling her that if she doesn't clean it, and she keeps bringing food up there, she's going to end up having bugs. She didn't believe me. I'm just the Mama. What do I know?


Well, last night, she got a rude awakening.  Literally. While she slept, a rather large insect was prowling around her room. It ended up in her bed. She was unaware of its existence until she felt something tickling the palm of her hand. Do you know what it was? A centipede! A big one! The thing was crawling in the of the palm of her hand. 


She screamed and threw it on the ground. Then she tried to kill it. But it escaped - under her bed among the piles of trash.


Now she's terrified to be in her room, because of course the centipede is going to seek revenge. And we're quite certain there's an army of critters under there to help it.


"I have to clean my room!" she said. "And not just my dressers. Everywhere! The bugs must die!"


Yes, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Centipede! 




Before I go, I'd like to let you know that my blog friend, Robyn Proctor has featured my book, That Mama is a Grouch, on her blog. That was so nice of her! If you'd like to read the review, please go
here.

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I'm a little late this month for the Question of the Month. But hey, better late than never. Host, Michael Agostino's question is:  What kind of music speaks to you the most?


Classical. It's more complex than most of the popular music your hear on the radio. I actually get kind of annoyed with the same I, IV, V chord progressions that are used in popular music. (I know, if you're not a musician like me, you have no idea what I just said.) I've been known to turn off popular songs because they're too boring, musically. My brain likes complex things. And I really enjoy performing classical music, because in doing so, it evokes an emotional response. I feel music when I play. 


What kind of music speaks to you?


Now for the story.


My twelve-year-old son, Bubba, likes to cook. Yesterday, he decided he was going to make dinner. He began cooking. A short time later, I smelled something funny. I came downstairs and found the kitchen filled with smoke.


"What are you doing, Bubba?" I asked, opening the back door to let the smoke clear. "Trying to burn down the house?"


"No, Mama." He pointed to a box on the kitchen counter. Bubba Burgers. "I'm making Bubba Burgers. The directions said to fry them three minutes on each side."


"And did you?"


"Well, maybe one side was four minutes."


Uh huh. (In case you're wondering, Bubba said his Bubba Burger was delicious. I can't verify that, because I didn't try one. You'll just have to take his word for it.)

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My twelve-year-old son plays tackle football. And he gets banged around a lot. After each practice, he always has a new bruise to show me. Last night's practice was a little over the top. When I picked him up, he had some very real bloody scratches . . . and red stains all over his white Nike t-shirt.


"Oh my God, Bubba," I said when I saw him. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"


"I got hurt, again," he said.


"Hurt? From the looks of your shirt, you should be in the hospital! Is that blood?"


I made him pull up his shirt so I could see the extent of the damage. When he did, all I saw were a few scratches. Not enough to make all that "blood."


I narrowed my eyes. "That's not blood, is it?"


He grinned. "No. It's cupcake frosting. I dropped a cupcake on my shirt."


Oy!




And now for a special little surprise:  Recently, I performed for a concert at Dragoncon, in Atlanta. Here's a video where you can see me performing the song, Firefly, with a small group. I'm the violist on the far left.

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Today at my pad, I have a very talented guest: author, Mark Noce.  His new book, Between Two Fires, has just been released. And let me tell you, it's good! It hooked me from the beginning, and kept me interested to the end.


Here's my review:
Lady Branwen is a sixteen-year-old woman who enters an arranged marriage with the Hammer King, a powerful warlord. The marriage is supposed to unite two kingdoms, but Lady Branwen is nothing but a pawn in an elaborate game. Treachery abounds as many attempts are made to take her life.




Between Two Fires is a compelling historical romance that keeps readers on the edge of their seats. Fantastic characters and continuous action combined with an authentic setting in sixth-century Wales, makes this a truly memorable novel. Highly recommended for historical fiction enthusiasts.


Here's what others have to say:

“A spirited ride through a turbulent slice of Welsh history!” – Paula Brackston, NYT Bestselling author of The Witch’s Daughter

“A fast-paced read that has a wonderfully visual style and some memorable characters. Mark Noce combines Welsh history with a touch of folkloric magic in this promising debut novel. Lady Branwen is a strong and engaging narrator and the turbulent setting of early medieval Wales makes a fine backdrop for an action-packed story.” – Juliet Marillier, Bestselling author of Daughter of the Forest and Wolfskin.

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Yesterday, I made a pot roast. It smelled delicious! Unfortunately, as I was taking it out of the Dutch oven to carve it, some of the juices splashed onto me. I saw the splat marks on my shirt, and quickly changed. The last thing I wanted to do was go into work,  having spots on my  clothes and smelling like a pot roast.


I ate my dinner and went to work. As I worked, I noticed that the roast smell was still quite strong. I wondered if it was just in my nose, or if it had splashed on more of my clothes and I just hadn't noticed it.


I made a quick trip to the restroom, and looked in the mirror. That's when I saw it. Beef juice in my hair! I hadn't seen it before because it was brown, just like my hair. 


I groaned and stuck my head under the faucet. After it was rinsed it out, I returned to work.


At least it didn't smell like rotten meat! That would have been really bad. So, what do you think? Would "Pot Roast" be a good scent for shampoo? If so, maybe I should market it! 

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Yesterday, I looked outside, through the glass doors that led to our deck. What I saw was a cat arm and paw, stretched out. And it was white. Not the color of my cat's paw. Puzzled, I went over to investigate. Sure enough, there was a strange cat lounging on my deck. I saw another nearby. Bootsy, my cat, was lounging on a chair above the two.


What should I do about this? I thought. I really didn't want to encourage regular cat visitors.


I didn't have to think long. My hundred pound German Shepherd, Schultz, came up next to me. He looked out the window and saw our two guests. He was not pleased.


He wanted out. So I opened the door. "Go get 'em, Schultz!"


And that's what he did. He busted up that cat party and sent the intruders on their way.


Guess Bootsy will have to party elsewhere!

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My son still likes the game, bobbing for apples. He gets his friends together, and they go outside to do it. It doesn't matter if it's Halloween, Valentines Day, or an average day. The other day, which was an average day, he decided fill up the pail and have a go at it.


He pulled out something from the refrigerator, filled the bucket with water, and went outside with his friends.


When he and his friends came back in the house, they were soaked.


"What did you do?" I asked. "Soak your entire head?"


My son grinned. "Those apples were kind of hard to get. They didn't bob so well."


I narrowed my eyes and went outside to see exactly what he was talking about.


I shook my head when I pulled out what was in the bucket.


I held up the thing. "Dude, what do you think this is?"


"An apple?"


"No, Dude. It's a plum."

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You've probably heard about the Pokémon Go craze that's hit America (and maybe the rest of the world). The creators of Pokémon thought it would be good idea to have a scavenger hunt where video game players could go outside to find these little Pokémon creatures. It seemed like a good idea at the time, because shortly after the game came out, I began seeing teenagers out and about getting some much-needed fresh air, albeit with smartphones in hand.


Now, it's just downright annoying. My son has been hit with the Pokémon bug. "Mom," he said. "There's a Pokémon across the street. Can I go out and get it?"


"No," I said. "We're in a restaurant, and you're going to sit there and eat your dinner!"


When we were done, we went out and walked along the shopping center walkway. The boy stopped. "There's a Pokémon over there, at the theater. Can we walk over and get it?"


I frowned. "Fine. But no more of this!"


We walked across, he got the Pokémon, and we walked back to where we had been.


A few minutes later, my son asked, "How far is ten kilometers?"


"Too far," I said. "There's no way we're walking ten kilometers so you can find a Pokémon!"


"That's not bad," he said. "If we start walking now, we'll get there before dark."


Grrr!




Other random Pokémon incidences:  We saw a sign in an car oil changing place that announced they had Pokémon there. We saw another sign at a police station that said, "Don't even think about stealing our Pokémon!" And lastly, the LA zoo and a huge Pokémon promo day. They were not doing so well in attendance numbers, but when they announced that they had Pokémon at the zoo, thousands showed up just to catch them. What a marketing tactic!  





    

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"Mom," my twelve-year-old son said. "I need to save my money. I have some big expenses coming up."


I nodded. I figured his big expenses included a car. "You'll definitely need some cash for wheels in a few years."


Bubba looked at me funny. "I wasn't talking about a car."


"Then what were you talking about?"


"I'm saving money for a trampoline and a hot tub."


Oh. I'm so glad he has his priorities straight!

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Sorry for being a little remiss about being here. I've been busy with my kids. They'll be back in school next week, so hopefully I'll find a little more time to blog and visit everybody.


It is time for the Question of the Month hosted by Michael D'Agostino.

This month's question is, "What is the best beach you've ever visited?"


I've been to a lot of beaches. I used to live in Florida, and I was a SCUBA diving instructor. I haven't been to all beaches, of course, but I'd have to say my favorite is one that my family and I used to visit when I was a kid in Florida. It's called Bellaire Bluffs, and it's on the gulf coast in Pinellas  county. I loved going there in the evening just before sunset, and chasing fiddler crabs as they scurried in and out of their holes. Then we'd fish. We always caught these things called grunt. Nobody liked to eat them, except me. Maybe it was all the butter my mom used to cook them.


Anyway, what I liked about that beach, was that there was usually nobody there. We had the place to ourselves. And the sunsets were gorgeous. When the tide went out, there was a little island that would pop up. My brother and I would swim out to it, and we'd always find lots of snails in conch shells. It was so cool.


I looked online to see if I could find some pictures of it. There was one on Wikipedia. It's not great, but you can kind of get an idea of what the sunset and beach is like.



 Do you have a favorite beach?


Now for the story:


I recently celebrated a birthday. (Thanks to everyone who wished me happy birthday on Facebook!) My twelve-year-old son decided he was going to make me a special birthday lunch . . . on the grill. He had never used the grill before, so this was going to be a rite of passage.


His dad showed him how to turn on the grill, and then left him to do the grilling. Bubba planned to make brats. He put them on the grill when it was time, and then let them cook. And cook. About fifteen minutes later, the boy ran into the house, yelling, "Hey, I need a little help here!"


My husband went out to investigate. One of the brats was on fire. Fortunately, it wasn't completely out of control, and the rest of the food was fine.


When Bubba came back into the house with a plate of barbecued brats, he had a big grin on his face. "My face is red, and my hands are burned, but I made good food! I'm a grill master!"


Grill Master indeed!

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