Tuesday, August 26, 2014

The 70K Blues


I've hit 70K words on my current work-in-progress, which should be a very happy time. The denouement is almost upon me! I know exactly what is happening, because most of it has already happened! Good times, RIGHT?!

Sigh. This is also the time in the manuscript when I think the whole thing is bunk and will never sell.

I have a lot of work to do upon the first edit. I have a disabled character--she's such a badass lady. I've been working with a doctor friend to get the details right, and I'm about to start a search for a consultant who might let me interview her to gain insight about her experiences. But what if I screw up the whole thing, and it's an offensive mess? Aaaahhhhh!

My heroine is infertile, and I've read romance readers bashing infertile heroines before. "Drama queen," "get over it," etc. Ugh. It's not just romance readers; the world is hell for a woman who doesn't fulfill her "womanly purpose" of having babies, as if we're little more than walking egg sacs. Have I explained the horrors of infertility well enough? Gently enough? Can I make an audience built largely of mothers understand the grief of a woman who tried, but failed, to enter their amazing club? Aaaahhhhh!

Is there an audience for this book? It's about lady superheroines. The alpha men are secondary to the amazing women. Is there a place for that kind of book? And a funny one? So many people mistake "funny" for just "silly" with no point. I always include themes of women leaning to rely on themselves, of women saving themselves in romance, and it's so important to me. Have I conveyed these themes well enough? Will anyone get it?  Aaaahhhhh!


It comforts me to know that all writers go through this angst.  (If you're a writer who's never felt this, I'd like to know what pills you're on, thanks.)

I know the only thing to do is to keep on, keep writing, keep perfecting, keep researching, keep my heart open so that I can spill compassion on the page.

But first I'll say, "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" and inhale a pizza.


Thursday, August 21, 2014

"Maybe your weird is my normal":
Nicki Minaj Appreciation Post


I'm not a person who is cool and hip with the youth music. As per that last sentence. But I am starting to really love Nicki Minaj as a smart, amazing, feminist, ovary-licious artist.

So here are some amazeballs Nicki Minaj quotes, followed by "Starships."  Starships are meant to fly!



When you're a girl, you have to be everything, You have to be dope at what you do, but you have to be super sweet, and you have to be sexy, and you have to be this and you have to be that and you have to be nice, and you have to - it's like, I can't be all of those things at once. I'm a human being.



My advice to women in general: Even if you're doing a nine-to-five job, treat yourself like a boss. Not arrogant, but be sure of what you want - and don't allow people to run anything for you without your knowledge.



Maybe your weird is my normal. Who's to say?



I don't agree that everyone should agree with everyone's lifestyle. I think that some people aren't going to agree, but I think that when you're mean and when you ridicule people it's a sign of your own insecurities.



As a little girl growing up in Southside Jamaica Queens, if anyone would've told me I'd have my own perfume one day, and be able to inspire young black girls everywhere, to go into Macy's or Nordstrom's and see their face staring back at them - I wouldn't believe them.



I don't mind being called a weirdo. There are a lot of people in hip-hop who are probably never going to get what I do. But, by just being myself, I end up touching a lot more people who might never have paid much attention to a female rapper.





Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Stupid Questions with Lucy:
Blue Balls Edition Featuring Robin Glasser






Hello, blog friends!  Let's give a warm welcome to author Robin Glasser who is here to answer my stupid questions!

1.  If you could have one otherworldly alien ability or body part, what would it be and why?

I want to be able to transport myself to another place at my own pace...kind of like "Beam me up, Scottie!" but I control the speed. No more airport lines, shoe removal, hassles. Just get up and go whenever/wherever I want. Heavenly!

2.  What Smurf would you be?

Sexy Smurf ~ can make love anytime, anywhere with whomever I want! Besides, I have a 'thang' for blue balls.

3.  Do you think the aliens who inevitably enslave the human race will treat us well or eat us?

Well, the way we're acting now, they'd probably eat us. However, they might hate our taste and then we are really doomed!

3A.  Follow up:  What will you do to distinguish yourself to our benevolent overlords so that they don't destroy you with their acid flatulence?

I'd come up with a tasty recipe the overlords can't resist and after they eat themselves into a stupor, becoming fat & lazy, we will take back Earth.

4.  What's the best way to foil a ghost?  A smart one, not one of those dumbasses in a sheet.

Call Ghostbusters!

5.  If you could slap the shit outta one beloved historical figure, who would it be and why?

Walt Disney. He was a bigot who didn't like anything but whites & mice!

6.  Cake or pie?  And, if you said pie, why are you so happy to be wrong?​ 

OOOOh, Lemon Meringue, YUM, Key Lime. I never ate a pie I didn't like...besides, they're more fun to throw than cake!

* * *

Here's some info about Robin's latest, THE BRAIN EXCHANGE.


Abandon your beliefs and let your reality run wild. Imagine being fully aware inside a body of the opposite gender. Now imagine the best sex you ever had. Would this just be different? Or better? Or the best ever?

* * *

Amana—a supersized woman, and Steel—a fitness freak. Two dissatisfied people with very different appetites. Fate’s middle finger triggers a tailspin when they sign up for vacations at The Brain Exchange. Their odyssey will change them dramatically...but for better or worse?

Monday, August 18, 2014

Write What Nobody Knows

As a writer, write what you know.

Tell me about that time the soda came out your nose because your friend made you laugh so hard.

Tell me about the burning nose sensation that you didn’t care about because you were too happy.

Tell me about the burning you did care about, that time when he broke your heart without ever knowing your name.

Write what you wish you didn’t know.

Tell me about your grief, the grief that most will never have to understand, and most don’t give a crap about.

Tell me about your bitter laughter that turned into the glimmering kind when the one person who can always make your heart smile walks into the room.

Tell me what you wore that day.

Write what you can’t know.

Tell me what happens after we die, where the spirit goes, what color it is, what kind of cheese it likes to devour.

Tell me about the planet you created with nothing more than a glass of wine and your keyboard.

Tell me about the dream lover you imagine, the one with the unpronounceable name that never needs to be said to be heard.

Write what others know.

Tell me about that jerk in the grocery store, the one who rolled a cart over your foot, the one we’ve all freaking met, and who we wish would get a bag of marshmallows upside the head.

Tell me about your cat.  Yes, all the things about your cat.  Wait–I’ll get some noms to share.

Write what you don’t know.

We’re all making up this stuff as we go along, anyhow.


This piece originally appeared on my publisher's site.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Stupid Questions with Lucy:
Musical Theatre Savior Edition Featuring Jennifer Britt






1.  If you could have one otherworldly alien ability or body part, what would it be and why?

I would have the ability to have arms pop out whenever I need them. I could always use extra arms.

2.  What Smurf would you be?  (You can't pick an existing one, like Brainy or Lazy.)

I would be Ninja Smurf. I'm a first degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and I'm pretty good with a Bo Staff.

3.  Do you think the aliens who inevitably enslave the human race will treat us well or eat us?

They will eat us.

3A.  Follow up:  What will you do to distinguish yourself to our benevolent overlords so that they don't destroy you with their acid flatulence?

I will become a one woman show and wow them with my singing and dancing. I know quite few show tunes.

4.  What's the best way to foil a ghost?  A smart one, not one of those dumbasses in a sheet.

First, I would scream and run away. Then, I would probably hire the Ghostbusters to get rid of the ghost.

5.  If you could slap the shit outta one beloved historical figure, who would it be and why?

Thomas Jefferson because, even though he wrote, "[A]ll men are created equal," he still had slaves. During his lifetime, he only freed a handful of the slaves he owned. If he truly believed what he wrote, he should have freed all of his slaves, despite the economic consequences to himself.

[Editorial note: YES I love this answer.]

6.  Cake or pie?  And, if you said pie, why are you so happy to be wrong?​

Cake, especially if it's chocolate.



Finding the Dream:

Jessica James had her dream—a career on Broadway as a successful actress—until one night when it was taken all away. Forced to move back to Lincoln Falls and live with her parents, Jessica's only goal is to regain her career and go back to New York. She doesn't count on a honeysuckle hating man standing in her way or the town of Lincoln Falls itself. Now everything she thought she ever wanted may not be her dream at all.


Eric Mason and his daughter have quietly lived next door to Jessica's parents. That all changes when he meets Jessica. She is overly dramatic and the most annoying person he's ever met. Yet, he can't get her off his mind.


Will they find a new dream together?

Buy Links:  Amazon, Barnes & Noble

* * *

Thanks, Jennifer!  If you're an author who'd like to answer my stupid questions, click my contact link!

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Lucy Has a Few Friends, Not Few Friends. Right? Right?!


I thought this was a wonderful refresher about the difference between words that are similar, but often used incorrectly.  The less and fewer one drives me batty!







Monday, August 11, 2014

Coming to Terms with Your Non-Internet-Famous Cat


This past Friday was International Cat Day, and my cat celebrated by vomiting on the floor.  The vomit wasn't in a cute shape, and my cat refused to take an adorable picture after she'd barfed everywhere.  She never sticks out her tongue like Bub, and she's too pretty to be Grumpy Cat. (Although she is a jerk sometimes. A lot of times. She's giving me a noogie right now.)

My cat is not Internet famous.  Sigh.

I sit at the ready with my camera, thinking maybe today's the day!  Today's the day my feline gets off her fat ass and actually makes me some fucking money.  But she just sleeps, and not even in a funny position or in a whimsical place.  She naps on the floor like a common house cat.  What the hell?  Why not try hanging off the furniture in a gravity-defying way?  How about stuffing herself inside an amusing place where cats don't belong?  Doesn't she look online?  THAT'S WHAT ALL THE COOL BUZZFEED CATS DO!

She doesn't dial the phone to order us pizza.  She hasn't saved a child from certain death.  She's not even in one meme.  Not.  One.  She doesn't sit like people.  She's just an ordinary cat who loves us and keeps us company--who needs that shit?

I try not to expect too much, I do.  But when one more days goes by, and I don't see her being praised on Twitter, I wonder why we got a cat at all.  Sure, her cuddles are glorious and soft and reduce our stress, but really, would one shirt emblazoned with her face kill her?  Why won't she think of US sometimes?  We feed her, and we do it every day.  Every day!

I tried taking pictures of my husband with his tongue sticking out while he hangs upside down, but we were asked to leave the playground and not return.  Our lawyer has advised that I shouldn't comment further on that.

Sometimes I feel so alone while everyone else's cat is just raking in millions of dollars and worldwide adoration.  Thanks a lot, my furry pile of unpaid cable bill.  I guess I'll just bask in your companionship privately like an asshole.


(Look at this worthless hairball machine.)

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Mornings with Lucy

1. Husband and I have been trying to socialize our oldster cat a little more lately.  She’d gotten in the habit of crawling in a closet and sleeping every evening, and we’re chill parents, so we let her do her thing.  But she’s gotten a little crotchety and needy, so we’re grabbing her up now and making an effort to cuddle instead of letting her sulk weirdly like Gollum in the corner.  It’s kinda working, so that’s good.

This morning I picked her up when I came downstairs and carried her to where husband was on the couch, and we had a group cuddle.  PERFECT way to start the day, until she got annoyed and wanted to leave.  So we let her and cuddled by our human selves.  Not two minutes later, she comes back and stares mournfully at us.  Husband says, “See what you’re missing, Miss Pissy?”  I think she learned her lesson.

2. Husband told me that I didn’t know all the words to the “Everything is Awesome” song from The Lego Movie.  He was proven wrong, much to everyone’s chagrin.  Yes, I did a dance, too.  I wonder how many times a day he regrets marrying Leslie Knope?

3. It’s a Mariah Carey morning—old-school Mariah.  She makes me so happy, and it reminds me of the last time I got laid off.  They kept us on for a month after they canned me and another woman (the highest paid, what).  So for the entire last month before my demise, I blasted my Mariah Carey mix, on repeat, every. single. day.  The more disgruntled looks I got, the louder I sang with joy in my heart.  Fuck yo office. Fuck yo couch!



Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Stupid Questions with Lucy:
Pie Is for Suckers! Edition Featuring Diane Dooley




I am so delighted to have the wonderful and talented Diane Dooley here on the blog!  I adored her witty and hot book Mako's Bounty. She's here to answer some truly stupid questions and tell us about her latest, Zipless.  Just look at her--she is adorable and wishes us to live long and prosper!



On to the interview!

1.  If you could have one otherworldly, alien ability or body part, what would it be and why?
I would love to have a few more hands and maybe an extra head or two. Imagine the scene: two hands and one head hard at work, writing a novel of such brilliance that publishers line up, begging for the chance to publish it. Meanwhile, another hand wields a badminton racket which which I swat my kids whenever they stop doing chores or their homework. Another head will nod and smile and say “yes, dear, you are awesome” to my husband. Results? Best-selling novel, spotless house, literate children, happy husband. Hmm. I may need one more hand to deliver regular doses of caffeine to my body.    
2.  Do you think the aliens who inevitably enslave the human race will treat us well or eat us?
They will do both. First they’ll feed us all kind of delicious morsels like haggis, blood sausage, chitlins,  and *cringe* peanut butter to make our flesh succulent and delicious to them. When we’re rolling around in our own lard (and probably vomit) they will devour us.
2A.  Follow up:  What will you do to distinguish yourself to our benevolent overlords so that they don't destroy you with their acid flatulence?
I’m gonna hide behind you, Lucy, while you impress them and work on the acid flatulence problem. You can do it, Woodhull! I believe in you. Then, when they’re gazing at you either adoringly or malevolently or hungrily (I’m not picky which) I’m going to make my getaway. No way I’m eating peanut butter!

[Editorial note: I do not think your plan to hide behind me is wise for my personal health, despite your flowery flattery...]
3.  What's the best way to foil a ghost?  A smart one, not one of those dumbasses in a sheet.
Kill yourself. Seriously. Ghosts ain’t gonna bother tormenting another dead person. Being dead takes all the fun out of it for them.
4.  If you could slap the shit outta one beloved historical figure, who would it be and why?  (Not Hitler or similar.)
Yeah, I’m gonna slap the shit out of Margaret Sanger. As much as I admire and respect the work she did to promote and legalize birth control, her views on eugenics were as ignorant as they were abhorrent. Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.

[Editorial note: Excellent choice!]  
5.  Cake or pie?  And, if you said pie, why are you so happy to be wrong?
Cake. Cake. Not pie. Cake. Specifically, the cake my husband bakes from scratch for my birthday every year: chocolate cake, homemade chocolate cream frosting, adorned and layered with fresh strawberries. You can taste the love and devotion in every bite (and it tastes damn good, just so you know). Pie is for suckers!
* * *
Diane Dooley writes science fiction, romance, and horror because she is a very confused writer who is too stupid to brand herself properly. She also writes in a variety of lengths: short stories, novellas, etc. Again, she’s not too bright. Her latest release is ZIPLESS, in which Scottish people invade New York City in search of a recording contract. They drink, swear and have sex along the way. You should buy this book immediately. 
Review Requests: Contact Me     To-Read List: Goodreads

Blurb for ZIPLESS:
Rocking, rolling and romancing in New York City — Scottish style!
Unable to perform due to paralyzing anxiety, singer-songwriter Lou Marzaroli has been managing her brother’s band for years, driving them out of Scotland and into the big time. But days before their American network debut, the band is imploding and Lou is relieving her stress in a no-strings-attached sexual encounter with an aging scenester she’s nicknamed Zippy.
The Zipman is sometimes remembered as Crash Burns, formerly of seminal L.A. glampunk band, Snakebite. It’s been years since he’d trashed the eyeliner and hairspray, and he hasn’t written a song since. Now he’s penning lyrics about the mysterious woman he last saw sprinting barefoot in a miniskirt down West Twenty Third. She’s the muse he’s been longing for, and he’s determined to be more than her one night stand.
When the head honchos learn Lou wrote the band’s material, they agree to give her the TV spot, sending her to be coached by their performance guru, Crash Burns. Now Lou must put herself in Zippy’s hands as he coaxes a life-changing performance from her. And the man who used to perform in nothing but a leather thong must find ways to get her confident on stage- and content in only one bed.

If you're an author who'd like to answer my stupid questions, click my contact link!

Monday, August 4, 2014

Her calves sweated anon with the force of his throbbing wang.

So yesterday I had The Tudors on while I worked on my website (shut up I love my overwrought costume dramz).

The terrible actor King Pouty the VIII had just gotten done banging this blonde who looked like every single other blonde on this show. They’re sweaty from all the fornicatin'. Except…not. The camera panned up from her feet to her head. Her calf had giant gobs of sweat. I mean, like she just came out of the shower gobs. But when it got to her head—dry and perfect. No forehead sweat, no wet hair. Who sweats exclusively on their calf and not their head? Was this the sweating sickness of yore? Did she have a gland problem? Do legs have glands?!

Have I been doing romance novel sex wrong all this time?