Oh, the disasters in life!

I broke a fingernail today. I know, I know, you had no idea that I was that kind of woman. But there it is. I confess that I do have one girlie vanity. Until last year, I never was able to grow my fingernails. They were little stubs that were paper thin and broke if you looked at them sideways.

Suddenly last year they began to grow. They're sturdy and grow loooong and don't break. No, they're not fake nails. I had those a couple of times. Yuck. I think they finally started growing because my thyroid meds are finally right.

Anyway, the fingernail broke and that meant I had to cut all the rest of them down to size because there's nothing sillier looking than nine long fingernails and one short stubby one. I look silly enough without having uneven nails.

Of course, the short nails are a real problem. I'll be able to type now so there's no excuse for not finishing that book I'm writing. Nope. No excuses there. Incoming, Helen!

Since I'm doing research on acorns the long nails were much handier for picking the acorn meat out of the shell. I'll have to find something to pry it out now. Difficulties, difficulties. Life's just full of difficulties.

My cat and dog will miss my nails for a while as they loved it when I used them to scratch that spot they can't reach that runs down the middle of their backs. I suppose I'll have to find their ratty old comb and use that until the nails grow back out.

On the other hand, now would be a good time to work on those beading projects I had planned as it's nearly impossible to pick up tiny beads when you have long fingernails. I suppose its just a matter of timing. Short nails--do short nail projects. Long nails--do long nail projects.

Broken nails are like bad haircuts. Both nails and hair will grow again. Unlike other things in life, this is a disaster that is easily dealt with. And if it's the worst thing I have to face, then life is good.

Anny

Amarinda left us with...“You cannot change fate. You must mate with the chosen one by this Thursday afternoon at 12:17pm.” Beatrice wanted to slap the willful woman.

“No, I have decided to get my nails done that day.” Nails verses sex? Nails win. “Anyway why do I have to sex with this chosen one to stop the sun colliding with the planet? Can’t someone else do it?”

So of course I had to work with that...

Beatrice briefly considered wresting the pistol from Fiona’s hand and using it on her. It would give her such a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. No, that wasn’t the solution. Tapping her hairy chin thoughtfully, Beatrice considered the difficulties for a moment, then nodded her head decisively. There was one surefire plan of action. Sometimes these situations required tough love.

She grabbed Fiona by one pointed ear and twisted.

“Owwww!”

“If you refuse to behave responsibly, then I’ll send you to Mystic Valley. You know what that means,” Beatrice growled.

“No!” Fiona gasped. “I don’t want to be turned blue. And babies! I can’t stand babies! Anything but that!”

“So you will give your sworn word to go to the Oracle’s temple immediately?” Beatrice demanded.

“Sworn word?” Fiona hedged. Breaking her sworn word was a death sentence. Still… Beatrice was only asking her to go to the temple. What she did once she arrived was another matter.

“Sworn word,” Beatrice reiterated grimly. Fiona might think she would escape once she carried out her promise, but that wasn’t going to happen. No, all they needed to do was get her into the temple. After that, the aphrodisia ferns would ensure her cooperation.

“Fine. I give you my sworn word that I will go to the temple immediately.”
* * * * *

Back in the studio, the hamsters milled in confusion. Zoltan ran up to the top of the cage and squeaked, “Quiet!”

Rafe and Shade, twitched their noses. “It’s all your fault, Emmeline! If you had just allowed Fiona to keep you a were-bunny, everything would have been fine!”

What will Kelly do? Will Fiona get to the temple in time? Will someone turn the hamsters back into people? Will Emmeline consent to be a were-bunny? Tune in at Kelly's blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com to find out. And check out Amarinda's blog tomorrow at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com to see what she's up to. Don't forget that tomorrow is Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Back to the Past

I am writing a time-travel story in my "spare" time. It begins with a plane crash. It's a small cargo plane with two people on board, a man and a woman. They travel to the distant past ca 500 BC in ancient America. So here's the question I'm confronted with. What supplies/ materials/ etc., are in the cargo?



There is a limited amount of room on the smaller cargo planes so whatever is on board, the space limits both size and weight. If you had to choose three essential items, what would they be? Remember that if the item is a consumable, then eventually it will be used up.



There are other difficulties in the scenario of course. Shelter, food, water, something to defend themselves from wild animals.There is an absence of modern technology and no power--or limited power once the batteries are dead.



What will happen when they encounter other people? How will they communicate? How do they come to the conclusion that they have moved through time? What kind of mistakes would they be likely to make and how would those mistakes affect their ultimate survival?



In most stories about time travel, one individual travels to another time and ultimately settles there, usually marrying the "hero" or "heroine". After all, one of them must give up all that they have known and settle in the new time period. But what happens when the hero/heroine are both from the same time and must adapt to the new place and time? Both of them have memories of another place. How will that affect their decisions?



Anytime the writer undertakes a story in the past or future, there is an enormous amount of world building that must be done first. Even if that story takes place in an actual location, there is world building to do. Where are the streams located? The mountains? What kind of climate was it in that time period? What type of flora and fauna? Many familiar plants from the modern times are not native to this continent and were imported with each new wave of immigrants. Some animals that were around then are extinct now. And some animals that are present in the country now were not around then. Horses, cows, certain species of sheep...



Obviously, they can't butcher a cow for dinner. Maybe they could catch a turkey. What types of weapons and traps would they use?



Practically every scene contains something I have to stop and research. Will the reader know and appreciate the work I do? Possibly not. But if it isn't the best I can do, then I will know and I will be dissatisfied with the book for the rest of my life.



In the meantime, I would like to hear what your thoughts are. Three essentials in the cargo. Think about it. Leave it in a comment. I'll draw at least one entry to use in the book and add the donor's name in the dialogue. Something like, "Oh, Kelly wanted me to bring her (X) because she used all of hers."



Until tomorrow.



Anny



Don't forget to stop by Amarinda's blog to see what new mischief she's up to at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then of course stop at Kelly's blog to find out what she's done with the blog saga at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/

Power of the pen

In my episode of the blog saga today, Sam finds out how much power a pen can have. We sometimes forget the power of the written word. Writing is both easier and more difficult with technology. Certain things require less thought (like spelling) and because the writer doesn't have to manually look up the word, I think they are less careful about word choice. I have a book called The Synonym Finder by J.I.Rodale. It's a hardback book, six by ten inches and a smidgen over two inches thick. The print is not big so it contains a lot of words. Whatever word you need can be found somewhere in the 1361 pages.

Sometimes I spend considerable time hunting for that particular, exactly right word. I'm kind of picky about words. Words are powerful. They convey shades of meaning. For instance, take the word pill.

Other words for pill--tablet, capsule, pellet, pastille, troche, lozenge, drop, medicine, remedy, cure, drug, medicine... among others. Each of the words conveys slightly different information about a pill.

Or how about red? Crimson, cardinal, carmine, rubescent, claret, scarlet, ruby, vermilion, russet, cherry, maroon, auburn, coral, beet, rose, rusty, brick--and you thought it was just red.

In our rush through life, we don't take time to savor the words, to enjoy the choices the writer has made. That's too bad because more and more writers are "writing down" to their readers. Readers want a light little book to zip through on the subway or in the airport. If it's too much work, then they conveniently leave it behind and go to the next book, devouring them like so many locusts.

A friend of mine is writing a book. She feels that it is too serious. As though everything must be entertaining. We--the reading public--we might not read it because it dares to look at life without making a joke of it. How sad. Are we really that shallow?

The next time you read a book, pay particular attention to the words. Are they all words that your third grader could read? Are the characters one dimensional? Is the dialogue mostly Dick and Jane? I swear I read a book not long ago that was like that. I kept checking the cover to see if there had been a mistake in packaging.

Find a nice thick book and savor it. Take time to enjoy the descriptions, the dialogue, the characters. Take time to enjoy the power of the words.

Anny

Amarinda left us in quite a pickle in the last episode...

With nimble grace the commander pointed his laser umbrella at each victim and dispersed of them in a quick open and shut motion before any of them realized what was happening. “All dead sire. Shall I send in the trolls to clean up?”

Hmm, the trolls. They were quick at cleaning up the dead but their giggles were so annoying. “Yes, but tell them the first one that giggles gets strung up by their nose hair.” That would teach those rodent-like creature to grow it long.

But not everyone was dead. One hardy soul still remained alive trying not to breathe for fear of instant death.“I will live through this and get my revenge,” vowed the survivor.

And now...

While the commander summoned the trolls to clean up, Beaky herded Emmeline and Sam out of the room ahead of him. "What do you think your doing?" She demanded angrily. "You can't just kill people!"

"Actually, I can." Beaky snorted and prodded her in the center of her golden quills. "If you give me too much trouble, you're next."

Sam shrugged. "Hey lady, maybe he has a reason."

"A reason?" Emmeline's voice shot up to a shriek. "What possible reason?"

Beaky poked her again. "Your show has been canceled Miss High and Mighty Warrior Woman. People ain't watching anymore. The Galaxy Network is running Bobbie Jo's Flying Boobies instead."

"They're running a show about flying tits?" Sam asked in confusion.

"No, boobies. Say, where are you from, anyway?"


"Earth?" he replied tentatively.


"Don't you know?"

"Well, sure I know. I'm just confused about what's going on." When Sam waved the pen at Beaky he was stunned when Beaky ducked and jumped behind a chair.

"What are you trying to do?" Beaky bellowed. "Kill us all?"

A faint glimmering of an idea dawned. Sam took out his notebook and clicked the pen. Time stood still as everyone around him held their breath. "If you don't give me the purple box and that umbrella," he said deliberately, "then I will cross you out in my notebook. And you know what that means…"

"No!" Emmeline shoved the purple box toward him. "Anything but that! Take it."

The commander hastily handed over the umbrella. "Sir!"

In a flash of purple smoke Sam was gone…

What will Kelly do? Check out her blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com and of course then you'll need to hop over to find out what Amarinda is up to at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com