Listen to Your Mother, Austin

Okay, so I promised you all a link to my performance of "It's Complicated" at the Listen to Your Mother-Austin Show. And apparently not making good on your promises is frowned upon in this establishment!

I must say, on video I appear to be on Valium, but I promise I wasn't. Just 1/4 xanax and, um, wine. And holy crap the lights! Why do stage lights make you look like Frankenstein's Bride's Great Aunt Brunhilda? Plus, I'm pretty sure I sound like I belong to the Lollipop Guild.

Sigh.

Word of warning, a technical malfunction occurred during my introduction and the beginning of the vid, so it's slightly glitchy. What you missed was simply me droning out:  "I am the mother of four daughters. The eldest is separated from the youngest by only four and a half years." That's always riveting stuff, birth. Well, it is if you imagine being there! Which I wouldn't recommend before meals. And then also a fractional glitch midway through, strangely representative of my real life. Heh.

Regardless, it was a really fun and cool experience, and I can't thank Wendi Aarons and Jennifer Sutton enough for allowing me to join the show. So go on, have a peek HERE. I'll stay behind and be embarrassed enough for all of us.
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Lights, Camera, ACTION!

Y'all, I got super awe-fabu-wonder-credible news today! No, I didn't win an all-expense-paid 30-day vacation to the Caribbean on a pamper-the-hell-outta-me cruise that includes a scalpel-free full-body rejuvenation, complete with 50-year guarantee and an endless supply of Swedish massages with Sven the manscaped Viking, warm peanut butter crackies, and exotic, um, tingly sensation aromatherapy pleasuring oils. Oooooo, good guess though!

My peeps, I'm going to be one of 15 featured cast members on the Listen to Your Mother Show (Austin) on April 30, 2011. Waaaa-hoooo! LTYM is the brainchild of the lovely and amazing Ann Imig of Ann's Rants; and after last year's premier in Madison, Wisconsin, this year new shows are in Austin, L.A., Spokane, and Valparaiso.

You all know how timid and reserved I am, but I think I'll probably maybe perhaps be okay with the Hollywood lights shining down on me. [sigh] People may just have to escort me onto the stage. But I'm totally not letting anyone escort me off! Ahem, I mean, it should be fun.

Hope y'all can make it! I solemnly promise I won't be long-winded or gross or cussing like usual, and I solemnly promise to embarrass someone near and dear to me.

We'll be at the AT&T Conference Center in Austin. More later on tickets and such. Austin is great for a live show, but if you can't make it, they're taping it. Woot-woot! (I mean, gosh, I'm just doing my part) So you'll be able to see it online after the event.

Pretty cool, huh? Not as titillating as your excellent guess of an all-expense-paid 30-day vacation to the Caribbean on a pamper-the-hell-outta-me cruise that includes a scalpel-free full-body rejuvenation, complete with 50-year guarantee and an endless supply of Swedish massages with Sven the manscaped Viking, warm peanut butter crackies, and exotic tingly sensation aromatherapy pleasuring oils (you were totally so close!). But I'm nonetheless honored and thrilled to be part of such a cool new show and a very talented group of writers.

My humble thanks, LTYM!
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Holidays and Hammock Sex

I'm still Christmasing in Austin where the weather's chilly and rainy. I've enjoyed the family and meet-ups with old friends, as well as lazing around with a glass of Bailey's and a remote in my hands (my version of a yuletide two-fer). I've hardly even cracked open the laptop except to peek at my erotica novella, which has me all blocked up at Chapter Two. I peek, I sigh, I get distracted. What can I say, I'm a virgin at this genre.

But people, I have a chapter to deliver before January 1 and, well, I've got a headache. Please, no cock-block jokes. It hurts my feelings on the same scale as vacuuming up tinsel—an exercise in futility if ever there was one. I once uncovered tinsel in my carpet ten years after I last threw it on a tree. Instead of dragging out the vacuum for the thousandth time, I curled into fetal position.

So today I figured if I got out of the house, some inspiration might hit. I stole away to the local B&N, sipped on a house brew, and reread the first line of Chapter Two where my horny characters discover a secluded hammock in the woods.

"So here we are, just you and me and nature."

Yes, I know. Lame. But it was merely a jumping-off point for the next time I opened the doc. Plus I think ten words in 30 days is real progress, don't you? Actually, my protag wrote it. That bitch was leading me down the path to outdoor nookie. Erotica, remember? It's serious shit that's supposed to make you all hot and bothery. Thing is, after your character discovers a hammock in the woods, the scene devolves into comedy.

A story so often writes itself, you see, and while I've resisted this turn of events, my character is insisting on a roll in the hammock. Probably a roll that reminds her it's not the fall that kills you, but the sudden stop. Peeps, I can't seem to stay away from the slap-schtick. Anybody who knows me will not question this. Is that bad? Perhaps humorous erotica is its own subgenre. Whatever. Hammock sex it is. Once I quit fighting it, I wrangled out another 500 words that renewed my faith in my compositional abilities, filled me with optimism about 2011, and gave me a good giggle (as erotica often does, even without a hammock).

I'm now back at my daughter's house, and here's my one and only Christmas pic, which is me actually keying in this blog post. Booyah! I really am a writer! I'd raise a glass of Bailey's to your happy, safe, and peaceful New Year, but they hid the bottle from me. Still, I send strong vibes that mean the same thing.

Don't forget your black-eyed peas, y'all!
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