Showing posts from September, 2011

Almost Time

Wow. My publishing company, Musa Publishing, is six hours away from opening.

I'm not going to blog much about Musa here. This is my writing blog, not my Musa blog.  But today is kind of a special day for me.  All those times I sat around in my darkened office, grumbling over a beer and a smoke and saying, "If I was a publisher, I wouldn't be THIS stupid." are coming back to haunt me now.  Now OTHER people will be saying that about ME.

Hopefully not.

At the moment, I think we're in outstanding shape.  We have a HUGE release schedule, going to 7 or 8 books a week by December.  We have a core of 80 authors and 24 staff members, and everything has been working so well. Everyone is excited and putting their best foot forward and we are turning out some amazing books. You can take a look at our initial offerings at to see what I mean.

AND, that includes the Aurora Regency imprint I slaved over the past year and a half.  We managed to buy the impr…

The Annual Autumnal War

Every year around this time I start getting antsy.

Part of it is the change of weather.  The nights are getting brisk, the sky takes on that deeper blue and the leaves start to turn.  I take my sweaters out of storage, do my fall housekeeping and hits me.

They are almost here.

They fall upon us like an annual first week of October zombie convention. They start showing up in town, hauling their bizarro trailers behind their ratty, duct-taped together circa 1978 Ford pickup trucks.  Chewing tobacco stores get low in the convenience stores.  Can't find PBR 24-packs in any of the drive-throughs.  Rally's starts to get really, really busy. Mothers start to herd their kids in from the backyard well before dark and I get really suspicious when anyone who looks like he might be one of them lumbers down the street in front of my house, heading for the Circle K and the 33 cent hot dogs.

An annual fog descends upon us, almost like a pre-autumnal stench, a miasma that overpowers t…

The Day You Never Forget

Most of the time, people think I'm a pretty tough kind of gal.  I am, I suppose, in a lot of ways.  I say what I think--sometimes at a cost to myself--and once I finally learned to be at peace with myself (a process I don't discuss with anyone other than my husband, perhaps, and my daughters) I was able to walk that fine line between assertive and bitch fairly well.

Unless I get mad, which is a whole other story.

I think every generation has a day they'll never collectively forget.  For my father and his siblings, it was Pearl Harbor.  What else could compete with that event marring their young lives? For my mother, it was a dual memory--the Nazis fleeing Paris and the Allies entering it.  There were several that vied for that title in my youth. I vaguely remember Watergate; I had chicken pox and was home from first grade and there was NOTHING ELSE ON TV.  Then President Reagan getting shot. And Pope John Paul II. And John Lennon.  Then, when I was in college, the Challeng…