GUTGAA Meet and Greet

I am joining Deana Barnhart's week of fun. To get in on the action, hop over to her blog at GUTGAA. Now for the meet and greet I will give you the rare opportunity to get to know me by answering her questions.

-Where do you write?

Where don't I write? I like to sit at the dining room table, kitchen table, or curled on my love seat, preferably with a little love dog by my side. 

-Quick. Go to your writing space, sit down and look to your left. What is the first thing you see?

I spy with my little eye a Millie dog stretch on the couch. That's right, she's not on my lap this time.

-Favorite time to write?

I like to write on week end mornings or at night. 

-Drink of choice while writing?

While writing, I'll occasionally sip a cup of coffee (mornings), water, or Crystal Light sweetened water. Currently I have nothing to drink and my mouth is a bit parched. Excuse me while I fetch a cup of water.

Ah. That's better, but now I have to–TMI. My Honey Bear dog likes to push the door open for a little toilet love. 

-When writing , do you listen to music or do you need complete silence?

I'm what you call adaptable. Sometimes I write in silence while at other times the TV drones in the background. If I'm in a serious writing mood or struggling to make progress, I'll dim the lights and wrap my head around a bit of classical music. 

-What was your inspiration for your latest manuscript and where did you find it?

When I was a child, my mother told me to never eat anything unwrapped on Halloween. Being obedient to a fault, year after year I passed up Mrs. Zimmerman's amazing homemade donuts because, yeah, they weren't wrapped. 

This gave me the idea of a child strangled in a cocoon of mother trying to break free into a fun but daring life. Not that my mom was overly protective, she wasn't, but I've known helicopter parents who breed children who can't do a thing for themselves. These kids need a story about too much mother love. Furthermore, a third grader with a spiky Mohawk and lots of personality gave me my main character's mentor and thus MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS was hatched.

-What's your most valuable writing tip?

Replace "be" verbs with action verbs. I know it's basic, but I've see many writers ignore this beginning writing tip. Those who learn to strengthen verbs blossom to a whole new level.



 

Silly Sunday: Knock Knock Jokes

Would you like a knock knock joke this week?

Okay.

You go first.

 

For more fun, click on the link to 

Knock Knock Jokes.

Theme Thursday: Eyes

I know you think these smiling eyes belong to some great celebrity, and you may be right... but not yet. Mrsupole asks if one can smile with their eyes. I certainly believe it as proven in the above photo, but what do smiling eyes mean? Is the barer smiling because she is up to no good or perhaps she knows a secret that she dare not tell. Wouldn't it be great to be able to pop into anyone's head and know what they're thinking? Or perhaps the thoughts of others might not be so wonderful, especially when they're thinking how weird you are.

I've always been an eye girl. Some women like to stare at male six packs, booties, or beards, but not me. I'll take a pair of sexy peepers any day. As a result, my husband has great eyes. Round, dark pools of warmth snatched me early in our dating. I guess it was his eyes because he couldn't hold a tune even if it were hot glued to his hands. In fact, he sings so badly that his high school music teacher told him to shut up and lip sync. I guess that educator wasn't enticed by beautiful eyes. Neither was the wet fool next to the "malfunctioning" wave pool in the high school science lab. Tee hee.

Do you want to know why the eyes up top are smiling? Okay, I'll tell you. It's the result of repeatedly holding a camera phone to one's own eyes and snapping stupid picture after stupid picture. Glad no one was home to see that one!

Let's end this with a little celebrity eye game. Guess whose eyes and if I don't forget the answers by the time I tally up my responses, I'll tell you if you're right.

A.

B.

C.