This is just so, so wrong

If you've been around for a while, you know how much I enjoy making fun of my mom, but sometimes I wonder if this is really fair. I mean, she really is a good person. Honestly. She's friendly and talkative (even to surly taxi drivers with limited English--no matter! just keep on chatting!) She's kind and loving. She'll do just about anything for you.

But.

She's one of Those People.

You know the ones.

The ones who commit such crimes as BUYING SUNGLASSES FOR DOGS.

Does this dog look happy to you?

And that's not all. Oh no. Not even close. This tiny armoire is BRIMMING with DOG CLOTHES.

See that little flapper get-up in front? That's her dog's EASTER DRESS. Yes. Have I even thought of what my own human children will be wearing for Easter Sunday yet? No, I have not. What's more, this dog has her own LUGGAGE. I suppose it's for when she jets off to the French Riviera.

This all reminds me of something...hmm, what was it? Oh yes, Pets Who Want to Kill Themselves.

I can see why.

Do you know anyone like this? For the dogs' sake, I hope not. Think of the animals, people.

Loner? Or Butterfly?

I'll admit it. I'm one of those people who bow the gods of peer pressure. Like when my friends Jennifer and Tracie said I should join the gymnastics team with them in 4th grade, I signed up even though I SO CLEARLY had no real ability. And by that I mean not only am I, ahem, rather uncoordinated, I'm also terrified of falling. (Psst...you fall a LOT in gymnastics. Hello broken arm, wrist, dislocated shoulder. Fun.)

Sometimes, though, it's worked to my advantage. My roommate in college was thankfully quite the grind, so I learned quickly how much more time I put into studying when everyone around me was doing the same thing. Yes, I was one of those weird late-night library people, toiling away at the shared tables and occasionally stealing peeks at the male versions of my species.

Now that I'm a (semi) responsible adult, one might think I'd be beyond all that and could motivate myself without anyone kicking my butt. Sometimes I can, but more often than not I sit down to bang out a chapter and it goes more like this:

type type type type hmmm, this passage reminds me of Kathy. I wonder what she's up to? type type type type Is that my BlackBerry going off? I wonder if it's important? (Hint: it won't be.) type type type Maybe I should check that type type type type type Is the mail here yet? type type Better go check.

While I'm up, I'll check the BlackBerry. And Facebook. And Twitter. Hey, any new comments on the blog? What's up on AW?

Get my drift?

I'm really not meant to be a loner. I can deal with it, having been raised an only child, but I'm a social animal. Hence all the social network checking.

Luckily for me, I've recently been getting together with a writing partner. Add one other person typing away in a room and viola! I want to do it, too! Productivity! This also works well when I go to Paragraph.

How about you? Are you a loner, or do you need a push from a friend?

If your writing style was a person

I love hearing about what other people write. The internet seems to have a ton of Urban Fantasy writers, especially of the Young Adult variety--and who can blame them? It's an exciting, growing genre. There also seem to be zillions of Romance writers, or those like Jill Myles who combine the two.

Because of social media, I've been reading outside of my genre quite a bit lately, and enjoying the change. It's a bit like visiting new people. So tell me about your (writing) self:

Is your writing weird and cutting edge, with experimental short stories, perhaps published in McSweeney's?

Are you all funny and domestic and feel-good-y?

Are your sentences classic and perfect in every way?

Do you write for kids?

Hmm. I like historical fiction, but Marie here feels overwritten.

Or are you instead Mr. Manliness, flexing your rippling prose?

(Hubba hubba.)

Me? That's a tough question. I'd like to think my writing is a bit modern mom Sarah Jessica Parker--warm, accessible writing you've known since Square Pegs, who did the whole urban vibe and now focuses on mainly on family stuff, but still likes to get dressed up.

Who are you?

It's either this or Xanax.

I recently read a study claiming that reading reduces stress levels by 68%.

"Reading worked best, reducing stress levels by 68 per cent, said cognitive neuropsychologist Dr David Lewis. Subjects only needed to read, silently, for six minutes to slow down the heart rate and ease tension in the muscles, he found."

Six minutes! That's it! I'd believe that. In fact, I'll see your 68% and raise you another 10% for *writing* as a stress-reducer.

I haven't really talked about this, because, really, who wants to be a downer, but I've been going through some pretty relentless anxiety over my dad's health in the past few weeks. He has a mass on his lung that we just found out is not malignant (thank God) and it took a long, loooooong time to get any kind of answer. He'll still need surgery, but in case you weren't aware, lung cancer is a REALLY FREAKING BAD ONE.

So I'd like to thank Beth Hoffman for writing a book that buoyed me up and away from my dark thoughts (check out Saving Cee Cee Honeycutt, it's excellent.) I'll also thank my current main character Valerie for being such an unpredictable smart ass. It was a relief to retreat into her crazy world for a few hours each day. (Yes, I know she's not real. I promise I'm still sane.)

I'd love to create a book that helps someone else out like this someday. Return the karma favor, or whatever.

How do you reduce stress?

Well, hello handsome!

Lately I've noticed a huge uptick in new visitors to my little blog. (Well, huge for me, not like TMZ's numbers or anything.) I'm not sure why this is, because I'm neither suddenly a) more entertaining nor b) more informative, but hey! whatever! Welcome all! Do chime in if'n you feel like it.

In completely unrelated news, I did finish my WIP (yippee), so I've given myself permission to fritter away time on the internet again. And look what I found. Cuteness. From Jezebel:

ETA: And this!

Help! Police! My Kindle's been kidnapped!

Description of victim: slim, white, gray screen. Little buttons across the bottom. Clothed in a leather cover. Filled with Jennifer Weiner novels, Alice Munro's latest, and an unread copy of The Road. Last seen on kitchen counter, awaiting next reading session.

Suspect: 4 ft. 8 in. tall, long straight brown hair with bangs, blue eyes. Partial to wearing jeans, t-shirts featuring sparkly pictures of dogs, and Vans because she doesn't like messing with laces. Can usually be found reading a book or hitting boys with a sword. Warning: this suspect's room is landmined with tiny sharp Lego products. May be armed and dangerous.

Incident report: Suspect entered kitchen where victim's owner was preparing dinner. Suspect asked, rather sheepishly, "There's this book I want. Um, I don't know if you'll let me have it."

Victim's owner pictured a modern, racier version of Judy Blume's Forever, and replied with,"What book would you like?" To which suspect replied, "It's by Jules Verne? A Journey to the Center of the Earth? I read 20,000 Leagues and I liked it."

"Oh!" victim's owner replied (relieved, frankly), "Yeah, sure. I'll order it for you."

Suspect then eyed victim on the counter and said, "I hear those things get books really fast."

Shortly thereafter, suspect disappeared.

How you can help: If spotted, please return victim to rightful owner. Well, after suspect finishes with Jules Verne.

So close I can taste it

I've been scarce around the internet lately for a couple of reasons, but the most exciting one is that I have been toiling away at my new manuscript and--get this--I'm days away from finishing yay yay yay!*

January has been Get 'Er Done Month over here, and I've had to rearrange my schedule to revolve around writing time rather than doing-something-else time. Friendships, both real life and digital, have suffered. Sorry 'bout that.

Tell me about your writing schedule.

*Only the first draft, that is, and it's a little (okay, a lot) thin. But work with me here.