First Offenders

Take My Hand And We'll Make It I Swear

I am short on time and sleep this morning.  But I had a damn good weekend.  The Mermaids rolled to a decisive 10-2 victory, I ate the greatest sandwich known to man, saw Clash of the Titans (sucked) with my pal Moe (he tried to kiss me at the end of the night, but I had to tell him I only like him as a friend), slept in on Sunday morning, had an unexpected but enjoyable Sunday afternoon and then spent last night about 15 rows away from Bon Jovi for two and a half hours at the American Airlines Center here in Dallas.

And how was YOUR weekend???
Jeff

BABES IN JOYLAND

OMGILOVETHISSONG!!!

 

La Roux - Bullet Proof from serkan söğüt on Vimeo.

Mean girls don't cry

The mean girl syndrome is not a new one. I was a victim, as were several of my friends. That's why, when I read about how Phoebe Prince killed herself after being relentlessly bullied, I wasn't surprised. I remember wanting to disappear into the floor whenever someone came up to me in the halls to tell me how much they hated me, how much everyone hated me. No, I didn't go home and hang myself, but my family moved the summer after seventh grade, and I was able to start fresh in a new school and made some friends.

My daughter's in seventh grade now. And her class is full of mean girls. When a "friend" invited several girls who she was also friends with to a party at our pool club during a time when she knew my daughter would be there and then pointedly did not invite her, I had to restrain myself from throwing that kid against the wall and asking her how she'd feel if someone did that to her. I toyed with the idea of talking to the mother, but besides being embarrassing for my daughter, I knew it wouldn't help. See, the nut didn't fall too far from the tree. I'm sure her mother was a mean girl, too.

And in a page right out of the movie Heathers, there's a girl clique in my daughter's class that only allows six girls at a time to join. Sometimes they want someone new, so then they throw one out. My daughter says they're "the meanest girls in the whole school."

It's worse now, too, because of the phones. Cell phones that small children should never, ever have, because they really don't need them. But parents are buying phones for 8, 9, 10 year olds, so by the time they reach middle school, these kids know how to use them for good and for evil. Don't want to stop bullying that girl when school's out? Just send text after text after text until the girl cries and gets depressed and becomes a puddle of anxiety. This is, sadly, why I am resisting buying my daughter a phone. And why I won't let her on Facebook until she's 14. Bullying on Facebook is another issue. Or telling a kid she's "pitied" because she doesn't have a fancy cell phone or Facebook page is another alternative. It's a no-win situation.

What breeds this meanness? Books upon books have been written about it, psychologists have studied it, many of us have lived through it and hope it never happens to our daughters. But it does. We suffer through it, grow up, hopefully become stronger people because of it. But sometimes, someone like Phoebe Prince can't take it anymore and decides to stop it the only way she thinks she can.

Sadly, I have no idea how anyone can stop this. The officials at the South Hadley, Mass. school where Phoebe Prince went claim they knew nothing about what was going on, even though the girl's mother said she contacted them more than once about it. There are no bullying policies at every school, but are they really enforced? When my daughter was called into the assistant principal's office to be "a witness" to a problem between two other girls, the assistant principal was surprised I would complain about having my daughter possibly get a reputation of being someone who'd rat out her friends. She just didn't get it. These are the people who are supposed to understand more than anyone. They work in the schools.

So, if you are a woman reading this, have you ever been a mean girl victim? And if so, how did you survive?

Karen

And "the stop sign" is not an acceptable response.

By Alison

Like Jeff, I've got an April birthday, only mine is at the end of the month, making me a Taurus, which got me thinking about horoscopes and, you know, whether or not they're full of crap.

I'll preface this by saying that I grew up in Southern California, where astrology loomed large. It may have even been a required class in certain high schools in my area, that's how big it was. People would ask you at parties, "What sign are you?" And they didn't care if it sounded like they were auditioning for the dating game, the information was that deathly important to them. "Really? ATaurus?" the would say. "What's your rising sign?" And they were serious.

I've known for years and years that I'm a Taurus with Sagitarius rising, which I believe makes me both stubborn and flashy. I know too that I am an earth sign, while Jeff, being an Aries, is fire. (You'd think he'd be water, with all that surfer stuff he cranks out... Whereas Jim Born, with his talent for male erotica, might be more of a fire sign, but I digress...)

Anyway, I still think astrology is fun, but despite my upbringing -- and despite the fact I live in Woodstock where I STILL get asked my sign all the time -- it's hard for me to take it very seriously. For one thing, I share a birthday with Eve Arden and Willie Nelson. I'd be hard-pressed to say what those two have in common with each other, let alone what they have in common with me. And my daughter shares a birthday with Jerry Mathers and the Marquis de Sade.

I got my chart done once. I do have to say, I was pretty amazed at how accurate it was -- but was that because it really was accurate, or because it was general enough, I could read into it what I want?

I have a writer friend who, when coming up with a new character, thinks long and hard about that character's birthday, making sure they're the right sign. Others I know won't sign a contract when Mercury is in retrograde, and another friend of mine once turned down a date with a perfectly great guy, because, "I mean... he's a Pisces."

I don't understand any of that. But I do know a lot more about astrology than I probably should.

Do you believe in astrology? If so (or if not)... what's your sign?

40 Days And 40 Nights

I've only got time for a very short post this morning...

I hit one of those milestone birthdays yesterday and while age has never bothered me - I've never freaked out over hitting a certain age or looked at getting older as a negative thing - this one has me thinking about where I'm going and things I want to do in my fortieth year.  Birthdays have a way of making us think about those things...

So - I'm looking for either suggestions for things for me to do this upcoming year or things that you have done to celebrate an age milestone in your life.

Jeff

The Smoker's Stare

I'm not a smoker.  Maybe it was the asthma when I was a kid.  Maybe it was because I would rather spend money on Taco Bell than cigs.  Anyway, I'm not a smoker.  Not a big fan of the smoke or the smell, either.

Still, I think the anti-smoking people go way way too far in trying to make tobacco illegal by proxy (of course, they won't say that's the goal, but it seems to be).  No smoke in bars?  Really?  Get out of here.  That one seems to be the most tone deaf of the laws.  I've got no problem with people smoking in bars where I'm hanging out.  In fact, I prefer it to the other option--smokers hanging around outside the door with a forlorn look and thousand yard stare.

That alone should convince the anti-smokers to let them poor saps back in, goddamn it.  I just hate the whole process.  1) I've got to pass these dullards on my way inside.  2) They always seem to be either looking down, propped against a wall or wandering in little circles, their faces just...just...angry or something.  When there are other smokers, the conversations between them are minimal, but when they do talk the words are laced with menace, depression, and regret.  3) This one sucks: why the fuck do smokers feel entitled to toss their fucking butts on the ground without one iota of thought to the thousands of butts already on the ground?  One day I expect archaeologists to find a five-foot thick layer of cigarette butts under all the dirt, and they'll be able to pinpoint exactly when that occurred. 

If you'd just let the people inside, they cheer up while smoking, listening to tunes on the jukebox, talking to friends, laughing, and stubbing out the butts in an ashtray.  And that's a bad thing?  Fuck second hand smoke.  It's a bar.  It's for vices.  Let people drink and smoke in peace.  And don't say 'They can do that at home."  No they can't!  They're going to a bar in order to escape what's at home.  And they can't even enjoy their time out?  Instead, the smokers are forced to think about their life choices, arms crossed, staring fixedly, looking bitter, in front of every goddamn bar in the country.

Also, I swear we've already seen the slippery slope start sloping and slipping--smug about the cig victory, the anti-fun fuckers are going after FAST FOOD.  And I don't care who you are, that's not right.  Maybe I can't smoke in a bar (don't want to), but I can still kill myself with fried chicken fingers and patty melts in this country...at least for now.

You smokers?  Would you like to come back inside?

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Nothing To See Here

I'm not going to write a post about April Fool's Day. I'm not much of a prankster. I cringed whenever I ran across Ashton Kutcher's show about pranking celebrities on MTV. Ditto for Bam's always-mean pranks that demeaned his family members. Yes, they all got paid, but it never seemed to be in the tongue in cheek type of fun. Mean spirited is mean spirited and I don't have time for that.

Really, I don't have much to say today -- I know, hard to believe, right? I'm working on the latest project, picking away a chunk every day. I'm organizing the promotional materials for Romantic Times next month. I'm ordering promotional materials for the releases I've got in the next few months. I'm waiting on edits. I'm waiting on page proofs. We're getting ready for Armstrong #2 high school graduation in two months, which means ordering senior pictures, announcements, cap and gown, yearbooks -- plus the fun task of helping her to apply to various colleges she's decided she's interested in. And figuring out when we can visit said colleges.

We've had a flurry of spring cleaning, inside and outside. The boat is sitting in the driveway, all spiffed up and ready to head to the dealership for summerizing. The weather has been gorgeous, nice enough to have the windows and doors open. But that can change in South Dakota, as they've forecasted maybe 20 inches of snow up in the higher hills. Happy Easter. I remember quite a few years when the girls were little that the annual Easter egg hunts were held in the snow.

So what's the most exciting thing that's happened to you this week?

Just sayin'

Why is it that we get stuck on certain words when we write? We become enamoured with them, so much so that we use those certain words frequently. Noticeably.

I've just turned in my copy edits for DRIVEN TO INK. And I've discovered I have an unusual appetite for the word "just." On just about every page or so, there it was. The word "just." Just because I liked it, I guess. Just because it seemed to fit with the sentence. As it turns out, I took out most of them and it didn't make a bit of difference as far as the sentence was concerned.

I also love the word "warble" or "warbled," as Brett's phone warbled Bruce Springsteen several times throughout the book. Not anymore.

Skirt, skitter, and scurry are all used for the same sort of thing: Brett's eyes skirted around the room; Brett's eyes skittered around the room; Brett scurried up the stairs. Painful, really painful. They are now used sparingly.

It's hard to replace "looked," but everyone "looks" at everything and everyone so much.

Even in our speech, we all say things like "awesome," "totally," and we use the word "so" to put emphasis on things: I so don't like the Jonas Brothers.

Personally, I despise "24/7." It's overused and ridiculous.

My husband has started saying the word "literally" all the time. He inserts it in most of his sentences. I've noticed some political pundits using it, too.

I like the word "wingnut." I don't use it too much, but it truly does make a statement when I do.

What are your favorite words?

Karen

Running around like a nut job....

... trying to get everything together for 1) Passover and 2) a trip to Boston we're leaving on tomorrow. SO... instead of posting a full-on blog, I thought I'd ask a few (entirely self-serving) questions.

1. What's the best book to take on vacation?

2. What's your favorite thing to do in Boston?

3. If you were an 8-year-old girl, what would be your favorite thing to do in Boston?

4. What are your top five, downloadable roadtrip songs?

Answer any or all -- and Happy Passover, Easter, Spring, etc. etc, etc!

xo,

Alison

The Tiger Lillies Must Go Down And They Must Go Down Hard - Part Two

You may remember last week's post where I told you about our big huge meaningful soccer game that was about to rock the world.  And then got canceled due to rain.

Well we played on Saturday.

We went down early, 3-0.  But in truth I wasn't upset.  We were playing well and as I said last week, TTL are just a really good team.  We managed to punch one in just before halftime and went to the half down 4-1.

My assistant coach and I were tough on the girls at halftime, letting them know they weren't running hard enough and they weren't doing some things they normally do.  To our surprise, they actually seemed to be paying attention.  Remember - they are six and seven years old.

We came out at halftime and punched one in quick. 

Down 4-2 now.

Oh and hey we got another one.  Down 4-3 now.

When we pushed the next one in to make it 4-4, our parents nearly went ballistic.  Not sure I've ever seen them so excited in three years of coaching these girls.

Until we punched in another to go ahead 5-4.

Insanity ruled.

When we scored the last one to make it 6-4, you would've thought we'd just earned a birth in the Final Four.

The whistle blew and we won 6-4.  Shut them out in the second half and came back from three goals down.  And the girls knew what they had done.

I have coached multiple sports at multiple competitive levels for 13 years now.  I have won triple overtime games and lost on last second prayers.  I have been on both ends of lopsided games.  But I have never had more fun being a part of a game than I did on Saturday.  There are times in life when you just need something like that and on Saturday, those girls gave me a gift.

Jeff

BRAND ME, PLEASE

I'm jealous of everyone who's ever been lucky enough to publish with Vintage Crime/Black Lizard.  Those bastards, I mean, they don't let you down on book design.  They seem not only to care about who they publish, but what the finished product will look like.  And goddamn, have they figured out a way to make tawdry, dirty crime fiction feel all literary and shit.  Not that literary is better than genre, no no no.  There's great stuff in both arenas, and complete shit in both arenas.  I'm just saying that someone up there makes those designs enviable.

And don't bring up the original Black Lizard as "better", either.  I've got a handful of those, and they look like cartoons.

Makes me hearken back to the days before I was born when Penguin did something similar, branding its line with a distinct look while at the same time individualizing some for each author.  And look at the results! Risky.  Someone loved these books enough to take risks with the designs, which is why they're sought after so much.

The paperbacks have some sort of vibe that hardcovers just can't achieve, no matter how well made.  Look at the Uglytown and Bleak House Books hardcovers, gorgeous as they are, and yet there's a little something missing.  Some "cool" factor than is lost out in favor of "classing up".  Plus, while I respect the Hard Case Crime retro look, it's hard not to feel a little bit of "been there, done that" when I see those.  I'm looking for design that keeps pushing forward.

So when it comes to Vintage, while not all of them are home runs, the majority keep me coming back for more.  Consider the Ross Macdonald re-designs over at faceoutbooks. Something about those are able to convey the timelessness of the subject while also acknowledging their place in history.  Or the Sjowall & Wahloo series, again very evocative (find some here amongst the French versions).  Or Jason Starr's three originals.  Or the very pulpy Hammet reissues.  Or the fascinatingly bizarre David Peace Red Riding Quartet.

While I'm sure the wave of e-books will eventually wash over us, and the whole concept of book design will change forever (just as I've now come to accept that I don't need the CD cases or liner notes to enjoy the tunes...sigh), I'm going to be an old curmudgeon when it comes to paperbacks because I wish I could hang them on the wall like art and admire them that way.  Maybe I will.  Where's my razor?  Time to slice those covers off...

You've got faves too, right?  Maybe the more recent Picador trade paperbacks for Harrison and Black.  Or the beautiful Europa Editions. Or the fast-becoming-a-player Busted Flush Press covers, better and better each time out.  Tell me about it.

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