Supporting the Ones You Love

This has been the week of Ay Yi Yi!

My husband's back went out on Friday afternoon and the Little Dude and I swept in to the rescue. (Ay!)

Thank God that my parents live just a couple of hours away because I don't know what I would've done with this lingering cold, a grumpy toddler, a pug who has suddenly decided to poop in the house and a husband who couldn't walk. (Ay yi!)

The day mom and dad went back home, the Little Dude began coughing and since Sunday, has been a supersized, runny-nosed grump. (Ay yi yi!)

But in the midst of all this ay yi yi-ing, I managed to finish two chapters, install a closet organizer and attend Alyson Noel's booksignining for her new release, Fly Me to The Moon.

Dana, that blog ho' over at that other blog, and her mom were there. At one point, we hit the floor and passed out bookmarks ... by the way, it really works when you're accompanied by a cute child or you're looking a little sass-eh like we were. ;-)

I'm not sure if we helped or hindered Alyson. But we had a blast supporting our fellow author and blog ho' and that my friends, is something that I take with me to the bookstore. I know, I know, books are pricey. (Hey, I buy used books and use my library too!) But I make a point to buy new books from new authors because let's face it, Nora Roberts has plenty of dough!

(But I'll be watching Nora's movies on Lifetime this weekend!)

Yes, I am the obnoxious customer who faces out books by (ahem) me, Emily, Erica, Alyson, Alisa Valdes Rodriguez, Lynda, Berta, Sofia, Cari, Michele ... if we want books, it boils down to supporting the ones you love, and ones who love you back.

Mary

Beauty and the Beat

When I was 9 years old, mom took me and my friend, Trista to see the Go-Go's at the SDSU ampitheatre.

It was awesome.

It was also my first (and only) vicarious experience with marijuana.

Am I dork or what?

Don't answer that!

So in the spirit of the Go-Go's upcoming concert at the Luxor (thanks for the link, Mom!), which one was/is your favorite Go-Go?

Mine is Charlotte.

If you can name the eighth track on their debut album, I'll send you a signed coverflat of In Between Men.

Besitos,

Mary

Dude, what's up with that?

My husband took the Little Dude to baby class yesterday because I've been sick with this cold thingy. This particular group, frankly, sucks. It's way over populated by Newport mommies - big hair, skinny bodies and big boobs that could tip them over if it wasn't for the big hair.

Ryan had to help clean up and asked two moms to watch the Little Dude. He turns around and my son is half way down the path towards the street! Ryan made it in time but none of those stupid bitches noticed!

Dude if I was there ... (picture steam hissing out of my ears!)

But seriously, what's up with that? I hear people saying that you just can't let kids run around like you could in the old days, and yet out of those ten mothers, none of them could tear themselves away from their gab fest to watch a toddler. If someone asked me to keep an eye on their child, I'd be on that kid like a shadow. (You thought I was going to say something else, huh?)

Can you imagine how you'd feel if something happened to someone else's kid on your watch?

Mom tells me that it is only a matter of time before I complete the transition from the don't-make-waves nice girl to a roaring mama bear.

In the meantime, I'm switching to another class where I hope there are more like-minded parents who actually give a shit.

There. I feel much better.

Mary

Hold the Line

This morning I read another new story that monthly book sales have dropped. Last October, Torstar (the parent company of Harlequin Publishers) announced that the venerable romance house was eliminating 40 positions. It seems that 2006 was the year when imprints were cut or restyled because of slowing sales; when manuscripts that would've been eagerly snatched up two years ago were turned down, not because they were poorly written but because of (you guessed it) slowing sales and stagnant inventories; and independent bookstores as well as chains have suffered from waning booksales.

All of this reminds me of a scene from Braveheart when William Wallace stands with his men on the front line, facing the spectacularly armed British cavalry. As the horses thunder across the battle field, William calls to his men to hold. The horses come closer and behind them are legions of British soldiers. The men struggle to stay until finally William gives them the signal and they raise a line of spears to stave off the horses.

To me, the bad news is like the British cavalry thundering towards the writer who is holed up in an office, a car or a crowded coffeehouse, struggling to find the words that will give life to the story playing in her head. Our only defense is our stories and the hope that they will find their way to into the readers' hands. We can do our very best to hang in there by doing book signings, advertisements, press releases, etc. But ultimately it boils down to the reader finding the story and the author's persistence in holding the line until you either get mowed down, or you emerge victorious and make outlandish demands on our publisher.

Not that I ever plan to be demanding.

Tonight I think I'll watch Braveheart just to get the theme song out of my head.