Fun Friday!

I can't believe it's Friday again... 

 

Riddle of the Day

 

Arnold Schwarzenegger has a big one.

Michael J. Fox has a small one.

Rihanna doesn't have one.

The Pope has one but doesn't use it.

Clinton uses his all the time.

Bush is one.

Mickey Mouse has an unusual one.

 

 

Liberace never used his on women.

Jerry Seinfeld is very, very proud of his.

Cher claims that she took on 3.

We never saw Lucy use Desi's.

 

 

 Beyonce just started using hers.

 

What is it?

 

. . .

The answer is: ...

"A Last Name.'

You didn't think I'd post a dirty joke, did you?

 # # #

 

 

 

 

Thursday Thoughts

This was supposed to be yesterday's Writer Wednesday post, but I got busy doing other stuff....

About two months ago, I found myself embroiled in a heated discussion on my Facebook page that began with an article written by TaNisha Webb entitled, “Why are More and More Authors Faking Their Way to the Top of Bestsellers Lists?” 

What began as a discussion quickly deteriorated into a mud-slinging fest, and it became clear to me what was really going on. Here are a few of the quotes from the article and also from the author and someone who agreed with her on my Facebook page:

 

 

“Well one of the ways that some authors are getting on the bestsellers gravy train is by way of free and dirt cheap e-book price points. Cheap price points will help to embellish sales but doesn’t necessarily mean that the author’s work is worthy of the download.”

“Some readers have noticed that not only are authors taking advantage of slashing the price of their e-books for eternity but they are also faking their way to the top of bestsellers lists by deliberately placing their e-books in the wrong genres in order to gain their undeserving bestselling status. This is a low-down dirty shame because not only are these fake bestselling authors being dishonest to readers when they claim they are a bestseller but they are also stealing…yes I said it…they are STEALING a spot from an author that actually do DESERVE and has rightfully EARNED their bestselling title because of these manipulative, greedy and starving for attention wannabes!”

“If you are a good writer with great storylines, characters, and quality books, eventually you will get to the bestsellers list the RIGHT way if you keep working hard. So many of us are so impatient. The most infamous authors put years, sometimes decades into their craft before ever getting any acclaim. What's the point of being on the list if no one knows you, you have no or few reviews, you have no following, and every time someone brings up your name or book people say, "Who?" If you truly want a lasting writing career, let go of all of the trickery and let it come to you naturally”

“This is exactly why readers find some authors so damn **trifling** because they are willing to get their "fame" by any means necessary instead of working hard and doing it the correct way.”

**For those of you who don't know what "trifling" is, it's an African-American colloquialism that basically means "irresponsible, devious, sneaky."

Their obvious disdain for successful e-book authors seems to be across the board, because as the discussion continued, the delineation between those authors that use “deceptive” methods and e-book authors in general disappeared. These folks are angry. They’re angry because e-book authors have found ways to get their books into the hands of tens of thousands of readers, even though it was at a financial loss to them. They’re angry because they suffered years of rejections, and once they finally got a publisher, they were locked into doing only what the publisher allowed.

The majority of e-book authors also suffered the same years of rejection only we decided to do something about it on our own. I am not talking about the small percentage of authors who hastily created a novel and immediately threw it into cyberspace. I’m talking about those of us who have written for years and even decades. What I heard behind the words was jealousy plain, simple and ugly.

 

Authors, readers I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Fun Friday!

  He said: I don't know why you wear a bra; you've got nothing to put in it

She said: You wear pants don't you?

He said: Shall we try swapping positions tonight?

She said: That's a good idea - you stand by the stove and sink while I sit on the sofa and do nothing but fart.

 

He said: What have you been doing with all the grocery money I gave you

She said: Turn sideways and look in the mirror!

  

 

He said: Why don't women blink during foreplay?
She said: They don't have time.

 

  

He said: How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?
She said: I don't know; it has never happened.

 

 

He said: Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive, caring and Good- looking?
She said: They already have boyfriends.

 

 

He said: What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night?
She said: A widow.

 

He said: Why are married women heavier than single women?
She said: Single women come home, see what's in the fridge and go to bed. Married women come home, see what's in bed and go to the fridge.

 

 

So I was lying in bed with my wife watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.

I looked over at her and asked if she wanted to have sex.

She said, “No.”

I said, “Is that your final answer?”

She said, “Yes, that's my final answer.”

I said, “If that's the case, I would like to phone a friend.”

 

That's when the fight started.

 

 

Author Spotlight

Today my special guest is author James Fant. I met James in one of my Facebook groups, and I'm so proud to announce that he has a new release.

His new release has a great title and a very interesting premise. Here a short synopsis of Fourteen Pages.

A nasty divorce is about to destroy Marco and Venice Goldsmith. Bitter arguments, and slammed doors have plagued their three-month long marriage. And when Venice proclaimed her hatred for Marco, divorce seemed inevitable.
Then a marriage expert named Garfield Moody offers the Goldsmiths a solution to save their marriage: a fourteen-page contract that includes step-by-step marriage instructions. Their contract even includes safeguards for non-compliance like “Chill Therapy” and “The Tip-Out Clause.” Everyone thinks the idea is crazy. However, Marco and Venice think it’s just crazy enough to work. Will Fourteen Pages be enough to save their marriage?

Excerpt:

Marco joined Venice at the table, their hands resting on top of their 14-page document. With the help of Garfield Moody, the two of them had drafted what they thought would not only save their marriage, but revolutionize the institution itself, changing the way that couples view and govern matrimonial unions. “Divorce could become extinct.” Those gripping words from Dr. Garfield Moody gave them hope.

The door to Judge Haskins’ chambers flung open; the door knob slammed against the walnut colored wall with a loud thud. The Honorable Judge Calhoun Haskins marched into the room with rigid authority, heading straight for the widely opened window. He inspected it, rubbing his index finger along the seal. For a moment, Marco thought that the old judge just may jump out of the window right in front of them. Indeed the entire scene was surreal.

Judge Haskins turned from the window and took a seat at the head of the conference table, slamming a file folder on the table when he did. He flipped the folder open, slammed his boney fist down on top of the official copy of the contract and said, “Explain this!”

Marco jumped right in.

“You see, your honor, my wife and I were having marital issues. Serious marital issues—”

“So we attended a marriage seminar hosted by the great Dr. Garfield Moody,” Venice interrupted. “He gave us the idea to start fresh—”

Marco jumped in and said, “Yes. You see, we would like to renew our vows today, even though we’ve only been married a short time. Long story short, Judge Haskins, we may have moved too fast in the beginning, acted prematurely. But now we are married and we—”

Venice looked at Marco with a raised brow and interjected.

“We don’t want to make two mistakes. You see Judge; we don’t love each other—”

Marco winced when he heard her say that. She continued.

“—but we’re hopeful that we can start things fresh with the help of some written guidelines for how to be married.”

Judge Haskins leaned back in his chair, eyeing the couple with great disdain. Then he pointed his skinny finger at Benjamin and Kim and asked, “And who are you two?”

“Kim Davies, your honor. Close friend of the bride. I had nothing to do with that contract, sir.”

Haskins peered in Benjamin’s direction.

“Benjamin Goldsmith. Brother of the—”

“Fine then,” the judge interrupted. “Let’s get this farce on the road. I have reviewed this contract at length and I’m going to assume that the both of you are in agreement with its terms. However, there are a few terms that—well—I feel we must review together before I sign off on this thing.”

Judge Haskins thumbed through the document to a page that he had bookmarked.

“This Article 15, Chill Therapy?” he quizzed hoping to get some clarity on the article as well as assurance that both Marco and Venice were in agreement with it. He looked deep into Marco’s eyes with raised brows and waited for his response.

“Yes your honor,” Marco replied. “I’ve been known to be a hot head.”

Venice shrugged her shoulders in agreement while Benjamin rubbed at his shoulder and chest.

“Article 15, the Chill Therapy, that’s for me.”

“Okay then,” Judge Haskins said as he quickly flipped to another page.

“What about article 27, Dr. Goldsmith,” Judge Haskins smirked as he removed his reading glasses. “Ah yes. The Quota. Are you okay with this?”

Venice took a deep breath and replied, “Yes your honor. I am.”

Judge Haskins stared at her for five seconds without blinking his eyes. Venice thought that he might have zoned out on them for a moment. “Humph,” he finally mumbled. And then he placed his reading glasses back on the bridge of his nose, leaned over to Marco and whispered, “Well played, Mr. Goldsmith. Well played.”

Then the judge leaned back in his chair and said, “Well then. I think that pretty much does it for me—Hold on a second. There was one other thing. Yes. Article 35. No Children.”

He looked at Marco and Venice sternly. “Are you both in agreement with that particular item?” he asked them.

Venice gulped and replied, “Yes your honor. We are.”

Kim then lunged to her side, grabbed her sleeve and whispered, “But you’re always going on and on about kids. You want kids! This is the time to negotiate that.”

Venice gently placed her hand on Kim’s. “It’ll have to be,” she said.

“It’s like my wife said, your honor,” Marco added as he looked into Venice’s eyes, “we don’t want to make two mistakes.”

The room fell silent. Venice closed her eyes for a moment. She desperately wanted to have children. She thought about it very often. However, she also wanted to stay married. And even though she held out hope that someday Marco would change his mind, she knew that he would not budge on that issue at the present. So she shelved those thoughts, opened her eyes and tried hard not to cry.

“Very well then,” Judge Haskins said as he stood. “Let’s proceed with this ceremony.”

Marco and Venice stood hand in hand before Judge Haskins with Kim and Benjamin at either side. They exchanged vows hand in hand, eyes mutually fixed. Judge Haskins pronounced them man and wife. Then they kissed each other. Their first kiss was nothing more than a peck, their lips only touching for a millisecond. Their second kiss was a bit more exciting as Marco took a second to suck the gloss from Venice’s bottom lip. But their third kiss was special. It was long and passionate and it involved slow head movements as their mouths melded together and their tongues wrestled each other. Marco and Venice moaned mutually as the soft muscles inside of their mouths engaged in a grudge match and just before Judge Haskins had to clear his throat and restore order, a chilly wind grazed their faces and freed them from the kiss that held them captive

Hand in hand, they left Judge Haskins’ office, Kim and Benjamin following close behind. After they were gone and Judge Haskins and Miss Agnes were alone, the old judge turned to his assistant, shook his head and said, “Mark my words. They will petition for divorce before the year is out.”

Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/16Pfz00
B&N: http://bit.ly/10W7KC5

Fun Friday

Two women were sitting next to each other at a bar. After a while, one looks at the other and says, 'I can't help but think, from listening to you, that you're from Ireland.'

The other woman responds proudly, 'Yes, I sure am!'

The first one says, 'So am I! And where about in Ireland are ya from?'

The other woman answers, 'I'm from Dublin, I am.'

The first one responds, 'So, am I!! And what street did you live on in Dublin?'

The other woman says, 'A lovely little area. It was in the west end. I lived on Warbury Street in the old central part of town.'

The first one says, 'Faith, and it's a small world. So did I! So did I! And what school did ya go to?'

The other woman answers, 'Well now, I went to Holy Heart of Mary, of course...'

The first one gets really excited and says, 'And so did I! Tell me, what year did you graduate?'

The other woman answers, 'Well, now, let's see. I graduated in 1964.'

The first woman exclaims, 'The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at winding up in the same pub tonight! Can you believe it? I graduated from Holy Heart of Mary in1964 me self!'

About this time, Michael walks into the bar, sits down, and orders a beer.

Brian, the bartender, walks over to Michael shaking his head and mutters, 'It's going to be a long night tonight.'

Michael asks, 'Why do you say that, Brian?'

Brian answers, 'The Murphy twins are drunk again.'

 

A Cup of Tea

One day my Gramma was out, and my Grampa was in charge of me.

I was maybe 2 1/2 years old. Someone had given me a little 'tea set' as a gift, and it was one of my favorite toys.

Grampa was in the living room engrossed in the evening news when I brought him a little cup of 'tea', which was just water. After several cups of tea and lots of praise for such yummy tea, my Gramma came home.

My Grampa made her wait in the living room to watch me bring him a cup of tea, because it was 'just the cutest thing!' Gramma waited, and sure enough, here I came down the hall with a cup of tea for Grampa, and she watched him drink it up.

Then she said, (as only a gramma would know), "'Did it ever occur to you that the only place she can reach to get water is the toilet?"

 

 

Writer Wednesday

While I am working on A Woman's Worth, I'll be sharing posts of interest written by others or reposted from my original blog on Webs.com.

The following is a motivating post from Marg McAlister. Marg has a fantastic web site called Writing 4 Success that is jam packed with tipsheets, e-courses, articles on craft, the business of writing - everything a new or seasoned writer needs.

Here's what Marg has to say in this week's tip:

 

***

It seems incredible, but already the year is one-quarter OVER.

Yes, 25% done.

That's three months that you can't get back.

I don't know about you, but I haven't done all that I had hoped during that time. Part of that is attributable to a road trip for four weeks (can't say that I regret that!) but the rest... well, I confess that I simply could have used my time better. That's galling to admit, but I bet that many of you are in the same boat.

The good news is that we can all start anew any time. I decided to begin by taking a good hard look at what I wanted to achieve for the rest of this year as a writer and business owner, and create a new business plan. Forget mission statements and pages of verbiage - I was glad to leave all that behind when I left the corporate environment - but I needed more than a to-do list.

I have worked with Microsoft Project in previous positions, but that's too complicated for what I want. So... as always, I checked out what was available online. My search term was 'simple home business planning software', and I found plenty of options - especially MS Project look-alikes: Gantt charts and all! I wanted something more straighforward.

The one I decided to try was Google's GQueues, which can be integrated with Google Calendar and send email alerts. It's also simple. (I luuuurv 'simple'!) I can print out the plan and scribble on it if I want (and I know I will want to!)

Time available: Even though I work from home, I do have some commitments other than writing. I have four days a week (and any weekends and evenings, if I so choose) to work at my writing business. My plan is to treat my working day as though I were tethered to a desk somewhere working for an employer: strict coffee breaks/lunch breaks and no playing Words With Friends during working hours! :-)

YOUR Writing Business

Unless you're happy to write stuff for free, or just blog about writing, you'd probably like to bring in some money from what you do. You can follow the traditional route of sending out queries and submissions to publishing houses, or you can focus on self-publishing and book promotion. (Even if your work is accepted by a traditional publisher, you'll still have to do some promotion.)

If you haven't done so already, this might be a good time to decide on what you want and how you plan to get it. Think about what you want to achieve by the end of the year, and take a closer look at what you should be doing in the next three months to set it up. Depending on the kind of writing you do, this could include:

• Planning and writing a book
• Querying and submitting to publishers
• Investigating options as in "Indie" writer - Kindle, Smashwords, iBooks
• Seeking work as a freelance writer
• Listing your services with sites such as Guru, Elance and Odesk
• Setting up a website and/or blog
• Planning your blog post schedule
• Creating or commissioning a book cover
• Establishing a PayPal account for billing/payments
• Writing PLR and setting up a PLR store
• Joining Twitter or creating a Facebook business page
• Establishing a timetable to get 'likes' or followers
• Learning how to make a book trailer
• Posting a book trailer on YouTube
• Developing a promotional strategy

When you start listing what you have to do, it might seem like a lot. Don't be intimidated. I suggest you divide your time: pick the most important item as your major project and devote half your time to that. In the other 50% of your writing day (even if it's book-ending a 9-5 job) tackle each of the other tasks until they're done. Pick a simple one first, that can be completed relatively quickly. You'll find that just checking one task off your list will motivate you to tackle the next.

For those of you who are working on social media (Facebook, Twitter etc) you can find me here:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marg.mcalister
Twitter: http://twitter.com/margmcalister
Web site: http://www.writing4success.com/

Sneak Peek Saturday

Here's another brief unedited glimpse into A Woman's Worth. The first excerpt is here: http://sisterscribbler.blogspot.com/2013/02/writer-wednesday.html



Once the plane landed at Hartsfield-Jackson, he picked up the rental car he’d reserved and drove up I-75 following the directions saved on his phone. Familiar landmarks brought a smile to his face. It had been years since he’d seen the Turner Field stadium or the Olympic torch Muhammad Ali lit to open the ’96 games. As Marc rounded the Grady Curve and headed toward Midtown, he took in the downtown skyline and noted the buildings he didn’t recognize. The directions said to take the 17th Street exit, and he chuckled recalling that the bridge hadn’t even existed when he left Georgia and moved to Las Vegas eight years ago.

He crossed the bridge, turned into Atlantic Station, maneuvered the streets of the urban village and nodded in approval when he saw Dillard’s and other upscale stores. He and his brothers had inherited their good taste from their mother, a lover of style and quality. Even though he lived in athletic wear and sport shoes most of his waking moments, he knew how to dress when it was important. And tomorrow night was important. The one thing he wouldn’t change for the event was his hair. Once he’d left Atlanta, the decision he’d made to let his natural hair grow out was more than a fashion statement. It represented a declaration of independence, and this was the first time since his early teens that he was making the statement to his family.

A few minutes later, the planned community’s signature building, The Atlantic, loomed forty-seven stories above him. He parked the car and found his way to the front entrance of the Art Deco-style building and told the doorman whom he was there to see.

A few minutes later, the door to a thirtieth floor apartment opened and Marc had the familiar sensation that he was looking into a mirror when a clear green gaze met his.

“Hey, man! It’s great to see you.” His twin brother, Charles welcomed him with an enthusiastic masculine hug.

“You too.” Marc stepped inside the apartment when Charles released him and glanced around at décor that testified of the DNA they shared. The clean, modern lines of the furniture in shades of white, brown and black were exactly what he would have chosen. “Nice place. How long have you been here?”

“About six months now. Sit down, man.” Charles waved a hand toward a taupe-colored leather sectional positioned in front of a wall of windows. “I moved in not long after Mama and I stayed with you. Your house inspired me. This place is great. It has a doorman, a twenty-four-hour concierge, state-of-the-art fitness center, movie theater, club room and a pool down on the fifth floor. After we eat dinner, we can come back and sit by the pool fireplace.”

At least twice a year, one or more of his brothers occupied his guest rooms while they unwound and enjoyed the pleasures of Sin City. Marc smiled remembering his twin’s last visit. Charles had been so impressed with his sprawling desert home, he’d raved about it the entire week. He was the only one in the family that knew the house had been a foreclosure Marc had been able to buy for a ridiculously low amount at a real estate auction. There wasn’t any need for the rest of them to know this detail. With the exception of Charles and Greg, who’d just graduated from college, the rest of his brothers were successful doctors who lived in the requisite suburban Atlanta mega house.

“I’m proud of you,” Marc said, admiring the view of Buckhead in the distance. “At least you didn’t go the traditional Stafford route.”

“Everybody always talks about how different we are, but we’re more alike than they know. I don’t have a wife. What do I need with a five-bedroom, six-bath mini-mansion? This is more my style. I love the view, and I’ve met some interesting neighbors since I’ve been here,” Charles said with a grin.

“By interesting I take it you mean female.”

“You know it.” Charles grinned.

“Are Mama and Dad still trying to hook me up with one of their friend’s daughters who has the right pedigree?” Marc rolled his eyes.

“Always. It’s amazing how many friends they have with daughters.” The brothers shared a laugh, knowing their parents’ penchant for matchmaking. “You ready to eat? There are a few nice restaurants in the area.”

Marc grimaced. “I wanted to check out this place I looked up online. You know I don’t like to eat at most regular restaurants. It’s called Tassili’s, and it’s over on Abernathy.”

“Italian sounds good to me. It’ll only take about fifteen minutes to get there. I’ll drive.”

Marc bit his bottom lip, unsure of whether or not to explain to his brother what kind of eatery they were headed to. “It’s not Italian. Tassili is the owner’s first name, but you just might like it anyway.”

A short time later, when Charles pulled up in front of what appeared to be a converted two-story house, he frowned. “Are you sure this is the right address?”

“Yeah, this is it. I saw photos online. Come on, open your mind and get ready to enjoy some food that’s not only good but good for you,” Marc said as his brother pulled into a vacant parking spot.

They entered the eatery, and Charles saw the menu posted on the wall. “Oh, hell,” Charles grumbled. “I should’ve known.”

“You’re a doctor. You should know better than most people how important a healthy diet is. You like tacos, right?” Marc glanced around. Burnt sienna walls, comfy sofas spaced between the high-top tables and stools faced a small stage where the web site said spoken word and musical artists often performed.

“Sure.” His brother’s face brightened. “The sign says it’s a raw café. They serve tacos?”

Marc chuckled. “I’m getting the Spicy Naked Tacos. Try it, man. I think you’ll be surprised. When I travel I always find restaurants online ahead of time. This joint had great reviews.”

The patronizing smile Charles sent him said he’d resigned himself to Marc’s selection. “All right, baby bro, I’m game.”

They ordered their meals, and Marc nodded toward a table next to a fireplace where the mantel was decorated with fresh fruit, fresh flowers and antique candlesticks. Everything about the room had an organic feel that he loved. He knew Charles was used to frequenting the more upscale eateries, and he welcomed the opportunity to expose his twin, or DR-3, as he teasingly called him, to something different. Charles was the third son to choose medicine as his career. Coming from a family of physicians wasn’t easy if you happened to be the one considered the renegade, and Marc found it easier to tease his brothers about their choice than to defend his own.

“So how is this thing supposed to go tomorrow night?” Marc asked, referring to Vic’s celebration.

“Beats me. Mama said it’s just a dinner,” Charles glanced around the room at the original artwork adorning the walls. “But you know Daddy will have to say a few words.” He snickered and Marc snorted at the thought.

“I talked to Mama before I left Vegas. You know she asked me to stay at the house, but I just wasn’t feeling it. They’ll probably have a house full.”

A server delivered their meals, and Marc saw the skeptical glance his brother gave the plate. “Aunt Velma and Uncle Rod came in last night. I know they’re staying at the house. Uncle Clifford and Aunt Betty were driving from Birmingham today. I’m sure they’re taking one of the guest rooms too.”

“All the more reason for me to be over in Atlantic Station with you.” Marc laughed. “That’ll give Cliff and Daddy less time to gang up on me.”

Charles studied the meal for another long moment then said, “I guess we’d better bless this stuff, even though I’m not sure it’ll make any difference.”

“So, what’s happening in your life?” Marc asked after they bowed their heads and each offered a short prayer, an enduring testament of their upbringing. “Are you still with that girl you mentioned when you came to Vegas?”

Charles shook his head then took a bite of the tacos filled with chili-infused sunflower pate and alfalfa sprouts wrapped in large cabbage leaf shells. His expression changed as he chewed, and the appreciative sounds he made let Marc know how much the flavors of the Green Goddess Guacamole and Fresh Five-Alarm Salsa surprised and pleased him.

“What happened with her?” Marc took a huge bite of his taco and waited for the answer.

“The usual,” Charles said after along sip of ginger pineapple juice. “It started out hot and heavy and gradually slipped into lukewarm and light. There aren’t too many women who want to play second fiddle to my career. I’ve inherited that workaholic gene from Daddy. This is the first day I’ve had off since I came back from Vegas. Damn, this is good. I really didn’t think I would like it.”

“We’re twins, remember? Same taste buds. So, you’re not taking a date tomorrow?”

“What for? It’ll be mostly family. I’m just want to support Vic and keep Mama from getting upset if I didn’t show up. You know she misses you a lot, and can’t wait to see you.”

Just as they all knew Vic was their father’s favorite, the brothers all knew Marc held that coveted spot in their mother’s heart. “We talk to each other every week, but it’s not the same as being able to drive over to the house and have a cup of tea with her,” Marc said. “She had a great time when you brought her out to Vegas.”

“And she’s still talking about it eight months later. You know everybody is going back to the house when the dinner is over. Mama’s expecting you to be there.”

“Let’s see how things go at the dinner first. I’m not promising anything.”

****

 The last excerpt can be found here: http://sisterscribbler.blogspot.com/2013/07/a-womans-worth-sneak-peek-3.html

What's going on?

I've been a lousy blogger lately. The month of March was awesome for me. I received my first mention in a major newspaper thanks to Michelle Monkou's fabulous column in USA Today online, Happily Ever After!

On Monday, Ain't Too Proud to Beg was the Book of the Day over at eReader News Today. As a result, the book reached:

#1,694 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
#6 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Romance > African American
#6 in Books > Romance > Multicultural
#20 in Books > Literature & Fiction > United States > African American

Great week, but as far as the new manuscript goes all hasn't been so great. I go through highs and lows, ups and downs. It seems to be part of my process.

Progress on A Woman's Worth isn't going as fast as I'd like, and I am frustrated. Here's where the meter stands right now:

It's a dark, dreary, rainy day in Atlanta -- my favorite type of writing day, so I'm not leaving the house. The entire day, well what's left of it at this point, is dedicated to Marc and Gianne.

I've gotten them to the first turning point in the story. Now the good stuff starts! Hopefully, I can ignore the call of the Internet until this evening...