Saturday, February 19, 2011


I've spent the last few days at LTUE, learning how to turn my craptastic novel writing into something spectacularly un-crappy. In order to do this, I first must follow the rules. Guidelines, if you will, that will mold and shape my writing, and self image into something that's marketable, manageable, malleable. Hoops to jump through. Feats to accomplish.
Honestly, (because my novel writing isn't the best) it's amazing how much I need to do.
Ugh (insert whiney groan because at heart, I'm truly a lazy arse).
But, because I'm determined to one day shake hands with MR. PUBLISHER, and grin like a wildcat (Go Troy Bolton!) when he passes over my first royalty check, I'm going to follow the rules.

So in the meantime...while I'm attending this science fiction and fantasy writing conference, I've decided to take the liberty to write some of my own rules. Why? You ask. Because as I've gone throughout the day and shared space with hundreds of other hopeful writers (believe me, the classes have been packed and that's not necessarily a good thing), a few things have become clear to me.
Undeniably clear.

And so, you see, I've come up with a list of my own. 

Rules for attending a Sci-Fi/Fantasy Writing Conference: 
1. Shower.
I hate to say it, but when you pack a few hundred people into a room that has the body capacity for 50, it gets warm and stinky pretty fast. Take a look at the type of conference I'm attending. Believe me, ode of greasy head isn't what I want to bathe in for hours each day. So please Sci-Fi and Fantasy friends, shower.

2. Turn off your D*%# cell phone.
I don't care who you are, it's rude when your cell phone screams a creepy 'howler' ring smack dab in the middle of a NYT bestselling author's explanation of the revision process.

3. Use shampoo. 
I realize that I've already cautioned those attending this type of Con to shower. But it's come to my attention due to close proximity of another that perhaps all sci-fi/fantasy loving, fantastically long-haired males don't understand that proper showering includes a good scrubbing with shampoo that will cleanse the scalp of greasy clumping oils. Please, use shampoo, lest the sweet gal beside you pass out from overdose of head stink.

4. No crying.
I know Brandon Sanderson and Jessica Day George make you swoon just by walking in the room, but for the love of all things holy, don't bawl like a baby in front of them. It's just not cool. And again, I know it's a Sci-Fi writing conference, but you have to draw the line somewhere.

5. Keep your D&D where it belongs.
This is a writing conference. Not a boys gaming quest. Please no more D&D questions, and how it applies to Lord of the Rings. Please...I'm dying here.

And last, but certainly not least:

6. Just don't do it.
When one of the class options for the hour is "Bella as Mother Savior..." just walk away. Don't attend. Pretend it's an ink stain on the list of possible Con classes to take. A grave mistake that you don't have to be a part of.

So, follow these simple rules, and you too can make it through a Sci-Fi Writing Conference without passing out, offending others, dropping your dignity off the empire state building of self-worth, or permanently scarring your brain.

Monday, February 14, 2011

sick, sad, and sweet.

Today I shot a bride.
It was a beautiful bridal/groomal session, that once I edit will remind me why I love to shoot.
As for now. I hate it.
Not the bride and groom, but the shooting part.
Why? You ask.
Because the equipment costs so dang much.
And on a beautiful sunny, warm, February day like today, I was a complete idiot.
My light, hooked securely to a stand, toppled as soon as the wind blew.
And in that moment, the very moment I'd stepped away to take a shot with out the light, my new (only used twice) expensive light hit the ground with a crash and BROKE!
Son of a %#$!
Heck yes I was PO!
But, I finished the shoot. And thanks to an awesome bride and groom that are equally stunning, I'm sure my shots will look wonderfully delightful.
As for my light.
It's broke.

So I fumed at my own stupidity all the way home.
And when I walked in, cursing this very Valentine's Day, I found a delightful treat that practically made me cry. So beautiful. So delectible. So helpful to erase my worries...well for all of 2.7 seconds that it took me to down the sweet bliss of cookie.

Thank you amazing friend that makes equally amazing cookies. You are my Valentine!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

to Amazon, love me.

to Amazon:
you rock
Not enough
You're awesomer than awesomesauce squared
No, that's lame
You make my heart burst with joy when you leave packages on my porch
Crap, now I sound desperate
I'm drawn into you, pulled endlessly into looking at your books
Creepy...and pedofilish

When I buy books from you, I feel like a happier me.
Peace out.

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

true dat.

If you know my Teddy, you know he's certianly not quiet. He often says what's on his mind where ever we are. Take for instance church: "Mom, that lady is fat or she has a baby in her tummy." It's not ever a question, but his simple observation.

Of coure each time he comes up with something tactless, I shush him and explain that saying what you observe isn't always a nice thing to do.

But there are other times when his observations are simply true, and I have to smile and pass it on. For example, Sunday's discovery.

We walked into the house after church on Sunday, a bustle of flinging off coats and dropping bags. Out of the chaos came a loud Teddy voice.

"Mom, Grampa is black and Gramma is white."

"What?" What is this kid talking about?

"Mom," he said in a most persistant voice. "Grampa is black and Gramma is white." His eyes widened as the truth dawned on him. "They are not the same!" He repeated this over and over again.

"Well," I explained, "Grandpa is dark because he's Hawaiian and Grandma is white like snow because that's how she was made."

"No," Teddy argued, his mind firmly made up. "Grampa is black. He's black like Bubba (our black labrador). And Gramma is white. They are not the same at all."

I chuckled...because what more could I say. True dat!

So kids, you see, opposites attract.

Friday, February 04, 2011

question of the day.

That's right, I said it, dirty word and all. And lately I've been thinking about it a lot.
It's pretty obvious that I work from home (most of the time).
It's a nice set-up that lends time for me to take my kiddos to the library in the winter and the pool in the summer, but I also find that I spend countless hours past their bedtime editing, and editing, and editing.

So I ask you: DO YOU WORK?

If yes, why? Financial reasons? Personal satisfaction? Boredom?

How much money would make it worth your time to not be a stay at home mom?
(Say some awesome company is hiring in a field that you have particular expertise, but they want a committed 40 hours a week. At what negotiation price would you say YES?)

I guess what I'm really asking is what's your price?

just wondering.
luv, erin

Thursday, February 03, 2011

always busy doing a whole lot a nothin'

Do I even need to explain why I haven't posted? When you add up the hours I spend in front of the television, and lounging in bed with a book, it's obvious that I have little time to post.


But, I did want to put this question out there:


I hate the cold. I feel like I want to die. I've considered moving. And I've even searched for jobs out of state.

It's too dang cold here in the frigid Utah.

And I want out.