Bratz- Precursors to the Alien Invasion

Flashback Sunday- Here's a peek at an old post from January 2013. I've got some doozies in my past, and figured some of you might get a kick out of one of my conspiracy theories. Enjoy!

It has long been my belief that Bratz were invented to smooth the way for a hostile alien invasion. Their rise in popularity will make the masses much more accepting of their new alien overlords.

Check out the similarities in their physical features.

pic from thehairpin.com

Note both possess the abnormally large slanted eyes. The lack of a definitive nose. The tiny body with huge head. Glam up this green one and you'd have a ringer. Wait, they already did that!

pic from the bestdolldress

So now they're beginning the subjugation of the younger generation through savvy toy marketing. You can tell they've done their homework. They know us well.

I of course, envision something like this happening in the very near future.

And have already begun programming my own urchins against the indoctrination of alien space invaders. Every time they see a Bratz or their equally evil counterparts from Monster High, they immediately say things like, "Eeeew, Mommy. Look! They're so ugly!"

And it makes my heart glow with paternal pride that I have given them the rudimentary defense against the impending alien invasion.

Writing And Music- It's Like . . .

Caramel and chocolate.

Summer and snow cones.

Motorcycles and beautiful days.

One makes the other even better. 

There have been many who have discussed music and writing. Most of the ones that I've come across talk about writing to music. That's something I can't do. I listen too intently to the music and get distracted from my writing. Probably because I have a musical background. (I've played the violin, piano and flute.) And I'm easily distracted. (Is that a rabbit over there?) 

Many authors create playlists of the songs that inspired their work. I find that I compile soundtracks to complement my scenes. For example in chapter two of A Shot At Forever, as the heroine approaches her marks for the night, I know that 8-Ball, by Seasick Steve is playing in the background of the honkytonk.



(I highly recommend Seasick Steve. His album Walkin Man is outstanding.)

Now that you know the song, here's the scene.


-->

Chapter 2

            "Well now, is this a boys only club, or can any gal get in on the shots?" With just the right amount of sass, Sheridan threw her question out to the men standing around the pool table.

Her boot heels clicked across the worn wooden floor as she approached the cowboys she’d been casing for almost an hour. When they turned to face her, she stopped a few feet in front of them and rested her hands on her hips in an arrogant stance.

Five sets of eyes roamed up and down her body as she waited for a response. She held her ground and didn’t move a muscle, even though she wanted to itch right out of her skin.

You didn’t mind when Ethan looked at you like that last night. Sheridan slammed the door on that thought and forced herself to look at her marks, not the dance floor where she’d gotten the most intense kiss of her entire life.

            A cocky young buck stepped forward and smirked. "Do you know how to play with the big boys there, sweet thing, or are you just wantin' to hold a long piece of wood? Either way, I can accommodate you."

Loud guffaws filled the air, drowning out the country music coming from the dance floor behind her.

            Pushing her lucky cowboy hat back further on her head, she nodded to the cue in his hand. "The way I figure it, all you gotta do is know how to use that piece of wood. I know how to handle it. Question is- do you?"

            The ensuing hoots and laughs were her ticket in, and she knew it.

The young cowboy’s eyes hardened. "Alright darlin', you can play, but we play for stakes, so you got to be ready to cover what we're playing for. Unless you can offer up something just as good that we might be wanting to sample."

A mischievous smile painted her face, covering the trickle of unease she felt under his stare. “Don’t you worry about the money. I’ve got you covered like dew on the grass.” 

 (If you're interested in a longer excerpt, click here.)

Sometimes a song can inspire a scene. Or a story. And sometimes you can be inspired by the songs themselves.  (Those Blues Storytellers, My New Favorite Winter Song)

So how does music play into your writing? What songs are essential for your story? Do you have any recommendations for cool songs you're into right now?

Resurrection Blogfest II

Hi Everybody! Today is Resurection Blogfest, run by the incomparable, Mina Lobo.



This is the easiest blogfest around, and I almost missed it, due to all the cold medicine and other craziness going on around here. I'm not savvy enough at the moment to get the blogfest picture into the sidebar, so it disqualifies me from the prize drawing, but that's okay by me. I just wanted to be part of the cool kids participating. All you had to do is repost an old blog post from the past year you thought hadn't gotten the love it deserved.

So without further ado, I'm unearthing a post from back in March of this year.

Mutton Chops-A Closer Study of The Art of the Sideburn

Today we take a closer look at a very popular expression of male facial hair as we delve into the mutton chop. This in depth analysis of one of the many different categories of male facial hair builds on my previous homage to the art of the sideburn.

Mutton chops are long, sometimes bushy, sideburns that reach either the jawline or connect to a mustache. They can be trimmed and stylized in any number of ways. As such.

pic from brooklyndaily.com

It has been my experience that if a man has mutton chops, there are only four occupations he is able to hold.

1. Elvis impersonator.

Elvis did right by the mutton chop in the seventies.

 And the impersonators know it. Have a look.

pic from lasvegassun.com

2. Lumberjack
I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay . . . with my mutton chops.

3. Motorcycle gang member
But let it be known that a mutton chop wearing member cannot rise in the hierarchy above the level of "thug". Leaders must make special facial hair concessions and have either a ZZ Top beard or a Fu Manchu mustache.

4. Horror film hillbilly extra #6

 One through five being taken by other men with bushy beards or very scraggly mustaches.

So that's it on the mutton chop except to declare them magnificent. (Just like the mullet) And to prove my point, I leave you with this.

Nothing but mutton chops, baby!

Which career path would you choose if mutton chops adorned your mug?

****~~~***

So there it is, Citizens. My take on some wicked-awesome facial do's. Next time, I'll really talk about writing and music. Until then, let me know about your facial hair preferences in the comments!

Curse You Head Cold I Was Unprepared For!!

So I was sitting on the floor of my bathroom two days ago, rummaging around in the cabinet under the sink, looking for cold medicine. Which we apparently hadn't restocked from last year. I sat there, in my mucus haze, cursing the little three year old glazed-doughnut-monsters that had passed on their crusty germs to me and looking for anything that might provide relief.

This is how The Man stumbled upon me as I dazedly contemplated the decade old Benadryl in my hand, trying to remember what I knew about half-life potency of certain drugs. Which, whether sick or healthy, is pretty much diddly over squat.

Cautiously, like approaching an injured animal in the wild, The Man asked, "Whatcha got there?"

Clutching the medicine that expired in 2003 to my chest like it's My Preciousssss, I replied, "Nothing."

"Nothing, huh?"

"Just some medicine I think I might take."

"Lemme see it."

I shook my head, wishing immediately that I hadn't.

He gave me that disapproving look, the one he saves for when I've really gone off the reservation. The one that's part, "Do we really have to ride this train?" and "Why do I always have to be the responsible adult?"

After much coaxing and bribery by alcohol, he got me to release the medicine and brought me some whiskey with honey and lemon in it, which I sipped until he came back from the store with Nyquil and day time cough medicine.

That Man, I tell you. He's a keeper.

So I've been sick and wishing I could stay in bed, but nursery school duty calls and I must obey--since I'm hoping to give the germs right back to those little critters!

Anywho, until next time, Citizens, when I'll be talking about music and writing. Stay healthy! And if you see any little glazed doughnut monsters wiping their noses on their sleeves. . .  head the other way!

Be Still My Geeky Star Wars Heart!

Behold! A Death Star jack-o-lantern!

pic from fantasypumpkins.com

A Death Star jack-o-lantern! Nothing says Happy Halloween like this. Except maybe THIS!

pic from geek.com

My Urchins are deluded in thinking that I can pull off a carving like one of these. But it doesn't keep them from begging incessantly for it.

Happy Halloween, citizens!

Motorcycle Decisions Decisions

As many of you know, I ride a motorcycle. Some of my newer followers may not know that I took a spill on it in the beginning of May and have not been back on it since.

Now I'm wondering if I should sell it.

As of now, it's out of inspection, and illegal to ride. I'm not sure I have the courage to get back on anyway.

There's my precious.

close up of the sticker.

Here's a look at my pretty. I need to take an afternoon and try it out again before I make a decision to sell it. But I'm thinking more and more of my girls as the counter argument to sell. (They don't know I had an accident, I'm just thinking I might be a little selfish to keep riding.) We'll see.

So do you indulge in any guilty pleasures? Any that could possibly get you killed? Inquiring mind (me) wants to know!

Where Have I Been?!?!

I'll tell you. New Jersey.

Where am I going?

Crazy.

Yes, I was at the NJRW's conference over the weekend. It was fantastic. I highly recommend it to all writers. There were workshops on craft, the business, legal aspects, etc. I met some wonderful writers. Refilled the creativity and enthusiasm well. Just . . . awesomeness.

And I pitched A Shot At Forever. Which yielded  two partial requests from Sourcebooks and Harlequin.

So that's where I've been. I went and had a blast, then returned home and put the nose to the grinder monkey grindstone and have been working on my submission packets ever since. (polishing up my query letter, working on my business plan, you know, the usual.)

On a different note, Ashley Nixon, super nice person extraordinaire, bestowed me with the Sunshine award. And I've been meaning to blog about it ever since.

Here are the questions:

Fave color: Today it's yellow.
Fave animal: otters
Fave number: 14
Fave non-alcoholic drink: diet Pepsi with Wild Cherry
Fave alcoholic drink: A mango mojito or a Dogfish Head Festina Peche
Facebook or Twitter: Just joined Twitter ( @AvaQuinnWrites ), but haven't gotten around to joining Facebook.
Passions: Writing & Education
Prefer giving or getting presents? Giving.
Fave city? Can't think of a city, but my favorite town is Bar Harbor, ME
Fave TV Shows: Castle, Big Bang Theory and Longmire.

I'm going to officially award this to another writer blogger I'd love for you to get to know-

Delynn Royer 

So there's a little peek inside. What would your answers be? Did you do anything special this past weekend?

Why Didn't I Get A Flu Shot Yet?!?

It's too late for this round. I'm finally coming out of it, slowly but surely, though this fever will not go away.  I need to schedule flu shots for me an the Urchins. I'm not looking forward to it. Not that I care about a shot. No, it's the Youngest Urchin. She holds a grudge for days after getting any shots. She's a sweetie, but stick her with a needle, and all bets are off.

I also have to get ready for the NJRW conference coming up. I've done almost all my shopping to get ready, now I need to pack, finalize directions and memorize my pitch. Wanna read it? It's still a little choppy, so I'm trying to smooth the rough edges a bit. But here it is.

A Shot At Forever

Sheridan Ward hustles pool for a living. She’s made it this far by following three rules. Know the game better than your competition. Know your marks better than they know themselves. And trust no one. Especially the law. But Sheridan wants out. She’s found a way in a high stakes underground pool tournament. One last big score and she’ll have enough money to start the life she really wants. She only has three thousand dollars left to earn for the tournament’s buy-in. But less than a month to make it. Everything is working to plan until her latest hustle in a small Texas town turns ugly.

Sheriff Ethan Bankert has spent every spare second investigating the murder of his father, but the trail has grown cold, until he stops an assault on a beautiful loner that leaves her with an injured wrist and no transportation. He immediately places Sheridan under his protection. Ethan knows she’s the key to re-opening an investigation into the men he believes killed his father since they’re the same ones who assaulted her. If only she’d press charges. Yet the more time he spends trying to convince her, the more Sheridan reawakens feelings he hasn’t felt since before his father was murdered. And some he’s never felt before.

It’d be a cold day in hell before Sheridan steps back into a courtroom, no matter how tempting the sheriff is. She may be stuck in his town waiting for her truck to be fixed, but she’s anxious to get to the tournament. It’s her best shot at starting the life she’s dreamed of . . . except now those dreams have begun to include Ethan. But in the shadows of the small Texas town, a killer from Ethan’s past is determined never to let Sheridan have her SHOT AT FOREVER.

Have you ever pitched in person to an agent or editor? (I'm hoping I got all my puking out over the weekend with the flu. That way I don't puke on them while I pitch.) Do you recommend any writing conferences or workshops? Anyone else going to NJ for this one?

Urchin Star Wars Viewing Update

When last we left the Urchins, they were still firmly entrenched in the enraptured bliss of watching the original Star Wars IV.  (Click to view crazy back story that will explain some of the jokes to follow.)

Last night, The Man went to his part time job (yes, he has a full time job too.) So I asked the girls what they'd like to do. A resounding vote for Star Wars from each of them still has my ears ringing today. I was totally down with that, since as has been established previously here at Tongue in Cheek, I'm a total geek girl and am raising two as well.

So last night we did it up right. Popcorn was popped. The Oldest Urchin brought down her build a bear that plays the Star Wars Theme when you press its foot. (Like mother like daughter- I still have the Star Wars soundtrack on vinyl.) And snoogled up on the couch for some classic Star Wars viewage.

The Oldest Urchin is now beginning to appreciate the humor of Han Solo. In her first viewings, she was righteously indignant on Luke and Leia's behalf at any remarks he made towards them.

The Youngest Urchin, who's now six, is no longer asking what Chewbacca and R2D2 are saying. No. now she's telling me what she thinks they're saying.  Throughout the entire movie.  Yet one thing hasn't changed. When I tell her she's incorrect and what R2D2's really saying is,"Tell the Youngest Urchin to stop talking during my movie." She still makes some very Chewbacca-like noises at me.

So what's your favorite part of Star Wars? Which is your favorite character? And twenty thousand imaginary bonus points to you if you have the Star Wars soundtrack on record or 8 track. You may redeem them in my imaginary shop, Pitchforks 'n Things a.k.a. The Angry Villager.

Don't Let It

(This post is dedicated to my friend, Deb, who is diagnosed with ALS.)

Debilitating losses.

Terminal diseases.

They can take so much from a person. Energy.  Mobility.  Limbs.  Memories. Cruel and greedy, they strip so many things away without recourse.

Yet there is one thing they can never take.

The human spirit.  That joie de vivre that makes up who we are. That indomitable well spring of a life worth living.

Unless we let it.

Don't. Don't let it make you give up living your life to the fullest that you can before it's your time. Don't let it crush your spirit and make you a shell. Don't let it snatch away those precious months, days. Minutes.

Don't!




Thank you Valerie Harper for illustrating this so beautifully and showing us all what a life worth living looks like.