Rainbow Cookies!!

They look good, huh?

Well, it turns out they are *&%$%*#$ hard to make. Perhaps not for a skilled pastry chef, but for little old me. Well, it has been quite the expletive filled challenge. Crazy Italians.

Ostensibly, I was making them for the intermission sales at the band concert tomorrow. But I'm not sure they are fit for prime time. So perhaps they won't actually see the real world.

And that is fine because, having sampled some of the cookie along the way, they are pretty danged yummy.

But now, what will I make for the band concert?

Teen Angst- AKA Characters we love to hate... or just hate.

Ok, before I start with my self-indulgent blah, blah, blahing, I have to comment on this photo. I was searching for a photo that demonstrated"teen angst". And I came across this and thought, "that's it". When I clicked through it was an advert for a depression clinic and it was posted next to "warning signs for depression." Ok, teen depression and suicide are no laughing matter, but I looked at their list of warning signs and then looked at this photo and couldn't help but laugh because what is a bigger warning sign of depression than LYING IN THE ROAD? I mean, come on.

So, back to the point. In my conversation with my brilliant friend yesterday, she said that she had read some of my book and she found my young main character super annoying. Which, on the face of it, is hardly a compliment. But then she compared her to that annoying Bella Swann-- who I also found extremely frustrating-- and I couldn't help but think, "I nailed it". So, hurray, I have captured the annoying-ness of teen angst. And, as long as people can get past my irritating character and keep reading, I'm good. But therein lies the hurdle. If they can't, I have created bonfire fodder. Good thing it is camping season.

Pardee out.

Books You Read While You Poop

I had an enlightening conversation with my enlightened friend about, as the title says, books you read while you poop. These would be books that don't take too much brain power to follow and yet keep you reading. Since she lumped books such as Harry Potter and Twilight in this category, I guess I aspire to have Clown Schlong, fka Star-crossed: Secrets, to be a pooping book.

So, please, if you feel the need to drop some friends off at the pool, please take a copy of Star-crossed... Clown Schong... whatever.

Pardee out.

Introducing-- Clown Schlong

So, my title blows. Not only is every other book in the world named Starcrossed but the title Star-crossed: Secrets makes me gag. The more I say it, the more I gag. So, I unveil my new title: Clown Schlong. I can't possibly say that enough. And, to the left, is the new cover. What will he pull out of that hat? If you guessed Clown Schlong, you might be right.

Ah, Powell's books. Haven of bookstore awesomeness. How we love thee.

I got a text from Powell's from my wandering peeps and once I got past my crippling envy, I started to think...... When my oldest daughter was four or five, she used to write these little picture books that she stapled between construction paper. Then she would take them with her when we went to stores or libraries and put them on the shelves with the other books. "So people could buy them," she would tell us. We thought it was adorable but, really, it was also genius marketing. Visibility is the first step, am I right?

So, perhaps I should have sent a copy of my book, Star-crossed:Secrets, with the surfers to place on the shelves. Then someone could find it and read it and create demand. Or, conversely, it could really confuse the check out people and they would throw it away. But still, it would have basked in the awesomeness of Powell's for a time, and isn't that what really matters?

Pardee out.

Swimming to Portland

Yes, it's me. Aren't I awesome. And, from afar, I look naked.

I wish I looked that fantastic... clothed or naked.

So, my insane friends and I are "swimming to Portland"-- as in, swimming the distance to Portland. You know who you are, insane friends. And we are swimming huge amounts of yardage trying to keep up with/beat each other. And it is a blast. And it is painful. And I am seeing stars. But that might be all the Sangria.

What does this have to do with your novel, Star-crossed, Laurel? Well, I'm glad you asked. Because Star-crossed, while it seems to be sci-fiy and romance, is really a swimming novel. And Chara looks just like tight buns in the photo there.

Say what?

Ok, that is a stretch. But one of my characters is a swimmer. Brett might seem minor, but in the only-written-in-my-head third novel, his roll is significant. There is much swimming.

And, of course, since most of the book was written in my head as I swam laps back and forth, it is a novel born of swimming.

Ok, so that is a stretch. But what can I say, I am full of Sangria. It makes sense to me. Perhaps you should try some Sangria and read this again and it will make sense.

Pardee out.

Oh Nooooooooo!

Ok, my friend came across this searching for my book, Star-crossed: Secrets. And, dang, it is mighty similar. I had no idea I was so unoriginal. I mean, ok, Star crossed is kind of a mainstream title, but the kissy silhouette? Come on.

On the other hand, this book will cost you $9.99 for Nook and mine is a mere 99 cents. So, you certainly should buy mine instead.

Well, and the author of this book is a breast cancer survivor, so you should buy hers too.