Wednesday, May 27, 2015

WIP Wednesday: Some Assembly Required

Today's #WIP Wednesday takes us back to IKEA purgatory with the lovable Benji and the grumpy
IKEA Smaland! I'm too much of a germ-a-phobe to let my own
kids play there, but it sure does look fun. (If you don't mind a case
 of dysentery from the ball pit.) 
Photo credit.
Patrick. Lex and I are moving along at a nice clip on Some Assembly Required, though to be honest we're going to have to pick up the pace if we have any hope of meeting our deadline. (Yikes.)

I think we're about halfway done. Lex, who if you didn't know writes epics, would probably disagree. Hopefully we'll meet somewhere in the middle. *g*

This is the last week of school for Thing 1 and Thing 2, so I'm hoping for a burst of inspiration to help me crank out a few chapters before all hell breaks loose around here. Fingers crossed!


Some Assembly Required
aka the IKEA purgatory meet-cute you didn't know you needed until now

The sharp-salty tang of tears wasn't exactly out of place in IKEA. Benji had learned that sometimes even the toughest men cry, and it seemed like those times were especially likely to occur the longer they were inside IKEA, following around harried partners with over-filled carts. He wasn't going to generalize. While most of them seemed to be straight, he'd seen more than a few bears reduced to manfully sobbing in housewares. 
But this was different. This wasn't the lone tear of a man (or woman, let's be honest, there were plenty of them too) pushed past the brink of boredom and frustration. It wasn't the happy tears of a giggling co-ed who'd found just the right fuchsia faux fur rug for the dorm room, OMG! The tears he could taste on his tongue were of a frightened child, and they drew him in like a beacon. 
Karin had told him she'd never seen anything like it. No one who'd come before him had ever been able to interact with the living the way Benji did—not through the usual means that Patrick used when he was trying to influence someone, but actual interaction.
So far it had only worked with kids under six, which was perfect because kids under six and Benji were like peas in a pod. 
“What is it, Lassie? Did Timmy fall down the well again?” Patrick asked when Benji's head lifted and he took a deep breath. Upstairs. Close enough to the cafe that the scent of meatballs and lingonberry made it hard to pinpoint, but that hardly mattered. That in and of itself was enough of a clue to tell Benji exactly where the kid was. 
“It wasn't funny the first time you said it and it hasn't been funny the last ten, either,” Benji muttered.  

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

WIP Wednesday: Incoming Credits intro

Thanks for stopping by for another edition of #WIP Wednesday! *g* I'm finally caught up on my chapters for Some Assembly Required, so I had a chance blow the proverbial dust off a manuscript that's been on the back burner for months--Incoming Credits. It's my very first YA novel, so the learning curve is rather large and daunting. It's also my inaugural attempt at writing first person, which is turning out to be harder than I'd imagined. Getting Zeke's voice down has been a labor of love, but one that's well worth it.


Incoming Credits

Most of the classes at Winthrop Prep were really engaging. I mean, I wouldn't go to a boarding school full of stuck-up rich kids if it wasn't worth it. Of course, there were always exceptions. Unfortunately the class I was in right now was one of them. 
Not that economics itself was boring—the math part of it was cool. But God, the teacher. He was only a few years older than us and he had no control over the class. He was a Winthrop graduate, and a lot of the kids actually knew him because his younger brother was in my class. 
Most of the teachers at Winthrop had masters degrees or even PhDs, but not Mr. Rhodes. From what I'd heard, he'd barely graduated with his bachelors, and I hadn't seen anything from him in class that made me believe otherwise. We all knew the board of trustees only hired him because he'd taken the rugby team to state three of his four years on the team. Apparently he was some sort of sports savant, because he sure as hell was dumber than a box of rocks in every other area. He'd assigned me North Korea when we'd done our IMF world outlook projects because he thought I could bring “a lot of good insight.” 
Which was great and all, if you ignored the fact that I was Filipino, and only half at that. I was born in Connecticut. If he'd wanted me to expound on the economics of growing up in Bridgeport I'd have been his guy. Not that it mattered to him. I was just a conveniently brown scholarship kid who he knew wouldn't complain to daddy about having a crappy country assigned to me.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

WIP Wednesday: Back to IKEA!

This last week has been a hectic, horrible rollercoaster, and it played havoc with my writing schedule. Those of you who follow me on Facebook or Twitter know that my 5 year old was hospitalized over the weekend--her second hospitalization in two weeks. 

She's home now and recovering well, but there's nothing quite so scary as rushing your child who's unable to breathe to the emergency room, and then having the doctors unable to easily solve the problem. :/

But like I said, she's home now, and even back at school today. That means I'm back to work, both the EDJ (which isn't evil at all, actually) and writing. Yay! Today's WIP Wednesday is a snippet from chapter 5 of Some Assembly Required, the IKEA meet-cute afterlife book Lex Chase and I are writing.

 Some Assembly Required  
Benji went limp, letting himself sink deeper into the ball pit. He didn't want to see Patrick. He didn't particularly want to see this Agnes woman either, but needs must. He'd rather the devil he didn't know rather than the one he did in this instance. 
Though Patrick had been adamant that this wasn't hell. Were there devils in purgatory? Probably. And Patrick with his sinful good looks and screw-everything attitude was definitely a prime candidate to be one. He stayed under a few more minutes until a bejeweled and wrinkled hand thrust down into the balls. 
“Patrick's gone, it's time to come out,” Agnes said. Benji put his hand in hers, wincing at her surprisingly tight grip as she pulled him up. 
He gasped when his head broke the surface, the open air tasting sweet and light on his tongue after the heavy, fetid air from the bottom of the pit. There wasn't any accompanying relief in his lungs, though. He took another cautious breath, alarm spiking through him when he realized his chest wasn't moving. 
“We don't need to breathe. Most of us do, just because it's familiar. But that's a corporeal need, son, and we're most certainly not corporeal anymore.”

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

WIP Wednesday: More of the Zen Den!

I'm supposed to be working on my latest chapter of Some Assembly Required, but yoga happened instead. Shh, don't tell Lex.

We pick up with Kincaid and Owen, the guys we met in last week's snippet. Yoga teacher Owen has just asked Kincaid about previous yoga experience. Enjoy! *g*



The Zen Den 

Once," Kincaid said with a slight grimace. "My roommate was into it in college and she dragged me to a class. All I remember is it being ridiculously hot and not understanding most of what the instructor said for the whole hour and a half.”  
Owen snickered. “Sounds like Bikram. They heat the room to about 105 degrees Fahrenheit to help practitioners sweat out their toxins.”  
“I felt like I was trying to sweat out my spleen.” 
“So no hot yoga for you. Got it. Do you remember any of the positions? Were there any you particularly liked?”  
“It was about ten years ago, so not really. The only pose I remember was Linnie doing something on her belly with her feet arched up to almost touch her head. I didn't even try that one. It seemed like there was a high risk of accidental castration.”  
Owen barked out a laugh. “Probably pūrnaśalabhāsana.”  
“Bless you?”  
“So you're funny as well as handsome and athletic, Mr. Sorens?” Owen teased, and Kincaid preened internally at the compliments. “In English it's called full locust pose, but I always find the Sanskrit words more fun to say.”  
Before Kincaid could respond, Owen held his hand up and shook his head. “Don't worry. I don't break out into Sanskrit until at least the fifth class.”
 
Kincaid was sure he still looked horrified, if the way Owen laughed was any indication.  
“Kidding. I always call out poses in English, and I'm right there modeling the pose for the class. For you, I'd recommend private lessons to start with so we can work one-on-one and make sure you have the poses down so you don't aggravate your stress fracture. That will be more expensive than the group classes, though.” 
Kincaid wasn't exactly flush with money, but his ankle was a priority. Besides, he hadn't taken a vacation in two years and he been picking up overtime on the weekends now that he wasn't able to be out running. Plus he found he really wanted to work with Owen, not just because he found the man attractive but because he actually felt comfortable with him. “I can make it work.”



Wednesday, April 29, 2015

WIP Wednesday: The Zen Den

Today's #WIPWednesday is an oldie but goodie I pulled out of my procrastination pile, aka the file of manuscripts I inch along on bit by bit whenever my active project is in a lull. Since I'm caught up on Some Assembly Required and I'm still pondering rewrites for Incoming Credits, I dove in to one of my favorite long-term WIPs, The Zen Den. 

Nicholas Tonelli/Flickr Creative Commons
I loved writing the yoga classes in Finding Home, so I wanted to take that further and write a book where yoga is central to the plot and important to the main characters. The Zen Den was born last year when a bad stress fracture in my ankle stopped me from running my first half marathon just a week before the race. (Boo, hiss) My ortho said runners were his worst patients, since we're so anxious to get back out there and very likely to press through the pain--because let's be honest, running always hurts, so how's a runner to know OMG-broken-bone pain from OMG-it's-Tuesday pain? Amrite?

Kincaid certainly thinks so. He's an avid marathoner who is less than pleased to be sidelined with a stress fracture. He's even less stoked when his ortho recommends yoga for his physical therapy--until he finds out how attractive the teacher is. (And no, sadly, that part is NOT pulled from my personal experience. *g*)

Here's the snippet. Enjoy!

The Zen Den

The printer that was wedged in the corner whirred to life, and Owen leaned over Kincaid and picked up a sheet to hand to him. “Medical release. Sign it and I'll get it over to Dr Chester, but remind him to send me a note when you're approved for more intense activity. Sometimes things get busy over there and updating the physical therapist slips through the cracks." 
I see him again in two weeks. He said he'll probably okay me for cardio then.” 
Even then, no running. He'll probably have you hold off on weight-bearing cardio for another week or so. Sometimes bones heal in that month off, sometimes they take longer. We won't know til he sees your X-rays. Swimming, biking and some faster walking will probably be his recommendation. And I'll do my part to get your heart rate up, I promise.” 
Kincaid swallowed at Owen's unintentionally suggestive words. That wouldn't be a problem. Kincaid felt like his heart was racing just sitting so close to Owen. How was he going to survive having Owen guide him into yoga positions without embarrassing himself? 
Owen seemed to read Kincaid's discomfort, and he tilted his head to the side for a moment, his cheeks coloring lightly. “Ah. I didn't mean it like that.” He looked flustered, and Kincaid thought it was adorable. “It's just that most athletic guys figure yoga is a walk in the park, but it's actually as easy or as difficult as you make it. If you put effort into your practice, you'll find that it's very satisfying.” 
Kincaid's lips twitched at Owen's choice of words, which caused Owen's to close his eyes and chuckle. “I mean, you'll find it's a satisfying cardiovascular workout. Wow. I apologize. My mind must be somewhere else today.” 
It's no problem. I'm looking forward to you getting my heart rate up.” Flirting openly wasn't something Kincaid usually did, but he couldn't help himself.
 Owen coughed and looked away, but Kincaid was almost positive it was to hide a smile.  


Friday, April 24, 2015

Failure to Adult

Like it says on the tin, as the saying goes, today's post is about me and my general failure to adult as it pertains to me missing #WIPWednesday last week.

Not that my propensity toward bad adulting is news, mind you, but I've been doing so much better lately. Hubby and I updated our will, switched financial planners, started a few new mutual funds, refinanced the mortgage and finally called an exterminator to come capture the gigantic woodchuck who claimed our backyard as his two years ago.

So you know, adulting. I've been doing it. Especially in light of the fact that I started my first non-freelance job in years last month, which has involved a lot of actual adult expectations like not wearing pajamas all day. I'm working at a library and loving it. I mean, how could I not? I'm pretty sure I was born to talk about books, and now it's literally my job.

It's been hard adjusting to scheduled work times, though. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty sure I'd cry if I actually did the math and figured out just exactly how much of my new salary was going to the childcare expenses we didn't have when I was working from home. But I digress.

Last Wednesday's failure to adult was epic, not because it was huge but because it went on for pretty much the entire day. It started with me dashing out of the house without shoes because I was already late for my early morning all-staff meeting. It was my first one and the director was going to be speaking, so I didn't want to be late. (I did realize my lack of shoes before I pulled out of the driveway.)

All the coffee, all the time.
I was so harried, in fact, that I didn't have my morning cup of coffee at home. Those of you who know me can attest to the fact that I'm not fully functional until I've had at least one, the stronger the better. Well, in my campaign to be a better adult, I'd finally broken down and run a cleaning cycle on my Keurig. With white vinegar. Anyone see where this is going?

While I did the responsible thing and ran a few cycles through the machine with the vinegar, at some point I must have stepped away to break up a sibling wrestling match or rescue kittens from a burning tree or possibly I just got distracted by something shiny, as I am wont to do.

Anyway, I didn't run the full reservoir of vinegar through the machine. Fast forward to the next morning as I dash out of the kitchen with a freshly brewed travel mug in hand, sans shoes, and bolt for work. I didn't check the traffic like I usually do, and I paid for it by getting myself stuck in a traffic jam that very nearly made me late for my morning meeting. You know, the one with the ENTIRE staff of my new workplace.

Usually by the time I come in for the day someone has opened the parking lot, but since it was still early the automated arm was down. Not a problem, necessarily, since I have the card to open it. But I have tiny T-Rex arms, which meant after several failed waves of the card by the machine I had to actually put my car in park and get out to open the damn thing...while my co-workers piled up at the entrance behind me, waiting for me and my tiny arms to get my shit together.

On the bright side though, I was on time. I congratulated myself on getting there before the meeting started, and I settled myself into a chair and even gloated a bit that the shoes I'd tossed on after running back inside for a pair even matched. Adulting! I was doing it.

And then I took a sip of my coffee, right as the director started speaking.

The coffee that had been brewed using white vinegar instead of water because I'd walked away mid-Keurig cleaning.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the taste and smell of vinegar? I can't stand it. I won't eat most hot sauces because of it, and walking into a place that serves fried fish with malt vinegar is enough to make me gag.

And I'd just taken a healthy swig of vinegar coffee. With cream, which had curdled and had the delightful mouth feel of day-old vomit.

Somehow, I managed to swallow it and not do a spit-take during the director's speech. And after absentmindedly taking a second sip a minute or two later (see above statement in re: Bru's functionality without caffeine), I even put it under my chair so I wouldn't forget and drink it again.

And then a spider came down from the ceiling and landed on my hand. I somehow managed not to scream and brushed it off, earning a concerned look from one of my coworkers but otherwise escaping notice. Until the fucker came back, and I noticed him crawling up my sweater. After frantically smacking myself in the breast, I decided my co-workers' opinion of me probably couldn't suffer more than it already had, I turned to the person next to me and muttered something about a gigantic spider of doom. She just smiled and swiped its silk out of the air and tossed it to the side, which I totally could have done if my introduction to it hadn't involved it swinging in front of my face, ninja style.

Anyway, my day didn't get much better from there. I was stuck with the taste of curdled milk and vinegar in my mouth for most of it, helped along by the fact that I'd forgotten my lunch in my shoeless dash out the door.

So by the time I came home, I was grumpy, starving and still more than a little queasy because my kitchen still smelled like the delightful hot vinegar coffee I'd had the misfortune to swill that morning. Which is why there was no #WIPWednesday last week. Do you absolve me of my sin, dear readers?

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

WIP Wednesday: IKEA!!

With the nifty #amwriting bracelet I made for myself!
Now that King of the Kitchen is submitted, I'm back to working on Some Assembly Required, the IKEA meet-cute that Lex Chase and I are teaming up to write together. It's uncharted territory for both of us--first time writing with a partner, first nod toward contemporary for her, first experience with fantasy/paranormal for me--and it's incredibly exciting. I'm having a blast.

Since it's set at IKEA, I decided a research trip was in order. If "research trip" can be loosely defined to include a massive IKEA shopping spree and a trip to Jungle Jim's amazing international supermarket. I'm saying it can, because I came home energized about the project. (And also because that means my mileage to Cincinnati is tax deductible!)
IKEA!!!!

On an related note, I feel terrible that I missed last #WIPWednesday. I'd had a terrible day, and honestly it slipped my mind. I have a pretty good story to tell about it, so I'll save that for a little later in the week. It'll be titled Failure to Adult, which should give you a pretty good idea of the content. *g*

So without further ado, here's today's #WIPWednesday snippet from Some Assembly Required:

Patrick's grin didn't dim in the slightest. “Oh, that was a misdemeanor at best,” he purred in a tone that had Benji blushing. Patrick let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, I do so like the innocent ones. This is going to be fun.”
Benji swallowed again, not because of a dry throat this time but to make sure his voice didn't break when he answered. Patrick was the most inappropriate person he'd ever met, and it was both terrifying and more than a little arousing. Benji definitely needed to get out more.
“What's going to be fun?” he asked, wary.
“Why, being your personal shopper for the day, of course,” Patrick drawled. “Whatever did you think I meant?”
Benji flushed but didn't back down. “I don't need a personal shopper. I'm only here for some boxes and then I'm heading home.”
Patrick's gaze flicked up and down Benji's body, and Benji's hot cheeks flared again. He'd never been so blatantly checked out before. He couldn't help but wonder what standard Patrick was using for comparison and whether or not he measured up.
Patrick flinched, but covered it up with a stretch. “That's what they all say,” he muttered.

Benji had no clue what he'd said that had upset Patrick, but since Patrick didn't seem to be dwelling on it, Benji decided to ignore it. He felt a twinge of guilt at knowing that someone was hurting and not trying to help, but part of his the new four-point plan for a happier life that he'd come up with while staring at his meatballs this morning was not getting involved in other peoples' drama. And as cute as he was, Patrick had drama written all over him.
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