BEST OF...10 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A ROMANCE WRITER… AND THE SNAPPY ANSWERS YOU MIGHT RECEIVE IF YOU DO.

TEN THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A ROMANCE WRITER… AND THE SNAPPY ANSWERS  YOU MIGHT RECEIVE IF YOU DO.

  1.     Did you model that character after me? 
        No, you’re too boring to be a character in my book.

  2.     Did you get your plot from a TV program?
        No, that’s called theft of intellectual property.

  3.     Are you going to put what I just said in a book?
        Maybe, but you’ll never know, will you?

  4.     Who did you fashion your characters after?
        No one, they are fiction, remember?

  5.     Did that really happen?
        No, that’s called nonfiction.

  6.     Where do you get your ideas from?
       I buy them at the corner store along with my crack, Oxycotin and  diet pills.

  7.     Does your mother know you write this stuff?
      Yes, and she’s buying copies for all her friends for Christmas.

  8.     Do people actually buy your books?
       Yes, I’ve got the royalty checks to prove it.

  9.     I could write something like this…it isn’t hard. 
      Go ahead…I dare you 
  10.  This isn’t real literature, you know. 
      Really? That’s what it’s classified as by the government (when you file for a copyright) 
   Thank you for stopping by. Which was your favorite? I love comments. Have a great day. 

BEST OF....REJECTIONS LETTERS WE'D LIKE TO SEE...

 Welcome to a week of The Best of my blogs. I've resurrected what I think are my best shots at engaging blogs. No, none of them are touting books, so you can relax. Hope you enjoy them. There's the first. 

REJECTION LETTERS WE'D LIKE TO SEE…

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Dear Mr. Dickens,

So who has great expectations? Is this Miss Havisham chick expecting a roll in the hay with Pip or what? Cougar stories are hot right now but this kid is underage…don’t want to bring the feds down on us. So make him older and add a few hot scenes and resubmit.

 

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

Dear Mr. Dickens,

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”? Really? Make up your mind, Mr. Dickens. Which was it, the best or the worst of times. Geez. When you decide which it was, revise and resubmit. And bag that guillotine crap. Too bloody for our audience.

Stuart Little by E.B. White

Dear Mr. White,

A woman gives birth to a mouse? She’s cheating on her human husband with a giant mouse? Honestly…that may be original but is totally inappropriate for a kid’s book, Mr. White. Besides, it has creeped out the entire editorial staff. Don’t both rewriting and resubmitting this one, I’m afraid.You might consider intensive physchotherapy.

Don Quixote by Miguel de CervantesDear Mr. Cervantes,

A novel about a crazy, old guy who fights a windmill and his chubby sidekick who goes along because he has no life? Honestly, this story has been done to death, Mr. Cervantes. While we loved the chivalry, the plot was ho hum and the characters too far fetched. A hooker who turns down a good guy who doesn't want sex? Really, Mr. Cervantes? Please send us your next manuscript, we have not filled out quota of rejections yet this month.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Dear Ms. Shelley,

Your hero is made out of dead body parts sewn together? Yuck! Three of our editors threw up reading about that. We believe in recycling, but that's ridiculous! 

Then you jump start him like a dead car battery with lightning from the sky. Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen. What nice girl writes about something so grisly? Thanks but no thanks. Do send us your next attempt, we’re always looking for a good laugh.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Dear Mr. Carroll,

A girl disappears and this is funny? Down a rabbit hole? She eats pills that make her bigger and smaller then meets a floating grin that’s a cat? We suggest, Mr. Carroll, that the next time you take psycho-tropic recreational drugs, you remove pencil and paper from the room. Please, we know an acid trip when we see one. Good luck with your drug habit but don’t send us your next “trip”.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Dear Ms. Alcott,

We were disappointed to see from the title of your book that it wasn’t about a bordello. These girls are innocent to the point of totally boring. Four editors fell asleep skimming your book for sex scenes. Besides, there was too much telling and not enough showing in this book. We couldn’t feel the emotions of your characters. What a bunch of spoiled brats! Please, spice up this book, like one of them gets it on with the rich kid next door, rewrite and resubmit. Oh and make the girls all over sixteen. We like ‘em legal.

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BOTTOM"

Welcome! Thanks for stopping by. Here is another episode in the Griff Montgomery, Quarterback, story, continuing from last week. 

********** 

Griff’s attention was drawn to the nicely rounded bottom facing him. The woman it belonged to was bending over to allow his dog, Spike, to lick her face clean. Lusty thoughts ran through his mind as the eye-catching body part almost brushed his leg. 

When the woman stood up and turned to face him, he saw long, dark hair, perfectly pink lips, and flashing hazel eyes throwing a cold look his way. He was dazzled.
“What?”

“You heard me. You stole my dog. This is Zander. And he’s mine,” she grabbed for the pug’s leash.
As he raised it above the reach of the beautiful woman standing before him, his eyes narrowed.
“So you’re the asshole who left this dog to starve and die? No way are you getting him back. I should call the cops.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lady, I found this dog, starving, guarding an empty house. Your house. Did you conveniently forget you had him? And now you want him back? Go to hell.” He pulled the dog closer to him and moved his long legs forward.   
"You got a lotta nerve talking to me like that! I did not forget my dog."
"Yeah? Tell it to the cops, lady." If I don’t get away from her, I’m going to hit her. He gritted his teeth as he walked. His eyes darkened and his hands fisted at his side. I hate animal abusers. 
A small tug on his arm caught his attention.
“What the fuck do you want?” He turned to face her.
“That’s my dog,” She said, her jaw tightened, her lips compressed into a thin line. 

“On a cold day in Hell, lady. If you were a man, I’d take you  behind that store and beat the shit out of you.” He took a menacing step toward her and she backed away. The woman’s eyes registered fear.
His gaze automatically slid down to her deliciously seductive chest. Annoyed with himself, he immediately snapped his attention back to her face. She inched toward him, closing her fingers around the leash and opened her mouth.

“Help! Police!”

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