Month: October 2009

Fonciful

I’m obsessed with fonts. One of the reasons I could never be a professional web designer is that I waste (um, invest?) hours and hours of time searching for just the right font for a site. I love fonts! Can you imagine how my obsession would reflect on an hourly-basis invoice? I’d have to charge a flat rate for font research.

Of course, I might not be as obsessive about choosing fonts for other people. Choosing for myself, though…it’s a sickness.

I can’t begin to describe how many fonts I browsed for my site re-design (accomplished in May 2008 or thereabouts). I narrowed down to about 20 over a period of 6 hours or so of browsing and testing (not kidding), then narrowed down again from there. I think I remember choosing my Cindy Procter-King name font from a short-short-short list of 3. I wound up buying 3-5 fonts and then kept playing with them until I made my decision.

One of the fonts I didn’t choose for this site, I wound up using on Penny’s site. But my work doesn’t stop there. Because I often like to have a secondary, complementary font (the font on my buttons, for instance). Choosing one font is bad enough. Choosing two = triple the obsession.

I’ve yet to use two of the fonts I purchased when I redesigned this site and built Penny’s. But I don’t mind. Sometimes I go into my Fonts folder and gaze at them longingly, spinning new web designs around them in my mind.

My favorite site for buying fonts is My Fonts (no, they didn’t pay or ask me to say this). The site is easy to navigate, and once you choose a font to test you can type your name or other wording into a window, click, then see what the font might look like on your site. Easy-peasy!

At Fontifier, you can upload a sample of your handwriting and create your own personalized font! I haven’t tried this myself. I have crappy handwriting and know better than to unleash it on the world. It’s the fault of the elementary school I attended. For reasons that are not clear to me, they decided not to teach a few grades of us cursive writing. Instead, we learned “script.” I do believe an exchange teacher from Australia foisted this experiment upon us. “Script” was supposed to look like beautiful calligraphy, but in the hands of 8- and 9-year-olds, it looks like printing with checkmarks on the end (serifs). The result was that, even as a teenager, I didn’t know how to write. I printed. I still mainly print (when I want someone to be able to read what I’m writing). And I’m all over the map. I do two different types of E’s (capital and lower case), depending on my mood. Same with S’s. And F’s (lower case only).

I did have to teach myself to cursive write when I opened a bank account as a teen and they wanted a signature. I remember going with a friend who “signed” her name like straight up and down printing with tick marks at the end of each letter—at the age of 15. Not for me!

I have the worst signature in the world. YOU try signing Cindy Procter-King over and over and over and over and see what it winds up looking like.

I could be a doctor.

I blame my two summers as a meter maid. I learned to sign Cindy Procter without really looking at the pad (I was too busy darting the glares of annoyed drivers).

I blame my children. Eldest Son was such a rambunctious toddler that I didn’t dare take my eyes off him while signing checks in the grocery store or the bank (young mothers don’t realize how easy they have it with debit cards—no signing!). So my cursive handwriting grew worse and worse.

Dare I say I’m the only one who can read it? (Curiously, my critique partners blame me).

If anyone tries the Fontifier, let me know how it turns out.

(Yes, I do believe they began teaching cursive writing at my elementary school again after I left…fat lot of good it did me).

Tell Me Tuesday

I haven’t done one of these in a while…

That was one loooooooonggggggg weekend. Youngest Son arrived Thursday morning, and we just dropped him off at the airport again last night. Had a wonderful visit, and Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ Sunday went off without a hitch. Now it’s back to work! I’m happy to report that (I think) I’m finally getting a grasp on the revisions for my single title. My mind really struggled with them all of last week. It’s nice what good a little break can do.

I also entered Penny’s December ’09 Secrets novella, KISS ME AT MIDNIGHT, in the RITA yesterday. The RITA was open to entries from major-a.k.a.-RWA-eligible publishers for the last three weeks, but just opened up to entries from non-vanity/non-subsidy-but-otherwise-non-RWA-eligible-publishers yesterday (ie. mainly e-pubs, which includes Red Sage now even though the Secrets print anthologies have been around for years and were always considered RWA-eligible or whatever the vernacular was at the time, until Red Sage opened an epub division and had to bow out of RWA-eligible status because of the whole low-advance thingie for the ebooks). I had no clue when I went to enter if the RITA was full up yet or not. So I was glad to get in. Not that Penny’s novellas tend to do well in the RITAs. They don’t. They get good (dare I say great, like 4 stars from Romantic Times?) reviews and my readers seem to enjoy them, but all that hot sex…that’s my excuse for them not doing well in RITA, and I’m sticking to it, LOL.

KISS ME AT MIDNIGHT began life as a sexy novella targeted to the now dearly departed Legendary Editor of Kensington Brava. In the first version, the sexual relationship between the hero and heroine didn’t begin until about 75% through the story, although there were lots of sparks. When that sale…didn’t occur (I won’t go into details other than that the editor no longer felt the love for the hero and the story concept)…I submitted the story as was to my first Secrets editor. She told me she loved it and was sending it up the line for approval—just when she was leaving her position to focus on her own writing career. Somehow, the submission went…awry…I was assigned a new editor and told to re-sub the story. I did, and received a form rejection. What a blow! After my first editor wanted to buy it, that set me back. So I emailed the new editor and asked for details, upon which she informed me that it needed to pack a lot more heat for her tastes, but that I could revise and resubmit if I wished.

I decided to do that, but first I wanted to try a new novella with her to make sure I knew from the get-go what she wanted. I wrote and submitted (and sold) the story that became Penny’s second sale and appeared in Secrets 26 last December. Then I finally submitted the revised version of KISS ME AT MIDNIGHT to my new (second) Red Sage editor. And then she left the house, LOL. Finally, I was assigned to the new Managing Editor, who bought the revised version of the story with one minor change to an early scene. So it was a long, hard battle to get that story onto the shelves. And it just goes to show how subjective publishing is, especially when you consider the difference in response between Secrets editor #1 and #2.

Why am I telling you all this, you ask? It’s my convoluted way of getting back to the subject of the RITAs. I have hope that KISS ME AT MIDNIGHT will do better in the contest than either of Penny’s first two novellas, because the H/h hold off on consummating their relationship until the 40% point. Erotic novellas don’t often final in the RITAs, and KISS ME AT MIDNIGHT is the least erotic of all three novellas Penny has sold thus far. Therefore, regardless of whether it finals or not, I expect it to fare better overall. Now watch, just because I came out and said that, it’ll do the worst of all three!

Well, I’m just glad the contest was still open to entries and that I made it in to have another kick at the can.

How about you? How’s your week faring? Any accomplishments or setbacks to report? (I know of someone with a major accomplishment, but I won’t out her as I understand she has some…paperwork to do first).

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

I couldn’t resist posting this:

Eldest Son is coming home for Thanksgiving tomorrow morning, and My Liege is taking Friday off work, so you won’t find me around the blog until Tuesday or so. Monday is a holiday, and Sunday is our Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’.

An American on one of my writing lists asked about the differences between Canadian and American Thanksgiving a few weeks ago. Sorry to disappoint, but the holiday is pretty much the same as it is in the U.S….except it’s celebrated several weeks earlier. Why? I dunno, it’s a holiday, let’s eat!

We’ll be having ham, roast turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, Brussels sprouts and no doubt another casserole or two. And pumpkin pie for dessert.

Yum. Aren’t you sad you have to wait?

The Middleman (Person, What-Have-You)

My apologies to those who visited the blog today expecting to find a guest blog post and book give-away. I did have a guest scheduled, but unfortunately had to cancel when I didn’t receive the necessary materials in time for me to fit photo resizing, blog formatting and uploading into my own busy writing schedule. This is the first time I’ve had to cancel a guest blogger in a year of hosting, so that’s good—but it’s the second time I’ve run into problems receiving the necessary materials, and, both times, there’s been a middle man. A publicity person or assistant. I find this perplexing. Isn’t having an assistant or someone to handle your publicity supposed to make things easier on an author?

Maybe it’s just coincidence, but now I’m reluctant to agree to host another author if the arrangements are made through an assistant/publicity person (unless it’s a super big name like Jennifer Crusie, Susan Elizabeth Phillips or Nora Roberts—then, yeah, walk all over me, I’ll love it!). I prefer to deal with my guest authors directly. When I agree to host an author, I send a specific listing of the items required and that I’ll need them five days before the blogging date. Sometimes I book my guests several months in advance, so I expect that they’ll need reminding. Two weeks before the scheduled date, I always send out a reminder, again detailing exactly what I need and by what day.

Dealing directly with authors, I always receive those materials on time and the authors always come by to respond to comments on their designated blogging day without me sending two or three emails to the contact person only to find out that the author is out of state and didn’t realize they were supposed to drop by the blog at all. A conversation ensues. A book is won. The author hopefully will garner more sales and readers. And everyone is happy.

I don’t like chasing after guest authors, or, as the case has been in the two times I’ve encountered it, chasing after my contact for that author. Hey, I’m busy, too. The guests I book contact me, not the other way around.

I’ve run into the middleman confusion as a guest blogging author, too. Earlier this year, one of my writing names had an opportunity to blog with a group of other writers on a popular site. We all jumped at the chance. And then didn’t hear anything about the blog days again. Not from the middleman and not from the blog host. None of us were aware that it was our responsibility to contact the blog host. No one had told us. We were embarrassed, but our blogs were rightfully cancelled. In this case, they were rescheduled. Then we realized that the middleman’s sole function was to gather together the group of authors. Thereafter, we were on our own. So we ran with it. We came up with a theme, coordinated with the blog host, made sure we had our materials to her in ample time for the rescheduled blog days, and we all had a great time visiting each other’s blog posts, meeting the various readers, and chatting with them.

I understand that there times an author has to cancel. What looks like a great promo opportunity four months down the line might seem like a ton of work you don’t really need when you’re suddenly staring a book deadline or family obligation or life-curve in the face. Believe me, I get it. All I ask is that the middleman keeps me in the loop.

Fever Pitch

I had the strangest fever all weekend. Now I know why I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. Thursday night.

I woke up Friday feeling fine. So I thought. The dog had to go in to the vet’s for the day, so we didn’t have time for a walk (she wasn’t allowed to eat anything, and she always grabs something off the ground on our walks). Then I had errands to run downtown. Returned home, picked up the dog after some writing, and realized I was feeling a tad warm. I didn’t think anything of it. Nope, I didn’t walk the dog in the afternoon because she had to recover from her teeth-cleaning, not because there was anything wrong with me, you understand. Then the afternoon wore on, and I realized I only had enough energy to lie in front of the TV and vegetate—something I only do during the day when I’m sick. But I wasn’t sick! I was just too lazy to walk the dog (another very rare occurrence that should have clued me in).

Friday night, my Liege and I went out to an impromptu dinner. By this point, I was very emotional (watching Sicko before meeting him made me cry), and I went to bed early again.

Saturday morning, I awoke bright and early. My Liege offered to walk the dog alone, something that rarely happens. I hopped onto the computer, eager to get a ton of business-of-writing stuff accomplished. Then it hit me. I was either having the world’s biggest hot flash or I had a fever. I spent most of the day sleeping. When a friend mentioned that hot flashes usually don’t last 12+ hours, I finally admitted I might be sick.

I spent all of Saturday and Sunday in my pajamas. Sunday was a little better. No long naps (I only sleep during the day if I’m utterly exhausted or ill), but I couldn’t walk the dog again in the morning and I spent all day lying in front of the TV. Between Saturday and Sunday, I managed to scratch two items off my massive biz-of-writing To-Do list. And I considered that an accomplishment.

This was a very weird illness, because my only symptom seemed to be the fever. And tiredness. And thirst. I drank tons of water, rested for eons, and, okay, did the laundry, managed one afternoon walk with the dog, and pretended I was going to make dinner. Instead, I ate cashews and chocolate ice cream and caught up on my movie watching.

movie_goyas-ghostsGoya’s Ghosts: Excellent. Watch it. Natalie Portman did an excellent job. As did Javier Bardem and Stellan Skarsgard (I’m starting to wonder if there’s any role Bardem doesn’t do well). Barely recognized Randy Quaid!

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day: I endured about 20 minutes before deleting it from the digital recorder. I enjoy Frances McDermond and Amy Adams, but after Goya’s Ghosts I just…didn’t care.

Last Chance Harvey: Enjoyable enough for a Sunday afternoon. If you like Dustin Hoffman, you’ll like this movie.

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past: My Liege rented this for me Saturday evening. I enjoyed it, but Matthew McConaughey is starting to wear on me. I know, sacrilege! It seems that all the characters he plays lately are the same—charming slimeballs. I’ve met a charming slimeball or two in my lifetime, and I’m really not a fan of the type. I’d really like to see McConaughey play some meatier roles. On the other hand, I thought Michael Douglas was a hoot as McConaughey’s uncle.

Oh, and Sicko: Enjoyed it, even though it made me cry. This movie about the American medical system made me VERY glad I live in Canada, although now I’m seriously considering moving to France.

Deal With It

funny pictures of cats with captions

My Liege gets a new printer today. His died September 29th, the last day of Mercury Retrograde.

On the plus side, at least it wasn’t my printer. Mine is more expensive and gets a waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy tougher work-out than his. My printer escaped Mercury Retrograde! HAHAHAHA! <insert maniacal laughter>.

However, alas, I’m the printer installer in this household. Cross your fingers that all goes well.