Go Me

Writing the somewhat sequel to The Apartment on Parker Street and have a good idea to recycle an old short story, make a few tweaks to dates and add a whole lot to bring it up to novel length, and turn it into the third installment. So far so good. Strong characters are developing, I’m intermittently reading several books for research purposes that I’m enjoying, and I have solid titles for both. I’m liking these developments. 😀



My next step. Is it:

To research more of the time period in which my new novel is set?


To just write a skeleton of said new novel and do most of the research/filling in facts and points of reference during revision?

I’m torn because neither step is going well at this point. Blehh.

Things I Learned from Last Week’s Writer’s Conference

Going to the gym is worth it when it makes you walk Manhattan blocks even faster than you normally do en route to the conference.

If I had any doubts about my burning desire to be a published novelist, being surrounded by writers, agents, and editors dispelled them.

Something as simple as changing fonts can banish writers block.

Pitching my novel wasn’t as terrifying as I always thought it would be.

I must cultivate patience because most of this game is a waiting game.


There is no better early birthday gift than quadrupling your shelf space.


Beginning Anew

Putting The Apartment on Parker Street out of my mind for a while and have officially started plotting a new novel. Where could this go? Anywhere.



Laptop Lit Mag has officially published its third issue!! That means twelve amazing new stories and poems that are so excited for you to read them. Yeah, that’s right. Stories and poems can be excited. I know I’m excited. Check it out 😀

Laptop-Lit-Mag-Logo-ver-1 with TM


Today is 12/12/12. I just wanted to record something on this date. We will not have another same day/month/year combination until the next century. There’s a good chance I won’t be alive then, so I want something on record.

That is all.

Another Tribute

Now that I’ve put the manuscript away for a while and am deciding which idea to turn into a novel next, I think it’s time for another tribute to my best friend Ralph.

Seriously, the man knows me so well and I hope everyone has a friend like him in their lives. I don’t know where I would be in my life emotionally or just generally as a person with our him. He helped shape who I am, and I’m so grateful to have him I my life even though we don’t see each other as often as we would like.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Ralph is also my alpha reader. A manuscript is done and I ship it off to him like a kid mails his Christmas list to the North Pole. When I receive his edits, I find constructive criticism as well as gems like the following:



If the pictures are sideways, sorry I’m still trying to figure out the iPhone app haha! The first one is a note that reads, “This is your mother talking,” as only a BFF would pick up on. The second follows a line that says, “How did a shooting qualify as an accident?” Ralph explains, “Happens in Sicily all the time.”

There are too many of similar comments to display, but those are my faves.

Ti amo moltissimo, Rafealle!!!

You Know You’re Catholic and a Believer in Your Own Writing

You reread a chapter you wrote ages ago where a character dies and your immediate response is to say the prayer for the dead.

Oh boy. I mean I know these are not actually people and are only figments of my imagination, but that’s how alive they are to me. I’m worried about their souls.

I think I might need a little reality check…

Do you ever get this invested in your characters? Are they real to you? If so, do you take it as a sign of solid writing?

Dear Email Hacker

Thank you very much for hijacking my personal email account and sending a spam virus to everyone I have in my contacts, and even those who are not in my contacts but fall under the category of everyone I’ve ever sent an email to ever. I really appreciate your actions, especially because several of the accounts you forwarded your junk to are agents to whom I have sent novel queries and whose replies I am eagerly awaiting. Now they will mark me as spam and think my queries are viruses.

I place an Irish hex upon you: “May you go to hell and not have a drop of porter to quench your eternal thirst.”

I hate you.

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