Sarah Palin is stealing my words & my sleep

Ya know, I always respected John McCain until he pointed at Palin for his VP pick. And I'm insulted that he thinks Palin can "replace" Hillary, as if women are as interchangeable as the stick figure on the bathroom door.

I can't even describe the disrespect I have for this woman, and every time I see her, I have nightmares.

And then, one of my readers wrote to tell me she thinks Palin is quoting "folks-isms" from Cauley. Would that she were, maybe she'd make sense.

The thing is, our country is in deep trouble, and we need change, for ourselves and our children. But not the kind of change McCain/Palin would bring--the kind of change that will drive us deeper into war, deeper into debt, and deeper into depletion of our planet, our home.

The only good thing that has come of Mrs. Palin's pick is Tina Fey.

Meet Atticus the Meany Cat

So, my writer pal Jan Yonkin called me almost two months ago and said, "Hey, do you want a kitten?"

My first thought was, no, not really. We just moved out to the country and I'm still missing Tahoe so bad I can't stand it. But something compelled me to come get him. Jan found kitty out in the garden, yowling his little head off, and he was emaciated, dehydrated and completely feral.

Well, Jan's guy, Dale aka "The Cat Whisperer," never met a cat he couldn't cajole, and soon the little kitty was eating out of butter tins and letting him hold him.

The deal breaker was when I heard kitty-boy purring over the phone. I was a goner and he found a new home.

He's not the timid puss hiding in the petunias. He is adapting well, and has taken over the house, yard, block and neighborhood. I had to put a jingle on him so he would stop terrorizing the wildlife. He's doubled his weight, but is still small, but he pounces the deer and the dog and me and anything else he can get his little paws on.

My thanks to Jan and Dale--Atticus is a lot of fun to play with. I named him Atticus, hoping he would take on some of the attributes of Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, but I suspect he might be taking after Baby Stewie on Family Guy . . . out to take over the world . . .

Stepped on a crack & a whole mess of crap . . .

So, I've moved, getting all settled in, and boom. I fell. It was one of those falls that is totally stupid, but it still happens in slow motion, where one moment you're walking down the steps and the next moment you're having a close encounter with the floor.

I was sure I'd fractured my tailbone. Nope. Not me. I have broken three bones in the sacral part of my spine. Yep. It looks like a string of mishapen pearls hanging loose on a string of raw nerves. Which, incidentally, is the way it also feels--except those nerves feel like they've been burned with a raw poker.

So, I'm laid up in bed on serious painkillers and am finally in some kind of shape to sit up (thanks, Emily, for the food and the cushy thing to sit on) and am back at email, and of course, writing. If you've emailed me or called me, you have my apologies. I am coming back. Really.

Hooray for La Feria Teachers!

I was recently honored to chat with the teachers, librarians and principals of La Feria ISD, which, I thought was near Corpus Christi (about 4 1/2 hours away) but it turns out it's waaaaay south. It took me and my Romance Writer Pal Emily McKay oh, about 12 hours, including getting lost on the loop in San Antonio, (around and around and around--I'm pretty sure the engineers who designed Loop 410 did so on a cocktail napkin at a happy hour at the Stagger On Inn).

Those of you who know me know that I have no concept of time or distance, which makes me a pretty crappy employee, but I've heard it makes me an interesting date :)

The teachers were totally worth the traffic ticket outside Raymondtown and Emily accidentally drinking her contacts which were kept safely in a Dixie cup beside the sink at the La Quinta. Well, all that stuff actually happened to Emily, but she is a very good sport and assured me that yes, she'll go on a road trip with me again, but we're going to actually look at a map next time *sheesh*

After our 12-hour trek through lots of long, straight, very sunny roads, we finally got to the Harlingen La Quinta, but we were so late that they gave away our two-queen bedroom, and we had to sleep (all four of us) in a king size bed. Trust me. I am no treat to sleep with. I sleep like a WWF wrestler, and am non-discriminate on who I kick, swing at or steal blankets from. Sorry gang.

A big shoutout to Rhonda Crow, who I actually met at the Texas Library Association last year, Sherry Stewart for putting my name in the hopper and Cindy Torres, who made it all happen. And, in one of my flakier moments, I totally forgot to take pictures of my new La Feria pals! Luckily, Rhonda sent me a pic of her and a little one from TLA, so I have something to show you. It makes me smile to see my pal Tahoe again. Gosh I miss him, and teared up a little (okay, I cried like a baby) during the talk.

But, hopefully, when the La Feria gals and guys come up for UIL, I'll treat them to happy hour at The Hula Hut (Woo Hoo!), and we'll get their picture there :) Stay tuned . . .

I thought a lot about the teachers of La Feria all summer, and talking to my writer buddies about what I wanted to say there, what I could possible tell the teachers that would be at all useful. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that writers and teachers have a lot in common.

Emily has a theory that children with questionable names should be assigned social workers at birth. You know the kind of names I’m talking about. Tater, Sir Gary, because—and I quote—his father was the King of Africa, and my favorite, "Delishous." Who in their right mind would name their daughter Delishous? Chris Rock said his only job as a father was to keep his daughter off the pole. A name like Delishous is going to make it that much harder.

We had a wonderful morning at La Feria, despite the fact that we got lost *again* and wound up at the border of Mexico on the way to La Feria. Luckily, our chief navigator made himself available via iPhone in Austin, and got us out of customs and safely into the parking lot.

We had a great time, and then the English Department graciously took us to lunch at a delightful little Mexican joint called The Coffee House. Then we headed to the beach before we headed back home.

On the way back home, we ran into a checkpoint complete with drug dogs, and I leaned out of the car and said, "We are heading to Corpus Christi, right?" The completely charming and very cute border patrol guy said, "No ma'am, welcome to Mexico." Smarty pants. Good thing he was cute, because he wasn't very funny. He told us how to get to the beach, where we proceded to have a ball.

All in all, the teachers of La Feria made my summer, and I tip my tiara to them and all the Texas teachers as they start the school year. Thanks, La Feria, my heart is with you, and see you at UIL!

Love, Kit

New digs, tigers, birds and bass, oh my!

So, we finally, finally got moved, got internet (such as it is *snort*) and I'm back online and (hopefully) have phone service. We're out in the middle of nowhere, which I love, except for the woeful lack of human and or technological contact.

On the other hand (or paw), there is flora and fauna aplenty. The roadrunner babies are so ugly they're cute, and Mom and Pop are scurrying around, threatening humans, "bathing" in the dust, and of course, catching yummy lizards for their unfortunate looking offspring.

R shot two *ick* water mocassins (yes, they're poisonous), which has caused me to think twice about writing with my feet dangling in the river.

And, we have a new addition to the family. It took a long time to name him. The choices were "Oliver"--for Oliver Wendell Holmes, because this cat is a real talker, "Dashiell" for Dashiell Hammett, because Hammett's one of my favorite writers, but it turns out new kitty's name is "Atticus" because he's a natural born predator, and I'm hoping he won't murder the mocking birds, road runners, king fishers and other birds that hang out here. Although, he's welcome to any of the mice he can get his claws on. He's been stalking the deer, though I doubt they're worried . . .

Capture, Care & Feeding of Agents

So, because I know from my own life experiences how important an agent is, and what happens when, due to circumstances beyond my own control, agents don't work out, I'm teaching a class on the good, the bad and the downright ugly truth on how to get a GOOD agent.

In my years of writing and dealing with agents and writers who are way better than me, I've compiled a class of things you MUST do before you go to conference, what to do while you're there, and what to do after the fact.

And whether or not you're going to conference, the Agent Quest is one of the most important adventures you will embark on in your career as a writer.

So, here's the down and dirty scoop on All Things Agent:

This class is an interactive To Do List from agents, editors and
bestselling authors on how to get your foot in the door and what to do
with your foot once you're in.

INCLUDES: *Agent Tips* from Super Agents Jenny Bent, Andrea Somberg,
Celeste Fine, Kelly Harms, Jessica Faust and Donald Maas

*Editor Tips* from Wonder Editors Jennifer Enderlin (St. Martin's),
Lucia Macro (Avon) and Kate Duffy (Kensington)

*Topics covered include:*

WEEK ONE:

1. The One Thing You MUST Do Right Now!
2. Pre Conference Prep
1. Get Your Bio, Baby
2. Brand Yourself
3. Pitch Perfect (Includes Winning Sample Pitches)
4. Query Quest (Includes Winning Sample Queries)
5. Research Like You Mean It
3. What Should You Look for in an Agent?
4. Do You Even Need an Agent?
5. How do You Know Which Agent to Approach?
6. Questions, Comments, and HELP!

WEEK TWO:

7. Five Questions You Must Ask Your Potential Agent/Editor
8. Query Critique Volunteers
9. The Business of Getting an Editor/Agent
1. To Blog or Not to Blog
2. Pre-pub Publicity
3. The Least You Need to Do
10. Conference Strategy
11. What To Pack (Business Tips for Writing Babes)
12. Confidence Becomes You
13. Exit Strategy: The Five Things You Need to Do Post-Conference

And a Roadrunner in an Oak Tree . . .

So, we're moving. For real this time. I think. And this time it's back out to the lake where I belong, with the flora and fauna. And speaking of fauna, R called from the property where a male roadrunner was busily building a nest for his beloved. I've never seen a male roadrunner before, and so I promptly googled this feathered
fellow and discovered they (like most birds) are more colorful and prone to preening than the females. I've known guys like this. They do not make good mates.

The male roadrunner, however, apparently makes a pretty good mate, as R reported that the male was running back and forth, building a nest in the scrub oak at the front of the property. The tree is right on the driveway and not far from the power pole, so apparently this fellow, while beautiful, does not have a sense of location. Look closely at the middle of the photo and you can see her tail feathers sticking straight up in the air at the left, and her body is a U shape, with her long beak poking straight up on the right. In the second picture, look closely at the center and you can see her eye.

After much running about with twigs and sticks, R reported that a female hopped up on the rock underneath the tree to watch the hubub, when the male raced back over the driveway carrying a large green lizard. He hopped up on the female, dangling the dead lizard over her as he had his way with her. When he was finished, he offered her the lizard, which she promptly swallowed whole. Dinner and a date. What a guy.

After further googling, I discovered that, according to Audobon Magazine, this dinner and a date thing is a roadrunner pickup line. According to Jim Cornett, emeritus director of natural science, "“A lizard or a rodent represents the richness of the environment, and it is an important motivation. It says, ‘Hey, baby, I brought you a lizard. It’s good out here. Let’s make a home.’ ” I'm not making this up.

At any rate, I still have not seen this Mighty Lizard Killer, but I have seen his wife, who was dutifully sitting in the too-small nest *it looks like a fixerupper to me*. Here are two pictures of her, one where you can barely see her, and the other a closeup, where you can clearly see her terrified eye peering at me to get the hell away from her. So I did. Far be it from me to foul up a fowl nursery.