What I'm Reading, What I'm Writing, and This Week's Things that Must Go.

Good Friday, yon bloggerland.

What I'm reading:

The Loser's Guide to Life and Love.

It's a retelling of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, set in a contemporary high school, and so far I've laughed out loud several times.

The author, Ann Cannon, and another local author Ann Dee Ellis are hosting a Writing Marathon March 18-20. And by "hosting", I think they mean virtually, and by "Marthon", I'm assured there will be no running, or physical exertion of any kind.

Basically, you commit to writing as much as you can on those days, and then you make a goal, and then you get to reward yourself if you reach your goal.

I committed to 20,000 words. If I reach my goal, I'm flying to the moon and releasing a dove to symbolize my fledgling writing career. If the dove flies away, I'll know I'm gonna be published someday.

Anyway, to all of you writers, hop on over to their blog and sign up with me. Tell them I sent you, and you'll receive 10% off the free admission price. You can't beat that!

p.s. I'm giving away a copy of Loser's Guide to Life and Love. Read to the bottom to find out more.

What I'm Writing:

My current WIP is a mystery, and it's a mess. At least with paranormal stories, I can create complex mythologies to cover up for stuff that doesn't make sense. This book is actually making me use my brain, and I really hate to use my brain. I'm seriously considering throwing a ghost in there.

This Week's List of Things That Must go:

1. The top three reactions to my recent adventures in hair dying must go:

a. "I have a canary that color."

b. "Ha ha. Will you never learn?"

c. "At least you got warm colors. And by warm, I mean flaming."

Here's how my hair will look for the next two weeks (which is when my hair person is scheduled to clean up my mess... that is, if she still will have me. I think I may have damaged our relationship permanently)

2. An education system with no sense of humor must go.

Kid C was supposed to do a report on an animal indigenous to Australia. I convinced him to do it on Dingoes, and then I made him practice the line, "Maybe the dingo ate your baby" over and over. No one thought it was funny. Maybe he didn't have the accent down...

3. In honor of Grammar week, my sister's most famous malapropism must go:

(Talking about Diet Coke) "I have a wooden leg for that stuff."

Bonus: This guy, I won't name names, used to always say, "C'mon guys, It's not rocket scientists."

4. The Great Spring Fakeout must go.

After a mild winter with dismal snow totals, I was starting to smell spring sunshine in the air. (It smells like chicken with a hint of Rosemary seasoning). But today, snow storm. Curses, Mother Nature!

It's not the snow storm that makes me angry, it's the lack of consistency. As my mother used to say, "Inconsistency is a road to Hell paved with Good Intentions."

5. And finally, school breaks that make no sense must go.

Kid C is home today, because it's "No Attendance Day". 

I remember when the settlers first came to our valley, perservering through inconsistent weather and starvation. After their long journey, they looked out over the land, and their leader marked the spot with his staff and said "This is the place, because X marks the spot. Let today, March 5, forever be known and celebrated as... NO ATTENDANCE DAY!"

Bonus Free Book Friday:
As a bonus for those of you who read this far, leave a comment about your own things that must go, and you'll be entered to win your very own signed copy of A.E. Cannon's THE LOSER'S GUIDE TO LIFE AND LOVE.


So, are you going to sign up to do the writing marathon? Or am I alone on this?

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FBF Winners, Author Smackdown, and My List of Things That Must Go

1. FBF Winners

Two winners this week. One from the Smackdown Post and one from last Friday's post.

Smackdown Winner: Una
Friday's post Winner: Cam

Please email me (in sidebar) with your top three choices from the picture below and your mailing addresses. There are also two copies of Hush, Hush.

2. Author Smackdown

First round goes to Bree Despain (aka Team Gluten Intolerant). She emailed me 45 pages of her sequel Monday night. If you get a chance, congratulate her. Now she must finish her book by Nov. 30th.

Next Round: Team Tamale (that's us) owes an entire novel by one week from today.

Original word count: 39,528

Word Count as of this morning: 48,742

So, about 49,000. Goal 65,000.

16,000 words in 8 days. Doable.

How is everyone's NaNoWriMo going? Shell, Alysa, Eden, Olivia, Hannah?

3. Things that Must Go

Okay, so today is one of those days where I need everyone’s help with the blog. I am bra deep in my race to finish my book. Let’s do a big blog-wide list of things that must go. I’ll start.

1. When Twitter friends Tweet something like, “I’m eating Mangoes and Sticky Rice. Sorry you can’t be here @brodiashton. It’s soooo gooood. 140 characters doesn’t do it justice.”

2. Those lights on cars that look almost like they are brights, but not quite, so I don’t know if the butt-munch behind me is mad at me, or just driving normally. So I don’t know if I should slam on my brakes in response to our disagreement, or if there’s no disagreement in the first place. Capice?

3. Itchy skin.

4. Wine Frye "hot spots" that don’t work. I need a Wi-Fi hit, Barnes&Noble in Sugarhouse. I need a hit! Why do you insist on thwarting me?

5. Goldfish that refuse to die of natural causes.

6. People who don’t understand Barnes&Noble is a place to write novels. Not talk to your kids about what kind of books they should read. Be quiet!

So, help me out here folks. What are your Things That Must Go?

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Three FBF Winners this Week, and My List of Things That Must Go

Smokey the cat was very magnanimous this week. He refused to draw just one name. Instead, he drew three. So, Three Winners of Free Book Friday this week!

1. Heids
2. Becky
3. Jenilyn

Email me your top three choices and your address at brosam (at) gmail (dot) com.


It's Wednesday. How about an edition of my list of things that must go:

Thing 1. Stress Dreams

I’m used to having stress dreams every night, but last night’s dream got a little out of hand…

It all started when I was too impatient to wait for the elevator in a hotel. To speed things up, I shimmy down the hotel atrium on a line of bed sheets.

Then the hotel security guys corner me, and threaten to kick me out of the hotel for such a bone-arse move.

I say: "Don’t you know who I am? I’m Brodi Ashton."

I proceed to dance for them, flailing my arms about, sorta like a banshee.

But I can see this is not working. They don't know who I am.

The chase is on. I dart into the hotel restaurant, but the dining area has one construction flaw. The only way in or out is to walk on top of the tables.

I do this, apologizing all the way, and explaining to every diner that usually I get paid to dance on top of tables, and isn’t tonight their lucky night. I get to a hallway that leads to the elevators. But when the doors open, the inside car is 2 cubic feet.

I squeeze in successfully, all except my right foot. So, naturally, I chop it off and hit the button that says ‘roof’ on it.

A man is waiting for me on the roof, and as soon as I get off, he tells me I’m late, and ushers me to this amphitheater like that giant one in L.A. (Of course, I’m limping because of the missing appendage).

I get on the stage, and I start dancing for the audience, balancing on the stubby bone protruding from my cankle, spinning around it like a whirling dervish on a top.

My hair is long, thank goodness, because by this point all my clothes are gone.

The conductor urges me to start singing, but when I open my mouth, a bug crawls out. Then another. Then another.

Someone please interpret this dream for me. I honestly woke up thinking to myself Brodi, you are one seriously messed up chica.

Thing 2. Acronyms for television shows.

ANTM, HIMYM, SYTYCD, RHWONJ, DWTS, GG. Maybe I’m not meant for the texting generation, but I can never figure out what the darn show is. I sit there going, “Okay. ‘A’. What could A stand for? Ants. Albuquerque. Aardvark.”

Thing 3. Expiration Dates for Canned Goods.

I found a can of baked beans in my pantry the other day. Expiration date: Oct 2000.

Now, since Oct 2000, we’ve lived in London, Washington, D.C., and Salt Lake City. Which means I must have carted this can around every time we moved. Which sounds about right, since I don’t remember buying baked beans. I don’t even liked baked beans. But Canned Goods should be eternal foods, shouldn’t they?

Thing 4. Wobbly Tables at Restaurants.

You know those tables that clank back and forth every time you put your elbows on top? Or reach for your drink?

I had one of those tables at lunch yesterday. I kept folding up pieces of paper from my purse and shoving it underneath the platform on the floor, until it was floating on a bed of crumpled paper, but it never fixed the problem.

So, what must go for you this week?

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My List of Things That Must Go... and the Worst Father's Day Gift Ever

Since it's Monday morning, and I'm not ready for the weekend to be over, how about a mini- rant, with my list of things that must go.

MONDAY MORNING THINGS THAT MUST GO:

1. Too much information on voicemail directions.
You know when you call someone, it goes to voicemail, and then the robotic voice spends half your lifetime explaining your options to you, as if there are so many more wonderful choices besides just leaving a message?

Here's what I'm talking about: "Bing Bong... I'm sorry but Blah Dee Blah is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you have finished recording your message, you may hang up or press pound for more options. If you feel so inclined, press two to repeat instructions. Press three to hear these instructions in Espanol. Press four to hear me sing the National Anthem. If you do not press four, you are downright unAmerican, and we will sic Hannity on you. Press five for an over-the-phone confessional with Father O'Harris. Press zero for an operator. But the operator is just me, and I will simply repeat these instructions. Have a nice day."

Beeeeeeep.

It's not like leaving a message is a brand new concept, that only hip high school kids will understand. Voicemail is older than the internet. Seriously, if I don't hear someone answer my phone call, I promise I will just assume that person is unavailable. Not only that, I will also assume leaving a message is possible.

So please, just give me the bleeeeepin' beeeeeeep already! Arrrrrrgh!

Whew. I feel better now. On to Number...

2. Celebrity "News" that in no way resembles "News".
For instance: Did you hear the news? Zoe's in a leather dress! In my opinion, unless she personally hunted down the animal who provided the leather for the dress, and killed him with a homemade bomb made out of MacGuyver's gum wrapper and a paper clip, It's really not news that she's wearing a leather dress. Unless.... it's human leather. Bwah-hah-hah.

Just caption the picture with "Zoe-what's-her-name, at a premiere."

2-B. You know how I love my Trashy Mags, but the "Stars- they're just like us!" section is getting a little ridiculous with the latest entry: Audrina "Lipless" Patridge mixes mustard and ketchup. I don't know what to say. I mean, I guess that makes her more like me, but really, I never assumed she had someone to do that for her in the first place.

Did she wake up and think, "I think I shall be like the nameless masses today and mix my ketchup and mustard. Then, I shall swallow my own water."

3. Totally lame Father's Day Presents:
What do you get the guy who gave you life, sacrificed so much to provide for you, threw you countless pop-ups in the backyard, gave you away at your wedding, provided medical care for your children, and battled Pancreatic Cancer in a war of epic proportions?

I'll tell you. You get him the lovechild of a toilet scrubber and a feather duster. And you tell him it's a backscratcher. Now, before you all throw stones in my general direction, let me just explain one thing. Umm... it's my sister's fault. (Just kidding, Erin.)

Really, though, we bought my Dad David Copperfield tickets about a month ago for Father's Day. Even so, there's nothing more embarrassing than the three Dads in our family showing off their presents on the actual day. Sam and Dave with their cordless power drills, my Dad with his... backscratcher.

My sister bought it from a travelling salesman, who I'm sure walked away from her house thinking to himself, "I can't believe she bought it. I've had that in my truck for twenty years. I wonder if she'll go for the dust bunnies in the back of my truck next time." After my dad opened the gift, my sister leaned over to me and said, "You owe me three dollars."

Now I feel ready for the week. So, how was y'all's Father's Day? Anyone else care to contribute to things that must go?

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