So, anyway, I went to the local MWA meeting this morning. Guest speaker was Lyssa Keusch, senior editor at Avon Morrow. One of the deals was, she was going to allow 5-minute mini-pitches from six people, names to be drawn at random. You had to buy a raffle ticket.

She gave a neat talk, and did an extensive Q&A period. I got her attention early with two questions, both of which she reacted to with, "whoa, that's a really good question..."

There were about 70 people at this thing. And about 50 of them had stuff to pitch. And they'd all bought raffle tickets, and they picked six of them out of a basket.

First one out was mine. Meep.

I sat down and gave her the pitch, told her my feelings about it - I start my mystery stuff lighter on the mystery and heavier on the establishment of my characters, because without the truth and reality and voice of the characters, why bother with the journey? She said she wished more people wrote that way.

She doesn't want a partial. She wants the entire manuscript of R&RNF, and the synopsis for WMGGW.

Meep.

The character in question is practical with a side of ruthless.

Vanessa is (damn - forgot the character's name) Rico's wife? Their brilliant assistant?

Because if that's who we're talking about, "practical with a side of ruthless" perfectly describes her, or did, when I was watching the show.

Uh huh.

She doesn't want a partial. She wants the entire manuscript of R&RNF, and the synopsis for WMGGW.

Woohooters, Deb! That's awesome!

So of course, I've been frantically working on both synopses, trying to get them as strong as possible. Masses of livejournal input on both.

I was re-reading some old Penthouse Forums lying around the house and I wondered, how does one get into the "No shit, it happened to me!" faux letter writing business?

I've never watched the show, so what's this Vanessa person like? The character in question is practical with a side of ruthless.

That's not a bad description of her. The other thing about Vanessa is that she uses her practical side and ruthlessness as a kind of tough-girl shield against her emotional vulnerability, which sounds much more cliche than it plays. For example, this season she allowed her estranged husband to move back into the house as the best thing for her and the kids, but treated him like crap because (she admitted last week) she didn't want to be in a place where he could hurt her again.

(The spoilers aren't anythign too specific, but better safe than sorry.)

A series of mini-drabbles on green, almost a list, collectively way over 100 words. I couldn't make up my mind, and I could easily come up with half a dozen more. I've always said red is my favorite color, but I begin to think it's really green:

Too Many Greens

It’s been 15 years since I’ve been in Alabama in June. I’d forgotten just how lush, vivid, and borderline tropical the place can be--so flagrant a green that it almost pains the eyes with its brightness.

When I was sixteen my mother made me a dress of velvet so dark a forest green it looked black in the shadows. I wore it with an ivory-colored collar my Mamaw crocheted, and I was proud of their artistry--unlike in years before when I’d coveted the store-bought dresses my friends wore. The rich green made my skin golden and transformed the plain dark brown of my hair and eyes into something as lovely and luxurious as the velvet itself. In that dress I felt beautiful for the first time in my life.

Seattle is painted in a cool palette--all blues and grays and dark northern greens.

A heroine’s eyes, feline and mischievous.

A hero’s uniform, worn and patched and all the more dashingly sexy for it.

A Rich Mullins lyric I sing to God when the world is so beautiful it hurts--“And be glad that you have made/Blue for the sky and the color green that fills these fields with praise."

I find that I write best late at night, and just let it pour out til my eyes feel like sandpaper. But then it's 1:30, and I have to work in the morning. And I think, "why can't I be less nocturnal?"

Deb, I wrote about Nilly coming to visit, and I mentioned you blowtorching the oven (first name only).

erika, I wanted to mention you coming to visit and the freak who drew you a picture at the Coffee Bean, but I wasn't sure if that was a memory you wanted to relive in the pages of something that has a tiny chance of being published. But it was so freakazoid surreal I desperately want to include it. Lemme know.

Oh Allyson, I want to read about the Nilly visit. If you're ready to share it, that is.