IT'S NOT MY FAULT

It's the book, the latest one, the new one What's this one called? Can't remember but it'll come to me. Just give me some time.

I know what everyone's saying--that I'm lazy and pretending to work when all I'm really doing is holing up in my office with the door locked so they can't prove what I'm up to.

Mostly nothing.

Nothing visible.

It's all in the head, you see. (Control yourselves and don't say what you're thinking) My white board proves I'm working. Look at all those names and facts written up there. And the cork behind my computer--covered with maps, weather charts, and the book covers I use for dart practice.

There is a copy of BODY OF EVIDENCE, the first book in the Pointe Judah Bayou stories. And a manuscript for TARGET, the second in the series and already in production for April. Aha, a clue, this new one is another Pointe Judah book, or it will be--eventually.

Remaining sane in the early stages of writing a story that still resembles Thanksgiving dinner leftovers, all of them, after ten minutes in a food processor, isn't easy. One must devise all sorts of clever ways to keep moving forward while characters say helpful things like, "Nya nya nya," and stick out their tongues.

A joke always helps pass the time:

Wanda's dishwasher quit working so she called a repairman. Since she had to go to work the next day, she told the repairman, "I'll leave the key under the mat. Fix the dishwasher, leave the bill on the counter, and I'll mail you a check."

"Oh, by the way, don't worry about my bulldog Spike. He won't bother you. But whatever you do, do NOT under ANY circumstances, talk to my parrot! I repeat, DO NOT TALK TO MY PARROT!!!"

When the repairman arrived at Wanda's apartment the following day, he discovered the biggest, meanest looking bulldog he had ever seen. But, just as Wanda had said, the dog lay there on the carpet watching the repairman go about his work.

The parrot, however, drove him nuts the whole time with his incessant yelling, cursing and name calling. Finally the repairman couldn't contain himself any longer and yelled,

"Shut up, you stupid, friggin' bird!"

To which the parrot replied, "Get him, Spike!"

See, some people just don't listen.

Christian De Angelo! I knew a joke would work. It's loosened me up. Christian De Angelo, a former ATF (alcohol, tobacco and firearms) agent. Ice for a mind and it shows in his eyes. Big, tough, nasty history of close-calls with the mob. People can't avoid looking at him, especially Eileen Moggeridge.

Eileen's divorced and bringing up a teenage son who just did a stint in rehab. She's a fighter, has her own shop, makes sure to check behind her because some threats have been coming her way.

Christian (Angel to most) would like to be Eileen's bodyguard. Ooh, yes he would. But Eileen's through with being the helpless little woman for some guy who wants her to worship him.

There's Chuzah, he's a root doctor (think voodoo) and Sarah Board from TARGET has opened a club called, The Boardroom, that revs up when Pointe Judah revs down.

Someone's got murder in mind. Someone, or two, have other things in mind. It's Holiday time.

Whoa! JINGLE BONES. That's the name of the book. I knew it all along but wanted to keep you wondering.

Wish me well. Wish me clear thoughts and the courage to go wherever the characters and the story take me.

Darn, where are those elves in the basement when I need them?

Happy, happy,

Stella

Choose one or the lot, or none, or two:
Does your mind rush off, constantly making it hard for you to get organized?
What about coping skills--any great hints you'd like to share?
What do you do when you need to "get away from it all?"