If You’ve Come Here From the Daily Record…

March 29, 2013

…they gave you the address for the wrong blog!

Please visit My Real Life at http://amysreallife.com

Thanks for visiting and hope you enjoy the blog!

 

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I’m Published!

March 23, 2013

What’s that?

You haven’t heard?

I’ve been published!

A few months ago, I was asked to contribute an essay for an anthology on motherhood.

I wrote one and didn’t think much about it.

Then, I received the news that I was selected.

That wasn’t even the most exciting part!

The other 36 authors I am sharing pages with are some of the most famous Mommy Bloggers on the web!

We have women who have been on television (Dr. Oz, Ellen, Katie Couric, etc.), who have written many other books, and who are regular contributors to magazines and newspapers across the country.

Not only that, when our book hit the stands, we started to soar!

We hit #1 on the Amazon chart, on the Kindle chart, and even upset Tina Fey’s “BossyPants” to hit #1 in iTunes, all in the humor category!

We are breaking records and making people laugh out loud all over America, and it feels good!

Some of the essays are raw and unfiltered, but they are all funny and sure to make you smile.

So, if you are a mother, had a mother, or know a mother-to-be, this book is great personal reading and a superb book for gift-giving!

Please follow the link and check out I Just Want to Pee Alone.  Buy it and I guarantee you won’t be sorry.

Also, please go to my personal blog, My Real Life, where I do my regular writing.

Always looking for more followers and readers with which to share my stories!


Nora Ephron

June 29, 2012

Nora Ephron has passed away at much, much too young of an age.

She was a remarkable woman, and I will miss her contributions to the world, greatly.

Today, I’d like to honor her by posting a short, short parody she wrote.

It was based on The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo trilogy.

I do not know the original source where this was printed, but I hope you enjoy it!

 

The Girl Who Fixed the Umlaut

by Nora Ephron

July 5, 2010

There was a tap at the door at five in the morning. She woke up. Shit. Now what? She’d fallen asleep with her Palm Tungsten T3 in her hand. It would take only a moment to smash it against the wall and shove the battery up the nose of whoever was out there annoying her. She went to the door.

“I know you’re home,” he said.

Kalle fucking Blomkvist.

She tried to remember whether she was speaking to him or not. Probably not. She tried to remember why. No one knew why. It was undoubtedly because she’d been in a bad mood at some point. Lisbeth Salander was entitled to her bad moods on account of her miserable childhood and her tiny breasts, but it was starting to become confusing just how much irritability could be blamed on your slight figure and an abusive father you had once deliberately set on fire and then years later split open the head of with an axe.

Salander opened the door a crack and spent several paragraphs trying to decide whether to let Blomkvist in. Many italic thoughts flew through her mind. Go away. Perhaps. So what. Etc.

“Please,” he said. “I must see you. The umlaut on my computer isn’t working.”

He was cradling an iBook in his arms. She looked at him. He looked at her. She looked at him. He looked at her. And then she did what she usually did when she had run out of italic thoughts: she shook her head.

“I can’t really go on without an umlaut,” he said. “We’re in Sweden.”

But where in Sweden were they? There was no way to know, especially if you’d never been to Sweden. A few chapters ago, for example, an unscrupulous agent from Swedish Intelligence had tailed Blomkvist by taking Stora Essingen and Gröndal into Södermalm, and then driving down Hornsgatan and across Bellmansgatan via Brännkyrkagatan, with a final left onto Tavastgatan. Who cared, but there it was, in black-and-white, taking up space. And now Blomkvist was standing in her doorway. Someone might still be following him—but who? There was no real way to be sure even when you found out, because people’s names were so confusingly similar—Gullberg, Sandberg, and Holmberg; Nieminen and Niedermann; and, worst of all, Jonasson, Mårtensson, Torkelsson, Fredriksson, Svensson, Johansson, Svantesson, Fransson, and Paulsson.

“I need my umlaut,” Blomkvist said. “What if I want to go to Svavelsjö? Or Strängnäs? Or Södertälje? What if I want to write to Wadensjö? Or Ekström or Nyström?”

It was a compelling argument.

She opened the door.

He handed her the computer and went to make coffee on her Jura Impressa X7.

She tried to get the umlaut to work. No luck. She pinged Plague and explained the problem. Plague was fat, but he would know what to do, and he would tell her, in Courier typeface. (Bozza Writes note: I don’t have Courier typeface on the blog, so please imagine)

<Where are you?> Plague wrote.

<Stockholm.>

<There’s an Apple Store at the intersection of Kungsgatan and Sveavägen. Or you could try a Q-tip.>

She went to the bathroom and got a Q-tip and gently cleaned the area around the Alt key. It popped into place. Then she pressed “U.” An umlaut danced before her eyes.

Finally, she spoke.

“It’s fixed,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said.

She thought about smiling, but she’d smiled three hundred pages earlier, and once was enough. ♦


If You Give a Mom an Hour

February 6, 2012

Completely different from my usually fare, but enjoy my latest offering.

Brief, but if you are a Mom, you can probably relate.

 

If You Give a Mom an Hour

If Dad takes the kids to the park and you give a Mom an hour…

She’s going to want a cup of tea.

She’ll turn on the tea kettle and reach for a mug in the cabinet.

Except, there won’t be any mugs.

So she’ll open the dishwasher that is full of clean dishes, because her daughter (whose chore it is to unload) hasn’t gotten around to emptying it yet.

She’ll pull out the mug, and then spot the dirty dishes in the sink, and decide to empty and reload the dishwasher.

When she’s done, she’ll go to sit down to wait for the kettle, and as she walks to the table, her foot will crunch on a Cheerio.

She’ll grab the broom from the laundry room and sweep the kitchen floor.

As she empties the dustpan into the garbage, she’ll notice that it’s pretty full, and she’ll take it out to the trash bins.

As she walks back into the house, she’ll notice a tricycle, left in a corner of the driveway.

When she wheels it back to it’s spot in the garage, she’ll find her 5 year old’s baseball cap.

She’ll pick it up and take it inside, and up to his room, tripping on a toy on the stairs.

After dropping off the hat, she’ll pick up the toy and take it to the basement, discovering the empty popcorn bowl from the night before.

As she brings the bowl to the kitchen, she’ll turn off the kettle, knowing it’s about to whistle, will grab a tea bag, and will pour the hot water into her mug.

She’ll know it’s too hot to drink, so she’ll turn to the pantry to find something to nibble on with her tea and will find an empty box of 100 Calorie snack packs.

She’ll break down the cardboard and will notice two empty cereal boxes on the counter, so she’ll break those down, too.

As she carries them to the laundry room, where the cardboard is kept, the dryer will buzz, and she’ll pull out the clothes and hang them, quickly, before they wrinkle.

Then, she’ll move the clothes from the washer into the dryer and realize she forgot to get the basket of dirty clothes from her room.

So, she’ll trudge back upstairs and head to her bedroom.

As she grabs the laundry basket, she’ll notice that someone probably crawled into her bed to watch television and she needs to remake the bed.

While she’s making the bed, she’ll step on an empty inhaler that she probably dropped there, in the night, after using it.

She’ll look in her nightstand to see if she has another, and when she realizes she doesn’t, she’ll quickly call the pharmacy to renew the prescription.

When she hangs up the phone, she’ll see her iPad and remember that she was in the middle of a good part in her book (on the Nook) when she fell asleep last night, so she’ll put the iPad on top of the laundry in the basket and bring it downstairs with her.

She’ll load up the washer, pick up the iPad, and walk back to the counter.

Her tea will be just the right temperature for drinking, so she’ll take the iPad and the tea to the living room, and as she sinks into the comfy couch, the front door will open.

“Mom!  We’re home!”


Did It Again!

January 23, 2012

I decided to enter the Amazon Breakthough Novel Contest again!

I’ve made some tweaks and changes to the novel since I was a quarterfinalist, two years ago, and I’m hopeful that these small changes may be the thing that sends me forward to the finals!

Wish me luck!


Worst Writing Awards

July 27, 2011

This article tickled my fancy this morning.

So creative!

 


Keeping it Fresh

June 27, 2011

I recently finished reading John Sandford’s novel Buried Prey.

I loved it.

I think one of the reasons I enjoy his writing so much is that, while he writes his novels based on two main characters, Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers, the stories are never repeated.

Yes, you get to know the characters and you feel as though they are long-time family friends.

You can anticipate how they will act in a certain situation, and are pleased to read that you are correct in your assumptions.

However, it never gets stale.

He always finds a way to change the game and bring a new perspective to a situation that could, very possibly, become old and trite.

In this latest novel, the bodies of two girls are uncovered, and it turns out, locating these girls was Lucas Davenport’s first case as a detective.

So, we flash back twenty years to his first days as a detective and see the case unfold.

This is a different Davenport.  A new, fresh rookie, looking at a crime scene with infant eyes, and it was excellent.

For about 1/3 of the books, we are introduced to a character we love in a new and fresh way.

I love this way of keeping the fresh in a beloved series.