CAROL BURNSIDE / ANNIE RAYBURN

>On FDi30D, let’s just say it’s better not to talk about it. Maybe next week. I’m…mulling things over.

On Contests? No, I didn’t final or win anything. I’ve been blogging a bit and ended up shaking my head that anyone could give a Jane Porter Presents book a 2 in the Rita. Yeah, apparently it happened. See for yourself. Jane blogged about it here. Ridiculous! Not Jane, but the judge. Yeah, I know it’s subjective and all, but I agree with Jane. I’ve read some of her Presents. As a reader, I get lost in them. As a writer, I experience more than a little envy and I want to pour over them, learn from them. I can’t believe that a book on the bestseller lists could receive such a score. That’s not impartial. That’s someone with an agenda. If you can’t put your personal prejudices aside, you shouldn’t judge. Period.

Alison Kent is also blogging about Rita judging. Seems there’s a Blaze author whose book was determined to be “not a romance”. I’ll let you read Alison’s version. She says it so much better than I could, but I guess this judge decided she knew better than one of the most reputable romance publishers what is or isn’t a romance. Humph!

Anyone else agree the GH & Rita contests need an overhaul?

>May as well be 25 days left. I’ll never catch up. Today’s plan–formed in my head–went horribly awry. DH’s procedure went without a hitch. Laproscopic in-and-out at the hospital. That’s the good news.

Bad news is the hospital personnel seemed to think I needed to be by his side at the oddest times. Every time I settled in with my Alphasmart, they’d come get me and take me back to his room. Maybe it’s because we’ve been married 26 yrs, maybe because it was a routine and relatively minor procedure, maybe just because I was functioning on 3 hrs sleep since they required us to be at the hospital at 6-freakin’-thirty-a.m.! Who knows, but I found it odd. I mean, I wasn’t allowed to go into the room while they prepped him (this includes changing clothes–which, yanno, I’ve never seen him do–and inserting an IV, also not a huge invasion of privacy or anything) but afterwards I can sit and watch him watch the news.

Yawn. I can write in silence or a lot of noise – like at a coffee shop – not with music or TV.

So I go back out to the waiting room while the procedure is done. Re-read a few pages to immerse, start typing and another waiting wife begins a conversation about my nifty way of taking my work with. I sense she’s a bit nervous and try to be nice, but the concentration is shot. I put aside the Alphie, make a few notes by hand and the doc comes out to tell me all is well and he’s in recovery.

Whew! Great news – now I can relax and write. Oh, wait. I’m needed in his room – this time to watch him sleep. Having had a post-anesthesia conversation with DH once before, I’m assured he’ll retain nothing of any conversation we have, so no point there. I let him sleep and pull out the Alphie once more. Time for a vitals check with cheery voice. At this point my cup of strong tea at 6:15 a.m. is rapidly leaving me with the need for a looong nap. No can do. The trip home includes driving tips from DH and a stop at the grocery/pharmacy for pain meds and liquids to sustain a grown man for 2 days.

Back home around noon. DH goes down for a nap and so does one tired woman who’s supposed to be writing madly.

Now it’s late afternoon and I have MAYBE managed one page. But DH is still sleeping, and the dogs are sacked out in my office and it’s Q-U-I-E-T.

Hey! Yoo-hoo! Tyson and Cal-lie! Yeah, y’all. Come whisper in my ear like good little story people.