Angels On Your Shoulder

I just finished putting up a post on my personal blog about writing with angels on my shoulder. No, not the ones with wings (though many deserve them) but those who impact my writing every time I sit in front of my computer.

My angels are a select few of the many med blogs that are out there in CyberLand – docs who write about every aspect of their jobs. Since I write medical fiction, this is like finding a goldmine at my fingertips. My angels help direct my passion, keep my characters real, and the plot plausible. A guy with his spleen hanging out isn’t going to ask for fries with his blood transfusion.

I’m very proud to say that all of our titles have passion permeating throughout their pages. It’s the difference between a ho hum story and one that explodes with fire. While our authors may call them muses or cosmic fairy dust, I have no doubt that they have someone who metaphorically sits on their shoulders and whispers gently in their ears about how to make their stories and their characters sing.

This is what every editor and agent is looking for. So the next time you sit down to your computer, check your shoulders and see who’s sitting there.

Final Results for the IPPYs

The Silver goes to Body Trauma: A Writer’s Guide to Wounds and Injuries by David W. Page, M.D. for the Reference Category

The Gold goes to Donovan’s Paradigm by Lynn Price in the Visionary Fiction category.

Ben Franklin winner in the Fiction category goes to East Fifth Bliss. Congrats to you, Douglas, for a brilliant piece of writing.

Congrats and a job well done!

If You Happen To Be In Brooklyn Sunday, May 20...

Man, I wish I could go. Sounds like too much fun. Kristan, have a blast, girl. I'll be with you in spirit!

For details on the party, click here.

Sage Advice

Hmm, it doesn’t get more poignant than this does it? I know it may sound ridiculously infantile to most, but after receiving thousands of submissions, this continues to be the biggest headache of my day. Please, dear writers, like the photo says, it takes so much time to pour your words of magic on to the screen and so little time and effort to read submissions guidelines. What’s worse, is it takes me even less time to whack out a rejection letter.

The One That Didn't Get Away

Tomorrow is our anniversary. I know, Cinqo de Drinko…that’s what everybody tells me. When we set our wedding date 28 years ago, I had no idea it was anything special other than my father-in-law’s birthday. Hubby figured he’d never forget our anniversary that way. Smart man - he never has. I, on the other hand, have been caught with my synapses misfiring more than once. You know how hard it is to fake like you haven’t forgotten your anniversary? It’s not like I can accuse the dog of eating my anniversary card because hubby knows the dog would deposit it on his side of the bed.

People seem genuinely shocked that we’ve been married this long. I simply reply that the man is habit forming. Actually, it was an arranged marriage. By my dad. In Saudi Arabia. Okay, not really. In a prior lifetime hubby worked for my dad in Saudi Arabia back in the oil heyday. I came over for the summer, dad introduced us. Seemed pretty goofy to fly 10,000 miles to meet a guy from Long Beach – thirty miles from where I grew up. Anyway, we got married ten months later. I shudder when I think of the giant leap of faith I was taking. After all, three of those ten months then-boyfriend was still in The Land of Sand. But I figured my dad would never introduce me to an idiot.

I’ve blessed my dad’s interference with my love life for 28 years – he picked me a good ‘un. Hubby has always believed in me, respected my opinions and encouraged me to follow my dreams. He learned early on that I was missing the domestic goddess gene and could burn water at the drop of a hat. He’s a wonderful father to our three kids, he's made me laugh, and made me think. I’m a better person for being married to this guy. And isn’t that what it’s all about?

Happy anniversary, Fredster. You rock.

Gee, guess my mind wasn’t blank after all.