“It’s Only a Little Story for Me” and Other Author Quotes that Just Beg for a Bitch Slap

I recently watched the DVD of “P.S. I Love You.” The movie was sad but sweet, heartbreaking but hopeful. The themes were honest and mature, showing a wisdom surely learned through decades of life on this unpredictable planet of ours. The fact that the movie starred Harry Connick, Jr., Gerard Butler, and Jeffrey Dean Morgan didn’t hurt none, either.

I enjoyed every second of it.

Well, almost every second.

When the movie was over and I’d wiped the tear from my eye, I noticed a bonus feature option displayed on my TV screen - “Interview with the Author, Cecelia Ahern.” I clicked on the feature, fully prepared to hear the middle-aged (or likely older) author discuss how she’d spent years working on the novel, how the hard knocks she’d suffered through her life helped her create this meaningful work.

That’s not what happened.

Instead, an adorable, barely legal blonde Irishwoman popped up on the screen. She went on to say that she’d written the novel at age twenty-one, just for fun. She’d shown chapters to her mother, who encouraged her to submit the manuscript to publishers. But Cecelia protested. Her writing was just a hobby. “It’s only a little story for me,” she’d said.

I nearly burst into flames.

This young woman – oh, let’s be honest, this girl! – had completed a novel at such a tender age, got her manuscript published, achieved international bestseller status, and then got a movie deal, too?

AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!

It took me a decade of hard work, dozens of workshops and writing classes, thousands of dollars in conference and contest fees, and years of revision to land my first book deal. And I was twice this woman’s age when it happened!

I know that the type of instantaneous success Cecelia Ahern achieved, especially at such a young age, is extremely rare. But still, it rankles. If I ever happen to meet this Cecelia Ahern, I’ve got a bitch slap reserved for her. Then I’ll ask for her autograph.

Diane Kelly’s debut novel will be released by St. Martin’s Press in September 2011. Look for her new website at www.dianekelly.com.

Leslie Langtry's Fabulous Bucket List

I'm a simple human. I have simple needs and wants. Is it so wrong to want to be spoonfed Godiva Belgian Chocolate Ice Cream by my own, personal pool boy? No!

Here then, is my humble bucket list:

1) Learn to play bassoon. I love the bassoon. And it wouldn't be much, really. I just would love to be able to play the Pink Panther theme. On a bassoon.

2) Eating Tour of Italy. No one loves pasta as much as me. Of course, after a week of gorging on fettucine in a quest for the perfect alfredo sauce, I would need to follow up with 5 sessions of liposuction. But it would be worth it, right?

3) Shopping Tour of Italy. Nothing much...just hitting the basics like PRADA, Gucci and Ferragamo. I'd leave enough for the rest of you...

4) Girl's weekend with Tina Fey. Of course, she would have to wear a fat suit to make me feel better about myself...but she would do this because she'd see immediately that we are soul sisters.

5) Play with capybaras. Honestly, doesn't this just explain itself?

6) Wake up at noon to a spotless house, loving children and Mr. Assassin in a g-string holding a bottle of Grey Goose and an enormous, triple chocolate cake. What? It could happen, right?

7) Spa weekend getaway with you guys, my lovely minions. In Italy. With shoes and pasta.

What's on your list?

The Assassin

Romantic Disasters

Winner! Tess, you are the winner. Send me your snail mail address at christie (at) christie-craig.com



Recently, Faye Hughes, my non-fiction writing partner, and I ran a contest on our joint website to celebrate the release of our book, Wild, Wicked & Wanton: 101 Ways to Love Like You’re in a Romance Novel. (To learn more about our book, check out this article Marie Claire Magazine did about it: Article.) We asked people to send us their most memorable romantic disaster and boy, howdy, did people respond!

Some of the stories were laugh-out-loud funny; others had us clutching our hearts in sympathy. It was hard but we came up with a winner and two runner-ups. I’d like to share those winning entries with you guys this morning.

Winner: Meagan Spooner

I was never a very romantically successful girl. I used to think there was something wrong with me, because everyone else had a boyfriend. After college I decided to take matters into my own hands and went on more dates in the next couple of years than I’d been on my whole life. Some of the guys I met were just not my type, but some were absolutely NUTS. One brought a gun on the first date and showed it to me with this manic light in his eyes, saying that he would protect me if we were attacked. Another, when he sensed mid-date that I was perhaps not interested, broke down and started wailing, “WHY DON’T WOMEN LIKE ME?!”

I could say I learned something about how I should stop trying so hard (because I did learn that) or that there are just as many desperate guys out there (because I learned that too). But I think the biggest thing I learned was there isn’t anything wrong with me at all. It’ll happen. In the meantime? Keep reading. Keep writing. Have fun.

Honorable Mention - Michele Benard

Young 21 year old(me) goes out with friend to a bar meet what seems like a nice guy over a period of weeks they talk he never asks her out on a date but seems interested. Girl (me) broke off a long distant relationship so was done with men at the time, lived in a navy town so it was like a meat market anytime you went out. Girl (me) meets a different boy who caught her interest he seemed interested some other times was into his friends he becomes a challenge girl likes challenge she was dating lots ( a girl has to eat) fast forward weeks becomes more interested in boy number 2 which makes boy number 1 very mad calling girls house every five minutes making comments like are u babysitting boy number 2 younger then boy number 1 finally calling girl up asking for her to just go to dinner with him once when she says no he hangs up on her then calls right back and calls her a b&%$#. Finally girl is at work a salon in the mall when mall security calls and says she needs to go to her car where the back window has been smashed out.
Boy number 1 got a way with it but never called again it cost girl 500.00 to repair and she ended up marrying boy number 2. I learned be careful who you talk to people aren’t always what they seem.

Honorable Mention - Jennifer Lee

Several years ago, a friend of mine told me that her husband's best friend was visiting for the weekend. They were planning on making a trip downtown to a local dance club, and she asked if I wanted to meet up with them. I didn't have any plans, so I agreed. But, being the scaredy-cat that I am about being alone at night in a downtown urban area, I brought along a tough, scary guy friend....to what was apparently a blind date.

A month later, I approached him. I emailed him and invited him to see a local DJ play. The DJ had called me earlier in the day to let me know the showtime and venue, and I was happy to support local talent.

When my date and I arrived, the DJ instantly gave me the cold shoulder. Turns out, he'd invited me as his date, and I'd brought a man along with me.

It's been almost 8 years, and my former blind date is now my fiance. Now I just have to figure out who I should ask as my date to the wedding....

When reading these entries I thought back on some of my own romantic disasters. Oh, I remember this one guy who was so nervous when we first started dating, that he slammed my hand in his car door, pulled a chair out from under me in a restaurant (and made me land on my butt on the floor,) and even accidentally managed to bust my daughter’s lips while playing with her under a table. (Talk about a klutz!) What did I do? I married him. Thankfully, he stopped being so nervous. As for the klutzy part . . . yeah, well, it gives me good fodder for blog posts. Hey . . . some romantic disasters turn out not to be so disastrous.

So, what about you guys? Do you have any romantic disaster stories to share? Come on, don’t be shy. Nothing dulls the pain of a romantic disaster more than sharing it. And for one lucky commenter, I’ll give away a copy of the book that started it all—Wild, Wicked & Wanton.

CC

Why We Will All Die Young and Clutching a Medical Bill

Last week, I had one of those beyond exasperating experiences with doctors. Between insurance BS and malpractice lawsuits, it is darned near impossible to get medical treatment in this country any more. Lord knows, if I'm not going to die, I put off going to the doctor until it's just overdue and I've put this off for months (probably more like a year), so last week I decided to give it a go. The entire issue is about skin tags. They're these little hanging pieces of skin that can develop on your body. They're benign, but unsightly, and in the winter, they tend to catch on sweaters and that can hurt a bit. I had a couple of my body and one next to the outside corner of my eye that I wanted to have removed. I've had skin tags removed from the same places before as they tend to return - like most unpleasant things in life.

So I go to my regular GP, who removed them last time and here is the conversation that ensued:

Me: I want the skin tags removed.
GP: I can't remove them.
Me: Why not? You did it last time.
GP: Yes, but at least one of them should be sent to the lab for testing.
Me: Okay. You send stuff to the lab all the time.
GP: Yes, but that's in different packaging.

He wouldn't budge. Apparently, using the right envelop to contain the skin tag is a requirement for it to be tested....? So he told me to see a dermatologist. I found a dermatologist who would get me in and this is the conversation that ensued:

Me: I want the skin tags removed.
Derm: I can do the ones on your body but not the one near your eye.
Me: Why not? It's not on or in my eye.
Derm: But it's close to your eye.
Me: Is it a "special" skin tag?
Derm: No. But it's near your eye.

So I have the skin tags on my body removed and the dermatologist calls an opthomologist who agrees to see me that same day. So the nurse at the optho begins giving me an eye exam - I'm talking an eye exam for glasses prescription exam. The following conversation ensues:

Me: Why are we doing an eye exam? My eyes are not why I'm here.
Nurse: We have to do the exam.
Me: But why? The skin tag is not on or in my eye.
Nurse: Your insurance pays for it.
(Apparently, this is supposed to mean I don't care)

So she does a complete eye exam, for which I do NOT receive a prescription for glasses, I might add, and then she dilates my eyes and sticks me in a dark room to wait. So I wait and wait and wait and finally I go back to a room and the optho comes in. The following conversation ensues:

Optho: Your eyes are in excellent shape.
Me (grumbling): Thank you. (like I care since I'm not there for my friggin' eyes!)
Optho: The surgery is very simple and will only take about ten minutes, no sedation required at all. I'll have the front desk schedule you in for it in a couple of weeks.
Me: You can't do it today?
Optho: No. I don't have time today, but it will only take ten minutes in two weeks.

Sure it will. AFTER he conveniently bills my insurance company for another office visit. BTW, the eye exam that I didn't need created a bill to my insurance company for a little over $500.

So I drive home, frustrated beyond belief, half-blind since my eyes are dilated, $75 in doctor copays poorer and the damned skin tag still next to my eye. Mind you, of all the ones I wanted removed, that was "the" one. The only one that bothers me. Of course.

And that is why we will all die young and clutching a medical bill. Because everyone is a specialist and no one knows anything about the human body beyond their six-inch range. If they do, they're not admitting it because they're afraid of being sued. What ever happened to the country doctor who fixed a case of the doodies and could set a broken leg?

(sigh)

Deadly DeLeon

Premier Week

This week is the big premier week for most networks, and I am so excited to see scripted TV show making a comeback this season! Don’t get me wrong, I love me some trashy reality TV. But, being a writer, it’s always a little scary when you realize half the shows on TV no longer require writers. Not so this season! Not only are new scripted show popping up on every network, but most of them are crime dramas! I’m in heaven. I haven’t yet had a chance to preview them all (though my DVR is loaded and just waiting for Baby T to take a nap so I can dig in…), but so far there a couple new ones I’m digging:

Hawaii Five-O

I was all set to hate this one. I cannot think of one remake show that I’ve liked as much as the original. However, I gotta say, I was pleasantly surprised. Tons of action, but cool action not cheese-ball stuff. Enough of a plot to make me care about the action. And a cast of characters that are actually somewhat unique for TV. The personal drama was a little high for me in the first episode, but I’m gonna let that slide being as it was the pilot. I have high hopes that future episodes will be more plot heavy. Oh, and my fav part of the show? The way they spent the entire episode building up a way to believably work the phrase “Book ‘em, Danno” into the dialogue. Too cool.

The Defenders
LOVED it! Jim Belushi is perfect as sorts cool/sorta shcmucky/totally clever attorney, and Jerry O’Connell makes a great sidekick. The plot was clever, the setting sexy (Vegas, baby!), and the writing pretty impressive. I will definitely be watching this one again.

Law & Order: Los Angeles
Since this one was on at the same time as The Defenders (oh, the dilemma!) I have it DVR’ed. But I have to say this was the one show I was looking forward to the most, having been a L&O loyal for years. Criminal Intent was my absolute fav show on TV for years, so I’m hoping some of that vibes plays out in L.A. too. Anyone else see it yet? Like it? love it?

The Good Guys
Okay, this one isn’t totally new this week, since it was around all summer, but it has to be my absolute favorite new show. It is so funny! Honestly, it’s like someone took one of Christi’s books and put it on TV. The characters are totally wacky, the situations crazy, and the dialogue perfect. I also love that the show follows a skewed timeline, starting with an explosion or bank robbery or some great action, then flashing back to hours earlier to explain what happened. It keeps me on my toes.

Anyone else have reviews of new shows to report in on? What great new gems am I missing that I should be setting to high priority on my DVR?

~Trigger Happy Halliday

A Practical Guide to Romance

When I first told my husband that I was going to take a stab at writing romantic comedies, he raised a skeptical brow. Not about the comedy part – he knew I was a goofball since our first date when I somehow managed to splash salsa all over his shirt. But romance? From me? The least romantic woman in the world?

It’s true that I’m down-to-earth. Practical. Pragmatic. Not a sappy cell in my body. (Okay, maybe one or two, but they rarely assert themselves.) Traditional romantic things fall flat with me. A bouquet of flowers? They’re pretty, sure, but after a few days the stems grow moldy in the vase and dried petals litter the tabletop and have to be cleaned up. Chocolate? Bring it on! But my selfish refusal to share kills the mood. Jewelry? I’m just as happy with cheap costume stuff. Chances are I’ll leave it on the coffee table and the dog will eat it anyway. And maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never quite understood the oft-seen reference in romance novel love scenes to a woman’s “perfect breasts.” What, exactly, would a “perfect” breast look like? Would it be voluptuous, round, and symmetrical? Petite and perky? A pointy torpedo-shaped ta-ta a la Madonna in her “Vogue” video? And why is there never a reference to a “perfect testicle?”

I feared I was the only woman on earth who felt this way. But I’ve since learned I’m not the only one who gets turned on when her guy does the dishes or mops the kitchen floor. Foreplay? Try vacuuming, baby. And gifts? Don’t waste your money on expensive trinkets or baubles. Get us something that makes our lives easier, like one of those under-the-bed shoe organizers or a lamp that turns on with a hand clap.

Nope, women in general aren’t nearly as complicated as men seem to think we are. Just help us out on occasion, show us some attention once in a while, and stand behind us, not in our way. That’s true romance.

Son of Leslie Langtry

Last night, my ten-year old son, fruit of my loins, wait...do women have loins? Anyway, he lost his phone. It isn't that unusual. Jack loses all of his electronic devices. The Nintendo only visits occaisionally and never shows up at the same time as the charger. The cell phone is always dead or set to silence, level 11. And Jimmy Hoffa has a better chance of being located than the Game Boy.

Where do these things go? In most cases, it is swallowed whole by the evil sectional of doom. I really hate that couch. We had the carpets and furniture cleaned once and they took it apart. No one has EVER been able to put that thing back together.

Anyway, logic dictates (at least to me, in my head, with a voice that sounds like Patrick Warburton for some reason) that whatever is missing will be found there. And here is how most conversations about that go:

Jack: Mom, I can't find my cell phone/Game Boy/Nintendo/Dead hooker.

Me: Look in the sectional.

Jack: I DID! I stuck my hand in the cracks and everything!

Me: Get a flashlight and look again - it's always there.

Jack: BUT I DID AND IT'S NOT THERE!

Me: (yelling) Margaret! Come help your brother find his cell phone/Game Boy/Nintendo/Dead hooker!

In the end, here is what happens. I...that is ME...I get the flashlight and pull apart the sectional while lying on my stomach, chin deep in Pug hair. Last night I found a pair of Jack's dirty underwear, one of Jack's dirty socks, (what does that boy DO in the family room?), a gallon baggie full of Lucky Charms and a full but opened on one end Pixie Stix (which Jack held up to look in and poured sugar in his eye - BTW - not as painful as salt, apparently).

We found the phone forty-three minutes and two seconds later. It was right where I said it was. It was right where he'd looked. I'm having it surgically implanted in his hip.

Please tell me this stuff happens to you.

The Assassin