Name Schmame

Well. I finished Dark Moon Rising. I was all happy about it and told my husband. I was thinking of changing one of the other titles of the Watchers series (of which Dark Moon Rising is the 4th and probably last book) back to its original when my hubs began tossing titles off the top of the Titanic-sized load of silliness which occupies the largest room in his man head.

This is a guy who would sink to calling one of our children Mailbox or Rameumptum if he could. Really. Those were actual possibilities (in his brain)  when we were naming our daughter. Suffice it to say that I rarely take him seriously when he's in a mood like that.

So he's popping out dorky names like a queen ant laying eggs, when he flings out the title, Psyquake. That one threw me. Where in the seven dungeons of Cthulhu did that come from? That was a killer title! Not only that, but it was the best title for the last book!

The funny thing was that Lon was completely amazed when I said it ROCKED. The look on his face when I asked him if I could use it was priceless. "What does that even mean?" he asked. I just smiled. If you read the book, you'll know why that name fits so well.

So then I had some real thinking to do. Would it work to juggle names since I still had to use Dark Moon Rising? And I found I could do it.

So there you have it. Psyquake is ready for the diamond-grit polisher. Or maybe it'll be more like a rock polisher. I'm just hoping whole books don't get knocked off of the rock that is the Watchers chunk.

I think this could be something--maybe even a movie. The problem is that it would probably be an R-rated movie since it's basically a revolution. There are definitely casualties. My mom was scandalized just by the description (by me!) and she asked me, "Where did I get such a blood-thirsty daughter?"

Where indeed? This juggernaut came up through layers and layers of life lessons and predictions and fears and the visceral knowledge that the world is changing for the worse, and I can't think of much of a way to do anything about it. This is my scream in the dark as the lights grow dim.

So, yes, this series is my red flag waving--dark and blood-splashed--but in the end, hopeful.
                            WHAT IF...?

Momming

One time I was in line at the library with a friend. Two of my six were running around like Huns screaming and trying to denude the place of intact books. Nothing I tried seemed to be working. I tried the asking nicely thing. I tried the icy glare which used to send me bawling to my room. I even tried the We're-in-church-be-quiet-or-else hiss to no avail. I'd have left the whole library without books next. I looked at my friend and said jokingly (and it was obvious to my friend at least), "Sometimes you just want to whack them in the head with a hammer."

The lady behind me was atrociously scandalized. "That's child abuse!" she bellowed. I told her that I was kidding and that no child had heard me say it (accept apparently her), but she wouldn't leave it alone. She was still hacking on me like a lumberjack chopping down a tree when I finished checking out and left. What a sanctimonious cow!

I swore to myself that I would NEVER be that cow. I'd remember the times when my children were setting every dancing hamster in the store singing "You aint nothing but a hound dog" or dumping the shopping cart over trying to reach the nerf guns, and not go up to the struggling mom who has just popped her last nerve and make her feel like a loser.

Clearly if I were the kind of monster who would actually whack my child with a hammer, (which I am definitely not) I wouldn't announce it to the world. (But then, if I were someone who did whack, I guess I'd be stupid enough to announce actual intentions--which I'm not.)

I actually want my children to get smarter. Yeah. And have better manners. There shall be no more whining or secretly stuffing things into the cart at the store. There will be no arguments about who gets to push the cart. There will be no more romps through the cloth section or hiding inside the displays. There will be no more 59 journeys to the bathroom.

But sometimes that comes with time. There will come a time when I can take them out in polite company without feeling like a complete idiot. Unfortunately that usually happens about the time they leave home.

So when I see that frazzled mom having the 'Calgon' moment, I'm going to be the one who makes her day a little easier. I'm going to make her screaming baby smile. It's the least I can do to pay it forward and make the world a better place.

Mormon Mommy Writers

Mormon Mommy Writers are sponsoring a hop. Today the books of Jenni James (Pride and Popularity), H.B. Moore (Ammon), and an ebook anthology (Totally Cliche) are being featured. These books look quite succulent. I love all things Austen anyway, so the little tidbit was enough to get me salivating. And Ammon looks delicious as well! I'll have to read these and finish up my review later...;o)

Chirping and Clucking

So I did something intrepid (one of my favorite words, by the way) today as a mark of how I wish to proceed with the gift of a new year. I joined Twitter. 

"Why?" you might ask.

Welp...I'll tell you. I'm a writer. I want my books to fly off the shelves and into your arms. I want to tell my stories to people who will love them. So if writing little blurbs every now and then alerts people to the fact that I'm around, GREAT! 

So now I'm going to find other ways to be intrepid...like getting my books polished and put out there in the query hailstorm; putting Small Deceptions and then Summerhouse on ebook; running daily; finding a person a day to help; finding new ways to be an imaginative cook. And I WILL conquer the dust bunny civilizations which are infesting my house! 
But first, the writing. Dark Moon Rising is calling insistently! Larkin pleads for help as she descends down through the levels beneath the dome. Her life has never been so forfeit as it is now, and I have let her hang much too long during the Christmas holidays!