Hi, Annie,
Really bad poetry, worse makeup jobs and fishnets...ah, yeah.

thighboot worship...nope.

the Fray...don't know 'em, but I'll look 'em up. (tee hee, you said 'album')

WTG on those queries. Sounds like you're the writer to watch /07! Definitely put me down for a WW registration tom. :) Can't even come up with a query I'm happy with so I'm currently 0/0. Nothin' ventured and certainly nothing requested.

Definitely looking forward to the queires. I've just started querying..two days, no responses yet...*bites nails*

Hehe, you too, Lainey? Back in the day, I thought I was a goth goddess.

Hey, they still call the contents of a CD an album! It's just not on vinyl. I actually don't remember much about actual records. I grew up with tapes and then CDs came out in... the late 80s? Is that right? Somebody Google it!

Writer to watch, hm. Not sure about that, but I'll keep plugging along.

Yep, tomorrow is all about queries. I've had such an overwhelming response to FALLING that I think I need to share my system. I've worked out a formula and if you follow it, I guarantee you'll get some requests for pages (if the writing is good).

random excerpt from Good Touch just because I feel like sharing:

She'd been biting on a red pen, so she had a smudge of ink on her upper lip. As I joined her, I saw she'd been circling want ads.

"Job hunting?" Stupid thing to say, but then I never claimed to possess good social skills. Living as I do sort of discourages that.

Eva nodded. "Chuch makes good money, but I get bored, you know? But I want to do something interesting this time."

I searched for a suitable reply. "You’ve held boring jobs?"

In fact, I could relate. Since I can sell just about anything, you might call it a preternatural gift, I've worked in retail my whole life. It doesn't get much worse.

"Yeah. Who knew being a private eye involved so much sitting around in cars? Really dull."

"You used to be a PI?" Despite myself, I registered some awe. I always had a weakness for Mickey Spillane and Dashiell Hammett. Where other girls read a sexy romance, I loved diving into a noir detective novel with guys in fedoras, trench coats, and smart mouth dames wearing too much lipstick and killer shoes.

"Well." Her expression turned mulish. "I didn't actually get the license, but what's the big deal? It's just a piece of paper and I can print one that looks just as good. I helped my clients just the same and probably charged them less."

Biting my inner lip against a grin, I processed the information. So Eva specialized in forgery. That was good to know. Just like you never know when you'll need your ride tricked out, you never know when you'll need a passport cooked. In fact, I could use one.

"So what's the problem?"

"Chuch says I'm going to end up in jail the first time a disgruntled client reports me to the license board."

"So make sure they're all gruntled."

Eva grinned at me. "That's what I said. But it really is boring, so I'm looking for a new gig."

"I run a pawnshop in Mexico City."
Don't ask me why I volunteered the information when I'd done my best to make sure nobody could find me, but Eva seemed harmless. Chuch would tell her anyway, I rationalized, if she asked. But truthfully, I was simply hungry for female company. When I fled in the middle of the night, I severed all links to my old life, including my best friend, Tess. If I ever worked up the nerve, I'd call her. I didn't know whether she'd be glad to hear from me or want my head on a pike.

"That sounds..." She hesitated.

"Boring?"

"Well. Yeah."

We both laughed, and I decided I liked her. "It has its compensations. There's nothing like finding a lost treasure or making a great deal on something."

"So what's your part in all this?" she asked, getting up to pour us some coffee. "I know Chance wouldn't have chased all that way after you unless you can do something for him nobody else can. He's not the sentimental type."

Christ, how right that was, and it stung to hear such a home truth spoken by a relative stranger. If only I'd seen him that clearly at the start of our relationship, I wouldn't be emotionally starved and half-heartbroken over him, even now. To cover how much it still hurt, I sipped my coffee, trying to decide what to tell her.

"I’m a handler," I said at last, unsure whether she even knew what that was.

Immediately, she reached for my hands and turned them palms up. "Dios mio." Eva crossed herself as she studied scars old and new. "What a curse."

I felt dumbstruck by her perspicacity. People often didn't believe my claim, and if they did, it colored their view of me. If they romanticized such powers, they ranked me up there with sugarplum fairies, helpful brownies and the good witch Glenda. If they demonized them, then I fell somewhere between the wicked witch of the west and something you summoned at a crossroads.

"Yeah," I muttered. "It's not as much fun as it looks."

She regarded me with a soft look in her brown eyes. In a minute, she might call me pobrecita and try to tend my wounds. Clearly Chuch had himself a tenderhearted woman, whatever her foibles otherwise.

"He’s using you to find his mother," she surmised. "What a shitty thing to do, like you could say no—and you still half in love with him." Tsking, she shook her head.

Ah hell - someone found all my old poetry notebooks didn't they? Covering eyes and blushing furiously.

Nights of Eternity

When I cut, it is as deep as my pain
ripping
trembling
only the knife offers solace
I saw the eyes of Death...
i have a spiritual connection with brandon lee
i wish only to taste the sweet, sweet sanguine
Hopes forgotten, dreams untouched, the final end
broken
one day i will be as powerful as my vampire character
life is my blood
endless LONELY

-VampGoddess

I, too, have a spiritual connection with Brandon Lee. Made me snort. I can't get into The Fray. I love "Dead Wrong," but otherwise he's waaaaay too Bruce Hornsby for me.

And I received my first CD birthday present in 1989. That's gotta be a little late, seeing as how my family probably waited a few years to make the switch to a new format.

Ha! What is it about Indiana, Carrie? My family were practically Luddites. My dad wouldn't spring for cable TV "Because TV should be free, dammit!" until I was like 16 (and he found out he could watch sports ALL THE TIME, not just on Sundays if he did. After that, there was no turning back.

We didn't have a VCR until I was in college. Shit, I had one before my parents. My mom is STILL deeply suspicious of DVD players, thinks it's some newfangled technology that will play out and she'll be laughing all the way to the bank with her Bill Cosby video tapes.

PS Back off Bruce Hornsby! Walking in Memphis owns you.

Dude... all I can say is... How to Save a Life owns my ass. I start getting teary every time I hear it.

Oh, and you know what else? I can't believe I'm admitting this...

And I Am telling You I Am Not Going by Jennifer Hudson

OMG, you found me another song that proves what a soft-hearted bitch I am. I used to be so tough and cynical, but it kinda all wore off and now I cry at stupid commercials. Sigh.