Ann Aguirre

Editors are awesome people.

They have minds that work utterly unlike my own. They notice such pesky details as, “Manhattan doesn’t have a 54th Avenue” and “Whatever happened to the glass of iced tea Ellie was carrying around?”

To which I respond airily, “I write my novels in accordance with the Carrell principle of truthiness, truth unencumbered by the facts.”

Generally, I am then rewarded with a laugh and an instruction to do a little research and make my book agree with consensual reality. Did I mention that I hate research? Yet I never stint on it. I took a trip to NY when I was writing Guide. I made notes, visited all the locations I intended to use in the book. Clearly I didn’t get everything right, though. That’s why editors are so great!

I’ve done the wackiest things in the name of research. There was the great diet experiment and sperm taste-off of ‘06, for instance. Just recently, I read a study that listed lavender and pumpkin pie as having the greatest effect on penile blood flow in men (40% increase!). So I did what any sane author would do. I went to Sensia and ordered a bottle of each from Demeter. Last night I put on both scents in place of my usual CK Escape. It’s a bit strong, so if you repeat my research, use it sparingly. I’m going to log how it affects my man and if it affects random passersby for that matter (although judging 40% penile increase by crotch-staring may earn me a weird reputation). Still I think it’s worthwhile. Anything for science.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve done in the name of research? This question isn’t just for writers. Think back to your college days.

Ordinarily I don’t double post because it makes me feel like a lack-life wanker, but since Bam asked me to do this, I must cooperate.

So here we go.

What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?

First, I would like to say this is one fucked up invasive question. Duh, my fridge has food in it, I have kids to feed. Four kinds of juice, two kinds of milk, three kinds of cheese, two bottles of wine, iced tea, a lone Coke, carrots, salad, apples, kiwi, yoghurt, a roast chicken, steamed rice, sushi, butter, flavored butter (one with chipotle, one with Italian herbs), two kinds of jelly, sliced ham, strawberries, and all kinds of condiments. I have nothing on my bedroom floor except a cat. This is subject to change. My nightstand has… my Ipod, a bunch of DVDs, and about a hundred books. No joke, they’re piled up three feet high in a single stack. I use the wall to balance it. Not toppling this pile when I am hunting a book is a professional-level skill. My trash? Are you kidding me? Nothing. The maid took it out earlier.

Look at your feet. Describe what you see there.

Bare, short, and sun-reddened. These are a peasant’s feet. I don’t wear shoes unless I’m forced to.

When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell does she associate with it? Sauerkraut? Oatmeal cookies? Paint? Why is that smell so resonant for you?

Pickles. Every summer my mom would bring in an assload of cucumbers from the garden and we’d spent forever and a day canning those mofos. I can’t get sweet pickles here and I miss them.

You are doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?

Nope. Not happening. My maid comes three days a week and she would be way pissed if I started messing around with her cleaning supplies. The woman does a sterling job and I am not about to rile her by infringing on her territory. However, I do throw out junk mail and food containers. I almost never part with books — they have to be electrician-sweaty-ass-bad for me to donate them or give them away.

It’s Saturday at noon. What are you doing? If you’re eating breakfast, what exactly do you eat? If you’re stretching out in your backyard to sun, what kind of blanket or towel do you lie on?

I’ve been woken up by a kid or a cat. It’s probably a cat. Nine times out of ten, I will have a mixed Siamese kitten biting my nose and crying piteously because he’s lonely. His name is Don Quixote (Don to his friends) and he is way needy. He wakes me three times a night to pet him, wailing his heart out because he needs my attention RIGHT THEN. He’s worse than a baby because he can jump in bed with me and nip me. Depending on how tired I am, I either get up to make a big ole country breakfast (pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs) by 10 or I tell the kids to eat cereal and leave me alone for another hour or two. No sun for me, I’m scared of the skin cancer.

What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

When I was eight, my mom sent me to a neighbor lady with some cookies. I delivered them and then bent down to pet her dog. Big English sheepdog went postal on me and chewed half my face off. The neighbor lady then got a wet dishtowel and SENT ME HOME. I showed up at my front door bleeding all over. My dad was asleep (he worked midnights) and my mom was out with my sister. I wake my dad and he almost shit his pants. He rushed me to the hospital, where it took 32 stitches to sew my face back together. I remember being strapped to the operating table watching them sew my face back together. Needle in and out of skin… they strapped me down because they couldn’t anesthetize my face, as it was close to my brain and I was small (or something). So I felt it every time they sewed my face back together. (Yes, I have a fear of needles.)

The worst part of all that? I wound up looking like Bride of Frankenstein with a bunch of black stitches starting at the corner of my eye running down to my upper lip. And the next day, it was square-dancing in gym class. I begged my mom not to make me go but she said I was fine and sent me off to school. See, you had to have a boy partner you for that and the fookin’ boys got to pick. Nobody picked me and I had to dance with the gym teacher, Mr. Rawlings. *sniffs* Everyone comfort me now. As to why it’s lasting… well, duh!

You are getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?

Hm. It might be with my whole family, the whole extended family or just my husband. And we’re probably going out to dinner, a party, or to the movies. If it’s one of the first two, I wear my Liz Claiborne slacks, a sparkly top that shows some boobage, and my favorite perfume, CK Escape. Not big on makeup because I have good skin. For the movies I wear old jeans and one of Andres’s shirts cos it’s dark, who’s gonna see me? (I could run with the JR Ward brand-dropping thing: Then we get in our Infiniti and we roll to Fogon do Brasil and order some Bailey’s Irish Creme while checking the time on our matching Piaget watches and wait for our friends to roll up in their Mini…)

There, I’m done. You guys feel closer to me now? Group hug? Anyone?

random link — Don’t get enough Dr. Phil in your life? Need to sound superficially wise but on deeper consideration, make no sense at all? Check this thing out. My favorite quote was, “You don’t need shingles to throw a brick at a turtle” but “You don’t need orange sherbet to treat yourself to a tasty shake,” runs a close second because it sounds like something Dr. Phil would actually say.

*author’s note* This thing eventually spat out the following gem: You don’t need to think clearly to do the wild thing. *author considers her checkered past* Truer words were never spoken.

random update — Finished initial edits on Guide. Senior edits came back Sunday night and I’ll get started on them tomorrow. As of 2:30 am, I finished my story for the Samhain antho, I DREAM OF DRAGONS. It’s called THE TEMPTATION OF TERESA and it rocks. I still have some refining / editing to do, but the core is complete and it is fookin’ lovely. As it’s not due til Friday I have time to make it shine. (Gogo writing 9K in one day!) I worked up a complete soundtrack for this project, something I usually don’t do. I may post it when the story comes out.

random funny pr0n e-mail — I get the best ones. Last night I deleted one that tickled me: SEXUALLY EXPLICIT - Hardcore lesbians rampage in prehistoric costumes! I swear someone is spamming me these as a joke. First Santa and his secret sluts, now cave-lesbians? Is this a big fantasy?

random endorsement — Remember the Numa Numa guy? Adorable cherubic kid lip-synching to O-zone? Well, you may not have known the behind the scenes story. Gary Brolsma started mugging for his camera to cheer himself up after his dad’s death. (Awww.) Everything snowballed from there. I’m linking him because apparently he has his own garage band in his hometown of Saddle Brook, NJ, and they’re kinda good. I’m all for indie artists, so I’m pimping The Nowadays here. I dig the song Motionless, which they recorded in his bedroom (amazing quality!) so I’m gonna buy it.

Final note, Death Cab for Cutie’s song I Will Follow You into the Dark owns my ass. It’s also Dev and Teresa’s theme song from TEMPTATION. Go have a listen. If it doesn’t move you, then you’re all shriveled up and wrinkly inside. There’s no Botox for the soul, beotch.

Okay, I’m not in Seattle but I am rantless. You know how a special story obsesses and consumes you absorbs your intensity, leaving you spent anytime you work on it? Well, I’m writing one of those in real time. 21K in 7 days 5 days! And I am utterly obsessed.

You will be too when you read it.

That means I have no energy to spare for anything else, even ranting.

So the best I can offer are some peeves.

1)Being cut off in traffic. Here in Mexico City, people don’t obey traffic signals or drive like they do in the US. If you’re patiently waiting for your turn in the left lane, don’t assume it will come. People swing around into the middle of the intersection, two and three deep, because why should THEY have to wait their turn?

2)Never finishing the laundry. No matter how diligently I work on it, it will NEVER fucking be done. Because even if I wash every stitch we own, what is resting upon our bodies will always be dirty and be thrown on the floor at the end of the day.

3)Being woken up from a good dream. It never fails, as soon as I hit REM sleep and interesting stuff starts to happen, either a kitten or a kid rattles me awake.

I showed you mine, now you show me yours.

If you didn’t find the man of your dreams last week on Hot Prison Pals, don’t despair. You can always go to work for Hana Bank in Korea, where they will subsidize your blind dates through a matchmaker service.

“This trip will offer them a chance to easily meet men,” said Yang Jae-hyeok in charge of the bank’s division offering life services for employees. “As our bank tries to help our employees balance their work and personal lives, we are putting more effort into improving their personal life,” Yang said.

Read the full story here.

I round out Odd Friday with my favorite search engine entries that led people to my blog this week. (Man, people Google some weird shit.)

the absurdity of sexuality
I hear you on this one. I mean, have you seen this? The faces people make are pretty damn funny.

little anal annie
Please tell me there’s not a porno out with this title, a pedo-spoof of Little Orphan Annie, where she sleeps with Daddy Whorefucks? I’m not even gonna Google it. I’m backing away from this one slowly.

anal annie and the willing husbands
Hey! You’re getting a little personal now. While I’m sure the husbands are more than willing, Annie is NOT into anal.

butt plug in the ass
What is it with my butt this week? You can’t resist because I told you no? Geez.

harry potter raps “i like big butts”
Forget Equus and the full monty, I would totally pay to see this. You hear that Sir Mix-A-Lot? Daniel Radcliffe is comin’ for you! Totally old school. (Do not ask me how this led to my blog. I cannot even hazard a guess).

nepal’s pimp
Nepal has an official pimp? Sweet! Now I know where to go to buy boy-whores. I’m guessing it’s not the grouchy old bastard who lives next to me, though.

kenneth cole + pimp my ride boots + olives
Okay, I tried but I got nothing. Though I’m familiar with Kenneth Cole, I don’t know what ‘pimp my ride boots’ are. I also don’t know what olives have to do with it, but it sounds kind of kinky.

stupid shit to read
*blush* Thank you. I try.

if it’s wrong to love you dean
*again, blush* If you’re to the loving-me stage, you can call me Annie. If this refers to the dirty Sam / Dean Supernatural slash fan-fic that Mrs. Giggles lists as a guilty pleasure, then yes, it’s way wrong (but oh-so fun to read).

sholto + tentacles
I’m sorry, I don’t have any LKH fan-fic sex on this blog. You must get your hentai fix somewhere else, my friend.

the dum persons way to make a marx gene
I got nothing. What the hell is a marx gene? I will, however, concur with the searcher’s self-assessment.

the king is called ‘dude’ in the book
King Lear meets The Big Lebowski? It could work!

And that’s it for Odd Friday. Have a great weekend, ya’ll.

I pleaded illness over at It’s Not Chick Porn, so there are no reviews today. However, Bam posted some funny shit, which weirdly dovetails with the story I’m racing to complete in time for a March 2 deadline. Dionne suggested I write something for Samhain’s I Dream of Dragons anthology, but I intended to pass because I didn’t have a unique idea and I didn’t want to do some retro-fantasy thing where woman falls in love with shape-shifted dragon and then finds out he’s a dragon. Difficulty ensues (which is quite different than sexin’ ensues TM), and then they live HEA.

If you want to know how I thought of it, check the comments on workshop Wednesday where I added my own “genesis” moment. Right now I’m writing a story that may appall conservative readers. I’d like to blame Bam, but I had the idea before she wrote up her “I want to hit Jesus” post, which just proves our minds work scarily alike.

Tomorrow there will be a new chapter posted for Mercy, my fantasy serial. Recently I received an e-mail from a reader who writes: “Really like Mercy! Your serial novels are very addictive!” This one features a heroine in man-drag, a mysterious knight, lots of action and hints of things to come. If you like such things, check it out because, well, it’s free, and let’s face it, you don’t really want to work while you’re in the office.

I skipped random tuesday yesterday. How random is that?

Actually I’m feeling poorly. The virus that laid my inlaws out a week or so ago has finally gone Rambo on me. Made chicken soup last night for dinner but it didn’t help.

So, uhm, list how you come up with your story ideas, huh? Maybe you’ll spark someone else’s process. Thanks. I’ll try not to die of an ague.

Since I’ve been reviewing ebooks, both for Bam’s site and RRT, something has become clear to me. I said this on Bam’s blog in the comments:

The mistake a lot of authors make is putting stuff out that just isn’t ready. It either needs a lot more revision or it needs to be scrapped as a practice project. The proliferation of epubs means that just about anything can find a home somewhere, but that doesn’t mean it should.

I stand by that comment. I wish epublishers were a little tougher in their criteria, even if it means I get rejected more. I’m not against epublishing, quite the contrary. I love ebooks. In fact, that’s what I buy most of because I live in Mexico and I don’t have a BN or a Borders nearby anymore. So if I want some fresh reads, I go online.

Epubs offer a chance to stories that are too edgy or too far off the beaten path to have a chance anywhere else. I love the variety. Gems like FINDING HOME by Lauren Baker and Bonnie Dee and NOBODY’S HERO by Diana Bold (I’ll be writing a review of this for RRT) simply shine.

However, the main bone I have to pick with the industry as it’s developing — and Mrs. Giggles already touched on this, though her focus was publisher-hopping — is prolific authors who publish twenty short stories a month. Many belong in an anthology, and some shouldn’t be read outside a critique group. As a reader, I don’t feel I’m getting my money’s worth for $3 / 14 pages.

There’s no story. In general it’s 2 pages of infodump backstory and twelve pages of boinking. I have nothing against boinking. I love it, but I want an actual story, complete with plot, motivations, conflict, characterization, setting, all the bells and whistles. What remains is porn, if badly written. If it’s elegant, then call it erotica. Honestly, though, I don’t need to buy wanking material. Literotica has tons of free sex stories and some are just as well written as what certain epubs sell. That’s a problem.

Maybe authors will line up to prove me wrong. Maybe there are tons of stories out there that are fully fledged in 14 pages. I just haven’t found them.

I made a book teaser for Guide. I have no idea if it’s any good, though I’m pleased with it. Then again, I just found out I have a thing called “Movie Maker” on my computer tonight. Tell me, book teaser experts, how much does this suck for a first try?

Note: I’ve been emailed a critique of my teaser, so down it comes while I implement these excellent suggestions. Thank you!

Those wacky Norwegians. This sketch is from a show called Oystein & Meg (Oystein & I) produced by the Norwegian Broadcasting television channel in 2001. Hilarious, so watch it. Yes, it has English subtitles. All computer noobs will ROFL, I swear.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRjVeRbhtRU]