American Idol is WAY more exciting.

February 3, 2008

Dude. How very anticlimactic.

So, apparently the Surprisingly Essential First Page contest judges have not watched enough American Idol to learn how to go about informing the public about the contestants’ elimination from a public contest. Right? All I’m saying is they obviously don’t have an appreciation for how awesomely the judges and my wee Ryan bring the UN!COMFORTABLE! to the elimination process. Like the time– during the Best. Results Show. EVER.– when my Ry-Ry was all “Chrisyouaregoinghometonight.” And Chris Daughtry was like, “What in the which where? WHO IN THE WHAT NOW?!” and Kat McPhee was trying to do the Snoopy Dance of Joy and cry at the same time, and Taylor Hicks (soooooulpatrooool) and Elliott Yamin were like “Yes!” (*fist pump*) “Wow, sorry, dude”? And Chris was pissed– like, seriously, he looked like he wanted to reach through the television and kill me dead– but it was just so AWESOME?! And now they use Chris’s song as the farewell (AKA: See Ya, Wouldn’t Wanna Be Ya) song and he is totally kicking ass with his very own band which he named after his very own self so it all worked out in the end? You know?

Because, honestly… how fun was THIS?! No fun at ALL, that’s how fun! We put ourselves out there, lay it all on the line, and what do we get? Nothing! A big ZIP. Nada. Zilch. ZIPPO. What about the bottom three? And the agony of staying in the bottom three until “after the break”? And where was the anxiety? The tears? The almost unbearable stress? The gratuitous “You look great tonight” and “You moved me”? The thinly veiled homophobic posturing? HUH?! Seriously. I’m saying.

But I have to give the judges their props, yo? 675 entries? Hey, I mean, Simon, Paula, and Randy get a gagillion contestants or whatever, so they could be all like, “Oooh, ‘wah!’ 675 entries? Bitch, please.” But there’s THREE of them– not just two, right?– so there you go.

But whatever. I’m not discouraged. No worries. As God is my witness, if Chris Daughtry can headline his own personal shouty band, I can get myself published.

So it’s all good.

Cat, OUT.

Nathan Bransford’s Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge

January 30, 2008

Oh, Bente… Have I told you lately that I love you? Hmm?

So, yeah. Yesterday I got an email from an Aussie/Canadian friend o’ mine, Bente, regarding a literary agent dude by the name of Bransford. Nathan Bransford. Apparently, said literary agent dude opened a contest looking for up-to-500-word submissions of a person’s manuscript’s first page. Right?! RIGHT?! Dude, I’m SAYING. I mean, limiting myself to 500 words? HARD.

However, hundreds and hundreds of aspiring writers had already bombarded the blog by the time I heard about this contest, so it is fortunate that said literary agent dude had the prescience to solicit the assistance of a co-judge– a non-publishing-industry type by the name of Holly Burns (author of the Nothing But Bonfires blog)– who, incidentally, has a British accent, but not like Gwyneth’s or Madonna’s or Britney’s, but a REAL British accent, having been born English and whatnot.

Wait. What?

Oh! Contest! Shut up. I’m totally focused.

So, without much more than a cursory glimpse at Bransford’s– Nathan Bransford’s– website, I proclaimed him legit, threw caution to the wind, took my chances, threw myself in headfirst, pinned my hopes on a cloud, took the leap, jumped in with both feet, grabbed the bull by the horns and freaking wrassled that sucker to the GROUND… er, okay, I’m out.

I submitted an entry.

Yay! *sarcastic jazz hands*

What can I tell you? I’m a crazy person. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you. CRAZY. PERSON.

And now? NOW? Well, I’m all aquiver with anxiety and self-doubt.

So thanks for that, Bente. No, really.

(No, really.)

Take a peek at my 498-word-entry (and feel free to critique) after the cut:
[Read more]

God Bless Us, Every One

December 26, 2007

Christmas Morn '07

We hope your day was merry and bright, as well.

TechnoGeekery Quickie #4: iTunes… an Analogy

December 22, 2007

Hey! Hey! Head on over to TechnoGeekery! Hey! There’s a new Quickie! Hey! And there is singing! And ANALOGIES! Good ones!

And, hey… did I mention the singing? Yep. I composed some original tunes and debuted them on my vidcast. I know, right? Sweet.

What can I say? I am ALL about the giving this holiday season. And my analogizin’ skillz coupled with the guitarin’ and singin’ and whatnot? Well, that’s just my little gift to you.

TechnoGeekery Quickie #4: iTunes… an Analogy

Oh. No need to thank me. It was my pleasure.

Time’s Almost Up

November 26, 2007

I’m not sure if I’m going to make the deadline for NaNoWriMo this year, which… BUMMER?

*sigh*

Nevertheless, I shall persevere. So… here is a bit more of my perseverance (please keep in mind that NaNoWriMo is all about the quickness and the Just Do It-ness… you know, all rough-drafty and whatnot?… just sayin’):

___________________________________

It was just after the last bell. I had just closed my locker, ready to head out to my car, when a strong hand grabbed my upper arm and twirled me around.

“What the—” I started, but the words died in my throat when I saw Boomer Castillo glaring down at me.

He had planted himself directly in front of me, legs spread wide. His black hair was short, except for the bangs, which were dyed blue and draped over his forehead, obscuring one eye. His dark shirt, sporting the busty silhouette usually found on a tire flap, fit across his chest the way a shirt fits when a guy exercises regularly. Then again, what would you expect from a guy named Boomer? He stood so close I could feel his breath on my face. This was unfortunate, as dude had some serious Cheetos breath.

“Wow,” I said, conversationally. “Looks like you added weight-training to your heavy schedule of smoking pot and riding the half-pipe. Kudos.”

“All the better to kick your pretty little ass,” he said with a smile that did not match his menacing tone.

I gasped. “You think I’m pretty?” I asked breathlessly.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a moment. That I wasn’t peeing my pants in terror appeared to be throwing him.

Then, “I know it was you,” he stated.

Well, crap.
[Read more]

« Previous PageNext Page »