Okay, yes. I'm painfully aware that lately, the only time I post here is to announce that I'm blogging at Working Stiffs . But I'm doing it again. I've posted pictures over there from the Pennwriters and Sisters in Crime Christmas parties. Just so you know, though, I'll be back here in a more regular fashion SOON. My excuse for not blogging is a good one. I'm driving to finish the rewrite of HORSE OF A DIFFERENT KILLER so I can send it off to the agent I've been working with by early January. My plan is to finish this draft (#546) by Friday so I can take the holiday weekend off. Then print it out and give it another quick pass between Christmas and New Years. THEN send it off to my beta readers so they can catch the stuff I've missed. And THEN (drumroll, please) send it to the agent by the middle of the month. At which point, I will collapse for a day or two before picking myself up and starting in on all the stuff I've been neglecting. Like m...

I'm still up to my eyeballs in my revisions, but I'm coming up for air today to get a haircut. And to blog at Working Stiffs . So in the spirit of multitasking, I'm blogging about getting a haircut. Bangs, or no bangs, that is the question.

Nanowrimo is over for another year. However my revision version marches on. I met my goal for November. In fact, I beat it by 17 pages! With that kind of momentum going, now is not the time to sit back and bask in the satisfaction. Now is the time to keep going. So, I've reset my writing clock. Instead of slacking off, I’m determined to maintain the pace. Thirty pages a week. At that rate, I should be done by Christmas. “Done” being a highly relative term. Let’s rephrase that. I should have a revised draft by Christmas. Of course, I’ll still need to read through it to catch the mistakes I made in the rewrite. My critique buddies have already pointed out that I duplicated a scene. Oops. I hate when that happens. Today’s goal? Six pages. Reasonable. Do-able. I’d rather think I could manage 10 pages, but I have to take a break at some point and prepare veggies. Tomorrow is my first Christmas party of the season and I’m taking brussel sprouts and cauliflower roasted with rosema...

I just hit page 230 of my rewrite. That means I only have ten more pages to write before the end of the month to meet my Nanowrimo Revision Version goal. Yeah, I think I’ll make it. Especially since my hubby is leaving tomorrow morning for five days at his family’s hunting camp. During those five days, the only thing I have planned outside the house is a trip to the grocery store. And I’m putting that off as long as possible. I hate going shopping this time of year. Here’s my idea: stores should block off one morning a week for regular shoppers only. No Christmas shoppers allowed. “Regular” shoppers would not be permitted to sneak any gift buying in on their allotted time. I mean, that’s only fair, right? But those of us who have to buy milk and eggs and toilet paper (not to mention cat food) shouldn’t have to deal with the frantic holiday crowds and the parking lots just to purchase our essentials. Yeah, I know. Ain’t gonna happen. But a girl can dream. Okay, back to writing. Af...

...for Skye. Ho hum.

Yesterday morning, when the world here in “farm country” was quiet, I kept hearing a motor running. I imagine in the city, no one pays attention to such things, since there are always cars and trucks bustling along the streets. Even here, there’s a lot of truck traffic. Not to mention we’re relatively close to the Pittsburgh Airport and are under one of the flight paths. But this was different somehow. Like a car idling outside my window. Only there weren’t any vehicles with engines running. I stepped out on my porch. The sound was there, but I still couldn’t locate it. A steady monotonous rumble. I mentioned it to Hubby, but he didn’t have any answers for me. Until today. He spotted the source on his way home from errands. It’s begun. If you’ve followed me here for any length of time, you know that I’ve been waiting for the onslaught of Marcellus Shale drilling to occur. We leased our gas rights over a year ago and rumors have been flying about when and if they would ever dri...

Diversions. Another form of procrastination. And in case anyone didn’t know, I am the Queen of Procrastination. Saturday, I took a day off my revision version of Nano to proctor the written exam for Pittsburgh police recruits. I’d done this a couple of years ago and found it interesting, so I agreed to do it again. I arrived at the convention center at 8:30 in the morning and joined other bleary-eyed proctors setting up the room for the testing. I was assigned to section G and pretty much knew from past experience that my section wouldn’t fill up. But we still had to go through the motions. Label the tablecloth with section-row-seat numbers. Lay out cardstock, answer sheets, test booklets, and pencils. Other important tasks involved stuff like locating the restroom. Always a vital piece of information. We had our orientation at 9:30. And at 10:00, we positioned ourselves by our assigned tables and the doors opened to the recruits. Roughly one thousand aspiring police officers ...

The Dashofy Revision Version of Nanowrimo is going quite well. I only need three more pages to make my first week’s goal. It won’t happen today because I’m spending the morning proctoring the police recruits testing for the city of Pittsburgh . I’ve done this before. It’s an odd combination of interesting and mind-numbing boredom. All the interesting stuff happens in the first hour: setting up the testing area, orientation, watching the shiny-faced eager recruits enter the room and be seated. The rest of the time is spent walking around the same table, making sure no one cheats. That’s the boring part. But it’s a way of giving back for the Citizen’s Police Academy experience. Later, I’m heading to my friend Jessi’s house for a Breeders Cup party. The Breeders Cup, in case you don’t know, is the richest day in horse racing. And it isn’t aired on network TV, which is all I have. So for the second year, I’m hanging out with Jessi and her family and watching it there. It’s fun. I’ve p...

I not only met my goal for yesterday, I surpassed it. Eight pages! Today will be a bit more difficult. I have an Avon order to invoice and a yoga class to teach before I can get to my writing. So I think I'll set today's goal at 5 pages and be happy with 3.

I’ll be offline all day today. That seems to be the only way I can get any serious writing done. And I intend to get some serious writing done today. Annette Dashofy’s Revision Version of Nanowrimo begins! That name is way too long. ADRVN? No. Oh, well. I can’t waste precious writing time trying to come up with something better. Anyone out there care to join me? This is an unofficial, make-it-up-as-we-go-along version of Nanowrimo. Set your own goals. Feel free to post them here if you want me to nag/cajole/encourage you to meet them. You can do the same right back at me. My goal for today is 6 pages. I’m tempted to say 7, but I’m a wuss. I hate to fail on the first day.

Happy Halloween. We get zilch in the way of trick-or-treaters around here. In fact, the only time we EVER had trick-or-treaters was when my cousin lived next door and her kids were little. Often, though, I’ve purchased candy JUST IN CASE. Which means I have to eat it all myself. Darn. But not this year. Lately, writing time battles with treadmill time, and the writing time is winning. So no bag of miniature Reese’s Cups for me. Instead of focusing on Halloween, I’m thinking of this as Nanowrimo Eve. Originally, I’d planned to spend it getting a jump-start on my page count. And since I’m doing my own revision version of Nano, and since I’m making up my own rules for it, starting early would not be deemed cheating. However, I’ve decided NOT to cheat anyway. Instead, I intend to spend the day cleaning house. Boy, do I know how to have fun or what? Seriously, the house needs it. I’ve been letting things pile up (literally) for months now while using the revisions excuse. “I have ...

November is National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as Nanowrimo . The idea is to pound out an entire 50,000 word novel in one month. I’ve never participated. I do too much editing as I go along to put out those kinds of numbers. But I’m always in awe of those writers who do take part, whether they succeed or not. This year, while I still don’t plan to sign up for the official version, I do think I’m going to do my own adaptation of the challenge. I’m currently on page 120 of my revised manuscript. I’ve decided to set a goal of 30 pages a week for the month of November. That would give me double what I have now and put me within 100 pages of being finished. Do I think I’ll meet that goal? Probably not. But I’ll give it my best shot. Honestly, it’s well within my capabilities to write that much. But as soon as I make any high-minded plans, I fully expect life to get in the way. At least if I set an outrageous goal, I’ll accomplish more than if I don’t push myself at all. I...

We survived the retreat without a major weather event, but that's not to say we got through it without a good story or two. I'm blogging about it over at Working Stiffs today where I ask the question: How many women crime writers does it take to break into a house?

We’re trying it again. Our local Sisters in Crime chapter seems to have a reputation for not being in Mother Nature’s good graces. We had a blizzard the day Hallie Ephron came to town to present a workshop for us. Our Christmas party was cancelled one year because of a major ice storm. And our last writing retreat in the spring of 2010 will forever be known as The Great Flood and Writers’ Retreat . But ever undaunted, we’re taking another stab at it. This weekend, we’re heading back to Confluence, although we’re staying in a different place this time. The scariest part for me is the fact that I've somehow become the sole presenter. I never intended it that way. It just happened. And we only have one other attendee who is a Great Flood survivor. The rest are all newbies, eager to find out what natural disaster will befall us this time. Frankly, I’m afraid the natural disaster will be me, boring them all to tears. Yes, my insecurities are showing. At least I got a nice bo...

Pennwriters board of directors, of which I’ve been a member for more years than I care to count, holds three meetings a year. In February, we have a teleconference meeting. In May we have a short evening meeting the Thursday before our annual conference. And in October, we have the big mega meeting that lasts all day, and during which, we hammer out the bulk of the year’s business. That meeting was this past Saturday in DuBois , PA. This is a new location for us, and frankly, it was a huge improvement. In past years, we met at a “rustic” motel that shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent. I liked their meeting room and the food, but the guest rooms? No internet. No heat. No hot water. Seriously. Cold showers. It could be that the guest rooms were on a hillside above the restaurant and meeting rooms, and the hot water tank was down there and the hot water just never made it up the hill. And it could be that they hadn’t turned the heat on for the season yet. But I froze!...

Betcha thought I dropped off the face of the earth. No such luck. I’m still here. I’ve just been busy writing. I’ve had a bit of an epiphany about writing. Namely, it’s hard work. I used to write for me. It was an escape. A way of putting myself into a different world and letting my characters do stuff I’d never do in a million years. It was fun. Now that I’m “on the cusp” of being ready for publication (That’s not my phrase. Three different people have told me I’m “on the cusp.” Whatever that means.) I have to think more about my potential readers and what THEY want. Apparently, in today’s market, it’s not necessarily the same thing. But my goal is to make some money at this writing gig. I’m realistic. I’m not expecting riches. I’m not even expecting a self-supporting living wage. Just some money . And to do that, I have to give the reader more consideration than I give my own corny tastes. So I’m working . Really, really hard. Which is why I haven’t been blogging as much as...

My friend Ramona Long and I have teamed up for today's blog post over at Working Stiffs to talk about the Outlaws of Love...our name for those illiterate and grammar-challenged guys on Facebook who keep propositioning us.

Like everyone else, I’ve spent the last couple of days thinking back ten years. Not only about September 11, 2001, but about September 10, 2001. About how different our world was on the 10 th when compared to the 11 th . And every day since. The United States lost its innocence on that Tuesday morning ten years ago. I was blissfully unaware of the events as they unfolded. I was in the basement of the Milsop Community Center in Weirton , West Virginia , teaching my regular yoga class. When class ended at 10AM, I stopped at the front desk on my way out and the lady behind the counter told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center . I grinned stupidly at her, waiting for the punch line to what I was certain was a very bad joke. Even when I realized it was true, I believed it was a horrible accident. Until I was told a second plane had hit the other tower. I listened to the events unfold on my radio as I drove home. I don’t have a true sense of the order of things happening...

Yesterday morning as I walked home from a visit with my mom, I heard pounding from across the road. The reason this got my attention is the only things across the road are empty fields and my grandfather’s long-vacant farmhouse. The pounding was followed by a crash, which helped me locate the source of the sound. Someone was on the roof, tearing off the sheeting, and tossing it to the ground below. I grew up in that house. I’ve written about it here before. My grandparents have been dead for over 30 years and the house has gone through several owners since it passed out of the family’s hands. The current owner let it fall into such a state of disrepair that it’s now hopeless. The roof was already half gone, thanks to windstorms. The foundation is collapsing. Most of the windows are broken, their shutters hanging askew. The back door stands open. The front porch has crumbled to a heap. I used to dread the day that the place finally met its end. Now, since I have to look at...

This is a celebratory week for our family of fur kids. Yesterday, marked one year since Kensi moved into our house. She was so tiny then. She’s still small, but that’s okay. With her high-energy antics, if she were any bigger, she’d wreck our house. Camping is torture for her. The camper is too small to contain her. No place to run. So she spends her time either watching wildlife outside the window or digging in the litter box. Not necessarily USING the litter box. Just digging in it. Then digging at the throw rugs. And digging at my shoes. We get up in the morning to find my slipper in her water bowl and the rugs in crumpled heaps. Busy, busy, busy. Here’s a camping shot of her as she contemplates my manuscript. Everyone’s a critic. On top of Kensi’s one-year anniversary with us, TODAY marks four years since Skye became part of our family. She’s such a love bug. And she’s very much MY cat. Kensi is Daddy’s girl. Skye will let Hubby rub her ears or scratch her chin for a moment...