For My Bookworm Friends...

Especially those of you who read sci-fi/fantasy...

We've been eased into "non-traditional" heroes and heroines in these genres over the years. We even have vampire characters who are unarguably blood-suckers, but still good guys. The vamps have come a long way since Bram Stoker.

Is there any reason that a writer couldn't take a leap further into the ever-blurring good/bad character zone?

Is there a line, in your minds, that separates what can be a good guy and what can be a bad guy, based upon what the character is rather than what they do?

With vampire White Hats in books and serial killer vigilantes on TV, is it simply a matter of time, or is there a sensibility line that can't be crossed? And if so, where does it lie? Blood sucking is apparently ok, and being a crazy mofo that does The Bad Thing for the right reasons (Think Edward from the Anita Blake books, god I love that character) but what about animal sacrifice?

If you're squigged out by the idea of animal sacrifice in books and you read Anita Blake though, I'm gonna have to whack you upside the head with a clue.

How about zombies? I mean in the traditional sense (Haitian voodoo) zombies are slaves to their creators, but popular culture has morphed them in many ways over the years. From shambling undead killing machines (either moaning "Braiiiiins" or grunting, it doesn't seem to make much difference) to coherent raised remnants of the dead (a la, you guessed it, Laurell K Hamilton, sorry, I love her books and she pushes the line that I'm addressing so well, it's easy to use her as an example) to movies where they're not really zombies but act like them because of a virus, there's a wide variety of interpretations on zombies now.

Same with werewolves, vampires, witches/wizards, technology, aliens, you name it.

But could you fall in love with a zombie hero?

Is the distinction the characterization? Is it ok to have a creature that would usually be stacked on top of the Black Hat category be a White Hat if he's really a good person, fell into it through no fault of his own, made a mess of things before but had a miraculous bout of leaf-turning and now fights for the side of good?

Or is it the overall tone of the book? Do you prefer a "gray hat" hero in a kick-ass mystery type, or is it easier to love them in a less intense setting like Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse novels? And does there have to be some kind of "bad" material to the character to make it believable? Ms. Harris makes us love Bill the Vampire right along with Sookie for a while, but then it turns out that he's an ass, although more on a personal level than a life-or-death one.

Where are these lines for you?

Just how smudged and stained can a writer make that white hat before he's not a good guy anymore, to you, the reader?

I'm very curious to see what the responses are on this one.

Why The Hell???

Or alternately: Time To Start Shelving The Baseball Bat By The Dryer Sheets.

I've been doing laundry today. It's a harrowing experience, because the building only has one washer and two dryers, for twelve apartments. I also have a lot of stuff which means if I don't catch the washer open when I have time, I tend to say "oh well, I still have clothes" and try again another day.

Sometimes, this results in the Mountain-O-Laundry. Today it's the Mountain-O-Towels, mostly.

I've been doing laundry steadily since ten this morning. At one point I went out and someone had opened the washer (presumably after the cycle had finished since I knew it was nearly done the last time I was out there.) Ohhhkay someone else is needing to do their laundry. Unlike a couple of others in the building, if I'm doing my laundry and see someone peeking into the laundry room (more like a laundry niche) every ten minutes, and I have enough done that I'm not in danger of having to go to the grocery store in my unmentionables for lack of a t-shirt, I'll leave the washer open once my current load is done cycling. Generally they jump right in there and get theirs in, no fuss.

So, I left the washer open. Nada.

Went out to check on the time on the dryer, and someone had opened the door on it, thus halting the operation, but not the timer.

I'm having a major Whiskey Tango Foxtrot moment here. Why the hell would you do something like that? It's bad enough that the complex won't allow you, under any circumstances, to put in your own damn washer and dryer because they get a kickback from the coin-op company, without someone wasting my $1.25 on top of it.

Leave my damn laundry alone. I don't mess with yours.

Of course, the repeat has me wondering (in my suspicious twisted mind) if it's not some skeez looking for women's skivvies to paw. For their sake, I almost hope it's just your run of the mill branch of the peckerwood tree, or Sumdood's slightly-less-evil cousin, the Laundry Gnome.

I catch someone other than Cowboy Mechanic coon-fingering my butt-covers I'm gonna give em an excuse to get a brand new pair of their own, the absorbent kind the nice nurses put on you when you just can't help yourself.

Wait, What?

Perusing my sitemeter I came across this link.

I'm not really sure what the heck is going on with this but I'm kind of flattered that they included this little blog in it.

Anyone have any ideas as to what the heck this is all about?

Ohhkay Then

Well. Apparently I've become an organized writer over night. Either that or I'm being possessed by a character that I didn't know about.

That new thing I mentioned briefly before? It's taking on a life of it's own. It's been cropping up here and there (at least once a day, not always when I'm writing) for a while. I finally decided to sit down and take some notes on it. All of a sudden I have a concept, a general plot outline, an idea of who my villain(s) are, and a list (yes, a list... I never list things, except on the blog for clarity) of Questions That Must Be Answered.

I'm stopping now because I'm starting to get dizzy and I think if I don't I'll come back to myself in six months with a finished novel....

And everyone thinking I'm dead.

Dumb Question, Lady.

The customer service craze has gone entirely too far when people stop noticing critical details, in favor of a generic greeting.

For instance, if a young woman walks up to your grocery store check out line looking pale, droopy, wearing baggy clothes and purchasing only the jumbo size Jug-O-Pepto, a cheerful "And how are you today?" Just isn't all that appropriate.

I spent yesterday with one end or the other aimed at the toilet. Today isn't so bad, I've been able to stay out of the bathroom for significant amounts of time and I've even felt brave enough to leave the house a couple of times. To get the Pepto, for instance. I haven't puked at all today, yay me! But I do have a knot in my stomach that is just not fun at all.

Regardless, when I'm feeling like something that got run over in the pasture, I don't want some chirpy cashier making me feel that much worse by being (argh) perky.

Writing, Writing, Writing away...

Ya'll have been woefully neglected lately, and I sincerely apologize. I've been writing my coon-dog butt off lately, and none of it has been for this blog. Bad Farmgirl!

But, I have made some progress on Jane, and I'm considering starting another book that's been floating around in the back of my head. Just gotta draw up an outline so I know what the heck I'm writing about. And figure out my characters. The protagonist is already jumping up and down in the back of my head screaming for her chance, and screaming at me that I made her a hooker in an earlier short version of the concept. Sorry, lady, but you won't even tell me your name....

Meanwhile, I've been reading Miss Snark's Blog like it's holy writ. Stumbled across it through some of my web cruising in writers resources, trying to learn a bit about the publishing business before I finish the book or books and start diving in with query letters. Miss Snark, while no longer posting, unfortunately, is an agent in New York and she straightens out some of the more convoluted pathways to that great brass ring, becoming a published author.

She's my hero. Whoever she is.

Also, I've been trying to write some more currently publishable stuff, short stories for magazines and such. Haven't gotten them to the polished gem state yet, so nothing is sent off, but I'm working on it.

Trying to break into writing for money is a bit frustrating, to be honest. I'm working hard and getting a lot done, without a lot of real results except for the ever-increasing word counts on my own personal hard drive. Once I get something published, I'm going to be doing a happy dance, and rubbing Cowboy Mechanic's nose in the check.

He's very supportive of my writing, in a "that's cute honey, you go ahead and write" kind of way. He asks about progress, how much I got written on a particular day, and makes appreciative noises when I say that I came up with a fantastic concept for a short story... but he's not a writer, so the finer points escape him, most of the time. Ah well, can't have everything, and I have other writers I can talk to, when they're not just as swamped as I get sometimes. ( Ya hear me, AD?? I'm gonna be sending you some more stuff soon!)

And, that's what I've been doing. I'll try to share more with ya'll as I can. I'm going to withhold Jane, evil person that I am, on the chance that she'll get published, but I'll share some of the short stories.

I'll try to be a better blogger from here out.

On The Road Again, Just Can't Wait To Be On Th.... Hey! Slow Down!

Well, Farmgirl is back on the road, albeit perhaps for a short time.

Got a call last night from a good friend who happens to be a Stuporvisor for the old company, and he was in a bit of a bind. Sure thing, bud, I'll work a day or two and help you out.

Gratitude is always a good thing. A paycheck ain't nothing to sneeze at either.

Friends... your loving scribe may not be getting swivel-chair spread (ha, like I'd ever be that lucky!) from her newfound devotion to her writing and schoolwork, but she is woefully out of road-work shape. And color, although I got a good start on rectifying that little problem with the spiffy sunburn I got today.

I also ran into yet another of those people who know, and like, and remember me vividly.... and I have no freaking clue who they are. Maybe Farmmom can help me out on this one, T.L.M. company supervisor, long black hair, goatee. He mentioned you too, woman, so I'm halfway hoping you don't know who the heck he is either, at least then I'll know I'm not the only one.

Meanwhile, I had the "easy" job today (unfortunately not the easiest, I wasn't boss's little helper) in the middle. Got to stand by the hole they're digging and watch them play with their over sized Tonka toys.

The minute problem with this is that the hole they're digging is apparently smack on top of the "seepage" area for an old gas station. And by seepage, I mean massive tank failure.

We're talking black, slimy mud, that smells like old diesel and gas. You know, that stuff that granddad bought forty years ago and stuck in the barn "for later" and forgot about, until he wanted you to clean out said barn and the fifty gallon drums disintegrated as soon as you touched them.

They dug it up. They covered it over with fresh dirt. At this point I breathed a sigh of relief that was entirely too early. They dug it up again, played in it, made mud pies, turned it over, did a pagan rite that I'm pretty sure isn't legal to participate in in private in at least three states, let alone in broad daylight on a public highway in rural Colorado. In between each of these activities they'd stand around and look at it.

This, for those of you who aren't familiar with the road construction (and probably any other construction) biz, is what is known as "the FUBAR mind meld."

It is used when something is Effed Up Beyond All Recognition to the point that no one can even think of something to do that looks constructive. So they gather in groups and stare at the problem, willing it away.

Frankly when things like that happen outside of the area I have to run traffic in, I just erect a simple SEP field (linkage provided for the non-Hitchhikers in my readership) around it and continue with my day.

It would have worked too, if the odor hadn't been so danged obnoxious, jumping up and down and causing drivers to suddenly lose consciousness as they went past.

Farmgirl has a headache. And feet aches. And knee aches, and back aches, and sunburn aches. And she smells like a hooker on an abandoned oiler rig.

I'm off to shower, take some Advil, and collapse into my loving bed. Tomorrow, I'll probably be in jail for murdering my friend, who learned too well from Farmmom and asked me if I could work the rest of the week this morning when I was feeling good.

*grumble* Nine hour days means I can work through Friday before I get shut down on hours. Thankfully, they plan to cover the muck up again tomorrow, although I fear that leaving it exposed tonight means that we'll discover two-headed giraffes have invaded Holly tomorrow.

Either that or Zaphod Beeblebrox will show up to tell me that I'm an insufferable prat.

As long as he's holding a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster that I can use to burn out my nose, I'm fine with that....