A public confession

Nothing makes me ANGRIER than knowing I have a cold Dr. Pepper waiting for me in the fridge . . . only to discover someone else has swiped it without my permission.

Not that I would ever give my permission.

Anyway, I have had major major meltdowns over this issue, and so when I saw a Dr. Pepper in the fridge at work last week--not one of mine--I hesitated. But then I stole it. I KNOW.

I figured it was Viv's. She's the other Dr. Pepper drinker at TKE, and I knew she was out of town, so the plan was to take it and replace it--ta da!--and no one would knew. So I did. And then last night when I went to work I put another one in the fridge. Only I drank THAT ONE before the night was over. So I went to the store again this morning and put another one in the fridge, where it should be safe for a few days because I'm not scheduled to work.

VIV! HURRY UP AND DRINK IT SO I WON'T HAVE TO!

There. Now you all know what kind of person I am.

On the road

Occasionally the kids will say that Dylan, my third son, is most like me. And this is tragic news on the fine motor skills front, because neither one of us is capable of finessing anything that requires small movements and also patience--hence our trouble hooking up the GPS this morning before the two of us took off for San Diego. Dylan and I sat there in front of the Chevron like FOREVER, trying to plug the wire thing into the GPS thing and guess what. Neither one of us could do it. So FINALLY I said to Dylan, let's tell the Gas Station Girl we'll pay her a dollar if she can plug the wire thing into the GPS thing.

Finally! Miracle! We managed to do it for ourselves! So there's one dollar bill that Gas Station Girl will never see.
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Meanwhile I have another place to add to my list of Places that Still Sell Single Cans of Dr. Pepper: the Valley Wells rest stop located in the Mojave Desert. Thank you, Valley Wells!

A plan! A plan! Look, Boss, I have a plan!

Or at least I'm trying to get one lined up.

I'm holed up for the week with the hopes that by the end of it I can have an outline for a mystery, along with a couple of excellent chapters. Also, I would like to emerge from the end of this week looking like Angelina Jolie. A little magical thinking never hurt anyone, right?

At the moment I'm reading a book called HOW TO WRITE KILLER FICTION by Carolyn Wheat, and already it's saved me from thrashing about for several months, trying to figure out what I'm writing. Turns out I am writing a "novel of suspense" instead of a mystery. There's a distinction--sort of like there's a distinction between fantasy and sci-fi, although the two are always lumped in the same category. Basically, in a mystery, the detective is always several steps ahead of the reader. In a novel of suspense, the reader is often several steps ahead of the hero--or at least the reader is swept along with the hero as he/she is plunged into chaos and confusion.

Yes! I love chaos and confusion!

Other points worth noting: Wheat paraphrases one of Salinger's characters who says you should figure out what book you want to read and then write it. Well, of course! That seems so obvious! And yet I realize that for the past few years I've been trying to figure out what book my editors want to read. Hopefully I can find a plot that'll satisfy me and an editor. Who wants to pay me money.