A day of birthdays and festivals

It's October 12th. Do you know what that means? Yes, yes, it is the official date of Columbus Day, since abandoned in favor of the second Monday in October, but more than that, it is the birthdate of this guy:

Don't recognize him? Try him a few years older:

It's my son, Marcus. He's 20 years old today. (I haven't aged - how did he get so old?) As a toddler, he was obsessed with cars and at three years old could tell the difference between any make and model, and I mean ANY make and model. The day we were driving down the street and he said, of the car next to us, "That's a Ford Bronco. It's an '89," is the day I officially called it creepy.

At 20, he is at the California State University, Long Beach Bob Cole Conservatory of Music, studying vocal jazz and composition. In between cars and music, there were passionate interests in bugs, dinosaurs, the Titanic, soccer, Pokemon, and dancing.

I am just proud to be the mom of a kid who invests himself in curiosity. I wish everyone wanted to know everything about something.

In other news, on Saturday, I'll be in the Placentia Heritage Parade. You can't miss me. I'll be the one wearing the tiara. After the parade I'll take up my usual spot as an author in my booth in Tri-City Park. If you're in the Placentia area, come by and say hello. The Heritage Festival is nothing but fun!

It's CFC Day

It's an alternate Thursday, which means I'm in an alternate universe, known as the Crime Fiction Collective blog. Today, I'm discussing conventions and conferences, their differences and similarities and what to expect from each.

Come on by and visit me there.

P.S. Honk if you get the association with this picture.

Highlights from Duarte

I love the Duarte Author Festival and will always attend, as long as there is nothing pressing scheduled, and I mean pressing as in major surgery, not pressing as in Girls' Road Trip. I want to give a great big shout-out to Pat De Rose who sends out endless emails and puts together forms and puts up with authors who forget to reserve their table and have a zillion questions and want to move their tables around because there's too much sun and it disturbs their chi.

Thank you, Pat, for what must be a thankless job.

Although this festival seemed a little less populated this year, in terms of tables and patrons, it was a lot of fun. Of course, there were those friends who I missed. Pam and her niece, Alyssa, will be back next year, I hope. Jeff Sherratt will not. I missed his presence, missed looking over and seeing him standing and talking to someone, always talking to someone. He was one gregarious guy.

Teresa Burrell was at my table, though, and we had a good time discussing publishing and writing and families and more. We sat on a panel together and got to tell a good crowd all about our books and ourselves. I think we each sold enough books to cover the cost of the table, and gave out a lot of bookmarks to people who have ebooks.

I may need an app, so I can sell them on the spot.

Apart from an encounter with an interestingly prim older woman who described in great detail her attendance at a bondage seminar and subsequent homework, my highlight was actually being interviewed by a couple of Duarte High School students who were filming for the local cable-TV station as part of their ROP program. Isaiah was my actual interviewer, a junior who wants to be a writer. And a director and an actor.

Watch out, Matt Damon.

We kept having to start the interview over because people kept walking in between us and the camera, but it was so darn much fun, I didn't care. As they were setting up for the third (or was it the fourth?) take, he said, "I have to say, you're my most fun interview today."

That's who I am: the fun one.

Next weekend, I'll be at the Placentia Heritage Festival in Tri-City Park. First of all, I'm going to be in the parade as a Library Trustee. Maybe someday, I'll be in the parade as Famous Local Author. (Readers of Hit or Missus might think I already have.)

The Duarte Author Festival was supported heavily by Ray Bradbury, and part of my fondness for it stems from meeting him there. It only seems fitting to include a video of him, talking about his passions.


Reading, writing, and libraries. What's not to love?

Duarte, here I (we?) come

I have been working steadily toward my goal of finishing Snoopy's memoir by the first week of November, mostly by sitting my tushie down and writing, but also by scheduling my week so I know when I am available to write. One of the things I've discovered is that planning/wishing to write is useless when my day is already crammed with other activities. Better to let that day be what it is, and schedule the day that works.

Today, I scheduled a non-writing day, even though I am only busy in the late morning (and sort of early afternoon) taking a riding lesson. What else could be so important?

I have to get my books and stuff ready for the Duarte Author Festival this Saturday. I won't tell you this is a big money-maker for me. It's not. It's a lot of schlepping and schmoozing for a few book sales. Why do it?

1. It's in a beautiful venue, so I feel I have not schlepped in vain.

2. Schlepping aside, I like schmoozing, and people actually recognize me from the previous years. I know that I can get signups to be alerted to my next book release, and gather more fans.

3. This is the festival where I met Ray Bradbury. It will always have a place in my heart.

4. I usually get to spend the day with one of my good writing buddies, Pam Carter Ripling (writing as Anne Carter). I love her lighthouse mysteries, and she's such a peach. (Note: she will not be here this year and I'm dying just a little, but Tee Burrell will be sharing the table and she's equally good company.)

Pam's on the right (her funny/cute niece Alyssa is on the left, and our dear friend Jeff is in the middle)

5. This is a fundraiser for the Friends of the Duarte Library. How can I not support that?

Now that I've listed why I will be there, here are five good reasons why YOU should join me:

1. It's not that far away (Westminster Gardens, 1420 Santo Domingo Ave, Duarte). Only thirty minutes from my house in Orange County, for Pete's sake.

2. Once you get there, it looks like this.

Pretty, yes?

3. They have over 50 authors, entertainment, children's activities, and panels where authors talk about books.

4. Did I mention this is a library fundraiser?

5. You can schmooze with moi. I'll have my physical books for sale, plus a sign-up sheet for my soon-to-be-released third mystery, The Hot Mess. PLUS, if you visit my Facebook Author Page, there is a secret code for getting a big discount on any of my books, including the new one.

Now that I've given you all the reasons to come, and there's no reason not to (other than band practice or heart surgery), when can I expect you to show up?

I'm not Lisa*

As you can see on the side panel of this blog, I have two books of humor essays, culled from the columns I write for the Placentia News-Times (I am currently on hiatus until the election is over, but plan to return).

A few light-months ago, someone took me to task for having the audacity to mention Erma in the titles. Most people know this refers to the late but very great Erma Bombeck. She is the queen of the Slice of Life Humor Essay, having written over 4,000 columns before her very untimely death in 1996. The unnamed individual believed that it turned Erma-lovers off, to have someone mention her name in connection with their own writing.

When someone criticizes something I have done or said, my first instinct is to say, "Oh, no! Maybe they're right! Maybe I'm not funny, maybe I didn't think this through, maybe I am as dumb as I look." Or something to that effect. If confronted head-on, I tend to fold and claim stupidity. If it's something in writing, I'm able to walk away and examine it, to see if I truly am an idiot.

So after months of examination, I can finally see the forest and the trees. Here's my answer:

I didn't name my books after Erma because I think I am the next Erma Bombeck. No one is the next Erma Bombeck. She came along in the 60s with a fresh voice, who said out loud what so many wives and moms were thinking: Why the hell does anyone think housework is fun and childrearing is easy? Of course, she said it in some truly hilarious ways. She was both talented AND unique for her time.

There are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Ermas now. We all feel free to tell the world just what happened to us today and why we have to laugh about it because otherwise we'd have to sit down and cry and that makes our faces puffy. There are so many of us doing it that, when I was looking around to try to be syndicated, lots of newspapers and magazines said, "No slice of life pieces." I can only guess they are inundated with men and women who had a bad day and want to write about it in a funny way.

It's cheaper than therapy.

Erma led the charge. She was the first, and no one will ever replace her. Her followers (like me) work like crazy to be funny and poignant, as she was, but we all know she created the blueprint for us.

I like to think karma made me a humor essayist, because Erma and I share the same birthday - February 21 (not the same year).

I used Erma in my books' titles because 1) I share her sense of humor, and 2) I aspire to be like her. Some people think I'm as funny as Erma, and some do not. Humor is subjective and that is just something humor writers have to steel themself against. If I don't quite make it up to her quality (in some people's opinions), at least everyone knows where I'm aiming.

So the answer is that I made the right decision. At some point, I plan to put out one more Erma book. I like things in threes.

*The reason for this post's title is that, when I was first criticized, I thought, "Well, I'm not Erma," and this song jumped, immediately, into my head.


BTW, this is from an episode of Hee Haw. Loved Buck Owens.