Girls Write Out
Tuesday, January 30, 2007

The "IT" Factor
What is that special quality, that you can't describe but that just attracts people? I wish you could bottle it, I really do. This is Daniel Craig, the new Bond and I gotta say, he's got it. David Beckham has it. Tom Cruise had it. Sandra Bullock has it. It's that invisible quantity that can't be measured but that people want to be around. We've been house-hunting in our family and we've seen a lot of houses. Some are just weird. Some are too perfect. I'm so sick of the taupe look with bland granite, stainless steel appliances and no personality. No "it" factor.

We bought a house this weekend. It doesn't have a gourmet kitchen. In fact, it doesn't have a kitchen at all, we'll have to put one in. It wasn't the biggest we looked at, but it's got a very warm feel to what's there. It's not really landscaped, but has great potential. But it's so interesting because we took the kids to nicer, bigger houses and yet they all agreed, nope the yellow one is it. Isn't that strange that they'd get it to?

My husband was skeptical. Of course, he's seeing weekends gone. But I, as his wife, know it just means we'll do it over time because he's not a handyman. He CAN be, but he's not. Just like I CAN be a cook, I just choose other pastimes. So while you're thinking on the "it" factor, let me know who you think has it. We move in mid-March. : ) Kristin
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The previews ran on TV all last week. The first time I heard it, I shook my head. It was the ad for the Screen Actors Guild Awards. I admit, I don't follow Hollywood too closely. Truthfully, I don't really care who's dating whom or who made the latest scene on national TV or who's earning what per movie.

But the ad caught my attention. The Awards program was pitched as "The only award by actors, for actors." What? It isn't enough that they're rewarded by the industry in the Daytime Emmys and Primetime Emmys and Oscars, and that they're recognized by the public in the People's Choice Awards? They have to have their own award given by themselves? Maybe I'm all wet, but it puts me in mind of a birthday party thrown by the birthday boy.

People must care or they wouldn't televise it every year. I'm sure they tuned in to the awards program in droves to see who wore what and who won what. But me? I lit a fire in the fireplace and curled up with a good book. Now that's entertainment.

Denise Hunter  
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Sunday, January 28, 2007

If I could cut my head off, I would not only lose ten pounds of dead weight (if you tell my husband I said that, I’ll deny it), I’m certain I would feel better.

Lots of writers suffer with migraines, and I happen to be among them. There are many different things that can trigger them, and everyone is different, but I’ve found two of my triggers are changes in barometric pressure and hormones. Being 51 and living in the Midwest, well, that just puts me in a bad place, that’s all.

I handed my husband my new prescription for Zomig and said, “If you want to get rid of my dark side, you might want to fill this.” He kicked up dust so fast, a small tornado formed in his wake.

I’m beginning to understand that whole hibernating bear thing. Ever noticed the disposition of a bear? Exactly. That’s why they hibernate. It’s God’s way of separating the good, bad and the ugly. Now I’m not going to tell you which category I fall into right now, but let me just say, it’s not the first one. Please tell me you’re surprised.

I should be caged—or at the very least strait-jacketed. My husband, bless his heart, feels my pain (literally) and wants to make life easier for me. His current plans are to stuff me in a sandwich board that reads: “Give me chocolate. I won't hurt you. Your choice," and then dump at the nearest street corner. Cold, I know, but honestly, it works for me.

So what do you do for your headaches?
Diann Hunt  
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Thursday, January 25, 2007
My sweet Donna has coined a new word in the Coble household: Wii injury. (The Wii is pronounced like WE). My baby girl Kara was the first to experience this phenomenon. She'd overdosed on Wii by bowling ALL DAY until late at night on the day after Christmas. When we went shopping, I had to rub her shoulder because she had a big knot.

The kids got me a Wii game for my birthday and we've been playing it every night. Watching my husband bowl, you'd think he was actually the bowling alley. He takes the stance, brings the controller up to his chest, turns his feet exactly the way he does in the alley. As the ball strikes the pins, he leaps and kicks his foot out like the ball is kicking over to get that last pin. It's a riot!

My own technique is a little more sedate. I also find myself taking my typical bowling stance. I loft the ball down the alley. And I also happen to the be the reigning champion of the Wii bowling game in our family. It's kind of cool to actually be GOOD at something! LOL

You want to hear something REALLY cool? Wii is supposed to help you lose weight and I HAVE dropped three pounds since Christmas. Now I am actually watching what I eat, but I'm choosing to believe it's all about the game.

And the fact I'm beating everyone's butt in bowling. LOL
Colleen Coble  
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Wednesday, January 24, 2007

"Where's the Scotch tape?" Kevin asks from the kitchen.

"In the craft cupboard right behind the crayon box," I call from the other room.

Moments pass. "It's not there."

I sigh. "Yes, it is. Eye level, in the clear plastic tub labeled ART SUPPLIES." I go back to reading my book and begin to get lost in the story again.

"It's not HERE!"

I enter the kitchen and reach past him, past the crayon box, and into the art supplies tub. I move one thing. ONE THING. And there it is. The tape. What a shock.

I hand it wordlessly over to Kevin. Okay, so I have a certain look on my face, but it isn't the first time this has happened. I used to say to him what I say to the boys when they fail to find what's right under their nose: "Sometimes you have to move something and look under it." Maybe my tone was a little patronizing, and okay, maybe a little sarcastic too. But is it so hard?

I used to think Kevin was just faking it, like he did with, say, hanging up dress pants (I just can't find the creases like you do . . . ) or ironing (I can't get the shirt to fit on the board . . . ). But the longer I'm married (and the longer I raise three boys) the more I think most males are just born without the Find It Gene.

But that's all right, I guess, since I'm missing the Memory Gene. Sure, I can find things. If I can remember where I put them.

Now, where did that to-do list go?
Denise Hunter  
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Tuesday, January 23, 2007
My name is Kristin and I have a book addiction. Easily taken care of by the free library down the street you're thinking. But unfortunately, I also have this weird thing about library books. I cannot help but think of George Costanza in the bathroom with that giant book on Seinfeld and the library...well, I just can't do it. I can't read someone else's book (unless a friend gives it to me, that's different.) I don't know where that book has been. It's not mine. I can't drop it into the bathtub. I will have to pay as much for it because I will probably lose it, so I have sworn off libraries and with as much as I read, it's an expensive addiction. I went to Barnes & Noble the other day. There was a new Thomas Hardy biography. I led with this, "I'm just going to go in, get the Hardy biography, nothing else and come out..." Much like an alcoholic says he's going to a bar and going to have a Pepsi. I cannot be let loose in the bookstore. $110 later, i was done. And here's the really bad part, I'm half way through with all the books and I haven't read the Hardy one yet!

First, I saw this cover of a nerdy kid and it said, "Kick Me". Just made me laugh, then I find out that it's from the writer of "Freaks & Geeks", one of the best, albeit short-lived TV shows on television. I HAD to get that. Then, I'd been investing so I had to know how women should invest. I bought the book, "Nice Girls Don't Get Rich". I thought, hey, I'm not that nice, I'd like to be rich, that book is for me. It goes on from there with my book choices and in the end, I hope I will be better for them, but the reality is, I really should deal with my library issue.

Coming to you live from my new Apple Computer. I've made the switch and so far, so good. Kristin
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Monday, January 22, 2007

My husband and I still date on Friday nights. Okay, truth be known, my kitchen has been closed since 1998 when the kids left home, but on Friday nights we not only eat out, we usually go to a movie (decent ones, mind you). We’re actually kind of in a rut these days, because if there’s not a new movie on, we don’t know what to do. So what are the options?

We tried laser tag once. Any of you ever do that? If you haven’t, don’t. I’m a non-violent person by nature and it just goes against my grain to target people, you know? So I’d hide out in forgotten corners and wait on the cease-fire alert. Unfortunately, I was as inconspicuous as a bull moose in a china shop. Did you know little kids can smell fear a mile away? They stalked me the entire evening. I kept saying, “Shoo, go away little people,” but they just kept laughing viciously and zapping me with their razor sharp beams. I felt as though I was caught up in a cross between Star Trek and Zorro.

Then there’s always bowling. You know the one. Where you pick up a ball that’s heavier than your car, stuff your thumb and fingers into it, step up to the arrows on the floor and release said ball from your grasp, praying all the while your body doesn’t go with it. After a clean release, the entire room--that was only seconds before alive with conversation, exploding pins, and movement—comes to a complete standstill as everyone watches your ball go barreling down your lane, bounce two lanes over and still manage a gutter, never once hitting a single pin. Speaking of pins yours are heckling, pointing and making bets on your next attempt.

Don’t even talk to me about Putt-Putt. I tried it once. The line waiting behind me pretty much resembled the Israelite Exodus from Egypt.

We do have friends over from time-to-time, but they always beat me at board games, so I’m a little bitter about that.

So unless you can give us other ideas, we’re doomed to dinner and a Blockbuster rental until a new decent movie comes out.

Any ideas?
Diann Hunt  
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Saturday, January 20, 2007
I couldn't take it. What good is having Susie here if we can't show off her cover. Dang, this is a cover! Kristin
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Friday, January 19, 2007
Hey bloggers, I'm happy to post a blog from our friend Susie Warren. Her new book Reclaiming Nick is just coming out. It makes it especially fun to post today because it's also my birthday. Shh, I'm 55 but don't tell anyone. Holy cow, I feel old today!

Just a cowgirl…

When I was little, I had a horse named Sun Dancer. He lived in my basement, in the corner, and his springs squeaked when I rode him. He ate things like Cheerios and potato chips, and on him, I galloped the rolling hills of Montana, chasing down them varmints who stole my pappy’s land.

Yeah, I wanted to be a cowgirl. But it ain’t easy to emulate Annie Oakley when you live in the suburbs. So I read a lot of Louis L’amour and dreamed of the day when I’d move west and start my dude ranch.

But my vision of ranching was Bonanza, and little Joe, and cute cowboys in Stetsons, and horses. It was Oklahoma and square dancing and rodeo. Boiled down, I thought ranching was a country music song.

I got news for you. It ain’t. I know because I spent a week playing cowgirl on a real ranch, helping the owners dig a water line, and riding fence. It’s hot, smelly work, with cows who don’t like being told what to do, and horses who’d just rather go home. And not only that, but the ranch, well, it was on the backside of nowhere, over the river and through and through and through the woods until we came to a place not on any map. I got a big red star in the middle of Montana when I Mapquested it.

And being there, I learned something. Sometimes the dream is better than reality. Sometimes the smell of the pumpkin-nutmeg latte is better than the taste, the look of the leather pants on the mannequin better than in the two-way mirror. Which, frankly, is why I like to read books, why I like to write. My imagination is richer. It contains a soundtrack, and lots of handsome, tan cowboys. Besides, no one really wants to hear about the hours spent watering the bulls. We want to cut to the fun parts, like when the bull chased me into the truck. Or when the stars came out over the Montana night and seemed close enough to pluck from the sky.

I had dinner recently with a friend who says, “I never read fiction because it isn’t true.” Yeah, well, that’s why it’s called, uh, you know, FICTION. But he says he doesn’t like to spend time focusing on things that don’t let him engage in the world. (He reads a lot of theology and political books – way too much brain food for me).

Here’s me saying that sometimes I don’t WANT to engage in the world. Like when the washing machine seal breaks and floods my basement. Or when the dog eats all the chocolate cake and his face blows up like a balloon. Or when my husband gets food poisoning and is sick in bed for two days. I need to close my door to the world and escape into Montana, or Alaska, or even the Lifetime movie channel. Because, hello, no one is sick in my imaginary world. It’s cleaner. And less smelly.

In short, give me my fiction, some chocolate and close the door behind you when you leave.

So, here’s to handsome cowboys and Bonanza and the FAKE world of ranching.

Now, I wonder what it’s like to be a fire fighter….

Susan May Warren let her imagination run wild in her new suspense/romance book, Reclaiming Nick, the modern-day story of a prodigal who heads home to his Montana ranch to face secrets, right old wrongs and restore the Noble legacy. Read an excerpt at
Colleen Coble  
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Thursday, January 18, 2007

It's that time of year again; time for a new season of American Idol. My family, fans of the auditions especially, waited eagerly for the first episode. It arrived this week, two nights of sure laughs and hopeful expectation. We tuned in, like most of America, but I found myself increasingly dismayed and wondering: Is American Idol just getting plain mean?

Sure, Simon crosses the line from nice to rude regularly. We expect him to criticize horrendous singing and outrageous costumes. But it seems to me he, and the entire show, has crossed another line.

Some of the folks auditioning seem . . . not quite right. Sure, some of them are just kids wanting their five minutes of fame. Others are kids that--well, their momma just lied to them is all. I understand they chose to be on the show, and I'm fine with that if these people are mentally competent. I'm just not sure they all are.

In fact, if you watch the show with that in mind, it becomes very sad, because if it's true, American Idol is exploiting the mentally challenged. Would you in any circumstances call someone who might be mentally handicapped a "super geek", or say they are"useless at everything" or to say "You look a little odd, like one of those creatures who live in the jungle with those massive eyes."? Come on, Simon, what are you, a ten-year-old bully?

Then to make the "horrendous" singers do three songs? Why, if not only to exploit them?
If they're mentally competent, fine. They knew what they were getting into when they signed up.

But if they're not, then we're all just kids in the school yard circled around the bully and his latest victim. The thought bothered me enough last night that I'm giving up on the Idol auditions. Maybe I'll tune in later in the season when the focus returns to the singing talent and the whole things just doesn't seem so . . . sad.

Denise Hunter  
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Wednesday, January 17, 2007

I'm a party animal, I admit it.

We got a new front-loading, LG washer and dryer to replace our sixteen-year-old set. They’re so beautiful, hubby and I grab our popcorn bowls, crowd our chairs around the door of the utility room and watch the clothes dance about in the suds. Hey, around our house, the fun never ends.

Okay, so maybe we need a life, but let me just say the miracle of electricity has afforded us so many pleasures--the fact that I not only get to enjoy clean clothes without ever having to leave the warmth of my home—and get to watch a light show at the same time? Well, it just boggles the mind, that’s all.

You all have known me long enough to know I’m a little weird. Okay, a lot weird. I look for creative ways to have a party, and I think I’ve found a pretty doggone good one. In fact, I’m considering sending out invitations soon. “Party at the Hunts. Food (popcorn, soda, maybe a little chocolate), Fun (flip off the switch in the utility room and watch the lights on the washer pop and twinkle until the grand finale spin cycle), and Games (a rousing game of Scrabble afterwards). Send me your addresses, I’m sure you won’t want to miss it.

It’s the little things in life, you know?
Diann Hunt  
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Monday, January 15, 2007

Is it just me, or is it NOT news that Rosie O'Donnell and Donald Trump are in a fight? First off, I wouldn't watch the View if you stapled me to the chair. I cannot stand to watch people in conflict and that show is women yelling over each other. Hate that! If it's going to be conflict, give me smart conflict like the Charlie Rose show. Or reality TV conflict, like Simon & Paula going at it. Rosie talking about Trump's comb over? Trump calling Rosie an animal? I need this in my life, why?

Today, I was listening to the Hannity show on the radio and I had to hear it. We've got people in Iraq, Pelosi making laws about minimum wage and Hannity is taking his political show where? Okay, I'll admit, I will seek crap stories out. I'm not above wondering why Justin Timberlake broke up with Cameron Diaz. Bring it on, but high-profile people calling each other names? People who should know better? I'm embarrassed for them. I want to bury my head in the sand until it goes away. Make it stop!!!
Faith, Froth & a California Attitude
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Midnight Sea is shipping to stores now, and I got my first two advance copies on Friday. Ami was gone so I couldn't call her and cry. I had to just sit there and hold it and cry by myself.

It's always a little bit surreal to hold a book in my hands. It's something I worked and slaved for months over, but by the time it arrives, I've usually written at least one other book, maybe two.

This one was special because it's a Women of Faith book AND it has a sticker for a $5 rebate when you buy it. The cover has changed several times, and when it finally came to this one, I screamed. (There's a lot of noise involved at any excitement in the Coble household.)

The only thing that could have made it the teeniest bit better was if the dog actually looked like Fisher, the golden retriever in the book. The dog that fit the cover was obviously a German shepherd. LOL You wouldn't believe the trouble the cover designers have to go through to find dogs for the covers. When I wrote the Rock Harbor series, they actually did a photo shoot to try to get the right look for Samson (though it still didn't end up right) because he was such a main character in the series.

How big a deal are the covers when you buy a book? What catches your attention first--the cover, the title, or the author's name? Right now we're working on the cover for Abomination, my first hardcover. I was crazy about the first cover they came up with but this new revision is just fabulous. Here's a peek though it will probably be tweaked some. What do you think?
Colleen Coble  
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Thursday, January 11, 2007

My amazing husband came up with the most wonderful idea this week! It's like this. It’s the start of a new year, right? And well, I’m having trouble with motivation. The resolution thing lasted less than 48 hours. Okay, 48 minutes. Brand new year and I’m slugging around the house in sponge rollers, a ratty old housecoat, and dirty Garfield slippers.

So, he notices my blue funk and asks me how my new story is coming along. I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“Tell me about your main character.”

“She’s a woman.”


“What else?”

“She’s tired.”

“What’s the plot line?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“What does she look like?”

“Haven’t decided.”

He rummages through the kitchen and finds it stripped clean of all caffeine. He turns and eyes me suspiciously. More rummaging. No chocolate. Not a speck, anywhere.

“You need help,” he says.

“I don’t do drugs.”

“I have an idea,” he says. “You need to reward yourself. How about if we buy up all those Advent calendars that the stores are trying to get rid of and pull out one a month. At the end of the day AFTER you reach your writing goal, lift the tab and pull out your chocolate.”

I give him a deadpan stare. “You think I can be bought so cheaply? I want DeBrand’s.” Nose pointed upward, arms crossed in front of me. “I have my standards.”

He sighs. “All right, we’ll see if DeBrand’s—“

“Truffles,” I say.

He stops. “Okay, we’ll call DeBrand’s—”

“Mocha. Truffles.”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “They’re too big to put in a calendar.”

“Forget the calendar. Just give me the truffles.” My voice borderlines a growl here.

He sighs.

“A truffle a day keeps writer’s block away,” I say like a jingle.

He rolls his eyes. “If that’s what it takes to get you back to work.”

Okay, now he’s talking. The first spark of energy to hit my body in days springs to life and shoots through my body. Chocolate, every day! Like a daily vitamin! If I were a puppy, I’d be chasing my tail right about now.

“That’s what it takes,” I say.

We haven’t purchased the truffles yet, but the very idea has released a floodgate of creativity. My new character now has a face, hair, clothes, quirks, and even some conflict coming around the corner!
You don’t think he’ll back out now that he’s got me motivated, do you?

So what helps you with your DAILY motivation? Please don’t tell me the sheer joy of writing, or I’ll have to hurt you.
Diann Hunt  
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Wednesday, January 10, 2007

I have often joked that I could justify anything, just give me a minute to think about it. Never has that been more true that when I plunked down $80 for a computer mouse. That's right, just the mouse, but it fit my hand perfectly. It was was like trying on a two carat diamond ring and knowing it was meant to be yours! Reason didn't factor into it.

Though, here we go with my excellent justification skills. I spend at least eight hours a day with my trusty mouse. I know it intimately. It's more than a job, it's a relationship. Surely, he needed me like I needed him. We clasped hands and it was meant to be! Secondly, it was a Logitech mouse. My husband worked for them for years. Logitech bought me a house, they paid for my kids' private school, even funded my espresso habit. I OWED Logitech. It was the least I could do.

But see, this kind of justification gets me into trouble. I buy Joe's Jeans. They're expensive, but worth every penny. I won't bother justifying them here, but trust me, I could. But I did have to justify the little girl versions for my husband. Oh my gosh, to see my Elle in little Joe's Jeans. It was a moment, I tell you!! She's like a little blonde Kristin strutting down the street. Anyway, I'm on a spending diet this month. Of course, that was after the mouse (Dec. 31), but so far, so good. I have some accountability partners and everything!

God rewarded me for this spending diet too because my friends, the Yaos, bought me a black Prada for taking care of their dog. (Yes, I know! But that's the kind of friends I have!!) Anyway, if anyone ever wondered why I write chick lit. Here it is: I have the justification gene.

Oh what do you think of my new cover? Kristin
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Tuesday, January 09, 2007


I gave my husband a GPS unit for Christmas, but really, I gave it to myself. We decided to give it a whirl on the trip to Kansas City to brainstorm with friends Deb Raney, Nancy Moser, Hannah Alexander (Mel & Cheryl Hodde), Till Fell, Judy Miller, and Steph Whitson and her husband (Dan and Steph Higgins).

We thought we might have an issue or two along the trip. We had no idea the trouble would start right here. We confused her first by turning her on when we were already part way out of town. She was determined to make us do a U-turn. Dave was just as determined not to. Then she wanted us to go down 31 to Indianapolis, which takes 1/2 hour longer, as any self respecting Wabashonian knows.

I watched the war of the wills play out in front of me, but I had no doubt who would win. Dave of course. LOL Even when we got to Indianapolis, Betty was determined to route us around on 465 instead of I-70. But once we got through our own fair state, Betty performed without a hitch.

And she found me coffee! That made her worth every penny. There's this neat little POI thing, Points of Interest, and you can tell Betty what you're looking for and she routes you to the nearest one. We even found her electronic voice rather comforting.

What I didn't find comforting were the changes this trip to Starbucks. Has anyone else noticed they've cut the number of shots they put in drinks? A venti peppermint mocha used to have 3 shots in it. I always added one to make it four. Now I have to pay for TWO. My peppermint mocha cost me nearly six dollars! And they've started giving me heartburn and a headache. Did they change their chocolate already? I'm all for the no trans fats, but with the reaction I had to the mocha (tried a regular mocha too), I'm wondering what other evil chemical has taken its place!

I'm home now and back to work. Had a great time with my buds, and we didn't try to make Deb slash any paintings this time around. LOL
Colleen Coble  
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Monday, January 08, 2007

I hate bugs. Not the creepy crawly kind that scamper across the living room carpet--though I hate those too. No, I'm talking about the animated advertisements that creep across the bottom of the TV screen when I'm watching a good show. Not words or news, but actual animated people from other TV shows paying me an unwelcome visit.
The industry (Kevin tells me) calls these interruptions "bugs". Well. How appropropriate can you get? As if they knew these advertisements would bug viewers. I'm watching Cheaper by the Dozen at the moment and during the climax of the movie, the woman from The Closer crawls across my TV. She literally climbs onto my screen, lifts a ribbon of police tape, and crawls under it.

It puts me in mind of R2D2's holographic projections of Princess Leah on Star Wars. Only difference is the "bugs" on TV aren't warning us of impending doom to the universe. They're just commercials that can't wait for commercial time. Now, we get commercials between the commercials.

Personally, I wish the bugs would crawl back where they came from and let me enjoy my shows in peace. Somebody bring in the exterminator. Please.

Denise Hunter  
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Wednesday, January 03, 2007

I want to be entertained. Not preached at. Not sermonized to (unless I'm in church where that's the point). Not shown a Prius and told I'm the devil if I drive a SUV. I want to be entertained. Seriously, if we preached in our Christian books as vehemently as Hollywood seems to be doing lately, leaving behind story in favor of doing a "higher work". we deceive ourselves. My calling is to write a STORY. Of course, my Christian values will be imbedded because that's who I am. But let me tell you this, it's not my calling (and for some of you it might be, but it is SOOO not my calling to preach at people!)
The scenario:
We meet friends for dinner and a movie. My boys get to go to "Night in the Museum with the dads, but me? I have to sit through "Happy Feet". First impressions: CUTE AS THE DICKENS until they start singing one of my favorite, albeit highly sexualized "Kiss" by Prince. Kids' movie people! I want to cover my daughter's ears. But the penguins -- they dance. The animation is fabulous. The story is darling. Happy Feet can't sing. Singing is how you get the girl. He can only dance so he must go on a journey to find his voice.
But midway through the story, something horrific (storytelling-wise) happens! He gets the girl and he REJECTS her!! Why you ask? Because there is fishing going on in the Antarctic and the Emperor Penguins will all die if us evil humans, who put cute little penguins in zoos, aren't stopped!!! Now, the filmmakers stop the animation at one point and actually put UN footage in to show that little Happy Feet is changing the world! And a fishing circle being carved out around Antarctica.
Can you imagine if I stopped my book and said, "COME ACCEPT JESUS RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW!!! PUT THE SILVER FISH ON YOUR CAR AND YOU WILL BE SAVED." Instead of finishing my romance storyline? Would I not tick a few people off? For a very important reason, you're doing a bait and switch. I promised you some romance and you're getting my belief system crammed down your throat.
People are at the movies to watch dancing penguins, to be entertained, do we NEED a message? Must it come at the expense of penguins who can tap dance? It was Sunday, I already did my time. (No offense Pastor Dean, fabulous message on breathing the Name of God -- See, I was listening!!)
But it doesn't stop at the movies. I tape Oprah on Tivo. I can honestly say I haven't sat through an episode in eons. Oprah seems intent on changing the world, and you know, she's got more money than Moses, go for it, but must we be subjected to it? Every time Oprah does something nice, does it warrant a show and a trip? Newsflash: Most of us housewives doing the laundry are not tuning into Oprah to learn about Darfur, but we'll take another show on what jeans make our butts look smaller. And here's the really sad thing. Most of us will just turn off the "world is evil" shows because we're...we're tuning in to be entertained. We know the world is terrible, that there are monsters out there who seek to kill and destroy, that's why we want to be entertained!!
There's a time and place for news and sermons and information. If Oprah wants to use her hour to give it, go for it, but I'm choosing my hour too. And I vote with my TIVO. HELLO UGLY BETTY!!!
I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Ugly Betty! Now go forth and be entertained.
Go sell CRAZY someplace else, we're all stocked up here"
- Jack Nicholson, As Good As It Gets

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Tuesday, January 02, 2007


Everyone has me, in some shape or form.

You can't see me.

Some find me comforting, others find me boring.

Denise's is different from yours. In fact, no two are alike.

You can change me or take a break from me, but this time of year many moms miss me.

What am I?

Click on "Comments" for the answer!
Denise Hunter  
posted at 1:56 PM  
  Comments (13)
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Okay, I admit it. I thought when pigs could fly, I might get nice jewelry as a gift from my darling husband. And it was okay for a lot of years. He's such an excellent husband, I could overlook his lack of romantic gifts.

He made up for all those years this Christmas. I got TWO major pieces of jewelry! I'm bedecked like a queen. The one thing I've really wanted is one of those circle diamond necklaces that slide around on my Omega chain. They're expensive but I really love them. I placed a subtle hint, oh back around the summer.

Fat chance I thought. I told my sweet daughter-in-law what I wanted thinking just maybe she could sway him when they went shopping together. She took him shopping and he had already planned it all and knew just what he wanted. He not only got me the necklace, he got gorgeous white gold hoops as well.

To really understand how big this was, let me take you back to our FIRST Christmas. We'd been married two months, mind you. TWO MONTHS. I was expecting a piece of jewelry, perfume maybe. Something pretty. I got a BLENDER. That was all. A blender. A lump formed in my throat as big as a rock and it was all I could do not to cry. Was that what he thought of me? That now I wasn't a sweetheart--I was a COOK? The next year I was prepared so at least I didn't cry when I got a toaster. LOL!

I'm not quite sure what has caused this departure from his practical gifts, but I've been watching the sky with suspicious eyes. And I was glad to see my son got his new bride a piece of jewelry as well as the heated Harley gear. LOL

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Colleen Coble  
posted at 8:39 AM  
  Comments (13)
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Monday, January 01, 2007

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! Whoohoooo!!! Another year! This year I’m going to lose 35 pounds, exercise more, spend less time on email, read more, eat less, cook more, study more, and give up chocolate.

Okay, so I lied.

I’ll slug along for another year, hopefully lose the same five pounds I’ve been tossing around for the past ten years (and ignore the other thirty pounds that have been following me since 1995). I’ll cut my email down by, oh, I don’t know, maybe one and a half minutes a day. I’ll walk on the treadmill, say, once a month (hey, it beats my current physical workout of walking to the refrigerator). As to the chocolate part, it ain’t gonna happen. Chocolate has been my friend for years, and we’re not about to part company now.

Still, the truth is I do have some resolutions planned. I plan to laugh more, feel more, smell more, see more, dig deeper into spiritual things and just plain enjoy the journey more this year than ever before.

So how about you? What kind of resolutions are you tackling this year? Please, don’t anyone tell me you’re giving up chocolate. It would depress me, and well, this is New Year’s Day and all.

P.S. Hot Tropics & Cold Feet just hit the store shelves! Free copies to the first five people who email me privately at:

Diann Hunt  
posted at 10:12 AM  
  Comments (9)
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The Authors
Kristin Billerbeck
Kristin Billerbeck is a proud Californian, wife, mother of four, and connoisseur of the irrelevant. She writes Christian Chick Lit; where she finds need for most of the useless facts lulling about in her head.

Colleen Coble

Colleen Coble writes romantic suspense with a strong atmospheric element. A lovable animal of some kind--usually a dog--always populates her novels. She can be bribed with DeBrand mocha truffles.

Denise Hunter

Denise Hunter writes women's fiction and love stories with a strong emotional element. Her husband says he provides her with all her romantic material, but Denise insists a good imagination helps too.

Diann Hunt

Diann Hunt writes romantic comedy and humorous women's fiction. She has been happily married forever, loves her family, chocolate, her friends, chocolate, her dog, and well, chocolate.

Hannah Alexander

Cheryl Hodde writes romantic medical suspense under the pen name of Hannah Alexander, using all the input she can get from her husband, Mel, for the medical expertise. For fun she hikes and reads. Out of guilt, she rescues discarded cats. She and Mel are presently taking orders from four pampered strays.

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