testing testing

My computer is psychotic. It won't let me see my own entries.

It's driving me insane.

Will this work?

the best time

That's what I had in Cincinnati at Writers Retreat Workshop--the BEST TIME. It was the most wonderful community of writers, some published, some not yet, and a whole bunch of hilarious fun. I truly did not want to leave.

I will miss the Night Owl sessions. I laughed my ass off the entire two days, but I think it was the douchebag jokes that I'll remember most.

A confession: those little chocolate candies that management leaves on the beds when they are clean and ready for a new occupant? I stole most of them from the vacant rooms. I was subtle about it too. No one saw me. And I've left the state.

A fond farewell to Marsha, Deidra, Kathy, John, David, Roman, Lorin, Valerie, Sammi, Robb, Roger, Bob, Rick, Chris, Jennifer, Lee Ann, Olivia, Janice, Shelly, Brian, Pat, Liam, Virginia, Christine, Sue, Sharon, Jason, Elizabeth, Linda, I'm running out of steam now and am leaving some out for which I apologize.

One disheartening fact: in Cincinnati at 9pm last night it was still daylight. Here in Massachusetts it is way dark by then. Sigh.

It was also 57 degrees when I got off the plane and a good thing I had my jacket.

I'm a plumb tuckered out cookie so I'll save up some more thoughts for another post tomorrow.

J'ai envie d'essayer mes skis neufs,
becky

traveling again

I am off to Cincinnati in two days to serve on the faculty of a writers' workshop. What's funny about that is I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. Maybe we can exchange recipes. HAR. THAT'S EVEN FUNNIER.

I did a really fun TV appearance on Boston Channel 9 yesterday, a cable station that has a show called Literary Limelight. I kept catching sight of myself on the camera while I was talking and I looked a little washed out, I thought. They always tell you not to wear white or black and I forget why. I wore that summer turquoisey color and I'm not sure that was a good choice. Although do people make their listening/viewing decisions on color choice? TURN THAT OFF, HAROLD. I DON'T LIKE HER SHIRT. Psychologists and overpaid media advisors would probably argue that it does make a difference.

Poor Diane Sawyer. Passed over in the shuffle. Maybe she wore too much turqoise. I can hardly believe she is 60 years old. Well, maybe she wants to keep getting up at 3am for the rest of her life. Think of the pressure on Katie Couric now. I'D BETTER BE GOOD. I'D BETTER BE GOOD. It's going to be hard because you can't give serious news while dimpling.
43,000 PEOPLE WERE BLUDGEONED TO DEATH TODAY--OH THAT IS SUCH A CUTE SCARF. SORRY. WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?

Anyway, if I can post from Cin., I will.
La plume de ma tante est sur la table de la chien.
becky

VW DAY at long last

BIG BIG NEWS: Today is VW DAY--remember? The day that my weight is the same as my wip. I'm getting there--on both counts.

I did my first book club last night and it was great fun. They couldn't have been nicer, especially since the last book they did was Doris Kearns Goodwin's Abraham Lincoln. If anyone was appalled by the contrast, they kept quiet about it.

I guess the new roof looks okay, though there is some kind of phone wire stretched taut outside one window that wasn't there before. I think the squirrels are making calls.

My two suitcases from previous trip are splayed all over the upstairs hallway, causing me to trip and fall whenever I go into the bathroom. But what's the point of unpacking them if I am traveling out again on Saturday? Although I hear that the dress code at this place is junk wear 24/7 and I'm thrilled. Perhaps I will unpack my chi-chi duds and leave the rest.

My friend and I refer to an outfit or article of clothing that could easily be stained as a "burrito" outfit, as in you're bound to sit on a burrito as soon as you wear it. I don't buy too many burrito things, but my new white pants definitely qualify. They may get left home. Then again what am I saving them for?

I am famous for attracting stains. I'm like a version of that famous Irish saying--may the food rise up to greet you on all your travels.

It's really fun when you look in the mirror and realize that the last two hours you have been walking around with something gross on your collar. Or on your nose. And you can't exactly retrace your steps--HEY REMEMBER A FEW MINUTES AGO, THAT THING ON MY NOSE? IT WAS A LITTLE PIECE OF A RAISIN, THAT'S ALL. I HATE RAISINS REALLY, SO I DON'T KNOW HOW IT GOT THERE. BUT IT WASN'T ANYTHING YOU KNOW, LIKE WELL, YOU KNOW. See, this is the real difference between men and women. Men can say "booger" with impunity. Women hang back.

I can't say that's a bad thing.


La plume de ma tante est sur la table.
becky

Home Sweet

Yes, I am home. It feels great, although I fear the roofing crew is going to be here at an ungodly hour tomorrow. I contracted with Home Depot to do my roof and the guy who sold me said it would happen next month. Well, imagine my surprise when I called my voice mail from my hotel in FLorida and the woman's voice told me they were there THAT VERY DAY. I drove up a while ago with some trepidation, but I guess the roof looks okay, although I have no taste and I can't tell. It sort of looks like some of the shingles are one color and some are another color. Is this right?

I love hotel life. I could walk around with my plastic room key forever.

That doesn't mean I loved the conference. It's all very high school, who is in and who is not in and who would be caught dead eating lunch with whom. I am pretty much in the don't-get-caught-dead-with group but I like being on the lower tier. It's fun observing the higher-ups.

Romance writers are nice. They are good writers too. I am just not into it. At the book signing I sat between a vampire writer and a shape shifter writer (shape shifters are creatures like werewolves that change shapes--see? you thought I didn't know). I was very humbled to see people walk past my book and light up when they saw the shape shifter cover. Also, I just saw that book on the Top Ten sellers at Barnes and Noble, so folks, stuff is going on in the reading public that we never guessed.

I had a lovely dinner with my agent and her sister. They had been to a panel discussion of paranormal romance where creatures with two penises, one on each hip, were under review. I missed that one, though I have heard of two-fisted drinking.

As I said, I love hotel life. Quite expensive, though. I paid eight bucks plus tip one night for a glass of wine in the bar. Yeesh. I could almost buy a bottle of Sutter Home chardonnay for that. My agent knows her wine. I do not. But that's what I'm paying her for. In case someone tries to pull a fast one on us--hey ladies, try this cabernet, haha. [it's really goat piss and Kristin decks the guy because she KNOWS]

No papers to read, that's one blessing.

A bientot
becky

On The Beach

There are many things to tell.

First off, the whole thing sucks.

I wouldn't want to say that to just anyone (so I'm putting it on a more or less public blog...). But it does. More later when I get back.

I love being on the beach, though. The first thing I did when I got here was open the slider so I could hear the ocean sounds. They are so restful and great. Earlier today I was dozing (avoiding the conference) and I heard this odd squeaking sound. Is that the alarm clock, I thought? I finally decided it was somebody using a shower somewhere that squeaked. A few minutes later as I relaxed, a large bird flew up from under the bed and out the window. Very Pentecostal.

I walked across the street after that experience and bought a cheap bathing suit, a hat, and a Daytona Beach beach towel, and went out and romped in the ocean. Define romp, you might say. Well, I more or less stood there and let the waves try to knock me over. They about did.

Oh, that reminds me. Arkansas joke (I came here from there, remember):

Arkansas state trooper: You got any ID?
Arkansas farmer: 'Bout what?

Wearing lots of black. About to attend a vampire dinner. I kid you not. Menu items may or may not include very rare meat. Tomorrow night I go out with my agent and that at least will be fun.

I am in the "business center" of the hotel at this moment surrounded by important looking men on cell phones. If they only knew.

A bientot
becky

More Adventures

This may be my last post for several days if I can't get internet in the hotel where I am staying in Daytona. I am spending my last night with the folks here in ARkansas and jetting off tomorrow.

Odd observations:

Women here take good care of themselves, at least the ones I have seen. They have crisp capri pants, swish-looking pedicures, frosted hair and fashions as seen on television. They look as good as TJ Maxx can make them and I know that sounds like a put-down but I wish I looked as good. PRobably some of them are as good as Dillard's can make them, but I wouldn't know.

My hair looks like ca-ca. Vegetative growth in the jungle.

My parents' caretaker sold me her old flatiron today and I feel guilty taking it, but hey, I need help. Someone wrote me that they would meet me at this convention I am going to and described the fairy wings they'd be wearing at the costume ball.

I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

Going somewhere like this by oneself is a test of courage. It's like starting high school on the first day and hoping that you will have one friend.

I'll make a full report later.

A bientot
b

On The Road

I am traveling this week, reporting to you today from beautiful sunny Arkansas, where I did a TV spot and a booksigning yesterday. They were fun. I really thought the TV dudes would interview me beforehand about what they were going to say, but no, you just go on cold more or less.

Right before they go to commercial, they show a "tease" of your upcoming segment. AS I looked at the teleprompter, it said
SARA MATEO
THE COUPON LADY

I said thank you very much, but it's Becky Motew and it's coupon girl. What a diva, huh? Then everything was fine. I followed a dog, which was good for me since the dog was so cute and they were trying to find it a home.

Weather here? Thanks for asking. They're about five weeks ahead of us Bay Staters. It's pretty much early summer 80 degrees every day, most welcome to my northern hide. I saw some old friends from high school at the book signing and had the opportunity to ask one of the guys why he didn't ask me to the prom. He had some lame excuse. But he made up for it by buying a book, god bless him.

Today is Mother's Day and I'm not sure when I'll be able to post again. I'm headed off to the Romantic Times convention in Daytona on WEdnesday so if I can get internet access, I'll post from there. It's supposed to be a wild event. Everywhere you turn, a male cover model. I'll try to report on the gay/straight ratio.

A bientot
b

I'm Off

I'm posting late at night following the second booksigning event of my life. It was even better than the first one, if that is possible. I feel perhaps like any first-time author after an event, loved and cherished, undeserving yet hopeful. That's me. I don't think John Grisham could feel any better than I do tonight. Yo, John! Did you ever forget your bookmarks at home? I did.

I stood with my daughter and her friend and they both said they didn't want to get a book tonight (good thing because we sold out again!)--they wanted to walk into a bookstore cold and buy my book.

I love that.

Pick a snotty bookstore, I said, and they agreed. Pick one that couldn't possibly have my book in it. Walk in and buy it if they have it. It will probably be back behind the exterminator how-tos. Ask for it if you don't see it. COUPON GIRL? Oh, I don't know. I think we're getting it next week. OH YEAH? WELL, REDUCE YOUR ORDER FOR DAVINCI CODE BY ONE AND ORDER COUPON GIRL FOR ME!!!!! Power to the people.

Everyone laughed at my jokes, asked me to sign their books, made me feel gargantuan [no diet jokes though there could be].

Think about it--plain joy. That's what I am feeling. It doesn't last, we all know that. I read a review online today about my book that complained it didn't have a happy ending. But--okay I'm bragging--big time bragging and I apologize--it said it might have been the funniest book this person ever read.

Well, maybe that person doesn't get out much. Hey, I can relate. I don't get out either. But I am a happy camper tonight. Off to Arkansas in the early a.m.

Watch me on KATV 8-9am. Pick me over Power Rangers.

A bientot
becky

I'm Off

I'm posting late at night following the second booksigning event of my life. It was even better than the first one, if that is possible. I feel perhaps like any first-time author after an event, loved and cherished, undeserving yet hopeful. That's me. I don't think John Grisham could feel any better than I do tonight. Yo, John! Did you ever forget your bookmarks at home? I did.

I stood with my daughter and her friend and they both said they didn't want to get a book tonight (good thing because we sold out again!)--they wanted to walk into a bookstore cold and buy my book.

I love that.

Pick a snotty bookstore, I said, and they agreed. Pick one that couldn't possibly have my book in it. Walk in and buy it if they have it. It will probably be back behind the exterminator how-tos. Ask for it if you don't see it. COUPON GIRL? Oh, I don't know. I think we're getting it next week. OH YEAH? WELL, REDUCE YOUR ORDER FOR DAVINCI CODE BY ONE AND ORDER COUPON GIRL FOR ME!!!!! Power to the people.

Everyone laughed at my jokes, asked me to sign their books, made me feel gargantuan [no diet jokes though there could be].

Think about it--plain joy. That's what I am feeling. It doesn't last, we all know that. I read a review online today about my book that complained it didn't have a happy ending. But--okay I'm bragging--big time bragging and I apologize--it said it might have been the funniest book this person ever read.

Well, maybe that person doesn't get out much. Hey, I can relate. I don't get out either. But I am a happy camper tonight. Off to Arkansas in the early a.m.

Watch me on KATV 8-9am. Pick me over Power Rangers.

A bientot
becky

more about MEEEEEEEEEE

You might say I'm taking the easy way out for this post and I guess I am. I wrote a piece for MJ Rose's Backstory blog and it is up there right now for a couple more days. But instead of sending you there with a link, I am going to paste it right here. The assignment was to talk about the book and how it came to be written, not how it was published. So here's what I said:

Becky Motew's Backstory
Long before I ever wrote a word of COUPON GIRL, I knew the title. I sold direct mail advertising to small business owners in Worcester. Buy one, get one, baby. Pizza guys, dry cleaners, wallpaper hangers, chiropractors--all of them were my customers. An old boss of mine said getting a mailing together was like ushering a herd of cows through a doorway. At ten in the morning, I might have been helping a pet store guy clip a parrot's toenails. By eleven I might have been shivering in the bowels of a car wash, taking a look at a defective pump, and by two, giving a formal sales presentation in a stockbrokers' boardroom. Don't wear your bathrobe under your coat is my best advice.

What did I learn? Mostly that every person has a story and some of them are really long. Others are quite surprising and you wonder if you should call the police. Most people just want someone to talk to, perhaps to share the intricacies of their "prostrate" problems, or their marital difficulties or vengeful feelings about the coffee shop next door. Some just want to know when lunch is. I knew I was going to write this book and I knew I would never ever lack material.

But also during these years I had been very active in community theatre and I wanted to write about that too. Could I do both? I decided I could.

I spent at least ten years in various acting groups (though it may have felt longer to the audience). I had never been satisfied with other renderings of amateur theatrics, including the movie Waiting for Guffman, because they all made fun of it. I did not want to do that. Perhaps I should amend that statement. I wanted to show it the way it really is, including but not limited to bizarreness, extreme addictive qualities, and the eternal suspension of disbelief.

If you've ever sat through the Dream Ballet in Oklahoma!, you know what I'm talking about.

I had written two unpublished books earlier, one called COUPON MURDERS which wasn't unlike the eventual CG, only it had a murder in it. Yikes, those are hard. I wouldn't want to write another one. Okay, let's put a dead body in a dumpster. Yeah. That’s good. And in addition we'll have the main character's purse be in there too, in the dumpster with the body. That will really implicate our girl and people will think she did it. Man, I am clever. So then this niggling question starts: how did a woman lift a dead body into a dumpster by herself? OH MY GOD I DON"T KNOW. This is a very queasy feeling to have when you're clicking along a hundred pages in. See? Don't try this at home.

After that experience I wrote a "serious" book. I labored over it. It had a complicated plot and flashbacks, multiple pov's and a prologue. Almost everyone who read it asked, "Is it a satire?" NO. IT'S A SERIOUS BOOK. WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT?

And so I realized I'm not meant to write books like those. I'm meant to write a book like this. Why, I asked myself, would I write anything else? The authors I’ve loved and admired since I was a kid—write comedy. If you are a gazelle, then good. Embrace your gazelle-ness and may god go with you. But if you are an armadillo, don’t try to imitate the gazelle.

Do your armadillo thing. Suck up those ants. You'll be much better off and hopefully you won't end up as road kill.

COUPON GIRL is a comedic novel. Visit Becky Motew's website and blog.

So it's back to regular life today. Everybody on this green earth gets back to regular life. Even Paris Hilton can't party 24/7, can she? Aren't there days when she has to sort the Jimmy Choos and make sense out of the accessories?

I started by working on Victory. I'm between 66 and 67,000 words. For some reason I'm hesitant about it right now. I don't have that sure sense of where it's going. Plus I'm going to be out of town starting on Friday, so maybe knowing that is making it, the story, hide in the fog out of reach.

I hope my dad still has the internet at his house. Otherwise, I will be traipsing to the library, both to put my grades in and to keep up with my other stuff. The weather here is very nice, though chilly. The forest is encroaching on my house--I need to spend a few grand on tree removal. Yeah, okay. I'll put it on the list.

I have to confess I ate much more of the book signing cake than I intended to. The problem was that I brought it home. NO!!! FIE!!!! I can't do that again. Back to the regular diet today too. I wonder how things will go when I'm away. I shudder to think of it.

I'm spending the day on grades. It's a marathon. It's actually not that hard since everybody had a chance all semester to revise and improve their work, so if they chose not to, c'est la vie.

Here is the article about ME!!!!! in Worcester Magazine. It's cute. You have to scroll down past the gardening article to get to it, which I think is funny. No gardening here, that's for sure.

http://www.worcestermag.com/archives/2006/05-04-06/gallery.html

A bientot

book signing

It was fabulous in every way.

Family and close friends, people I know not very well, a few I haven't seen in years, some people I never would have expected--all were there. The biggest surprise of the night was my writing critique partner, the one who guided me the most on CG, FLEW IN FROM FREAKING WISCONSIN TO SURPRISE ME.

I FREAKED OUT. I'm still freaked out by it. My black outfit fit the bill perfectly (black is the new black) and I got compliments on it (although what would they say--HEY!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, HORROR MOVIE?).

The sad part was that the store didn't have enough books (sweet words to an author) and I ended up selling my own copy to someone. I guess Borders got the money for it. Whatever. I don't even care.

The house down the street from mine was having a party last night and two of my guests actually went to THEIR party first without knowing they were in the wrong house. It's probably the funniest thing that's ever happened on my street. My friends from Arkansas took very good care of me all afternoon and got me there safely and even carried in my stuff.

The cake, by the way, did NOT seem to have bavarian creme filling. That was probably the only disappointment of the night. Plus there were no flowers or decorations of any kind on it, just COUPON GIRL in script. Well, what do you expect, it's Hanna--Hanna--[choke}--I can't say it.

A young woman who works in a grocery store in New Hampshire was telling me the other day that an old guy comes through her line frequently and reaches over and leaves two Hersey kisses on her register. She has no idea what it means. She throws them out, of course, but I said ooooh, I may steal that for Victory.

Now I have to get ready for next week. ME!!! ME!!!! ME!!!

A bientot a moi

countdown

Okay, campers, listen up.

I'm just kidding.

I'm the one who should be listening up. In 23 hours or so the booksigning for which I have waited months and months, my whole life in some ways, will be taking place. I'm sure it will be totally mundane and ordinary to the manager and the employees, "Yo, lady, when are you going to be done?" but to me and my loyal family and friends, it's an extraordinary event. I am going to try and remember every excruciating detail I can. It's sort of like waiting for a birthday or waiting for Christmas. How can the reality possibly meet the anticipation?

It's hard to bear down and squeeze enjoyment out of the tube of life. We often concentrate on getting through a bad experience, just count to ten and then count to ten again and then try something else, etc. We get pretty good at bludgeoning through things, enduring unpleasantness, gritting our teeth. But we're not so good at liking everything, enjoying everything to the max. I guess they call it smelling the coffee, though I don't consider coffee smelling to be any great fun.

I ordered a cake today at, well, Hanna--Hanna--[choke], you know where I mean. The experience started off normally and morphed into existentialism. The kid taking my order gave me one price--$15.99 and I could see clearly on the computer in front of him another price-- $14.99. "Doesn't it say $14.99 right there?" He pondered this. "hmmm. You're right. I guess maybe the price came down." "That's good," I said.

Here's where we veer off. He tells me that they now offer fillings in the cakes. Strawberry, chocolate, bavarian creme. That will add to the price, won't it, I ask. "I don't know if it does," he says. "Well, if there's no charge, I'll take bavarian creme." The kid is not going to be there tomorrow when I pick it up so I asked him how I will know if it has bavarian creme inside it and he said there probably wouldn't be any way for me to. He thought maybe he could make a mark on the outside of the box and I agreed this was a good idea. It will be a little like an espionage novel when I show up and start twirling the box around to see if there is a mark on it. What if there are several marks on it? Marks not related to the filling? I'm just asking.

Right now I can either clean the bathroom or do crossword puzzles before falling asleep. Yeah, like this is a choice.

A bientot

becky
p.s. I was so thrilled to hear from my former student Jon and not one bit surprised that his story won a prize. I used to laugh so hard in that class it didn't seem right that I should get paid for it.

Well, I bought a black outfit. What a SHOCK. I never buy anything except black and this time I really tried not to.

No way am I going to stand up there Thursday night in bright white anything. The stores are full of sailor-ey nautical white outfits--forget it, it's too early for that. The other chic color is evidently brown. Yuck. Brown makes me look washed out and so does that fuchsia puke green color which is everywhere.

There I was trudging through the mall, probably looking grouchy as all hell. Some stores I'm not cool enough to go into any more. You just know. STAY OUT. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING IN HERE. One is "bebe." Have we seen this, ladies and gentlemen? It's not a new store either. I can remember going in there with my daughter ten years ago. Yeah!! YOU'RE OLD HAT!! YOUR JEANS AREN'T RIPPED!! AND YOU CALL YOURSELF CHIC!

I hate the music they play in most of the stores. What's wrong with quiet?

I went to a bridal shower last week and some of the young girls were wearing very attractive, I don't know what you would call them, gaucho pants? They looked great, but these babes don't wear nylons. No one wears pantyhose any more except those of us with something to hide. My legs are pasty white and always have been. So is my whole body. I have that white Irish skin with the blue veins thing going on. A map of New York state on my chest.

I taught my last MWF class this morning for the semester. I was unexpectedly irritated by them too. A couple of them failed to turn in the big paper that counts for TWO papers, the one that was assigned six weeks ago. AS I frequently say, some people just can't do the work. It's regrettable.

God, I am so nervous.

A bientot