Writing is hard.

That is all.

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"Almost Right, but Not Quite"

Five chapters completed in Hot Penguin Action! An excerpt from Ch. 15:

“What if that other guy weren’t in the picture?”

He was cutting me deep. “Dude, this has nothing to do him.” Though I wished it did. That would be a great excuse. “This is about you, and me, and . . .”

I was trying to concentrate on delivering my message. Why was he distracting me? Even though the other guy had blown me off, and I had absolutely no other prospects, I would rather be alone than poorly accompanied. I was willing to wait for the right person, instead of settling for a convenient, comfortable, yet unhealthy relationship.

“I have to respect what’s right for me. I want more. I need more.”

“You deserve more.”

“I do. In completely unrelated news, I’m not in a relationship of any kind with anyone.”

“Bianca, there is obviously something going on with you and—”

No. “If there ever was anything with him, there isn’t any more. He hasn’t talked to me since the night of the Rec Room taping, so his silence has made that perfectly clear.”

Jenny continued giving me sympathetic looks from across my desk. For some reason, I was glad she was there.

“I’m sorry, Bianca,” he said. “I’m not sorry he’s out of the picture. Although if we had to compete, I know I would beat him.”

“So cocky!”

“But I am sorry you’re unhappy. I thought he was a better guy than that.”

So did I.

“So you’re alone, I’m alone,” he lamented. “Where is the bright, shining light in all of this?”

“I did have fun meeting you for the first time at the taping.”

“The second time was even better. Even though that’s when I discovered my life is a mess, thanks to you.”

“What am I supposed to say to that? You’re welcome?”

“I meant it in a good way.”

“Explain please.”

“I have to accept that life I tried to create myself has failed. The first step is admitting that you have a problem, right?” His voice expressed a growing weariness. “So I admit it. I need to start over. I don’t know how, though.”

“And this is my fault because . . . ?”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m thanking you, because I can talk to you. I haven’t had to explain the situation to anyone else yet, not my family, not my friends. Not that I would have known what to tell them. It’s easier with you.”

“Because we just met?”

“Because I trust you.”

I trusted me, too.

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"Rhymes with Witch"

Four chapters completed in Hot Penguin Action! An excerpt from Ch. 09:

So.” Mike paused. “That interview was something, huh? On the show tonight?”

“It was something, indeed.” I nodded through the phone.

“We’re already getting negative feedback on the major news blogs.”

“There’s no such thing as bad publicity,” I assured him.

“I don’t know why Lexie didn’t focus on the book.”

“She did ask The Good Senator about his book. She brought up his many other accomplishments as well.”

“Yes, but then she focused on the health care bill. That wasn’t the purpose of The Good Senator’s visit to her show. Our pre-interview material was only about his Gulf War service, his Presidential campaign, and why he wrote the book.”

“Which she did ask about.”

Mike kept going. “No other talk show hosts asked about that bill, or about any bill The Good Senator sponsored or voted for.”

“Lexie isn’t just another talk show host. Haven’t you seen The Rec Room before?”

“Of course we’ve seen it. It’s supposed to be a comedy show. That’s why I wrote some jokes for The Good Senator.”

“You wrote jokes, Mikkel Jones?”

“You’re acting like I said I cured cancer.”

“Curing cancer I could believe.”

“So I’m smart, but not funny?”

“Can I get a third option?”

“Oh! You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“Bam!”

“The jokes were good,” Mike insisted. “He didn’t get a chance to use most of them, but—”

“Yes, the show is funny,” I concurred. “But Lexie challenges all of her guests with tough questions. Furthermore, her questions were not inappropriate.”

“Condom dispensers in every high school and middle school?” Mike sputtered. “Was she serious? How were we supposed to respond to that?”

“I don’t see a problem with the idea.”

“You don’t?”

I could have stopped then. I wanted Mike to like me, and if I agreed with him, he would. Maybe If I mirrored everything he said, he might think we had a psychic bond. That would make him feel secure in his points of view.

I could have surreptitiously kowtowed to Mike’s myopic arguments. I could have suppressed my instincts to share my counter perspectives. I could let him continue his circular logic until he ran out of steam. Then I could stroke his ego by complementing his repetitive monologue, and beg for more of his faulty assumptions.

Or . . .

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"It’s Been A Long, Been A Long Day"

Three chapters completed! An excerpt from Ch. 19:

A few hours later, we sat on the bed, paging through my senior yearbook. A Law & Order: Criminal Intent marathon played in the background.

“Things that make you smile,” He read from the Question Pages in the middle of the book.

“My nieces and my nephew.” Meaning Colby. The other nephews needed to learn how to behave. “Okay, next. If you could script the plot for your dream tonight, what would it be?”

“Me as Wolverine from X-Men. The movie.”

“The second one? Also known as, my favorite one.”

“No, the first one,” he replied with no hesistation. “Otherwise known as the best one.”

“My turn again. Things that make you go hmm . . . ”

“Duck-billed platypuses. Platypi? Mammals laying eggs.” He took a bit of the Croissant Hot Pocket in his hand, with the silver and white microwave sleeve still attached. “Now my turn. If you could have your SAT score be 1400 simply by having an ugly scar on your face, would you do so?”

“I had over a 1400, and I had scars. I think it would be 2100 now. And I still have scars.” I lean in to show him my cheek. But as I placed my finger on my face, I shrank away from him.

“What’s wrong? Are you having a flashback? You don’t really have to take another standardized test again. Sometimes I have nightmares that I have to retake the LSAT. Then I wake up shaking, all sweaty and scared.”

“I’m not Fancy Bianca.” I looked at my clean, pinkish fingertips, which had no cocoa-colored powder or concealer on them. “I’m Casual Bianca.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This morning I put on my GMAT outfit, so I would be as comfortable as possible. Then you called, and we went to Johnny Rockets. But I didn’t change my clothes, or deal with my,” I lowered my voice, “dermatological issues.”

“Okay . . . ?”

“So I’m still Casual Bianca.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I wanted to be Fancy Bianca! I wanted to look nice.”

“You look fine. We got burgers, not filet mignon.” Mike furrowed his brow. “If I’m following what you’re saying, which is doubtful, you’d rather be fancy than casual? That doesn’t seem like you, though.”

“I like being casual. With my friends.”

“I’m not your friend?”

“You are, but,” I exhaled. “I want people to like me for who I am. So I show them Fancy Bianca first. By the time they see Casual Bianca, they already like me. So they won’t run away.”

“Why would they run—That’s insanity.”

“No, that’s LA. And the rest of American society. People judge you by an impossible standard of looks, which I could never measure up to. So I try to make the best of what I have. I try to look normal.”

He swallowed the last of the Hot Pocket. “You’re a piece of work.”

“So are you, kid.”

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Another chapter completed!

"Cake!" 19 more chapters to go. An excerpt:

If I had to choose between a burgeoning rock star whom I had spoken with for a total of less than ten minutes, and a Senator’s entry-level assistant whose light brown eyelashes had burned a permanent image in my brain . . . Someday I would learn to pick the hot, unstable guys over the adorkable, dependable ones. But that day was not today.

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I finished one chapter!

Only 20 more chapters to go. An excerpt:

I woke up in the morning next to him. I was surprised. One, he was still there, and two, he was still asleep. I needed to go to the bathroom. I rolled out of bed quietly to go pee pee and brush my teeth.

I returned to my room. It was almost 6:00 am, but being the end of June, the sun was shining brightly through the blinds near his feet. He was rolled up against the wall, breathing deeply. How was I going to sneak back into bed?

I eased myself onto the mattress, one body part at a time, in hopes of not jostling him. I snuggled back into my space, and posed my arms and legs into savasana, which was not the first yoga position that came to mind when I thought about him.

He turned over and wrapped his left arm around me. “Hello,” he said into my left shoulder. His eyes remained closed.

“As you can tell, this is not a Tempur-Pedic bed.”

He opened his eyes. “Does that make me a spilled glass of red wine?”

I raised the blanket and pointed at his pants. “That doesn’t look like wine in your pocket.”

He placed his hand over his crotch. “I’ll be right back.” He scooched down the bottom edge of the bed and headed for the bathroom.

When he came back, he climbed around me to get back in the bed, in the exact same position. He draped his arm across my body again. “How could you possibly think you were going to sneak out of this tiny bed?”

“I had to go to the bathroom. You were completely passed out, snoring, so there was a chance you’d stay asleep.”

“I do not snore.”

“Dude. You totally snore.”

“No, I don’t.”

I lifted my head to pull out the braids stuck behind my back. “Yes, you do. It didn’t wake me up, but I heard it. It sounded like a cartoon snore, where the tissue blows up over your nose from the air shooting out.”

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"A writer writing a book about how writers should write books."

"Must have been a huge seller."

As some of you readers may know, I have been working on the sequel toSteve the Penguin, entitled Hot Penguin Action. Writing a 200-page novel has taken over much of my mind grapes. Hence, the slow down of posts on this blog.

For you readers, I do have an excerpt, which will probably be amended prior to the final edit. Enjoy!

"I'm having my ex-husband's baby."

There I sat, bemused by Liesl's statement. I wondered how my usually coherent best friend could sound like a guest on Maury. That show always made my life look good.

"It's Scott's. Of course. If I am actually pregnant. I'm a month late, and the test I took came out green, instead of pink or blue. I haven't told anyone else yet."

I was shocked. Liesl called her family for advice on everything. I once witnessed Liesl moderating a conference call with her mother, father, sister and brother to confirm whether her pink dress should be washed with the white laundry or with the darks.

"Then there's nothing to tell."

"I'm always on time, Bianca."

"You're only a month late. I have been late, early, long, short. Although, I'm not the one who has been engaging in unprotected sex with her husband for over a year."

"Exactly. You're not having sex."

"Yes, I know." Like I needed another voice in my head telling me my vajayjay was never going to get any action. Honestly, I could have put it storage. No one else was using it.

"You don't have to worry about getting pregnant, since you're not with anybody."

"That's nice, Liesl. You still want me to be sympathetic, right?"

"Sorry." She paced back and forth across my room. "How did this happen? I was on the pill."

"It is 95% effective. Although, with the stress of the divorce, your hormones are probably . . . "

"Whacked out? Yeah. I haven't felt normal for a while. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm not sure I want to have it."

I patted Liesl's arm. "If you want to end your pregnancy, it's your decision."

"I don't want to have an abortion. If this is really happening, I'm having the baby, and I'm keeping it. The problem is raising a baby. I never planned to be a single mother. A baby needs two parents."

"When I was growing up, half of my friends had single parents. And for the most part, they turned out great. Conversely, the people who lived with both biological parents are the ones who turned out a bit off." Case in point, Liesl: a product of a two-parent household who ended up divorced before 30, with a child on the way.

Liesl frowned. "Why couldn't this have happened to you?"

Because I don't have sexual relations with the insane?

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