When are you going to…

Profound Friday Comment…

Email is so insufficient in expressing the minutia of expression. – Kelly Kirch – www.kellykirch.com

Bloody hell that’s profound. Can I use that on the blog? – Amarinda Jones www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/

When are you going to write a real book? I get asked this a lot. You have so much potential why are you writing erotic romance? Why? Because I want to and who says romance books are not real? Who defines reality when it comes to books? No, my books will not win the Pulitzer Prize but then I don’t expect them to. I write to entertain and to allow readers to escape where they are in their lives for just a moment. I don’t have to justify my ‘writing credentials’ and write an epic ‘real book’ saga. I think Popeye summed it up best when he said, “I am what I am.” I write as I think and speak. Do I have an epic saga in me? Sure, have you read the blog serial of late?

When are you going to get married? Why is it if you are a straight female you have to be married? I don’t get it. In an enlightened age we still have this need to pair everyone off in neat married couples. And, if you are not married then you have ‘something wrong’ with you (where to start) or you must be one of ‘them.’ No, I’m not and ’them' get married nowadays too. I have two standard responses to the why I am not married question
1. Look into the distance with a suitably tragic look on my face and say “I can’t talk about it” – then I walk off as if heartbroken.
2. Point to my wonky looking big toe, that I broke, and say “I can’t I’m deformed.”
I like to confuse people. But seriously marriage is a huge commitment and I’m not ready, if ever, to be committed. Though I did have a goldfish live for seven years. Is that the same thing?

When are you going to get rid of all the crap in your house? The key to that question is it’s ‘my house’ and therefore I can be the Queen of crap if I want to be. How many people are lucky enough to have a nearly life size, gaudy looking 1970’s Nubian statue complete with tacky turban, called Alphonse, that holds the phone? Not many. Combine that with black lady lamps, 1920’s plaster dogs, an amazingly heavy and big arsed 1930’s working radiogram, a dozen 1960’s bullfighter posters and an ornate bed head that comes straight out of an 1960’s house of ill repute and it’s all class with a capital K, baby. I like tacky, kitsch things. As a child I loved the Addams family house. My house is crowded and messy and important papers can stay in a pile on a chair for weeks. A friend once asked ‘what happens when you die and someone has to sort all this stuff out?” My answer – “I’ll be dead. Why will I care?”

When are you going to stop saying things you shouldn’t? Ah? Never. Who is in charge of determining what should and should not be said? Sure, I say things that shock and piss people off but I say them because I mean them and I am not one to beat around the bush. Why hold stuff inside that is eating at you? Say it, mean it, move on. Life is too short to hold back. Live life like you mean it. Yep, I get in trouble a lot but I kind of like trouble.

When are you going to be rational? I especially like this question. An ultra conservative family member asks me this every time I see him which is thankfully once in a blue moon. When I don’t agree with what he says, I am irrational. He is only a couple of years older than me but he sounds like he is 103 and the law maker of the land. Picture a stocky looking Moses-like figure dressed in a business suit shaking his finger at bad Amarinda. He has decreed from his lofty position that ladies don’t write books about sex, they should be married by a certain age and if they aren’t married they should live a quiet, genteel life. I know - he’s a crack up isn’t he? And yes, he is deadly serious. I’ll admit I quite enjoy being ultra bad around him. Will I be rational? Maybe one day if it suits me.

I think when people stop asking when are you going to…then you must have become one of them. Stay who you are and be true to yourself. Let ‘em ask. It gives them something to do. So tell me, what do people ask you? When are you going to….

The blog saga…on www.kkirch.blogspot.com. Kelly left us with….

Sam reached behind her yanking out several quills. Emmeline howled in pain. Sam thrust the fistful of poison-leaking pricks into Leo's chest. "Take that feather head."

With an ominous tilt to his head, Leo leveled a golden eye on him. His talons gripped Emmeline tighter, drawing forth her milky blood as PJ watched helpless. Leo's next words shook Sam with terror. "Fruitcake nifty toolshed splatter, Charo. Peanut butter estrogen dancing."

Thanks so bloody much Kelly…my turn….

There was a sudden flash of light and a puff of smoke and Zoltan the great appeared before them.

“Emmeline!” Zoltan yelled at her. “Duck!”

“No, he’s an eagle!” She shook as the pain seared through her.

Zoltan knew Emmeline was helpless. He lifted his hands and intoned the ancient spell of the min-min. “Wangaratta, Thargarmindah, Yelbaron.” He saw the eagle start to shake. “Oodnadatta, Quilpie, Goondiwindi!” A bolt of pure, blue energy shot into Leonardo.

“No!” Leo screamed as his hands fell from Emmeline and he dropped to his knees.

“Bangalow, Budgewoi and be gone!” Zoltan cursed as he watched Leonardo explode into a million pieces. Masses of feathers rained down on all in the room.

“Thank god…phut.” Emmeline spat out a feather. “I thought I was a…phut…goner, Zoltan.”

“No one…phut….brings down the peanut butter estrogen dancing curse…phut…on my woman.” Zoltan pulled her into his arms. “We need to get out of here.”

“Why? I have plans for world…phut…domination. I could have a good life here.”

“Can you hear that sound?” A rumble sounded below their feet. “This planet is about to…phut…explode.”

Sam and Jonas shrieked and clutched each other.

“None of you are…phut…leaving.” PJ drew out her machete.

Zoltan laughed. “Such a crude weapon will not stop me. Stand in my way and I will kill you.”

“No you won’t.” PJ smiled knowingly. “Don’t you recognize me Zoltan?” She lifted her shirt and exposed her stomach.

“Oh my…phut… god! It can’t be true!” Zoltan’s eyes widened in shock.

You know what happens next. Anny turns the whole blog saga on it's ear once more tomorrow on www.annycook.blogspot.com. What's that you ask? Anny's quote for the day?

Yeah, we won't discuss what we can do with a bowl of fruit - check out any of Anny's Books on www.annycook.com and you'll understand how - er - versatile a writer young Anny is.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?