Bonnie Vanak's Web Journal

You have bewitched me..

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 14:01:00 +0000

You have bewitched me..

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 14:00:00 +0000

Indecision 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 03:46:00 +0000

I finally left ABC news to click onto the Comedy Channel and watch Indecision 2008 with Colbert and Stewart. Love those guys. It's the best way to watch politics!

It's an historical night, an historic election, no matter what the outcome.

And what better way to watch than by watching comedy? :-)

It's October

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 12:09:00 +0000

It's National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Get a mammogram, and maybe save a life.

Your own.

Booksigning!

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 15:00:00 +0000

Bonnie Vanak will be signing copies of her new werewolf Nocturne, Enemy Lover, at the Altamonte Mall, Center Court, 451 E. Altamonte Drive, Altamonte Springs, Florida on November 1, from 2-5 pm.

Meet Bonnie and 18 other romance authors and stock up on wonderful holiday reading. Barnes & Noble will donate 20% of proceeds from book sales to Central Florida's non-profit Adult Literacy League. Be sure to shop early, because the first 75 book buyers will receive a FABULOUS goody bag stuffed with free books (most of them autographed), bookmarks, postcards, pens, chocolate, and other promotional goodies.

New Cover!

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 21:59:00 +0000

This is the cover to my November Nocturne, ENEMY LOVER. Yum!!!

I finished The Lady and the Libertine and it's on it's way to NY and my editor, who will be at RWA this week.

I won't be there in SF. Boo hoo.

I am a little bummed because this is the first conference I've missed in two years. But on the bright side, I accepted an offer last week for TWO more Nocturne books and a BITE.

YAY!

So it's writing writing for me. Maybe a conference next year.

I will miss RWA... some of the workshops are so wonderful and the PAN lounge is a great place to hang out. I also enjoy seeing the first sale pink ribbons... I get a big kick out of those.

On the bright side, I just booked a week's stay at a quiet B&B in Tenn. so I can be alone on a writing retreat and write Rafe's story, whom you'll meet in Enemy Lover.

And DH and I, if all goes well, will be vacationing in Colorado in three weeks. This year, I needed a vacation with him more than a conference.

Now it's back to work. I'm writing a new proposal and promised myself I'd have it done this week so I can start on the new book. No rest for this writer.

A day in the life...

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 20:51:00 +0000

I finished Baylor and Katia's story over the weekend, but something just wasn't right about it. So I edited Sunday night.

And then last night, I stayed up until midnight, editing some more. As I'm doing this, the scene flashes through my mind from SHE DEVIL, where Meryl Streep as Mary Fisher the famous romance author is writing on her hot pink laptop, musing over "love buttons" outside her multi-million dollar oceanside home.

Ah, the glam life of an author. I'm an author. And this was my day today.

5 a.m.: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...RINGGGGGGGGGGG!! wha??? Oh. DH is up for the day.

5:30 a.m. Drag my butt out of bed and turn on the computer.

6 a.m.: Kiss DH good-bye. He turns off the light in the computer room, a natural reflex from turning off the lights when he leaves. I grumble.

7:30 a.m. Finally decide BROKEN SOULS is done, as much as it can be. Feel better about turning it in. Fire off email to my Nocturne editor, attach file. Feel sense of accomplishment. I am DONE, I think. For now.

7:40 a.m. Realize I'm running late, have to drop dog off at the vet.

8:15 a.m. Take Tiger with me in car to Dunkin Donuts. Clerk peers at Tiger as if the dog will drink the coffee. Drop off dog, rush to work.

8:35 a.m. Arrive at the day job. Drink coffee, check email.

8:50 a.m. Director wants to get together for a "short meeting." I glance at watch; have another meeting in an hour. Forget to bring coffee to "short" meeting.

10:10 a.m. Short meeting is over, now I have a project to write that is due, like, now. I catch the person I'm supposed to meet with at 10:15, postpone that meeting for another 20 minutes. Go back to desk, gulp down cold coffee.

11:10 a.m. Meeting over, another project to write.

11:15 a.m. Drink more cold coffee, start work on project due, like, now.

11:30 a.m. Vet calls, Tiger is ok, just severe dry eye. Need meds, treat 2x a day. Pick him up after 3 but before 5.

Noon: Lunch hour. Drive home to let out Dolce, the other dog, the Shih Tzu we adopted three months ago. Walk in house, greeted by lovely odor of... Walk into living room. Dolce greets me by wagging his tail furiously, toy in mouth. He's deposited several "gifts" in the living room.

12:15 p.m. Clean up gifts, clean rug.

12:25 p.m. Nuke lunch, turn on computer to check email. Email from my Dorchester editor. He asks if I have a name for the new historical, a synopsis and can he have them ASAP and that book is scheduled for May 2009.

12:26 p.m. Realize I have an August 1 deadline and only 50,000 words and a day job. No book title, no synopsis.

12:27 p.m. Email back my editor with synopsis: "Boy meets girl, has sex, feels guilty, marries girl, girl divorces boy and runs away to Las Vegas to work as nude Elvis impersonator. Boy is heartbroken and shoots self. Title: The Naked and the Dead." I then add, "JK."

12:28 p.m. Editor emails back, "Sounds good to me." He adds, "JK."

12:34 p.m. Realize my lunch is still sitting in the microwave.

12:40 p.m. Gulp down lunch while Dolce gives me pleading look and tries to look as adorable as possible to beg a bite or two. I resist, grab Diet Coke and give him dog biscuit.

1 p.m. Back at work. Finish work project due, like, now, and turn it in.

2:10 p.m. Tackle next work project, newsletter article, Begin searching web for fascinating and disgusting facts about chagas disease.

2:20 p.m. Find interesting article, Print it out and gleefully read aloud to co-workers. "The disease is caused by blood-sucking insects who bite the victim and then defecate on the person's face, depositing the parasites that carry the disease. Death is possible if not treated."

2:30 p.m. Watch co-workers's faces turn green. Chortle.

4 p.m. Realize I have to pick up Tiger at the vet. Blood-sucking insect article will have to wait until tomorrow.

4:25 p.m. Pay bill at vet's and Tiger watches my face turn green as I sign charge slip.

4:45 p.m. Home, Dolce greets us at the door with a toy. Realize the dog needs to be walked before he deposits more "gifts." Looks like rain. Swap leashes on dogs. Walk dog to the accompaniment of thunder and distant lightning.

5 p.m. Take Dolce home. Tiger greets us at the door, looking scared. He hates thunder. Dolce decides since Tiger is scared, he is scared as well. Give both dogs biscuits to calm down.

5:05 .m. Put dinner on. Pork chops. Tiger and Dolce decide they are not scared and nose around my ankles as they realize DINNER is on.

5:15 p.m. Turn on TV for moment to see radar, see that CHRISTINE is on TV. Oh boy! Settle back to watch, just for a minute. Figure this is my reward for getting up at 5:30 a.m. for final editing on Nocturne Bite.

5:20 p.m. Dh arrives home; had to visit a friend's house. "It's pouring." He switches TV channel to see radar to confirm this. Sigh.

And for tonight... after dinner, it will be reading over what I've written for THE NAKED AND THE DEAD, aka, unnamed Egyptian historical #7. Coming up with a title and a synopsis.

Hopefully, by 11 p.m. bedtime. Start process all over again tomorrow.

Lagging

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Sat, 31 May 2008 13:30:00 +0000

Man, I am so far behind on my writing...

I have this morning to write. This afternoon, DH and I are going on a river boat tour and then meeting a friend for drinks in the same bar where Jimmy Buffett and Alan Jackson filmed "It's Five O'clock somewhere." It's a Tiki Bar on the water, sandy beach, great view.

In the meantime, I'm trying to revise the Nocturne Bite that was due, uh, yesterday, but that I got an extension on. And as soon as that's done, I have 2 months to finish the Egyptian historical that I have only 50,000 words on.

I have two months to write 40,000 words. Now, I'm a fast writer, but the day job demands have been pretty intense lately, and I get home and I'm so tired at night I fall asleep. Little writing done.

So I guess I had better speed up. And quit blogging and get to work! After I walk the dog... he's so cute. A little furball. I call him fluffernutter, after the marshmellow treat.

Cajun heartburn

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 17:59:00 +0000

Crazy year and it's only March 1. Finished two, no three, big projects on my plate. ENEMY LOVER, my next Nocturne, is approved by my editor. No release date yet. I turned in my Nocturne Bite and just mailed out yesterday a proposal for Nocturne. We'll see what happens.

In the meantime, I'm still sighing over Rafe and Emily, the couple I wrote about in the proposal. Rafe is a hot Cajun and loves those spices. I'm listening to hot Cajun music now. Professor Longhair, Beau Soleil (they rock!) and thinking of New Orleans, magick, music and good times. Rafe rides a Harley, wears black leather and oozes charm. He adores a pinch of Cajun spice with his dinner.

Me? I had horrid stomach problems this week that flatlined me, forcing me to take a day off work as I drove all over, trying to find a pharmacy that had the prescription meds my MD wanted me to take. If it got worse, she advised me to go to the ER because it could have been very serious.

Wanting to avoid the ER, I tried to find the meds. Found them, took them and promptly proceeded to hurl again, as I had for the past 24 hours, which is what happens when I have a bad case of acid reflux or I watch too much American Idol.

I'm better now. Sticking to the Cajun music, and letting only my characters in books taste those hot Cajun spices. Werewolves don't get heartburn. Only their authors do.

On being professional

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 11:02:00 +0000

This is one of the children I'm going to visit next week. Because that's my job, seeing starving children, talking with their grieving parents and bringing home the grim reality of Third World poverty to people in the US so they can donate money so we can buy food and medicine and support programs that keep them alive and make them better.

Perfectly logical. And Perfectly heartbreaking at times.

Two weeks ago I was seeing malnourished children.

Next week I'll be doing the same. I'm feeling a tad exhausted right now.

But this is my job and if I'm to do it to the best of my ability, it's what I must do. I have to get up close and personal with the worst of the worst, the most heart wrenching, the ugly side of poverty. It's called being a professional. My own personal feelings can't interfere with what I have to do to get the job done. Even though I might be tempted to cry because no child should have to suffer like this, and part of me is closing my eyes and saying, "Not another one, how many more? How many more must I visit and how many more will die before I get there? How much more of this can I take, going on 15 years of doing this?"

I do what I must to get the job done.

The same is true for writing romance. I'm in a gray place right now, hovering between exhaustion and uncertainty and wanting to chuck it all away and run away to a nice place like Tahiti. Or Brooklyn. I hear Brooklyn is cold this time of year so I'd have to buy a space heater.

I'm dealing with rewriting a rejected book and a proposal rejection, two realities in the publishing world. Part of me feels like pushing it all aside and walking away. Running away to Brooklyn and abandoning the laptop, manuscript, the haunting images of starving children chasing me back to the US, the deadlines.

But instead, I stayed up last night very late, writing, rewriting, writing some more, when all I wanted was sleep as I have to work at the day job today. I'll have little chance to get work done next week, so I did what had to be done. Some people think writing romance is very glamorous. Maybe they imagine that we're all like Mary Fisher in the move SHE DEVIL, wearing our pink outfits sitting at our pink laptops, gushing about terms like "love buttons" while sipping mineral water. Some days it's fun and zany and terrific. Others it's damn hard work. It's a business, and you do what you must to get the job done.

It's called being a professional. Life interferes, deadlines are extended, editors are gracious and understanding, but in the end, you as author are the one who must deliver.

At the day job, I deliver the heartbreaking truth of starvation.
At the part-time job of romance author, I deliver the manuscript on deadline.

That's it in a nutshell. No excuses. I can whine all I want, but it won't get the job done. So the answer is just do it.

Like the school official's wife now popular on You Tube who admonished a kid for calling her house asking why there wasn't a snow day, I tell myself the same thing. ""Get over it, kid, and go to school!"

Happy Thanksgiving from Nicolas and Damian

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 16:07:00 +0000

What do werewolves eat for Thanksgiving?

Anything they want.... grrrrooowwwlllll

THE EMPATH, Nicolas's story, is now in stores! My first Silhouette Nocturne. If you like werewolves, check it out.

A break

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 17:29:00 +0000

sniff, sniff. Dh made me all weepy. He just bought me a very sweet anniversary gift.

We're leaving Tenneseee right now. Wow, I love love love it up here. I want to move. The people are sooooo sweet and friendly, and the scenery is gorgeous. We drove into North Carolina. I like N.C. but TN, that's where I want to go.

Maybe. Some Day.

Two glasses of Pinot Noir before a flight really help to destress. I dread returning. Rainey has cancer and I know we'll have to put her down soon. Work is crazy. Being in the mountains, and nothing but peace, quiet and relaxation.... I'm shocked at how productive I was. I decided to throw caution to the wind, and go with my gut. I started a new story, one I haven't sold yet and may never, and I wrote 14,000 words. It's gripping, emotional and I love it. I wrote for ME, not my editor(s), agent, or readers. Just for moi. It was wonderful. And I really really love these characters. There's such depth to this story.

When I get home, I'll get back on deadline, back to the day job, back to reality and a dog that is dying. But this week, we relaxed. We needed this. I researched areas that are going into this book, long hikes up to see waterfalls, quiet inns, colorful fall leaves. And I have the guts of a story that I can't let go of. Maybe I'll have to... because I can't sell it, but for this week, it was just what I needed.

In the meantime, DH and I went to a gorge in NC yesterday. We walked along the train tracks and this was our conversation:

Me: "Wow, this is so pretty, so quiet, I wonder if they ever use these tracks anymore?"

DH: "Yeah, they do. Look at the wear on them. They use them a lot."

Me: "Sure, right."

Nearby: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo

Me: "Oh &*#&@#"

DH: "I told you the train uses these tracks. Maybe you should get off them now before you get run over..."

Blogging

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Wed, 01 Aug 2007 16:07:00 +0000

“When we got to Guillermo it was too late. His body could not fight anymore. Guillermo fought until the last second and kept saying that he did not want to leave his little brother. The last word from Guillermo’s mouth was his little brother’s name. Guillermo was holding a teddy bear until the moment he died. What we experienced in the last minutes of his life is something that I hope we will never have to go through again. Tears rolled down his face at the end. All we have now is an empty bed and his memories.” Missionary I know talking about the death of a six-year-old child from starvation

I wrote about this today and it’s pretty damn depressing, but at least I can try to make a difference. I have a photo of this kid on my desk to remind me what’s really important in life to me. When a child perishes every 5 seconds in the world from hunger, it puts everything into perspective for me.

In other news, I’m turning to the dark side; my writing. I have serious deadlines to meet and I’m a serious deadline person. So I’m not blogging for a while, except for my monthly post on Unusual Historicals. I will be posting an excerpt of my December Nocturne on my website as soon as I get through these deadlines.

On a lighter note, a reader emailed me yesterday that she found The Falcon & the Dove for $3 at half.com. Yay! So if you’re searching for that book, don’t give up. The book is due to go back to print, but I haven’t a date yet. I love used bookstores. And I don’t care if that’s politically incorrect for an author, I just love ‘em. When a reader who wants to read a book can finally find it and not have to pay a ridiculous price, I say here’s to the UBS!

What’s important to me:

The work I do in the Third World.
My writing.
Reading.
DH
And rum runners.

‘Nuff said.

Paranda music

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Sat, 26 May 2007 14:26:00 +0000

Yesterday was grueling... was up at 3:30 a.m. and didn't get home until 9:30 p.m. because our plane was late. At least we got home...

I am emotionally drained from working, working, working, and all the travel this month to Haiti and Honduras.

But one of the best things about the travel is learning about different cultures. While in Honduras, I wandered into a gift shop on some down time and heard this fascinating, driving music. And I became introduced to Paranda music. I bought a CD by Aurelio Martinez.

Paranda music is a wonderful blend of African and Latin music, acoustical, with lots of guitar, drums and a beat that makes you want to shake your booty. It originated with the Garifuna people; those people who settled along the Caribbean coastline of Central America; Belize, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala and on the island of Roatan (where there are very very nice beaches, not that I will ever have the chance to go there, lol)

The people are descended from African and Amerindian roots. They're best known for the punta dance in which they dance on their toes and move their hips and lower body.

The music is lively, driving, and emotional, even if you don't understand the lyrics, the language of the music speaks to you. One of my favorites on "Garifuna Soul" is "LUMALALI LIMANIGA." Here are the lyrics in English from Stonetree Records, they correspond well with what we saw in the field this week; the sad sad orphans, the hungry, the homeless:

"Why is it that organizations are more powerful than the people? Why is it that the leaders are more powerful than the people?Look at the children in the streets Look at the children freezing in the cold
With hunger, freezing in the cold
I am the sound of silence
We are the sounds of silence
Voice of the children The elderly The unheard The Garinagu Pech Misquitos Sumos Mayas
Like me
The voiceless
Andy, how sad But it's true, Aurelio Their bed and sheets are made of cardboard. Where are the authorities at midnight?"

Check out Aurelio's album at this link:

http://www.stonetreerecords.com/albums/paranda.php

The wake

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Fri, 25 May 2007 12:41:00 +0000

Yesterday we drove into Santa Rosa to look at a very nice housing project. The community has formed teams to build the houses and one person from each family must contribute. I met a woman who was laying cement on a wall of her home. She told me that the house is a dream come true. She was terrified that the Chagas insect would bite her or her family because she lived in a very poor mud and stick home where the insect likes to live.

Chagas is a horrible disease... this insect passes these deadly parasites on in their feces and bites a person on the face when they are sleeping. The victim gets infected when they scratch the bite. Treatment is only effective in the initial stages. Eventually the victim dies of cardiac failure.

We also saw a dead baby.

At another mud and stick home, a grandmother was holding a wake for her infant granddaughter, who had died the previous day. Only 26 weeks old. The mother had a c-section but the baby was too underdeveloped. The baby was in this tiny tiny white coffin, with plastic flowers surrounding her. the grandmother had a candle burning on the table for the baby because they are too poor to afford oil for the lamps.

The contrast was so striking...the pristine tiny white satin-lined coffin on this plastic table, the crude mud brick walls of the home and the dirt floor and the grandmother's sad sad face...

I think the hardest part of this trip was the visit to the HIV orphanage. All the children are HIV positive. They have a strong family bond among each other because almost all of them lost their parents to HIV. They are on drug therapy, thank God, but still.... Carlos told us on one visit, when a child was asked what he wanted, he replied, "I want to live longer."

Damn, what the hell do you say to a child who tells you that?

Going home today and I am so exhausted I can barely drag myself to pack. I wrote about 4 pages this week and they suck. I don't know how the hell I will finish this book. I'm working two jobs this year, at the day job and writing these books and this month with a trip to Haiti and now this Honduras trip.... I'm burnt out.

I feel like I almost don't even care anymore... and maybe it isn't worth writing romance. Even the day job... do I really make a difference? Does anyone really care? I work and work and work and I need a break, but I can't take one because I have two books due and I have a day job. Some days I just wonder if it's really worth it, when I collapse into bed and all I can see are those kids in the HIV orphanage with their sad sad faces who just want to live.

The garbage dump

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Wed, 23 May 2007 02:39:00 +0000

This is Angela. I met her at the garbage dump today in San Pedro Sula. She's 10. From 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. she works with her mother and two brothers picking out plastic bottles to resell. Her family makes about $2 US a day doing this. She said she does it so they can save money to buy food. I asked her if she could have one thing, what would it be?

She shyly said she'd like "ropa" clothing, so she could change her clothes and have pretty clothes. Angela was wearing her only real clothing... a dirty shirt and shorts that she wears to work in the dump.

This morning we visited an orphanage and met a 10-year-old boy whose mother told him she hated him and wished he was a girl. SHe used to whip him with an electrical cord and once made him hold a live wire in his palm. He still has the burn mark on his palm.

The kids, always the kids, you just want to scoop them up and hold them and make it all go away for them. All of it...

A great view on life...

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Tue, 22 May 2007 03:20:00 +0000

We had dinner tonight with Carlos and his wife, Rosanna. They speak fluent English and I had a great time at dinner. They're so cute together and lively and make a great couple. We talked of everything from work to Carlos' hobby of triathlons. Dinner was at a restaurant that was an historic house.

Carlos, who is the project coordinator here for the organization we're working with, told me that his job isn't a job. It's so much more. He loves getting up in the morning and going to work. "I love my job. I make people happy. I give them things that make their lives better. I'm like Santa Claus. How can I not love my job?"

It was very gratifying to hear, and a good reminder. Kinda like a pep talk without asking for one. Because I basically do the same,only by raising the money instead of working with individual projects. My job is seeing mostly the bad stuff... and so far today, everything has been a good reminder of how very good the good stuff can be.

And here I am...

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Mon, 21 May 2007 23:50:00 +0000

This is funny. Because I'm in Honduras logged onto a server here, blogger is all in Spanish. I will not publish my post, I will "publicar entrada."

We didn't end up driving to Santa Rosa. That's Thursday. We're in San Pedro Sula all week. OMG, it is hot here. The sun is brutal. I think even my eyelids are burned. Now I know why the windows are all deeply tinted on the buses and why the men wear cowboy hats. Dusty as well... it's their rainy season, but it hasn't begun yet.

We saw a few projects this afternoon that made me feel good. One is a papaya and guava and tilapia co-op that is very successful. They've had two harvests already of papaya and are doing great, even exporting the fruit next time to El Salvador, as well as giving the locals a very low cost source of nutrition. The above photo is the field. The Taiwanese mission project, I forget the name now, trains them and stops by every 15 days to see how they are doing. The papaya trees are a special hybrid from Taiwan that produces twice the amount of fruit.

The tilapia ponds are my favorite; a low cost project that produces excellent fish. Honduras is the number one exporter of tilapia.

I asked our projects guy about doing more projects for WOMEN to teach them self-sufficiency and work with them in an arena where there is a need. Not just teaching them to sew, but teaching them to sew, setting them up in cottage industries to fulfill a need and teaching them independence.

Translation: You're a single mom. You don't need a man to rely on. Or tell you what to do.

He is going to do just that... which will be really cool. And the organization we are touring with this week, the one we work with a lot here, is headed by a woman who is very very enthusiastic about development projects for women. We're seeing one tomorrow...

I need to see fulfillment and hope because it's been pretty much a downer in the stories I've gotten, which is necessary... because the gut-wrenching stuff raises the money. But for me personally, I have to see the good side, the fulfillment, which makes me feel more cheery and realize we are making a difference.

I did interview this woman today... she was born with both feet backwards, but walks just fine. No one will give her a job because they just assume she can't work because of her disability. She has no house, but is living in a borrowed room with her two sons and her nephew. Her bed is bricks and a board.

She was also gang raped. Literally. By one of the local gangs that terrorizes the communities down here.

I didn't ask her about that. I just didn't want to know... I guess that makes me sounds chicken, but it wasn't necessary to the story... I can't use the violent angle anyway. And I know we'll build her a house. And get her a little project to sell stuff and support her kids.

I just didn't want to hear any more horrific violence stories. Not today... today I just wanted to gaze in peaceful contentment at the field of papaya and guava and the tilapia ponds, and remember the good stuff. Not the bad...

I don't want to go but...

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Mon, 21 May 2007 12:33:00 +0000

I really do NOT want to go to Honduras this week. I want to stay home with DH. Play with the dogs. Write. Watch American TV. Listen to American music. Eat American food. Drive to work and talk with my co-workers, brainstorm ideas for creative campaigns (the schedule today).

I don't want to drive 45 minutes south to Miami, sit in an airport, get on an American Airlines flight for 2.5 hours with elbows in my side, people oozing over their seats and the drink cart banging my elbows. Then arrive and drive 2.5 hours to our destination, a town north of San Pedro Sula.

I don't want to see any more poverty.

I don't want to see hungry children, orphaned children, women who need help, who just want a little dignity and a little hope for their kids.

I'm burned out. Nearly 14 years of this type of work, seeing suffering, destitution, need, haunted, pain-filled faces... has worn me down.

And then I start to think, what if? What if I didn't go? What if I were wealthy enough from my romance books (insert big laugh here) that I could simply stay home and write and could give up the day job forever?

Wow. It would be really really tough. Because as much as I don't want to go to Honduras, I must. I'm compelled.

So much pain and suffering in the world. And I have a chance to make a difference.

Yeah, it sounds corny and sentimental, but it's true. I come home, write appeals, raise $$$ and feed children, build decent homes for families, give women self-help training and help them try to achieve economic independence.

I keep thinking of the restavek girl I met in Haiti two weeks ago. The call made to authorities to find her a new home, take her away from slavery.

What if I weren't there that day?

If I have a chance to make the world a better place, I must take it. I have to keep slogging.

I'm not trying to sound noble or wave a banner calling people to action, I'm just stating the facts in my particular case. I work at a day job that can and does make a small difference in the world. So I have to keep trying.

Because trying is better than not trying.

RWA

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Mon, 21 May 2007 11:04:00 +0000

I registered for RWA. Not sure if I will make up, but I registered anyway. It's a big big loss if I can't make it, just like I couldn't make RT, but I badly want to go, so I figured I'd take a shot and register, save the early registration fee and guarantee a slot before they are full up.

Reasons I want to go: See friends, cheer on Jennifer and Pamela for the RITA awards, drink heavily at the bar, see my editors, agent, etc. Drink heavily at teh bar. Take in a couple of workshops, find out what's going on in the industry.

Reasons I don't want to go: The Deadline. DH. Time home just to chill.

I figure registering will give me a kick in the arse to really go full speed ahead on this book, a reward of sorts. If I'm very good, I get to play in Dallas.

So this is why I'm packing my laptop when I leave for Honduras this morning. I'm hoping to get a little work done this week ... not sure what the schedule holds, but I'm going to try like hell to write. I fell short 19 pages of this week's writing goal. Need to make up for it.

Blowing rocks

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Sun, 20 May 2007 23:17:00 +0000

Surprise! Dh put away ALL the laundry and cooked and cleaned up so I could pack. Whew... I feel much better now!

We went to Blowing Rocks Nature Preserve this afternoon to watch the waves crash against the rocks. Brine in the air, cool breeze, and the ocean. Very relaxing. Just what I needed to download before leaving tomorrow.

Not sure if I'll have internet, if I do, I may post photos from the road...

A leetle crazy...

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Sun, 20 May 2007 15:45:00 +0000

I feel like one of those donkeys struggling uphill with a big burden that's so heavy, he doesn't notice until another donkey asks, "Wow, how did you get up that hill with that load?"
And the first donkey asks, "Duh, what load?"Just call me an ass, lol

Haiti last week, running around, touring, all the while escorted by four armed security officers, first time I've ever toured in 13 years in Haiti escorted by armed guards. We were in a large group for part of the trip, that's why...

I interviewed kids who lost their parents in the violence that is Cite Soleil, one said, "My father's head was chopped off by gangsters." I hugged a little boy who stood as cold and silent as a stone statue because he's so numbed by the violence he can't respond to affection. And I saw a voodoo ceremony, which was kinda cool and made me want to ask the houngan if I could swipe a bit of his very powerful clarin( rum).

Came home Friday, FIL was in the hospital, we went Saturday to take him home with us for the weekend. That was my weekend last week. Not a heck of a lot of time to write. I had a sick FIL to care for, laundry from Haiti, unpacking, etc. etc. No time to write. But I still have a book due in September.

So I took Monday off, wrote 15 pages. Yay. But then self-doubts kicked in. These pages suck, blah blah blah. Worked Tuesday through Friday. Wrote yesterday, 11 more pages. I have a better grip, I think, on this story. I always panic when writing, thinking the story isn't this or that. How can I make it stronger, the hero sexier, yada yada.

I keep forgetting the mantra, JUST WRITE IT.You can always change it later.

Last night I had a dream about Nora Roberts. Not that I WAS Nora Roberts, that would have been quite funny. This dream was funny in itself. In the dream, Nora and I were sitting on a bed in someone's room, like a girls' sleepover, like at RWA National. And I looked at Nora and I gushed, "Wow Nora, how do you do it? You're soooo amazing! Look at all those books you put out! You must love to write!"

And Nora replied, "Hell no. I'd rather be shopping."

That made me feel better, even though it was only a dream.

In the meantime, today I need to spend quality time with Dh since I'm leaving him again for the second time in two weeks, clean the house because we're picking up FIL and bringing him over for dinner tonight, finish laundry, and pack for my trip to Honduras tomorow in which I'll see more poverty and more destitution and more starving kids. The dog threw up on the carpet and judging by the smell, there is something dead in our attic. DH is busy with yardwork and arguing with me that there isn't something dead in the attic, it's probably his dirty socks.

I have a hero who wants to have hot sex with the heroine and I'm leaving him in a state of sexual frustration because I have laundry to finish and stuff to mail and I have NO time to attend to his arousal.

I'm leaving the country tomorrow and leaving him with a permanent erection, kinda like a literary Viagra state.

Nora, if you're out there, ever reading this, I'd rather be shopping, too.

How much do you masticate?

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Thu, 17 May 2007 23:17:00 +0000

The more you masticate, the healthier you are.

That's what Horace Fletcher advocated.

Watching Animal Planet about camels chewing their food and they mentioned Mr. Fletcher. Not that he's a camel. He's a guy known as The Great Masticator.

Known for his health beliefs, he believed in the doctrine of "Fletcherism," from 1895 to 1919, in which all food must be chewed and not swallowed until it turned to liquid.

He thought all this extreme mastication helped reduce overeating, and was good for your health. Any food you didn't chew enough should be spit out.

So remember. Always masticate a lot every day, then don't spit, but swallow.

This has been a public ridiculous announcement brought to you by a writer who is overtired and needs more sleep, not more mastication.

Whistle of a different sort

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Wed, 16 May 2007 01:17:00 +0000

ONe I'd love to see... blows much better smoke, too!

The Farting Preacher 5

noreply@blogger.com (Bonnie Vanak) — Wed, 16 May 2007 00:52:00 +0000

REALLY silly, really funny