The case of the missing THING

I used to have this THING inside me. The THING was like a metal detector except that it could care less about safety pins, old bottle caps, and 18th century coins. My THING sniffed out blog topics. And so I always had this storage bin in the back of my brain that housed everything from funny kid stories to political opinions to observations on the half-naked teenagers making out by my mailbox. My brain bin was always overflowing with crap because I never had enough time to transfer my blog topic collection onto the actual BLOG.

I still don't have much in the way of time, but lately I have felt as if my THING needs to be repaired. It will look at a perfectly good blog topic and not know whether to stuff it in the brain bin or smile at it and keep walking. Sometimes the THING doesn't even recognize blog topics anymore. It's like, I gave it a short vacation of sorts, put it in the closet for a few months, and now that I've tried to take it out and vacuum with it, it still wants to read a book and sip coffee, its feet propped up with pillows.

So instead of forcing it to do it's job, I'm going to make an announcement. Tomorrow (Saturday, May 30) there is going to be a massive collection of authors signing books at a place called Cookin' Books in Chama, New Mexico. The Fiesta del Libro is what we call this thing, and if you've never been to Chama... all I can say is, I'm sorry. And go. The weather will be in the low to mid seventies. The clean mountain air is fragrant with pine, and maybe a whiff of a nearby campfire and someone roasting chile. I will be there looking out for you and maybe you can help me figure out how to fix my THING.

Open letters to my high school and family

Dear Family:

I. LOVE. YOU. Liz... Jan..., I know I approached you like a tornado approaches a trailer park. I came with almost no warning and POUNCED you with the idea that I should "launch" my book from none other than Deming High School. Here is where I blinked. TWICE, maybe. Before I knew it, you had arranged an event that had me holding a microphone in front of a class of creative writing students, several faculty, your social studies/NM history/art/AP/thingamawhatty students to tell them how I like to simultaneously embarrass myself and be my own best friend. Irene, you jumped in as my accountant/publicist/bouncer/speech coach and personal assistant who taps her watch and mouths words from across the room to remind me that I am wandering like a lost kitty in the streets of downtown Las Vegas. Mom, you called my wonderful aunties who all showed up to the mixer afterward and made me cry like a newborn. Aunties, you took pictures and gushed over me like I was said newborn. And, coincidentally, shared childbirth stories with me. Toni and Jonah, you helped Auntie Irene organize the people who wanted a book signed. And you sat there and LISTENED to Mom's speech for, what, the fifty-fifth time? That's medal-of-worthy in some countries. Sweet brother and Ashley, you read my book in two days. Uncle Larry, you read it just as quickly and wrote me the most beautiful email. Thank you all so much for puffing up my face and making my tear ducts ache for three days.

Yours forever,
C

Onto my high school.

Dear Deming High School:

As my daughter would say, you guys are the bomb-diggity. Somehow that just doesn't sound as cool coming out of my blogmouth, but what I'm trying to say is, THANKS. To Ms. Ayon's first hour class, you will always hold a special place in my heart. You were the absolutely first people NOT related to me to hear me talk about Rosetta Stones at length. If you freaked out during my brain cramps, you kept it well hidden. Luis, you need to consider stand-up comedy. Or therapy. You really HELPED ME. And so because of you guys, I felt lots more prepared for THE LIBRARY. The library people came in waves until we ran out of seats and several of you were forced to sit on the floor. If a cell phone rang in that room, while I began to read an excerpt from my book, nary did I hear a single vibration. You gave fabulous eye contact. You laughed at almost all of the appropriate places. And when I began my spiel, not a single one of you raised your hand at the end and asked an off-the-wall question of me, like, was Ms. Ayon born that way? By the way, yes, she was. She has always been righteously awesome. Anyway, thank you for your undivided attention. Thank you for not booing or shooting foreign objects. For those that sat so close you could count my nose hairs, thank you for not cringing. I didn't think I would ever say this about high school, but you guys made me want to come back again. Maybe for a day. So THANK YOU. Mr. Wilkin, lunch is on me next time.

Beyond Impressed With Your Goodness,

Mrs. Kriegel's and Ms. Ayon's Humble Servant

Salesmanship, Amazon, Contests, and Mama

If blogging has taught me anything at all it’s that I’m really great at forgetting about my blog and not very good at administering contests. Because, unless you’re in radio, it’s probably not the best thing to set time constraints on a giveaway like, “The first three people to call in….” UNLESS you blog on a daily (at the very list biweekly) basis.

SO. My gal pal Lyn is getting a copy of Rosetta Stones because she’s an ANGEL INCARNATE. But I had to create a Plan B for the other two books. Plan B involved regrouping and trying my hand at contesting again at one of those regular-posting cool blog hangouts (Mile High Mamas). Plan B worked because now I have two other winners! YAYYY!! Congrats to Melissa and Melissa.

I’ve been trying to hook up with the public in non-blogging ways and so far this is what I’ve finagled:

I’m gonna participate at a book signing in Chama, New Mexico on May 29th and 30th. It’s the annual Book Fiesta that I love so very much for the awesome scenery, the engaging company, and the late-night parties.

Then on June 27th my local bookstore The Narrow Gauge Newsstand is going to host a book signing for me here in Alamosa, Colorado.

OH!!! And if you were one of those charming human beings that went to Amazon and clicked to pre-order my book DESPITE the fact that the estimated date of delivery said September, you may be pleased to know that, INDEED, they lied. I'm pretty sure my husband was the first person to place his order and he just got the confirmation email that said, in no uncertain terms, that Rosetta Stones is on its way. Can I hear a WOOT WOOT?!?!

Confession: I’m about two shakes away from hiring my mother as my publicist because this “selling yourself” business is EATING MY LUNCH.

AND DINNER.

AND ALL THE SNACKFOOD IN MY TOP LEFTHAND DESK DRAWER.

But I'm working at it. I've sent e-cards to everyone in my address book who hasn't already been harrassed by a pleading phone call. I've made some business cards and bookmarkers and spent two hours at the post office mailing copies to important people. I'm even TWITTERING occasionally!

I still need work with my awesome Webmaster to update and fix stuff at catherinedix.com but, first and foremost, I think I'm gonna go ring Mom.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Can you spare $14.95?

Before I get lost in the reason for this post, let me just start by saying that I'm not quite done getting repaired or making repairs or drinking my wine to forget that the repairing indeed EXISTS. But because many of you have inquired as to the status of my well being, allow me to formally announce that, YES, I am okay. And by okay, I mean that I'm still not making my bed regularly, but at least I get out of it. I didn't kill anyone. And, by the grace of The Flying Spaghetti Monster, nobody killed me, either!

I've been working very hard to fix all the things that are broken, including but not limited to my second novel. Things are in a state of FLUX, and I am still not sure I have the requisite time or energy needed to manage this blog. The problem is that I'm chock full of MATERIAL!! It's bleeding from my every pore and begging to be smeared across a blog page. I know my publisher would appreciate a shout-out as well. So this is me acquiescing to the MATERIAL. The loud, marvelous, scary, against-all-odds MATERIAL.

Rosetta Stones. Remember that old thing?

Let me refresh your memory.

You can go to Amazon.com and pre-order this almost mythological novel that I toiled over for a decade of my life

For reals. Evidently, I'm not schizophrenic. I didn't just IMAGINE that I wrote a freaking novel. But be forewarned: It will tell you that the estimated date of arrival is September. I don't believe this to be true. It's in the hands of a distributor RIGHT NOW and word on the street is that you'll get it by May, worst case scenario.

I've got three copies that I'd be willing to part with for the first three bloggers who can promise to read it, blog about it, and tell me where this book mostly takes place.

HINT: Go to Amazon.com. You might find a PRODUCT DESCRIPTION.

OH! And for anyone who's curious about what it says on the fuzzy picture of the back cover or for those who need a really good reason for investing in an unknown author's precious inanimate child, here is backup:

"A beautifully written and wonderfully imagined contemporary coming-of-age story." ~ Tony Hillerman

"Beautifully written; this book deserves a prominent place in Raza literature. It's one of the best books I've read, offering insightful gems to our unique beauty." ~ Jimmy Santiago Baca

"Rosetta Stones is a thrilling and magical roller-coaster ride set in the hauntingly beautiful New Mexico landscape. Dix artfully weaves together a fast-paced plot, spit-fire dialog, and a dynamic cast of characters whose search for truth in the midst of loss, family secrets, and a hot psychopathic killer will keep readers on the edge of their seats. I had a hard time putting this book down. Teens of all backgrounds will enjoy this tantalizing mystery." ~ Malin Alegria, Author of Sofie Mendoza's Guide to Getting Lost in Mexico (Simon & Schuster, 2007)

"Rosetta Stones is a fine first novel, skillfully constructed with pitch-perfect dialogue. The story is intricately woven and fast-paced with carefully drawn characters who experience a staggering series of life-changing incidents and revelations. It's a haunting novel you will not soon forget." ~ Bob Cherry, Moving Serafina


So if you want that free copy to blog about then tell me where you think it mostly takes place in an email sent to catherinedix at catherinedix dot com. I will announce the three winners when you beautiful bloggers send me that email.

OH! And email me if you'd like your copy signed. I'd be more than happy to snail mail you a signed bookplate if you give up your address.

Jennifer!!! Beautiful, wonderful artistic Jennifer. Thank you for the fabulous cover, love. And thank you, Central Avenue Press, for your constant faith in Rosetta Stones.

Shut Down for Repairs

Little Boys 101

For anyone new to this blog, I have four kids... three girls and one lonely little boy. Coincidentally, I grew up in a house with three sisters and one lonely little brother. What these two things mean (and, believe me, this can mean MANY MANY things) is that I have a very limited knowledge and understanding of little boys. As an older sister, I basically let my brother exist in his Inspector Gadget world while I existed far far away in my Young and the Restless one. I can't do that with my son if I want him to, you know, not sniff paint, beg for food or abuse small helpless animals someday. It's kinda my job as his MOM to be an active member in the Inspector Gadget world... or Chowder and Flapjack, as it were.

I don't always relate to my own kind. In fact, I'm confounded by the behavior of the members of my gender, myself included, on a regular basis. But some things generally remain the same. For example, we don't get thrills out of finding a small helpless woman and throwing her purse into the Men's Bathroom and then lifting her by the scruff of her neck and tossing her in there to go retrieve it. Not even in the second grade do I remember that kind of bizarre torture occurring. And yet this very thing occurred to my son just this week, except that it was a backpack instead of a purse. Sure, he was upset for a day, but he did what most GIRLS I know could never do... he dusted himself off and immediately got over it. I wasn't there. I wasn't involved, and I'M still not over it. But when I demanded that we talk to the supervising adults, he stoically insisted that it wasn't necessary. He could handle it, he said, while lying on my couch with his foot propped up on a pillow, his swollen ankle being iced.

"Boys will be boys," a co-worker of mine says. "Parental involvement makes it worse with boys. You're gonna label him a wuss for life. Let him handle it. Those boys that threw him in the bathroom are probably his friends. They were PLAYING AROUND. That's how we do it. We throw each other into the Girl's Bathroom to get a good look around."

I don't want to encourage my kid to fight. But I want him to be able to defend himself so, call me reactionary, but I've enrolled him in taekwondo. In the meantime, we invited his best-good friend-Andres-from-way-back to come over. Jonah showed off his mad cooking skillz by frying an egg for Andres. Andres showed him an easier way using the microwave. They had farting and burping contests. They wrestled. They took turns trying to break their necks by flailing themselves down my stairs. When I took them to rent a movie, they walked the aisles and squealed "EWWWW!!" in unison every time they passed a DVD cover with a scantily-clad woman on the cover. Or kissing. God forbid they saw any kissing.

I still haven't memorized the User's Manual for little boys. I disagree with three-quarters of what's in there. But this much I do know... grossing out over sex on a DVD cover will be the first thing to change.

A gift to my fellow writers

Yes, it's 20 minutes long. Go make a sandwich, pop open a refreshing drink and have a seat. I promise, it's worth one half-hour lunch of your time.