« October 2005 | Main | December 2005 »

Book Number Four . . .

Finally has a title!

TESTING KATE

Thanks for all of the great title ideas you emailed me!

Link | 29 November 2005 at 09:43 PM |

Guest Blogging

Check out my latest blog entry at Literary Chicks, in which I explain why exactly I spent yesterday afternoon baking a pie instead of working on my new book.

Link | 28 November 2005 at 05:17 PM |

Quid Pro Quo

So here's the deal: I need a title for my fourth book. It's about a woman going through her first year of law school -- sort of an updated One-L, only funny and with lots of sex.

So, please, I'm begging you . . . throw me some suggestions for a title. And to sweeten the deal, if I use yours, I'll send you a signed copy of She, Myself & I (which curledup.com recently called "a joy to read.").

Email me your ideas at whitney -at- whitneygaskell.com.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Link | 23 November 2005 at 09:37 AM |

Guest Blogging

My latest blog is up at Literary Chicks, in which I discuss sisters, dogs and the comfort gene.

Link | 21 November 2005 at 01:29 PM |

The Snowbirds Have Landed

You can tell that the Florida season has begun. All of a sudden, our little town is full of very old people driving very big cars.

V-e-r-y slowly.

My dad and step-mom were visiting in the spring, and I got behind a huge Cadillac creeping along at twenty miles under the speed limit . . . in a thirty-five mile per hour zone.

"Come on, Gramps, hurry up," I muttered.

"Gramps?" my dad asked. "Excuse me? As a grandfather, I take offense at that."

"Oops," I said. "I forgot I had one on board."

Link | 19 November 2005 at 03:27 PM |

Name Game

I've never understood why some people insist on giving all of their dogs the same name. For some reason, after their dog dies, they name their new dog after the dead one, so that they always have a cocker spaniel named Goldie in residence.

I think it's a weird thing to do. Do these people lack the imagination necessary to think up a new name? Are they simply attached to the name? Or are they trying to fool their kids into thinking that it's really the same dog?

"Yes, Junior, I know Muffy used to weigh forty-seven pounds and only have three legs," the parent says, when they bring the new Jack Russell terrier puppy home. "But she was on a diet while she was away . . . and she regenerated her leg. Dogs can do that, you know. Just like starfish."

When I was a teenager, I used to baby-sit for a horrible family. They didn't have cable, never had any good snacks in and always let their kids have sleepovers on the nights when I watched them. They also had a forlorn looking golden retriever named Chelsey, who they'd periodically breed (and yes, when Chelsey had a litter in, I was also responsible for babysitting the puppies).

One evening, I was out in the backyard with the kids, and I stumbled upon the family's pet cemetery, where Chelsey’s I - VIII had been laid to rest. For some reason, I found this incredibly creepy. They'd only lived in the neighborhood for four years. Were they going through dogs at that fast a clip, or had they brought the dog's bodies with them when the moved?

Really, there's no good answer to that question.

Link | 18 November 2005 at 05:17 PM |

Porcupine Babies

Because you can never have too many pictures of porcupine babies. Especially on a Wednesday.

porcupine babies.jpg

Link | 16 November 2005 at 01:19 PM |

Strikes Fear In The Hearts of Parents Everywhere

An effective threat, I think.

espesso.jpg

Link | 15 November 2005 at 10:18 AM |

Guest Blogging

My latest post at Literary Chicks is up . . . but be warned (Mom and Dad, this means you!), today's entry has a PG-13 rating.

Link | 14 November 2005 at 02:12 PM |

Drunken Fool

I was working on a scene in my new book where one of the main characters does something dumb after having had a few drinks too many, and it started me reminiscing about my own drunken exploits.

Good times.

There are the dumb moments (like when I couldn't find my car and was convinced it had been stolen, before remembering that I hadn't been the designated driver that night -- thank God), and the embarrassing ones (like when . . . no, I don't think I'll share that one after all). But the most mortifying drunken exploit happened on my twenty-first birthday.

The date: February 8, 1993

The place: London, England

The beverage: Shots of something. Tequila, perhaps? Gah, I can't even imagine doing a tequila shooter now. It would probably kill me.

The event: After my four roommates got me liquored up at our local pub, we decided for some reason that we should pay a visit to the Queen. As in, the Queen of England. We loaded ourselves into a black cab, and had the driver take us to Buckingham Palace. Once there, we stood at the gate and repeatedly -- and loudly -- demanded to see the Queen. And, if I remember correctly, we might also have danced a bit. And sung.

The very nice, very professional guard politely told us that (a) the Queen was asleep, and (b) if we didn't leave he'd arrest us.

Yet further proof that youth is wasted on the young.

Link | 09 November 2005 at 01:15 PM |

Life With A Toddler, Part 19

Sam's new favorite saying: "Uh oh."

We'll be building towers with his Lego Duplo blocks, and Sam will decide the tower is high enough

"Uh oh," he says, a moment before knocking it down. Crash! Blocks fly everywhere, the dog runs for cover.

"It's not really an 'uh oh' if you do it on purpose," I point out, although such subtlety is apparently lost on a two-year old.

I start construction again, stacking the blocks up one on top of the other.

Sam eyes my new tower jealously, and then just as it's getting good and tall, he dives for it. This time he isn't content with simply knocking it down; like a whirling Tasmanian Devil, he tears the Lego Blocks apart in a frenzy of activity. He doesn't stop until every last Lego is detached and scattered across the carpet.

"Uh oh," he says sweetly, as he surveys the devastation.

Uh oh, my ass.

A few nights ago, Sam -- for once -- left one of my towers alone. (He was probably too busy scribbling on our newly painted bedroom walls with a roller-ball pen to get to it; thank God for the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.) When George came home from work and saw my construction, he said, "Wow, that's a great tower."

"Thanks," I said, feeling quite pleased with myself.

"Oh . . . you built it?" George suddenly seems less impressed. "I thought Sam did it. I was going to say, that's really good for a two-year old. Very symmetrical."

"Not bad for a thirty-three year old, either," I said huffily. "You don't know how hard it is to build one of those things, what with Sam knocking them down every two minutes."

Link | 08 November 2005 at 01:20 PM |

Sitting at the Cool Kids' Table

I'll be guest blogging every Monday this month over at Literary Chicks, which is one of my all-time favorite blogs.

This week, we're all talking about getting naked, to celebrate Alesia's new book, The Naked Truth. Or, at least, everyone else is chatting about getting naked; since I've never even gone skinny dipping, I decided to write about shoes.

Link | 07 November 2005 at 08:13 AM |

Trick or Treat

Sam went trick-or-treating for the first time last night. He didn't get the whole free candy angle, and instead seemed confused about why his parents were forcing him to dress up like a cowboy and walk around the neighborhood, ringing door bells.

"Say 'Trick or Treat,'" I'd encourage him at each door. But Sam would just throw himself in my arms, bury his head against my shoulder and wait until the Big Bad had passed.

About halfway through, he discarded his hat.

"You have to wear the hat," I said, plunking it back on his head. "It's what makes you a cowboy. Otherwise you're just another kid in a vest and chaps."

Link | 01 November 2005 at 09:11 AM |