And the Emmy goes to . . .

No, I'm not goofing off. I'm working diligently and have been all weekend. (Now I know why I was such a washout at trying to write full time . . . I'd honestly rather be curled up with a good book right about now. Even doing some ironing has its appeal after being planted in front of a laptop or a desktop for eight hours a day.) I took one break, last night, to watch American Gangster on HBO with my husband. If it weren't for the deck I'da been inside the house from the time I got in Friday afternoon. And if it weren't for Bernard cooking breakfast and tonight's and Friday's dinner (I took over last night,) we would have starved. What a prize. I think I'll keep him.

One more day to go!

I do have the TV on while I'm working, watching the Emmys, and I've noticed something that's always bothered me about the Emmys and the Oscars as well. Why do they always give out awards to the male actors before the females? Have they ever heard of the expression, "Ladies first?"

Any ideas?

Yes, I'm Still Alive

. . . and in the home stretch. I'll be back when I'm done, which will be early next week . . . because at this point I have no damn choice.

Happy Friday, everybody!

Please send prayers for the people of Galveston Island and other areas near the East Texas coastline as Hurricane Ike prepares to bear down. It's a frightening graphic being shown in those weather reports; Ike's circumference seems to be as wide as entire the Gulf of Mexico. Here in Wisconsin they are already writing off the fall tourism season, because all that rain is going to get up here eventually. (We're gettng the remnants of Gustav right now.)

If you're in an area of the country that allows for more frivilous activity, you might want to consider going to the movies this weekend. A couple of good ones are opening today: The Family That Preys, Tyler Perry's newest; Righteous Kill, featuring acting giants Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino (I'm betting DeNiro gets top billing, but I can be wrong); and the one I'm most excited about, the long-awaited remake of the 1939 classic The Women, based on the play by Clare Boothe Luce.

The original play itself (no, I wasn't around for the original production in 1936, but I saw a filmed version of a revival on PBS a few years back; I'm old but not that old) was much racier than the film version, and this new version brings the story into the present day. I'm curious to see what they did with it. The cast sounds wonderful - you can always count on Bette Midler to liven things up - and includes a couple of sistahs (Jada Pinkett Smith and the too-seldom-seen-these-days Lynn Whitfield).

I'm also eager to see the cleverly titled The Family That Preys as well. All of the Tyler Perry movies I've seen (and I haven't seen them all) haven't thrilled me, but he's clearly getting better budgets and bigger stars (both Kathy Bates, of this film, and Angela Bassett, who starred in his previous outing, have "Academy Award" attached to their names as winner and nominee, respectively) and is moving away from the all-rich-white-collar-men-are-evil theme. As for the Madea character, the best thing I can say about her (?) is that a little bit goes a long way. Tyler Perry is like Fort Knox on legs, but the black media is urging people to go see his new film this weekend, because in this business it apparently isn't good enough to create movie after movie that all make money, both in ticket sales and in video rentals and sales, both domestically and internationally, without a single bomb in the bunch . . . you've got to be #1 (sounds a lot like the book business, but that's a column for another day). So go see the movie if you can.

Unfortunately, I'm doubting I'll be able to get to the theater this weekend. We're entertaining tomorrow (I thought I'd be done with my manuscript by now, which is why I approved this date). The rest of my weekend will go toward my overdue manuscript. I will say I'm pleased with my progress of the last one-third of the story. My goal is to get it at least a few days earlier than the date I've been given. My editor's been so nice about this; I don't think there's anything fun about rearranging a set production schedule (twice).

I'll conclude this column by addressing Michael Jackson's dirty drawers - complete with skid marks, it's been said - being auctioned off on E-Bay with an opening bid of $1 and also those rumors that Paul McCartney, fresh off a nasty divorce from Heather Mills, is about to marry for a third time. To the ultimate purchaser of Michael's underwear and to Sir Paul (if the rumors are true) I'd like to say this: There's no fool like an rich fool, or an old fool, or a rich old fool.

I'm outta here!

September 11th



Seven years ago today we lost over three thousand citizens, not due to an act of nature, but to a man-made carnage . . . something that did not have to happen if it were not for the wishes of people to shatter lives and innocence just for the sake of evil. We honor their memories.



There was also good news in our family on this date. Two years ago today we became grandparents. I was late sending off the card and check, but since she's only 2 she probably still doesn't get this birthday thing (but next year it'll probably be, "Where's my card from Papa and Grandma Bettye?"






This is my favorite (to date) photo of that sweet bundle with her Papa, taken when they visited us back in June (they also visited us Labor Day weekend). So Happy Birthday, Baby Girl! Grandma Bettye loves you.

Or Would She Rather Be a Pit Bull?

Enough of this foolishness. Get on with the important stuffm for crying out loud.

Remembering Breno Mello

I know. You're saying, "Who?"

Breno Mello was a Brazilian man discovered on the beach and offered the part of Orpheus in the classic film Black Orpheus (1959). Sadly, it was announced this week that he'd been found dead from an apparent heart attack at his home back in July. He was 76 years old.

For film lovers like myself, he will forever be young, sexy, and handsome. Just looking at his picture makes me want to sit down and pen a romance. If you've never seen this classic (it's in Portuguese but has English subtitles), you've missed out. Breno Mello only made a handful of pictures between making a living - apparently the market for black actors in Brazil is even worse than it is here in the States - but his first performance and possibly only one as a star of a picture has made him immortal. Here's the trailer:

Okay, back to my cave now.

Gettin' Snarky With It

How's your WIP?

So asks my friend Patricia Woodside at her blog. My answer: Gorgeous . . . at least the first 200 or so (manuscript) pages. After that the tone changed from a snarky chick lit to a more sedate women's fiction, which is the literary equivalent of painting one wall orange and the other fuscia in the same room. Either way you look at it, it's not going to work.

Unfortunately, I did not come to this realization until the weekend, less than 48 hours from the time I was due to turn it in . . . and this was the extension I'd been granted. Nothing like starting the week with a crisis. Thank God for agents. In addition to getting good deals, they also jump in and handle the dirty work, like telling editors the last thing they want to hear.

So excuse me while I work to meet extension deadline #2.

I've got a feeling that this book is going to be dedicated to my editor.