Straight Up And A Little Dirty

New blog! I've moved to Wordpress

2011-05-04T12:31:00.000-07:00

Come visit me there:

http://bertaplatas.wordpress.com/2011/05/04/ta-da-new-blog-starting-today/

Scary leaps and safe landings

2011-03-04T08:17:00.000-08:00

I've gotten underway with a new website, built on a Wordpress skeleton. I've given this project a lot of thought, so it should move quickly now that I've actually given my great designer the go-ahead. I think the bertaplatas.com site looks a little worn, and I've grown accustomed to changing this on the fly on the site I manage at my day job, and wanted the same kind of quick response with my writing site. It's not a risky step, since I know I'll be able to manage the site myself and change content frequently - but will I?

I recall a craft fair I went to once, where a woman had made charming wall decorations. I thought, gee, I could do that, then laughed when I noticed that she'd posted a sign: "You can make this, sure. But will you?" Point taken. I bought two.

Here's hoping I keep my website up, and this blog, which will become a Wordpress blog and attached to the site, will be updated more often than every few months.

Heading home after a perfect week

2010-06-24T20:31:00.000-07:00

I've spent the week on St. Simon's Island off the Georgia coast, teaching Beginning Novel-writing at the Southeastern Writers Association annual conference. My husband came along and we'd get up early, eat breakfast with the other authors, then ride bikes for forty minutes. After a shower, I'd join the other instructors and authors, evaluating manuscripts, listening in on other classes, and then it was lunchtime. After lunch I taught my class. As the sun set, I'd walk on the beach for miles with my honey, watching folks skip balls into the surf for their dogs as kids ran back and forth and some seriously intense kite flyers tried to get expensive-looking kits aloft.

Today we visited the bell chapel on site. You walk through a small door and find yourself in a tiny vestibule. A ceramic basket holds prayer requests. I read them, and most prayed for jobs and deliverance from hard economic times. I pushed through the next door and found myself in the miniscule chapel. six pews, three to a side, plus three stained glass windows. You can't stare at Christ on Gethsemene and not think of the prayer requests you just read. I prayed for those folks, whoever they were, as well as for the kids that my dynamic new friend Frances told me about. Her visit to the chapel revealed prayer requests from a kids' group that cried out for reconciliation with estranged famly, or just the return of a missing parent. Heartbreaking.

The conference is held at the beautiful and incredibly historic Epworth by the Sea. Gary and I visited the Methodist museum on site the other day. Really interesting,

I can't believe it's time to go home. I read some fabulous manuscripts, some that truly deserve to be published - now!

Tomorrow we'll drive to Savannah for lunch with our nephew, a grad student at SCAD. Maybe we'll be able to squeeze one more bike ride in before we check out.

Blogging at Petit Fours and Hot Tamales on Wednesday

2010-06-15T19:57:00.001-07:00

I'm coming back to life! Been busy with my YA novels, and a new one is out this month - Shadows of the Redwood, the first in the second trilogy of the Faire Folk saga. Check out my blog at www.petitfoursandhottamales.com on Wednesday the 16th! You could win a little prize. We have one of the discontinued collectible smiley face jester antenna toppers to give away!

See you there,

Berta

The sweet joy of a finished project!

2010-02-28T17:21:00.000-08:00

The book is done! Now I'm going to take some aspirin and hit the sack, because I think the long hours have done me in. Or it could be the rich variety of germs that the kids share with me with every kiss and hug. Either way, I'm not doing well. Maybe a hot bath first to ease the chills.

Good night!

Extreme editing techniques

2010-02-27T11:30:00.001-08:00

Facing a deadline on Monday, and I'm working hard on my latest. The book is done, but it reads like a road full of potholes (or plotholes) and I'm filling them in as fast as I can. Actually, the plot has no holes, but I do repeat myself, and I've got some serious cutting to do.

Here's how I edit the final draft:

I print out a copy, and sit down with a pen and a glass of water. The pen is for notes. The water is for soothing my throat. I read the whole book out loud, which points out everything that needs repair, since after a few drafts I'm too close to the text. Reading it aloud helps me get a fresh perspective.

I then make all the edits I've noted. The it's time for a final spellcheck, after which I do a chapter check, searching for the word "chapter" - which is usually just my chapter headings - and going through to make sure they are all sequential. You'd be surprised how often Chapter Sixteen ia followed by Chapter Eighteen! Here's where I change all the Chapter Four A and Chapter Whatever headings, too, from where I knew I needed a chapter break but didn't want to stop to figure out what to call it.

The last thing I do is change the view, zooming out to 10%, which shows the entire book as little icon-like chips on the screen. This way, I can sweep through and find any blank pages, weird text, and chapter headings that are too high or low on a page (rather than my preferred line 11). Then that's it! All done.

For this editor, I email the manuscript. I hit send, and that's it!

Others, more old style, want it printed and mailed. Ick. That requires a trip to Kinkos, because I don't own a laser printer and I don't want a copy editor's coffee cup ring to obliterate a paragraph from my inkjet-printed page. I print the whole book, single side, then put two rubber bands around it, one in each direction, so it doesn't slip. I type up a quick cover letter (that one I do on my ink squirtin' printer), slip it into a Tyvek or padded envelope which then goes into a Fed Ex box. I always send Fed Ex. When I mail the beast, I do it a few days before the deadline so that it gets there on time no matter what. I write "contracted material" on the box, in case Joann or Mike in shipping doesn't recognize my name and I end up in the slush pile. Paranoid much? You can see why I prefer to email. Straight to editor's in box. No hassle, no questions, no trees have to die.

I'm always interested in how others edit, so if you stumble across this post, let me know how you do it.

Off to read aloud some more, but first some hot tea. I'll have to pick my way over all the snoozing pets.

What will your neighborhood look like in 100 years?

2009-06-29T19:01:00.000-07:00

It sounds like a new meme, but it's the question I'm asking myself as I plot my new post apocalyptic YA book. It's grim fun to decide what's fallen apart and what's survived. I also find myself looking at my own world with new eyes. I have a lot of stuff, and if I lost most of it, I'd still be okay. Lamps, sofas, garden tools, that concrete gargoyle that lives under the blueberry bushes - all if it could vanish (okay, not Phred the Gargoyle, but everything else) and I'd be fine.

Here's another question that I've asked myself for this book: If I had to flee tomorrow with just a backpack, what would be in it? And given that the backpack now represents everything I have in the world, what would I do to keep it?

My iPhone is coming! Pardon my geek moment.

2009-06-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

I have a blended household. In my case, that doesn't mean kids who started off in separate households, it means Mac and PC. My husband, who is against all things PC, started us on our Apple journey back in 2001.

My little Mac iBook is a powerhouse machine, but I still have a PC laptop and a PC tower. I like them too, although I've learned to save frequently to conserve my work. I don't want to repeat the heart-stopping panic of having my PC seize up in the middle of a complicated Photoshop file, or an almost finished chapter blink out of existance. The Apple is much more stable.

On Tuesday the 30th I'm going to add to my Apple tech stash when I toddle over to the AT&T store to pick up my iPhone. Then I'll go app shopping. Ahhh....techie bliss.

Just don't tell my PC. It's still trying to save my last session of Sims3.

Getting ready for the Con!

2009-05-21T13:56:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow begins Timegate, where Michelle Roper and I will be guests (as Gillian Summers). I received boxes of our books to have on hand when we man our table, and now that we have The Secret of the Dread Forest, the last book in the first trilogy, we can offer complete trilogies for sale. We thought we'd offer them at $25 for the set, a $5 savings over buying individual books.

Timegate hosts a fundraiser, each year benefiting a different charity. It's a cabaret. As in performance. Michelle and I are so not performers! Sing? Um, no, although the thought of Michelle and I doing a duet of "Sweet Child Of Mine" is amusing.

Instead of frightening the natives, we decided to do a skit. Michelle sent me a slew of funny short pieces she'd written over the years, and after I mopped up all the coffee that I sneezed out when I made the mistake of reading them during breakfast and had an attack of caffeinated giggles, I chose one to turn into a play form.

So Saturday evening Michelle and I will perform, with the help of Jana Oliver and perhaps others, "The Haunted Chicken Truck of Lake Lanier" (cue spooky banjo music). We'll save "Earlene's Evil Pickles," which came in second, for another time.

If you're in Atlanta this weekend, catch our act - God willing there will never be a repeat!

Want to get published? Here's a not so secret way to come closer...

2009-05-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

GRW's Moonlight and Magnolias

**********PERMISSIO N TO FORWARD***** ********* ********* **

Come have some Dark, Bad, Fun with the Georgia Romance Writers at one of the largest regional annual writing annual conferences!

GRW's Moonlight and Magnolias, October 2nd – 4th 2009 at the Atlanta Hilton Northeast.

Featuring keynote speaker and #1 New York Times Bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon along with our featured GRW author and New York Times Bestselling author Dianna Love.

Registration is now open.
http://www.georgiar omancewriters. org/mmconf/ 2009/MM09Registr ation.php
http://www.georgiar omancewriters. org/mmconf/ 2009/MM09Registr ation.php>

Free entrance to the Pitch Workshop for the first one hundred registrants. Hurry, because this one is filling up fast! Further your career by getting help pitching to this year's all-star line-up of editors and agents including:

Emmanuelle Alspaugh- Judith Ehrlich Literary Agency
Chelsea Gilmore - Avalon Books
Raelene Gorlinsky - Ellora's Cave
Melissa Jeglinski - Knight Agency
Monique Patterson - St. Martin's Press
Barbara Poelle - Irene Goodman Agency
Becca Stumpf - Prospect Agency
Denisa Zaza – Harlequin.

Enjoy workshops with veteran presenters Stephanie Bond, Rita Herron, Wendy Wax,Raven Hart, Berta Platas, Dorie Graham, Ann Howard White, Jennifer St.Giles, Hank Phillipi Ryan, Molly O'Keefe, Tami Cowden - And Many Others!

***New in 2009: Thursday night movie night, intensive craft workshop with Mary Buckham and Dianna Love on Sunday morning, Friday meals, genre themed mixers, and much more! Special Guest Barbara Vey from Publisher's Weekly! Check the conference schedule for updates

We also offer special programs for published authors.

Low conference prices: GRW Member - $199, RWA Member - $209, Non-RWA -$219

Please visit www.georgiaromancewriters.org for more information.

Cigars? Dinner?

2009-04-14T13:47:00.001-07:00

In a strange coincidence, tobacco tax has shot up just as Obama relaxed travel restrictions to Cuba. Not sure if the U.S. will impose purchasing limits, but according to the Cuban government's regulations, each traveler may leave Cuba with 25 cigars. That's a lot of cigars. I don't think I'm going take advantage of that offer, though.

Despite the The New York Times's report that Cuba is ready for a deluge of American visitors, expecting 1.5 million, um, guys, not that many of us want to go back, or have immediate family to visit.

I'd love to go but have no immediate family there. My mother, who remembers the vibrant place that Cuba was in the 1950's, doesn't want to see the sad derelict it is today. Me, I remember the playground, the kindergarten, the front yard and the swings on our porch. At four, my world was limited.

How many people like me have the many thousands of dollars that it costs to visit Cuba, especially when our own economy is in turmoil?

The exciting change, for me, is that now we can once again send money to our Cuban family members. As long as the government doesn't get too big a chunk of it, I think my relatives on the island are going to have a much rosier life in the near future. It depends on how the rules are laid out. I may go back, but it will be with a Habitat for Humanity crew, or a church mission. One thing's for certain: those 25 cigars are going to stay on the store shelf. I was never a smoker, and you can't eat cigars.

It's Spring! Romance is in the air--at WalMart?

2009-04-08T06:47:00.000-07:00

It was gratifying to read the big article on romance in today's New York Times. For one, it verifies what I've noticed in several economic downturns, that movie box office receipts and escapist literature sales stay strong. According to the Times article, it even increases: romance sales were up 7% last year according to BookScan, and that's probably low because BookScan does not track WalMart sales.

This is great news for romance authors, but tinged with caution: due to mergers and downsizing, the market has shrunk, and with it author advances. I think every career romance author would do well to diversify, writing for different houses, expanding to young adult and nonfiction.

I wish I could remember where I read recently in a blog that now is not the time to write the book of your heart. The blog's author recommended that aspiring authors write something commercially viable. She obviously does not know the ladies of Georgia Romance Writers, a pragmatic group of writers who write for the thrill, but with an eye out for the market.

We know that the bonbon-munching, martini-swilling author is a myth (well, except for the martini part, at my house) and work hard at our craft. Now's the time to get those proposals in the mail!

Can't open the link for the NYT article? Email me at bertaplatas@yahoo.com and I'll send you the pdf.

The Writing Blizzard and the Meandering Post

2009-04-06T10:22:00.000-07:00

I've been writing like wild the last few days. I have one proposal off to my agent, synopsis and four chapters, and another one almost ready to go. I've also mapped out key scenes of the next Gillian Summers book and shared it with Michelle, who is on a writing blitz of her own. Knowing her, the next email she sends me will have the first 100 pages of the book. Speedy is her middle name.

The weather folk say we're in for some snow tonight, which I'll believe when I see it. In the meantime, I'll be shrink-wrapping my backyard to protect all my new green babies. I'm really sad about my dogwood, which is in full bloom and totally gorgeous. It's a tall tree, but before my house was plunked down in a shaved-out piece of forest, it was crowded by much taller trees. At some point a heavy, falling branch must have taken out most of its crown, so the tree grows straight up, then has one graceful branch, like a ballerina's gesture. When it's in bloom it looks like a Japanese flower arrangement. I'll try to snap a picture later and post it here, before the cold ruins it.

I had another idea for a book after church yesterday, and reading the earthquake coverage from Abruzzo today cemented the idea. I've been making notes like crazy. I would have wanted to live in the middle of Italy, until I found out about the earthquakes. Georgia is the best. Except for the occasional tornado that wanders through, we're immune from most bad weather events.

Climbing Over Stone Walls

2009-03-24T20:45:00.000-07:00

I've written about how excited I was about my new book. I've been writing ten pages a day, which is a lot for week days, after eight hours at work plus two more hours of commuting. Today I hit a stone wall. Sometimes life seems to contrive to keep you from your creative work, and this one was a doozy. I'm going to go to bed without having written a word. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

I have to be extra dilligent, because I'm afraid it will be like starting a new diet or a new exercise program. Everything goes fine until you slack off one day. What's one doughnut? Or piece of office birthday cake? Why not skip the treadmill today? And before you know it, your newfound habit is no longer a habit, but an inconvenience and a source of guilt.

I'm climbing this stone wall. No way I'll stay stuck on this side of it.

The thrill of a new project

2009-03-15T09:01:00.001-07:00

I've been plotting a new book all weekend and it's so much fun to have the time to do it wholeheartedly, instead of sneaking in ideas while I'm writing on another project. I've been under deadline for months with three different books, not to mention galleys and copyediting. Now my time is my own, for a little while anyway.

All this work is done with an eye towards April 18th, when Deb Dixon comes to Atlanta to present a writing workshop. I've taken her Goal, Motivation and Conflict workshop three times and always get something new out of it.

I learned long ago not to get married to an idea when writing. Flexibility keeps you from going insane in this business. Critique partners, my agent, and my editors have all pointed out ways to better my books, and while grateful to them all, I've also learned to distinguish between "change" and "improve" and to implement only those suggestions that will indeed improve my work.

So I know that what I write today may be changed tomorrow. I don't like to waste time, my most valuable resource, so I've been working on character sketches, writing the story out from the point of view of the heroine, the hero, the villain, the secondary characters. This will make the story more well-rounded, and has pointed out flaws, gaps, and places where I can deepen the conflict. The writing process is crazy-making sometimes, but I love every step. Plotting just happens to be my favorite one.

A Blog Award! Free martinis all around!

2009-03-11T13:11:00.000-07:00

My friends over at Petit Fours and Hot Tamales have awarded the Premio Dardas to this blog. As is traditional, I must explain that this is an award that acknowledges the values that every blogger shows in his/her effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary and personal values every day.

The rules to follow are:

1) Accept the award, then post it on your blog together with the name of the person that has granted the award and his or her blog link.

2) Pass the award to another 15 blogs that are worthy of this acknowledgment. Remember to contact each of them to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

I'm not tagging the full 15 required for this meme. It would take a ton of research, and the Petit Fours and Hot Tamales snatched up my faves, Barbara Vey and Stephanie Bond, so here are mine:

Blake Snyder, who blogs about screenwriting and is the author of Save the Cat, THE best book on plotting novels, cleverly disguised as a book about screenwriting.

Johnaugust.com, John August, another screenwriter, and his great advice and sometimes random real life advice, such as useful instructions for washing tennis shoes in the washing machine. Really. He's the Martha Stewart of screenwriters.

Mary Castillo, a Latina who writes funny contemporary chick-litty books and blogs about the writing life, living in California, and being the mom of a very energetic toddler son.

Neil Hollingsworth's blog, Painting in Oil. Neil is an Atlanta artist who blogs about his own and other's paintings and makes me feel a little connected to my previous life as a visual artist. I keep saying I'll paint again, but it's an all-consuming passion. I'm afraid it'll take over and then I won't write again. At least not while I have a day job. There's only so much room in life for all-consuming passions.

Okay, I'm done for now. There are many other blogs I follow, such as The Seekers (writers), Sugar Mountain Farms (advice on running a small farm), and the Chicken Whisperer (keeping pet chickens for eggs, and skirting anti-livestock laws in the Atlanta area), but I'll save them for another day.

Divine E-books for E-books Week

2009-03-10T18:09:00.001-07:00

I've been enjoying catching up on Sookie Stackhouse's adventures on my Sony eReader now that the Redwood book is turned in. I purchased the Charlaine Harris bundle from the Sony bookstore and got the whole library at once. Thank goodness, too, because although she's one of my BIH (Buy In Hardback) reads, I lend her books out so often that I can't recall which ones are where. Some of them eventually come home, but I miss them.

Another point in the Sony Reader's favor: you can't lend e-books. Mwa ha ha. I'll still buy the darn hardback, just to keep her on the NYT bestseller list so that she'll stay so spectacularly published.

Imagine my surprise last night when I got an email from the delightful Debbie Kaufman, she of the Petit Fours and Hot Tamales (not sure if she's a cakelet or a saucy tamale--I think those ladies take turns being one or the other), informing me that this is Read an E-Book Week and sending a delicious link to a whole page of wonderful downloads. All legal, all great press for the publishers and authors who support this ever more popular way to read. I started downloading left and right, and bookmarking great bookstores that I'll be sure to revisit once the week is over. Hurry over and grab your ebooks now, because at midnight on the 14th, the links will vanish.

Visit the download link for yourself. I think the new iPhone/Kindle app was just what was needed to push the industry over the slope and down the hill, in a yay-we're-sledding-fast-way, not a geez-bail-out-now-before-we-wipe-out-like-the-economy way. Interested in more about epublishing? Check out literary agent Richard Curtis' blog at www.ereads.com. He comments on all the news.

Singing and Driving

2009-03-10T08:56:00.000-07:00

Anyone who's had the dangerous pleasure of driving in a car next to mine will be treated to a view of my tonsils as I try to sing along with my favorite music. Sometimes it's Van Halen, sometimes Dianna Krall or Amy Winehouse, or a Donizetti aria sung by Anna Netrebko, but whatever it is, I give it my all. Music enthralls me. The artist creates the recording, but I get to play along. You can't do that with a painting, and acting along with the TV is too weird (but hey, that's CosPlay, isn't it?). Books have a bit of that pleasure baked into them. You read the text, and the story unfurls in your head, like magic.

I was hesitant to try audio books for fear that the magical element would be lost. If someone read the story, it would be the reader's voice I would hear, their intonations and characterizations. A few years ago, when my commute became hellish, I checked out an audio book from the library. I remember that it was a Nora Lofts novel, although I'm not sure which one. Just as a new bicycle rider spends a while concentrating on balance and maneuvering before thrilling to the wind in her hair, I spent a little time hearing the narrator and not the story. Three tracks into the first disk, I was hooked. Now audio books take the chore out of cleaning floors, dusting furniture and scrubbing bathrooms.

It took much less time to appreciate ebooks. Before I asked (begged, pleaded) Santa for my Sony reader, I tried them out on my computer. I loved the experience. Maybe my audio books gave me practice with accepting stories in different media, different formats. My only annoyance is that not enough titles are available. I still buy paper books, but I'm now duplicating all the titles on my "keeper shelf" with electronic versions.

I've been thinking a lot about new media as I plot a post apocalyptic young adult novel (it's actually more of a Peak Oil novel). What happens to ebooks without electricity to charge the reader? Paper books are always ready to be enjoyed, barring darkness, illiteracy, or misplaced reading glasses. I'm giving this a lot of thought, and for that, I have to remove my headphones. Can't think if you're listening to someone else's story.

The sap is rising...

2009-03-06T07:56:00.001-08:00

And no, I don't mean the Fed Ex guy that I accidentally knocked out when I swung my laptop case around in the elevator. Kidding.

Temperatures are expected to be in the 70's this weekend, my book is turned in, and I'm going to put on my wellies and hit the garden. Roses to prune! Garden beds to prepare! I'm an indifferent gardener all other seasons, but I enjoy digging and planting this time of year. I'm not sure whether I'll listen to the new audiobook I downloaded from the Gwinnett Public Library, Nora Roberts' HONEST ILLUSIONS, or just let birdsong and ideas for my next book waft around in my head. I guess it depends on whether any of my neighbors are playing "git 'er done" with chainsaws, blowers, and mowers.

My little mp3 player looks like an oversized cough drop, red with a white circle on it, and it holds 2g of audio - a pittance if you're my daughter, but plenty for me, and I use my iPod Shuffle for music, anyway. This little red baby is just for audiobooks. I was forced to buy it when I discovered the wonderful world of downloadable audiobooks from the library, none of which could be put on an iPod (this has since changed). It died the other day, and I almost chucked it, but the $40 I paid for it (lus the fact that it's so cute and tiny) made me grit my teeth and look online.

I googled "dead mp3 player"and got back many angry hits. I googled "repair Zen Stone Plus" and bingo! I downloaded a little patch of software, ran my mp3 through it, and it works good as new. I love the internet. This weekend, I'll share that love with my garden.

Make a Referral - jump start the economy

2009-03-03T08:03:00.001-08:00

I'm pledging to make a referral to a business I want to help as part of a national campaign to make 1000 referrals March 9-13. What a great small business stimulus plan.

View >>

Starting a new book....

2009-02-26T09:52:00.000-08:00

Well, in a few days. It's down to the wire with the latest Keelie Heartwood YA. This will be the first of the next trilogy, set in the Redwood forests of the northern California coast. Michelle and I have been working like fiends, writing on our own, then emailing our chapters to each and working online in chat format at night. We got ourselves totally confused the other day and had to step back and revisit a couple of scenes. Almost done, though, and after a big workathon this weekend, it should be in shape to email to our editor Brian at Flux on Monday!

After that we can start our new book. This is totally different. No elves! Lots of humor, and some field trips in store for us as we visit a few wild animal parks and get friendly with leopards, lions, and tigers. As friendly as they'll let us get, of course, and double-checking that our nametags don't read "Lunch."

At the same time I'll be rereading my next women's fiction manuscript, then it's off to my agent, too. I love being productive. Some stages of the life cycle of a book seem more like a stationary bike than a road trip, but you get there eventually. I just happen to be at my very favorite part, the crossroads between "the end" of one project, and "my story begins when...".

Pushing your creative buttons

2009-02-24T12:16:00.000-08:00

I'm a big fan of crafts. I'm not necessarily creative that way, though. I can come up with a plot in a second. Need help with a plot of a book? Give me a call. Miniatures, scrapbooking, knitting, sewing, and all kinds of gluey, twinkly paper crafts that I adore? Not so much.

Give me some guidance, though, and I'm absorbed for hours. I love projects, they make my creativity soar. After working on an art project, I can write for hours!

And I love, love, love Kathy Cano-Murillo's site, The Crafty Chica. So much fun stuff to do! I have her Art de la Soul book, which I won't even allow out of my house because I know one of my fellow crafty sisters will steal it (love you guys but I know you will), and now she has an equally fab followup - Crafty Chica's Guide to Artful Sewing. Chock full of great ideas! BURSTING with cute, colorful projects. My 14-year-old daughter snatched it out of my hands and ran off with it, so you know it's not some kind of granny thing. My mom's button box has disappeared, so I think she's sewing buttons to the back of her denim jacket. My glitter is missing as well - suspicious.

Since it shows you how to sew, step by step, as well as gives detailed lists of the what you need to make each project, you can wild without worry! I may start at the beginning and make every single project.

I'm buying copies for all of my crafty friends. And for that girlie who took this one - next week is her birthday. I think I'll stuff a box full of ribbons and buttons and charms. How can you say no to creativity? I think that the Crafty Chica, Goddess of Glitter, would approve.

The Literary Hamster Wheel

2009-02-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

So co-author Michelle and I are back to cooking up our latest YA, due *gulp* March 1st, and we had to stop to do edits on The Dread Forest's Secret, our June release. That took a week, then we were back to work on the new book and now we just got the copyedits on Dread. The sound you hear are my mental brakes screeching.

The reality of being a published author is that you're always revisiting the past, whether doing edits on a book you finished months before or marketing for an older title. Our first two YA books, The Tree Shepherd's Daughter and Into the Wildewood, are now available as ebooks in several formats, because busy Michelle and busy Berta love alternate ways to get our stories. We're both big fans of audio books, and since Christmas, when I got my Sony reader, I've been gobbling up the digital reads. In between writing my books, of course.

You'd think that March 1st when we turn in the book we would get a little vacation, but I have two more books to write, and Michelle is feverishly working on a couple of others, not counting the ones we do together.

Why work so hard? We've asked ourselves that, and come up with two reasons. One is the feeling that time is running out. We have these great ideas that we want very much to get on paper. The other is that it's so much fun to see our books on bookshelves and in catalogs.

I wouldn't trade that fabulous feeling for the world. If only the literary hamster wheel could do something about my thighs.

January book winner!

2009-02-05T08:19:00.000-08:00

Congrats to Amber, who won the copy of LUCKY CHICA in my January contest. I'll contact you by email, Amber. Stay tuned for my February contest!

Twitter, yet another reason not to write

2009-02-05T08:02:00.000-08:00

I keep a digital timer by the computer to help me stay focused while I write, something I learned from Stephanie Bond. I was checking out my Facebook page night before last and realized that instead of the three minutes to read mail, I'd spent thirty minutes friending folks, catching up on their 25 answers (a meme that's still circulating), and otherwise not writing my book. I wondered how much time I actually spent checking up on my friends, or to be honest, checking up on who was thinking about me. I used my handy timer, and every time I checked Facebook, Myspace, my email or Twitter, my latest favorite time waster, I noted the total time.

Don't be shocked: TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES. Holy cow. In two hours I can easily write five pages. More than five, but let's keep at that for experiment's sake.

So if I didn't write five pages that night, nor any other night that week, in a month I would not have written 150 pages. Two months later, that equals a book, folks.

I know that not every night is productive, and that I usually write my five pages as well as check my social networks, but it was disturbing. I'm thinking of a solution. Maybe I'll tweet about it.

The good, the bad and the sneezy.

2009-01-17T16:55:00.000-08:00

I had my first booksigning for Lucky Chica at the fabulous Eagle Eye Bookstore in Decatur. Thanks to everyone who came out! I gave away scratch-off lottery tickets to everyone who purchased a book! One of my readers might get rich. I promise I won't be too jealous!

Next chance to get wealthy before reading my fun book - next Saturday, the 24th, at the Norcross Barnes and Noble at The Forum shopping center.

Guest blogging on Friday -- come visit!

2009-01-08T20:11:00.001-08:00

I've been interviewed by the chic and lit-savvy chicas at Petit Fours and Hot Tamales. Click on over Friday morning and post a comment to win an autographed copy of Lucky Chica! I'll be checking in all day tomorrow to answer questions and chat. What a great way to start the weekend!

They asked my favorite martini recipe and I told all. If y'all will excuse me, I feel a martini coming on...

Lucky Chica is in stores now!

2009-01-06T04:49:00.001-08:00

Hooray for release day! I'm going to cruise on over to the bookstore later to see if I can spot Lucky Chica on the shelves. This is one of the sweet moments in an author's working life. Even sweeter is to catch someone actually reading your book. Someone other than your mother or best friend, that is.

When my second book was published (All of Me, way back in 2000) I was passing through the Barnes and Noble at Union Station in Washington, DC and saw a woman leafing through a copy of it. I had to force myself to move on and not frighten her, because my first impulse was to hug her and declare, "I wrote that, yes I did!" If you're ever in a bookstore browsing, and find that someone is staring at you intently, don't assume it's the author. Chances are it really is a creepy person. Act accordingly. Of course, there's always the possibility... Maybe that's why publishers print author photos on the backs of books. Or not.

The winner of yesterday's blog tour post is...

2009-01-04T19:56:00.000-08:00

Mrs. V! Cruise on over to Julia Amante's blog and give her your info so that you can claim your prize!

Congratulations, Mrs. V. You are such a great supporter of Chica Lit!

Big hugs,

Berta

Chica Lit Blog Tour - My turn!

2009-01-04T06:09:00.000-08:00

One of the things that intrigued me about using a lottery win as the core of Lucky Chica was not the fabulous shopping opportunities it gave my heroine, Rosie Caballero, although I had a lot of fun letting her go wild. I found that I got the same answers from folks in all walks of life, in all economic conditions, when asked why they play: it's the hope that each ticket provides, whether it lasts the time that it takes to scratch off or hours, until the winning numbers are called out, that makes the players return to the game over and over. Of course, it's great if you do win, and a win is certainly incentive to play again, even if all you get is a free ticket. For Rosie, as for many people in an economic squeeze, one dollar provides the hope that her troubles will soon be over. Curiously, that's not holding true in our current tough times. Lotteries across the country are reporting a decrease in sales. Are we pulling our belts tighter? Frankly, I think it's a fluke and it'll rebound.

I wish I could send each of you a ticket to celebrate the New Year. I was going to post the first chapter of Lucky Chica, then realized that you can already read it at the St. Martins site, so here's a piece that I wrote to help me explore Rosie's life, but that I cut out of the start of the book. I gave it a New Year's twist. For some reason, my indents didn't show up, and no amount of fiddling has helped, so it looks strange. If you find it impossible to read, please send me your email, I'll send you a Word or PDF version.

New Year’s Hope – a Rosie Caballero story

Only one day into the new year, and the Christmas turrón was officially gone. Rosie had offered the last chunks of the almond nougat candy to her cousin an hour ago, and he’d wolfed it down, still talking about the party he’d attended the night before, while she’d been with their grandmother at a party full of gray-haired oldsters.
“So this chica shows up in this feather dress, I mean with real feathers and everything, and she’s not wearing a coat so she cuddles up next to me –“
“Cheeto, if this is a story about how you conquered yet another woman I don’t want to hear it.” She was still peeved that he’d munched down her carefully hoarded Christmas treat.
Cheeto pretended to look offended, and swung his head so that his dark, straight hair flipped out of his eyes. He was handsome enough to get any girl he wanted, but he kept trying to prove it. Abuela wished desperately that he would settle down, but Rosie liked her playful cousin, even if he was sometimes exasperating.
Sharp cracks sounded in the apartment parking lot and they both leaped off the coach, then laughed as the sounds continued. “Fireworks,” Rosie said.
“Yeah?” Cheeto didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you move in with us. Abuela has a spare room, and she says over and over that she’s worried about you living here.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this apartment. It was good enough for my parents.” They’d died two years before, and Rosie was not about to give up her last tangible memories.
Cheeto gestured at the discolored walls, ratty furniture and generally sad appearance of the cramped room. A row of paper lanterns from the Top One Asian Supermarket that Rosie had thumb-tacked to the wall didn’t help. She thought it would cheer the place up, but their crisp, bright colors made everything else look even more grim.
She hit him with a throw pillow, startling the old poodle asleep between them into frantic barking. Rosie touched the dog’s chest, then pulled her onto her lap. Half blind and half deaf, old Tootie had been her mom’s beloved pet, and Rosie wouldn’t hear of having her put down, a suggestion that her neighbors made whenever they saw Tootie stumble down the concrete steps when Rosie took her for a walk.
“That old perrita is done for. You should relieve her suffering and have the doctor give her a shot.” Or worse, “take her to the pound. It won’t cost anything and then you’ll be rid of her. They’ll just put her to sleep.” It made Rosie cry just to think about it.
“Gotta run.” Cheeto patted Tootie’s snarled topknot and got up. “I’m meeting some of the guys from work at Los Primos.”
Rosie put Tootie on the floor and got up. “Shooting pool, right? Don’t go beer crazy on a work night. I can’t believe you went to that party and you’re not tired.”
“I can take care of myself.” He kissed her cheek, then turned to go.
“Wait.” She ran to her bedroom and pulled open her parents’ dresser, now filled with her clothes. She pulled out a rubber-banded roll of bills from under her panties and tugged a ten-dollar bill free. Cheeto was standing by the door, rubbing Tootie’s stomach with the toe of his work boot.
She tucked the money into his jacket pocket. “So that you can buy a pitcher. I know it makes you the man.”
He laughed. “Rosie, you know me so well. Thanks, prima. Oh, and Abuela wants to know if you’re bringing anyone to lunch on Sunday.”
“Yeah, she asked me last night, too.” Rosie sighed. “One of these days she’ll start fixing me up with one of the old dudes she plays cards with.”
He was still laughing when she closed the door behind him, clicking shut the two thumb locks and running the chain into its slot. She felt safe, even though all the locks in the world wouldn’t protect her if someone wanted to crash through her door.
She went to her room and chose her work outfit for the next day – a gray wool skirt, a sleeveless white sweater, and a red wool blazer that she’d found at Goodwill last week. Post Christmas shopping had not always been good at the thrift stores, so she felt lucky to have located such a nice piece in her size. Red, too. She’d read that it was a power color.
She wouldn’t be a receptionist all her life. She hoped soon to be put in the back office at Cartwright Supply, the office supply company where she worked. She’d file, and type up invoices and call customers, and she’d make twelve dollars an hour, which was two dollars more than she made now.
No more thinking about money, she reminded herself as she put on her nightgown. She didn’t want nightmares.
The following morning Rosie answered phones for an hour before anyone noticed her new blazer.
Trisha from accounting stopped by to pick up her messages. “Cute jacket, Rosie. I used to have one just like it.” She pranced out of the reception room before Rosie could thank her, but then she had an awful thought.
She whipped off the jacket and examined the tag. Not that grown women wrote their names on their clothes, but it would be awful if her clothes had been discarded by someone she worked with. It had not occurred to her before, and now her Goodwill bargain didn’t seem as pretty.
She pulled out a paper and started a list of what she’d get with her extra money.
-New clothes – at least three different outfits
-Shoes to match each outfit, and not from Wal Mart or Payless
-A new coat, thick wool. Not like her quilted nylon one. It was warm, but so puffy and out of style.
She hurriedly stashed the list under a pile of files as one of the salesmen walked by. He pointed at her and smiled as he headed out the door. The salesmen were always nice to her. He had glossy white earbuds in his ears, and a cord that led into his pants pocket. She added “iPod” to her list, although she didn’t have a clue why she would need one. Maybe she just needed the earbuds, for the look.
At lunch time she discovered that she’d left the paper bag containing her sandwich on the kitchen counter. She checked her wallet. Two dollars and fifty-eight cents. Enough for a taco, but not enough for a drink. She sighed. Water was good for you. At least she wouldn’t starve.
She left her desk to find out who’d be relieving her for lunch. The first two offices she passed were empty, then she heard voices coming from the break room. Of course. The receptionist never got to goof off.
“Did you see her this morning, in that three year old jacket? I swear it’s the one I gave Goodwill last Christmas.” Trisha’s voice was rich with laughter.
“Red, too. You know they always pick those tropical colors,” another woman said. It sounded like Jen, who worked the catalog sales desk.
Rosie knew that “they” meant Spanish speakers like her. She knew that a lot of people weren’t like her co-workers, but somehow, she’d landed in a nest of haters. If jobs were easier to come by, she’d be out of here. She pasted a smile on her face and stuck her head in the doorway.
“Hi guys. Any chance one of you can spell me so that I can grab lunch?”
Three shocked faces quickly smoothed into faux-friendly expressions. The third woman was Lana, her boss.
“Rosario, I didn’t hear you coming down the hall.”
Rosie looked down at the carpet. “Should I start wearing cowboy boots?”
The three laughed loudly, overcompensating for the words that they probably suspected she’d overheard.
“I’ll be out in just a minute,” Trisha said.
“Great, thanks!” Rosie turned and started back down the hall to her desk. The silence behind her proved that the three thought she’d linger to see if they said anything else. As if she’d stoop so low.
When Trisha appeared fifteen minutes later, Rosie’s stomach had started to growl. She hurried out, headed towards Buford Highway and its dozens of food choices from countries all over the world.
She wolfed down a pulled pork taco at El Taco Veloz and then headed towards the convenience store. Brad Merritt was on the cover of People and she wanted to read the article inside. She wished she could buy the magazine so that she could have his picture, blue eyes looking straight into hers. She’d tape it to the wall by her door, so that he would be the last thing she saw when she left for the day. Or maybe in her bedroom, so that she could kiss him goodnight.
Jorge was talking to the beer deliveryman when she entered the Jiffy Mart. He glanced up when the door’s bell jingled, and his face brightened.
“Rosie, long time.”
“Yeah, not since Tuesday when I came in.”
He flushed. He was such a nice guy, and nice-looking, too, but he couldn’t compare to Brad, and it was his face she was yearning to see.
She headed straight to the magazine rack and grabbed People, her heart thumping sideways when she saw his face again.
He was perfect. She read the story quickly, disappointed that it revealed little that she didn’t already know. He was working on a grueling shoot, a cowboy movie plagued by bad weather. He was looking forward to returning to Los Angeles, and he was noncommittal about his rumored relationship with his costar.
She put the magazine back on the rack.
“Keeping up with your boyfriend?” Jorge smiled at her from behind the counter. Cheeto had no sense of discretion. No pelos on that lengua, for sure, and he’d told Jorge that about her fan girl crush.
“He’s really good-looking, that’s all.” She hated that she sounded defensive.
He shrugged. “That’s okay. Mami is in love with some Venezuelan dude on her telenovela. My pops thinks it’s an insult. But this Brad, you know he’s a player, right?”
“Like I’m ever going to meet him. Believe me Jorge, it won’t ever come up.”
He laughed. “Want a lotto ticket?”
She searched her pockets. Eighty-five cents. “I don’t have enough.”
He reached into his own pocket. “How much do you need? Although I shouldn’t feed your gambling addiction.” He grinned to show he wasn’t serious. Everyone knew that Rosie played the lottery faithfully, but she was no gambler.
“Fifteen cents.”
He put down a dime and nickel. “I know you’re good for it,” he teased.
Rosie added her change and he swept it off the counter and rang up the purchase. “Mega Bucks, cash option?”
“Nope. I already bought my Mega Bucks ticket for this week. Give me a scratch-off.”
“Wouldn’t it be good to add another number to your Mega Bucks?” He seemed surprised at her choice.
“If God wants me to win, one number will do it,” she said firmly.
He pulled a scratch-off ticket from one of the rolls under the glass counter, and handed it to her.
She took a penny from the Take A Penny tray and scratched off the waxy security film. “I won a ticket.”
“See? God wants you to pick another Mega Bucks number.”
Give me another scratch off, wise ass.”
He pushed another one across the counter. She scraped the film off. Nothing.
Jorge shook his head. “You should have gotten a Mega Bucks.”
Rosie glanced at her watch. “Holy cow, I’m going to be late getting back to the office. Want to have lunch at my Abuela’s this Sunday? She said to bring someone.” She didn’t use the word “date.” She and Jorge had dated a couple of times, and though they could be friends, romance was not for them.
Jorge’s smile broadened. “Cheeto told me that you’d probably be asking. I’ll put on a good show for your abuelita. Want me to pick you up?”
“Please! She’ll be so thrilled when I show up with a breathing man, not a magazine picture. And you’re employed and own a car. She’ll be absolutely giddy.”
“Giddy enough to feed me well. I’m looking forward to it.”
Later, she’d have to let Abuelita down gently. No, she wasn’t going out with him again. No, there was nothing between them. At least Jorge knew that it wasn’t for real.
She put the losing lottery ticket in her pocket. “See you on Sunday.” She walked out in the cold Atlanta afternoon and started to pick her way back down the rutted path that served as a sidewalk on Buford Highway.
Rosie knew that her grandmother wanted her to find a nice man to marry, that she worried that she would die before Rosie had settled down, as if she needed a man to make her life complete. Of course, she worried about Cheeto in the same way, and good luck to the crazy woman who would have her wild cousin.
Jorge would give her grandmother a little hope; the same hope Rosie had every time she bought a lottery ticket. She knew the chances of winning the lottery and dating Brad Merritt were nil, but a girl had to hope. And today, as she hurried towards her dead end job, nothing in her pocket but a receipt for her cheap taco, hope was all she had to live on. This year would be better. It had to be.

***

Three months later, Rosie’s life changes drastically when she wins the biggest lottery in US history. To win a $10 Amazon gift certificate, what is the name of Rosie's dog? I'll post Julia Amante's winner this afternoon - so stay tuned!

Revenge of the Clutter Bunny

2009-01-03T07:56:00.000-08:00

Is there a twelve step program for clutter collectors? If so, I need their contact info, stat! My house is clean(ish), because with two large dogs and a cat, if you don't sweep, vacuum and dust constantly, you can soon start a pet toupee business from all the hair that drifts into the corners of every room. I love a clean bathroom, too, and to sleep on fresh sheets, so I clean those a little more often than most. But clutter seems to be my friend. Teetering stacks of books, both unread and favorites, and just things. I've quit doing new year resolutions, because they always seemed to be the same, with weight loss at the top, followed by writing more and exercising more. I know I have to do those things, so I don't need a resolution to remind me to do them, but I am now resolving to get rid of STUFF. Why do I need entire wardrobes in three different sizes? Why am I keeping my running shoes from college? My daughter's baby dolls (she's fourteen and doesn't want them)?

I'll post my toss-out, eBay, Goodwill triumphs as they happen. My goal is to have a tidy house. My dream is to have one sofa, one bed, one plant, one bookcase. Ha! Like that'll ever happen. Well, it might, in a nursing home....hmmmm....be careful what you wish for, right? And I think I'll pump up the tires on that dusty bike and take it for a spin. Who knows, I might come up with the solution to that plot problem while I'm pedaling around.

Don't forge to read Julia Amante's Chica Lit Blog Tour post today! Read it at http://juliaamante.blogspot.com

New Year's Chica Lit Short Story Blog Tour

2008-12-31T05:21:00.000-08:00

Start the new year off with some fun stories from some of your favorite authors, AND they're FREE and there's PRIZES. It's like getting a late Christmas present. Or wait, those Reyes are coming on the 6th...

If you haven't followed our blog tours before, here's what to do. Go to Misa Ramirez's blog tomorrow, January 1, to read her story. Answer her question by commenting on the blog, then follow her link to the next author's blog the following day for a fresh story, the name of the previous day's winner, and a new chance to win!

Here's the list:

Jan. 01: Misa Ramirez
http://chasingheroes.com

Jan. 02: Jamie Martinez Wood
http://jamiemartinezwood.blogspot.com/

Jan. 03: Julia Amante
http://juliaamante.blogspot.com

Jan. 04: Berta Platas
http://www.bertaplatas.blogspot.com/

Jan. 05: Mary Castillo
http://marycastillo.blogspot.com/

Jan. 06: Alisa Valdes Rodriguez
http://alisavaldesrodriguez.blogspot.com/

Jan. 07: Margo Candela
http://margocandela.blogspot.com/

Jan. 08: Caridad Ferrer
http://fashionista-35.livejournal.com/

Jan. 09: Gabriella Hewitt
http://www.gabriellahewitt.com/blog/index.php

Jan. 10: Tracy Montoya
http://tracymontoya.blogspot.com/

And if you haven't read the previous stories, you can probably still find them on their blogs!

The January Contest!

2008-12-26T09:09:00.000-08:00

I've got TWO contests for January!

1. A drawing for an autographed copy of LUCKY CHICA. Comment here - what you would do with five million dollars. In the book Rosie wins $600 million. Holy cow, what couldn't you do with that? Five million is a little more restricted. For instance, you could make five people millionaires. Or rather, four others. You wouldn't want to exclude yourself, would you? I have five autographed copies of LUCKY CHICA to give away, and if you're outside of the continental US, I'll send it via Amazon gift certificate with a signed bookplate. Drawings will be held February 1.

2. A "grow my email list" contest. Ask friends to send their email address as well as yours (or who referred them) to berta@bertaplatas.com, and both names will be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift certificate.

And if you include mailing addresses, I'll send an autographed bookplate to everyone who replies. One drawing for the contest will be held February 1. For security's sake, please do not post your email and mailing addresses here!

Here's the LUCKY CHICA widget!

2008-12-23T10:24:00.000-08:00

Check out the LUCKY CHICA widget!

2008-12-23T09:06:00.000-08:00

St. Martins made this cool widget for LUCKY CHICA - go to the MacMillan site to check it out and get it for yourself.

Almost done updating my website, so you'll soon be able to enter my new contests. Besides books and other goodies, I'll be giving away a $10 gift certificate to online bookstores, starting in January with an Amazon gift certificate. Know of teachers and librarians who could use the $10 credit? Tell them to sign up at www.bertaplatas.com and www.gilliansummers.com - two chances a month to win!

Hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season. I've been baking cookies and mixing bath salts and sugar scrubs. It's so much fun! What do you do to make your Christmas special? With fewer gifts under the tree, spending family time together is more important to us than ever.

On the rocks and kind of dry

2008-12-21T17:54:00.000-08:00

I'm hoping that I'll be off martini punishment after Christmas. I broke two expensive martini glasses this fall, one after the other (it was Woody the Golden Retriever's fault, honest), and Gary started serving my weekend martinis in old-fashioned glasses, over ice. The good thing is that the melting ice stretches my drink, the bad thing is that it's not as tasty. I wouldn't have mentioned it here except that I just got another icy martini, and it really doesn't go with the cheery fire in the fireplace.

Hope everyone is having a jolly holiday season. This morning our church was full of Advent music, and it was so beautiful!

$75,000 a year?

2008-12-17T06:22:00.000-08:00

I'm hard at work on a short story for the New Year's Chica Lit Blog Tour. If you haven't joined the fun of skipping from blog to blog, reading fresh new stories from your favorite authors, you're in for a treat. If you've joined our past tours, you know that the stories are all different - long, short, romantic, shocking, tender, and all as varied as their writers.

I'll be writing about Rosie Caballero, the protagonist of my new book, LUCKY CHICA (January 6th - squee!). Before Rosie wins $600 million dollars in the Mega Bucks lottery, she has a pretty tough life. Afterwards, her life is just plain crazy.

I've often wondered how much money it would take to make life easy, or easier, or bearable. For some, $145 is all that stands between sleeping at night and chewing yourself up with worry, wondering how to get the cash to keep the lights turned on. For others, $145 is a week's lunch money. Seriously.

When I was researching for LUCKY CHICA, I read lots of white papers and articles on finance, and was impressed by this factoid: $75,000 a year is what it takes to be happy. Based on living in an average-sized home in a place like Atlanta, or Harrisburg, PA, where home prices are not insane, and having no debt, that is the yearly amount that would allow a family to travel a little in the summer, have a decent holiday, and keep the bills paid. Frankly, I think the figure is a little random, but it makes you think, doesn't it?

Rockin' the NaNoWriMo and getting ready to vote

2008-11-03T05:19:00.000-08:00

I've been writing like crazy since Saturday. November 1st is the official start of National Novel Writing Month, and I'm determined to finish writing a book before December. So far so good! I've done this before and figure that I can realistically bank only half a book, but it's fun to try for more.

Tomorrow is election day, and figuring that the wait will probably be hours long, I'm trying to decide the best way to get my writing done. I've already ditched the idea of using my digital voice recorder. My neighbors in line would hate me, and I'm not sure I can speak my ideas for some scenes out loud. Not before cocktail hour, anyway.

Another plan would be to take my folding chair and my Alphasmart and write, or use a good ol' pen and paper (maybe I can talk the guy in front of me to serve as my surface. "Just lean forward a little..."). With hours of waiting time, I should definitely get something done! I hate to waste time.

Maybe I'll take one of my unread Harry Potter books. I'm one chapter into the Half Blood Prince. That could be the best solution. I can save my writing for a less, er, vertical time. I'll still bring a legal pad and a good pen. You never know.

Hope everyone who can exercises their right to vote!

Lucky Chica review in Publishers Weekly

2008-10-27T19:29:00.000-07:00

Son married off, check. New book almost finished, check. Gassed up the PT Cruiser for only $2.32, check. Nice review of Lucky Chica in PW - oh yeah, baby!! It's also my wedding anniversary tonight, so I'm off to listen to Gary mix a most excellent martini.

Here's what PW said about LUCKY CHICA:

Lucky Chica Berta Platas. St. Martin’s Griffin, $14.95 paper (336p) ISBN 978-0-312-34174-9

Platas’s second wish fulfillment fantasy chica-lit novel (after Cinderella Lopez) follows the craziness that ensues as Cuban-American Rosie Caballero’s humdrum world undergoes an extreme makeover after she wins $600 million in the lottery. Rosie shares her megabucks with her grandmother and her lovable cousin Cheeto, and begins plotting how to best spend her riches, gradually transforming her dumpy self into a smart, curvy J-Lo celebrity sort, pursued by the tabloids—much like heartthrob actor Brad Merritt, who, in a magical twist of fate, becomes her boyfriend. But Rosie’s newfound status also attracts envious schemers, ex-boyfriends and the glaring media spotlight. Platas depicts Rosie and crew’s gilded ascension with a giddiness that’s pure escapist fun. (Jan.)

A happy, happy wedding day

2008-10-27T05:28:00.000-07:00

Perfect weather, many friends and family, lovely bride and handsome groom = a great time for all! Kudos to Alicea and her mom! The year's worth of work and organization showed in every little detail. Here's the fuzzy bride and groom - shot from across a crowded hall and with all guest hairdos and elbows cropped out. I didn't have time to buy the lottery tickets, so no news of a big winner amongst the guests. I'll do it at Thanksgiving, instead.

Little errands before the Big Day

2008-10-25T08:12:00.000-07:00

As part of my last minute "to-do's" before tomorrow's wedding, I'm buying a stack of scratch-off lottery tickets to hand out. It's so much fun at family gatherings to have a pocket full of these, and whenever the mood strikes me I give someone a ticket. Last Christmas my brother in law Tim won $15, and there are always lots of free tickets and $1 prizes. It would be great to one day have someone hit a big prize. Fun!

I'm thinking of doing the same thing at book signings for LUCKY CHICA next year. One lucky reader could win big! Or little. Whatever, it's still fun. As my character Rosie Caballero says, it's a dollar's worth of hope.

Off to do dry cleaning, hair cuts, gas fill up (gas is back down to almost reasonable rates - yay!) and other little errands before the big day.

Back to the old blog

2008-10-24T05:23:00.000-07:00

I gave up blogging this summer because it seemed as if there's so much blog noise that a blog has pretty much turned into a personal journal. Wait, didn't they start off that way?

The election is just days away and I've been saved from boredom from election news, non-news, and spiteful posturing, by my son Tony's upcoming wedding. Sunday (in two days!) he and Alicea will be wed in a castle on a brisk North Georgia mountain, with fall leaves providing color. Actually, both Alicea's and Tony's family will probably provide more color than all the mountain hardwoods. It will definitely be a meeting of the characters. I can't wait!

Also in "can't wait" mode is expectations for LUCKY CHICA, my upcoming romantic comedy, coming January 9th from St. Martins. More on that later.

INTO THE WILDEWOOD is now in stores!

2008-06-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

Hooray for launch date! My young adult novel, Into the Wildewood, co-written with the mahvelous Michelle Roper (we write as Gillian Summers) is now in stores! This is the follow up to THE TREE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER, which came out in September. Michelle and I also celebrated turning in the last book of the trilogy, which we did on Thursday.

We spent 48 hours congratulating ourselves and taking it easy, and now it's time to get back to work. We've got two young adult proposals in the works, and I've got a full length chica lit manuscript to revise. Good thing I like to write, 'cause it looks like there's a lot of it up ahead this summer!

Today's blog tour post address correction

2008-05-26T08:08:00.000-07:00

You can read Tracy Montoya's post at http://tracymontoya.blogspot.com

Congratulations to Jamie's winner!

2008-05-25T20:44:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Amanda, the winner of yesterday's post from Jamie Martinez Wood, for her answer to Jamie's question, "what is the maiden's council?" Please contact Jamie at jamiemartinezwood.blogspot.com so that she can send you your prize. Check out Tracy Montoya's blog for the name of the winner of my prize, a $10 Amazon.com gift certificate! Thanks to all who participated. And for you who want this series to be published, from your lips to God's ears!

Abrazos de

Berta

Here's my entry, the first chapter of Avenging Angel

2008-05-25T02:00:00.000-07:00

Cari and I mapped out several of these books, as she mentioned in her blog the other day. My first story in the series is about a woman whose talent at touch healing is sometimes more of a curse than a gift. The crystal skull entrusted to her by her grandmother is somehow tied to that gift, but she doesn't discover its history or true potential until she meets up with others like her, women of great power, and all bearing the crystal skulls that were their long-ago ancestors' legacies, one that comes from Atlantis itself. I'll post Cari's winner in a separate post.

So here's the question for today: what was the name of the dead child in the mudslide? Post your answer here, and you'll be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift certificate. You'll be able to use it right away, or save it until January, when you can buy Lucky Chica, my next book from St. Martin's Press! But hey, I'll totally understand if you want to spend it on some summer reading.

For tomorrow's blog, travel on over to Tracy Montoya's blog.

“He’s dead, doctora. You did your best.”

Angel Gallegos stared at the little boy’s body, dirt-streaked and broken, by the tree in which he’d been trapped when the mudslide had swept his village away.

His eyes were closed, and his face and chest were white where she’d splashed him with water from her canteen, looking for signs of injury. The rest of him was mired in the brown muck that covered every inch of the surrounding countryside, what was left of it. In a day, the smell would be almost unbearable.

“No, he’s going to make it,” she said. It was soon enough. She gritted her teeth, willing Enrique to leave.

Enrique Moria, the Honduran Servicios de Emergencia tech, looked at her with pity. “You’re tired, doctora. You’ve been working since yesterday. How about some sleep? I can bring you a cup of hot soup and a pillow.“

She looked down at the dead boy. He looked to be about six. His parents were probably dead too, killed in the mudslide that had brought the hill above them into their village. Who would take care of him if he lived?

He’d been alert when she’d been brought to him, one of the few survivors of the disaster, but he’d faded quickly, probably from internal injuries. Enrique had stuck close, and she hadn’t been able to check him out the way she wanted toùwithout witnesses.

The rest of her team was working at a nearby school. There was hope that some of the kids were alive in the concrete block structure. So far, she hadn’t heard any of the relieved shouts that accompanied a live find. The boy could live, but she had to get rid of Enrique.

She bit her lip. It tasted like mud and she spat to one side, clearing her mouth of the gritty stuff.

“Okay, bring me some soup and a pillow. I’ll be right here.”

The man grinned and scurried off the debris pile, then squelched through mud towards the tents, avoiding the areas marked with flags that signaled deep mud pockets.

She looked around. Everyone alive was busy. The dead that had been pulled from the dark, thick slime were lined up beside the road, covered in tarps. No one was looking towards her.

This would be her one chance. She put a hand on the boy’s face. He skin was already cooling, but there was enough warmth left. She pushed against his face, then leaned over him, her other hand on his belly, pressing down.

She felt his organs shift under her palm. He’d been hurt badly. She sensed internal bleeding, and opening the inner sense, the portal to her so-called gift, she saw his ruptured liver and willed it to heal. Beneath her palm, the boy’s chest fluttered.

Enrique Moria balanced a Styrofoam cup of beef broth and a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of tepid water in the other as he made his way across the debris to the American doctora.

She was a saint. Never resting. Never complaining. She’d gotten right to work the minute she’d left the helicopter. Her Spanish was a little off, but at least they could understand each other.

The death of the little boy had been a big blow to her, probably because there had been so much hope at first. He sighed. One never got used to the mudslides, but they were part of life in Nicaragua, especially after the big rains that came with the hurricanes.

He watched as she knelt over the boy’s body, one hand pushing the hair from his eyes, the other resting lightly on his belly. She looked like a woman who needed children of her own.

Enrique stopped, his heart pounding. The boy’s eyes were open, and he was smiling up at her.

The soup fell to the ground. “Un milagro,” he yelled. “The boy’s alive!”

Aid workers digging in other areas came racing towards them.

Dr. Gallegos looked up. She looked exhausted. She pulled back as she was engulfed with helpers. She staggered to her feet and left them to their work.

Enrique caught her as she fell. She smiled up at him wearily.

“Guess I needed that soup.” Her eyes closed.

Enrique’s eyes turned back to the miraculous boy who had seemed dead only moments before. He seemed to be in pain, but gracias a dios, he lived.

He picked up the doctora, who was too light, too thin, and followed the stretcher to the hospital tent.

The beautiful doctora had dark circles under her eyes, making her look like a ghost. If she didn’t rest, she would be just as dead as the poor souls who had been trapped by the mud. He watched as a medic slipped an IV needle into her arm, as if this happened all the time.

Seconds later, the shooting began.

Angel stood in the cramped aisle of a 757, waiting to deplane at Atlanta’s Hartsfield Jackson International Airport.

A little boy stood in front of her, back pressed into a woman’s ample backside. He stared up at Angel, face alight with interest.

She held onto the back of the seat next to her, still a little woozy even after two days in the hospital, but anxious to get back home, if just until the next phone call.

The airplane’s narrow corridors were jammed with weary passengers and overstuffed luggage. Faces craned to catch any sign of movement from First Class, but so far, no one’s features looked any more cheerful. Atlanta was only feet away, but she may as well have been back in Nicaragua.

“Is that mud in your hair?” The boy stared up, clearly fascinated by her dirty hair.

“Yeah, kid, it’s mud.” Angel wondered if Felipe Gonzalez, the little boy she’d rescued on the mountain, would ever ride in a plane. He’d survived. Poor Enrique had not.

“My Mami washes my hair,” the little boy said.

“Great. My Mami’s in heaven,” Angel answered. She was rewarded for her candor by an evil look from the kid’s mother, who balanced a pilot case that could have doubled as a coffin for her kid. Maybe that’s how she stayed sane.

After a while, the line started to move, and Angel managed to catch a breath of untainted air.

She didn’t mind flying, but it was awkward and uncomfortable for her to be close to so many people. When they had finally deplaned, she shot the kid a smile and hurried towards the baggage claim area. Despite increased security, she was always anxious to get to her bags.

Her wait was thankfully short, and she grabbed her suitcase as it came rolling off the belt. Her green ballistic backpack was on her shoulder. She never let it out of arm’s reach.

“Dr. Gallegos? Angelica?”

She turned to face the speaker, a red-haired guy with a white plastic ID badge slung around his neck, the Homeland Security seal prominent, next to his photo.

She peered at it. “Hoskins? What can I do for you?” She wasn’t concerned by his presence. People looked for her all the time. Maybe because she hated to answer her cell phone.

“Did you get the message about the earthquake in ‘Frisco?”

“No. I’ve been working a hurricane in Nicaragua. How soon do I need to be out there?” She thought wistfully of her bed. Clean sheets. Hot showers. Shampoo.

“Now.” Hoskins seemed relieved that she wasn’t freaking out.

She sighed. “Fine. Did you book my flight?”

He looked frightened for a moment. “Yes, it’s Delta 309. You’ve got two hours.”

“Cool. I’ll sleep.” She shouldered her bag and headed back to the security line.

“FEMA sent me to make sure that you were taken care of. You can bypass security.”

“Right.” She’d heard it before. FEMA wanted their number one disaster worker to be happy. How happy could she be when they were going to work her to death? She tried to think that she’d get lonely by herself in her Atlanta apartment. That all she needed was in her backpack. She reached a hand behind her and felt for the reassuring shapes in the green bag.

“What can I do for you?” Hoskins was trailing her like an anxious mother. Angel was beyond motherly concern, not having seen her mother in twenty years.

“You can leave me the hell alone, thanks anyway.”

He stopped.

She did, too, and turned to face him. “This happens all the time, Hoskins. Just go home. I’ll live.”

He didn’t move. His left hand twitched. A thick gold band encircled his ring finger.

“I’ll bet you’ve got a cute little wife,” she said. “Maybe a kid? They need you. Go home.”

Then the turkey did her in. His expression turned to pity. “Good luck,” he whispered. He turned and walked away stiffly.

“Right,” she said, chest tightening as she said it. She had a beer, got on the plane to San Francisco, and slept all the way to the West Coast.

Angel worked best during daylight. Sometimes she was sleepy, sometimes not. Her work schedule took her all over the planet, and though she was always welcome when she arrived, it was never a happy occasion. She hated to work in the dark, though. Even floodlights bothered her. This site was lit like a Friday night football field. The roar of power generators compensated for the eerie quiet that surrounded her. Except for the occasional creak of settling metal, there was no sound.

As a disaster medical worker, Angel worked alongside cadaver dogs, hopeful family members and overworked disaster relief specialists. A mixed bag of folks with equally mixed goals: finish the job, save the living, recover the dead.

It suited her just fine. The best part about disaster relief was that she often worked alone. Even when there were lots of others around, the chaos of a disaster site allowed her to do her job with little interruption.

Today was no different. The earthquake had been serious, and she’d been sent to a portion of an interstate that had collapsed, leaving rubble strewn alone both sides of the pancaked concrete slabs. There were cars inside the flattened expanse, and probably, people.

Angel worked her way through a crevice and stopped. The air was cooler inside. Crawling along the thirty inches of leeway God had left for her to work in, she stopped at a crushed car.

She didn’t turn on her flashlight. She pulled one of her thick leather gauntlets off and placed her hand on the debris, feeling for survivors. Nothing.

She sighed and put her glove back on. No sense risking an injury. Pain would dull her perception. She crawled to the next vehicle, and here she felt a vibration. Excitement made her work faster. She ditched her glove again.

The passenger side glass was crushed, and she shoved her bare hand inside, feeling for living flesh. She hit paydirt on the third try. Warm flesh, although rapidly cooling. Hypothermia or death? Only one way to find out.

She held on, not knowing what she was holding. Thigh, arm? Hard to tell. She closed her eyes and opened to it. It was a man, she saw. Bearded, heavyset. He had extensive wounds: a severed leg and ruptured kidney were the worst of them. He’d bleed to death if she didn’t intervene.

She stroked his skin for a moment, realizing it was an arm, covered in fine hair, with the rolled up cuff of a flannel shirt at the elbow.

He was unconscious, but even the recently dead responded to her. She felt him work to communicate.

Relax, she thought at him. Relax, and heal. Vein by vein, his body restructured itself, using her energy as both blueprint and power source. The leg was the toughest part, and she managed to redo the artery and the bone, but then had to stop. Any more and she’d pass out next to him. She hoped the other doctors would be able to save it.

She felt his soul touch hers, and she caressed it, tucking it in. Wait, she said to it. Wait for help. It’s coming.

She started to withdraw her power, when she felt something touch it, like a finger touching her deep inside. In her mind, she turned to it. Sara, it said to her.

What? Who was Sara? This guy’s wife? Angel felt around, but whatever it had been was gone. Great. Now she was hearing ghosts.

Free reads and spring blog tour = bliss. Where's that martini?

2008-05-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

You have GOT to ready Mary's blog at www.marycastillo.blogspot.com. Totally real, and pretty damn funny, too. For tomorrow's read, hit Caridad Ferrer's blog site.

Women, Wisdom and Words Chica Lit Blog Tour Dates and Links!

2008-05-19T07:24:00.000-07:00

May 19 - Mary Castillo, author of "Switchcraft" (http://marycastillo.blogspot.com/)

May 20 - Caridad Ferrer, author of "It's Not About the Accent" (http://fashionista_35.livejournal.com/)
May 21 – Lara Rios, author of "Becoming Americana" (http://www.lararios.blogspot.com/)
May 22 – Mayra Calvani, The Dark Phantom Review (http://www.thedarkphantom.wordpress.com)
May 23 – Caridad Piniero, author of "The Calling" Vampire series (www.caridad.com/blog)
May 24 – Jamie Martinez Wood, author of "Rogelia's House of Magic" (http://jamiemartinezwood.blogspot.com/)
May 25 – Berta Platas, author of "Cinderella Lopez" (http://bertaplatas.blogspot.com/)
May 26 – Tracy Montoya, "I'll Be Watching You" (www.tracymontoya.blogspot.com)
May 27 – Kathy Cano Murillo, aka "The Crafty Chica" (http://thecraftychica.blogspot.com)
May 28 – Misa Ramirez, author of "Living the Vida Lola" (http://chasingheroes.com)

Women Wisdom and Words Blog Tour details

2008-05-14T05:54:00.000-07:00

The Women, Wisdom and Words Blog Tour will begin May 19th with the first post, by Latina women's fiction author Mary Castillo. Go to http://www.marycastillo.blogspot.com to start the tour. Each day's blogger will post a link for the next day's blog.

Don't you love our straight-forward, take-no-prisoners poster woman? The art's by fab artist Nuvia Crisol Guerra who gave us permission to use her art for our tour poster.

I'm so excited!

Two brains are definitely better than one

2008-05-10T15:17:00.000-07:00

Just finished a marathon writing session with my friend and young adult fiction co-author, Michelle Roper. We're putting the finishing touches on the third book in our YA urban fantasy trilogy and as usual, when we're in the same room we're struck with ideas, look at each other, eyes wide, then high five and snoopy dance.

Today was no different. As we sorted out a little bit of neglected world-building, we were hit with an idea for another book. We're on a pretty tight deadline, because we've got to allow time for another thorough reading of the manuscript before we ship it off to our editor, but this idea, like all its predecessors, took off turbo style. Before five minutes had passed we had the protagonist nailed down, as well as the major conflict, three important characters to interact and cause mischief, and the setting. This does not normally happen in real life.

Michelle is an Alka Seltzer of ideas. Just add water and stand back as the fizzy effect explodes. Being in the same room with her ignites my idea fuse, too. Now if only we had time to write all of these awesome stories...

But that's another blog entry.

Lottery tickets, sacrificial goats, and that dusty Bowflex in your garage

2008-05-08T19:04:00.001-07:00

I read an interesting article in Tuesday's New York Times that compared purchasing travel insurance to sacrificing goats - just a little something to appease the gods. I've often thought that vitamins and gym memberships fall into that category, too. Get sick? Not me. I have vitamins. I don't take them, but they're in my cupboard, keeping me healthy.

Lottery tickets are purchased not because I believe I'll win, but because someone will, and if I don't play, it won't be me. Still, according to John Tierney's article, Nepal Airlines officials say that their double goat sacrifice put their ailing Boeing 757 back in service. Goats are safe in Lawrenceville. I'm not the sacrificing kind, unless the sacrifice is downing a big waffle cone of Bruster's Birthday Cake ice cream. Sign me up for that one.

Motherhood: makes you old, keeps you young

2008-05-07T08:28:00.000-07:00

I exchanged emails with Mary Castillo yesterday, chatting about our upcoming blog tour and her little boy, who is in mid-toddlerhood. Three is the absolute most adorable age for children. They’re over the “no’s” of two year olds and haven’t hit the “why” stage of age four (Why do birds fly, Mami? Why is the sky blue? Why is there dirt? Why can’t I eat worms? Why do crayons color? – just a taste for you who might not have gotten there yet).

I should tell you that I think all ages are adorable. Even my cranky teen daughter is cute. Okay, so she’s slovenly and plays Guitar Hero more than she does homework and spends too much time online chatting with her friends and zero time chatting with me and she swipes my eyeliner even though she has her own. But the other day at the bookstore she came running up with a book and said that if she didn’t get to read it she would die. Right there in front of everyone, die. It was The Birth House. Ami McKay's novel about midwives at the beginning of the 20th century. She read it in two days. Two days in which she lay on the couch with a cat on her stomach and her feet in the air, totally engrossed. She's passionate about civil rights, and the rights of the homeless. She loves opera, mostly Donizetti and Mozart, as well as The Toy Dolls and other punk bands that I won't list because I'll probably get them wrong ("Mom, it's JOHN who likes Flogging Molly!"). She swoons over hotties and is committed to perfecting the cinnamon sugar cookie. I remember these things when the dogs go unfed, the dishes unwashed, and I notice the three-inch debris pile in her bedroom.

Shepherding her into adulthood, and her three older brothers before her, has aged me (I know that one little crease between my eyes should be signed by the miscreant who caused it.), but I've also been in the forefront of teen life for seven years or so. I know, and for the life of me don't understand why I care, about the latest fashions, music, cliques at school. What do the skaters wear, and what do they listen to? It's changed from 2001 to today. Same for the goths, the emos, the preps, the jocks. Do people grow old when the young ones in the house leave? Do they lose their conduit to youth? I'll find out in five years when she hits college. After that, I'll always have the Cartoon Network and Adult Swim.

I read somewhere that animals' young are big-eyed, fluffy and cute as a defense mechanism so that adults don't kill them. There's a serious flaw in that thinking (snakes, for example, and biological imperatives), but it works for kids.

Upcoming treats - the Women, Wisdom and Words Blog Tour!

2008-05-06T12:07:00.000-07:00

In honor of May and Latino Books Month, my chicas and I are posting essays and short stories in a blog tour we're calling Women, Wisdom and Words.

Look for a schedule in the next couple of days, along with a fun and splashy poster that you can put on your own blog or MySpace page. Kicking off the tour May 19th is Mary Castillo, whose books are full of passion, family, love and laughter.

More later!

Besitos