I sent my updated query off to Query Shark. Blood! Blood in the water! Blood everywhere! Dear Query Shark, An hour’s drive from Roswell, New Mexico, is a wide spot in the road named Haley. Haley’s famous for two things–Haley Hospital, the best in the state, and a dive called the Caveman Bar and Grill. […]

…and @#$%^ the @#$% out of them. Today I removed the phrase “rolled his eyes” or similar from Alien Blue seventeen times. I left references to that monstrous dice game twice: Miss Dewey scooted the chair back toward the computer. She poked the power button on the monitor, but not fast enough, so I was

I don’t know if it’s perfect, but this one actually rings true: Loud-mouthed bar owner must convince mayor to ditch an alien fugitive before invaders come to exterminate him and all “contaminated” humans. And there’s beer. I couldn’t get it down to Twitter-level (140 characters) without taking out the beer. To hell with it.

Another iteration of celebrating a holiday for something you don’t believe in, but you do, but you don’t, but who wants to miss out on everything, you know? Is it just for the kids or not? I got the existential; I just ain’t got the angst. We cheerfully dyed eggs on Friday night. I like

Is it “wild hare” or “wild hair”? Even the experts aren’t sure. But I, being of the Bugs Bunny tribe, go with “wild hare” every time.

This has to be my what, seven millionth time rewriting the prologue of Alien Blue? This week: a huge stack of AB edits that I should have addressed already. I pulled them off into their own little pile and saw the first chapter comments for the new book, which I now want to work on,

I perfected the beer batter recipe tonight. Batter:1 c all-purpose flour2 T cornstarch1 t baking powder1 T salt1 egg1c beer –I just adjusted the salt. Make sure to dredge the stuff in flour first; the batter seems to stick better. Fried: Button mushrooms, tilapia, white onions (sliced very thin to offset their stronger flavor), pickle

I ordered some tea from Stash tea. Of all days, it arrived today, when I cannot truly appreciate anything other than the taste of salt and vitamins. (I had a six-fruits-in-every-bottle! white people juice with vitamins in it and all I could taste was the vitamins.) I had ordered pu-erh tea and some other stuff.

We have a hard time remembering how to say “fruiteria” (“fruitereria? fruitorama? fruitarena?”) so we ended up calling the place “Fruitopia.” Which turned out to be exactly the case. So last Saturday it’s bad out, the kind of gray snowishness that promises to work its way between the cracks of your house and freeze you

Send us your vitamin-rich thoughts.