I, First Person Plural

Monica contrasto per twitterI, my name is Monica, but not always. During the day, I multiply myself. It’s the new schizophrenia. SMMPD. Social media multiple personality disorder. I’m not alone. We’re a growing community of people who juggle through the ether, struggling to connect.  We change name as we change hats. Our strength is in the numbers. Our weakness is in the transient nature of our interactions. We must be present, always. Forever connected, is our credo. We forge friendships in 140 characters and when we’re sent to twitter jail, we travel in throngs to facebook where we finish the conversations started earlier. Then we  move to our blogs. But sometimes, it isn’t enough. Thankfully, we can pm or dm as long as our heart desires. Of course, we all contribute to discussions on forums, sub-forums, facebook groups… Finally, at the end of our day, we start again, our peeps on the other side of the world waking up, eager to know what happened while they were sleeping. Meanwhile, if we could create an omnibus out of all the characters sacrificed to the altar of online communication, we would have published the new Divina Commedia, War and Peace, Ulysses all combined. Unfortunately, my wip is waiting for me to notice it’s stuck at 300 words. It could be worse, it could be raining… Wait, I live in Seattle!

I, First Person Plural

Lucky Number Seven!

I was tagged by John Rykken, author of Bloodwood to play a twitter game called “Lucky Number Seven.” The rules are simple, go to page seventy-seven  of your latest work, published or in progress, count seven lines, then copy the next seven lines. The next step in the game is to tag four victims authors.

My seven lines are from Pax in the Land of Women, second book in The Ginecean Chronicles.

She couldn’t bear that he had been treated like an object. “I couldn’t just let them kill you.” She touched his face, tracing the line of his nose and then his lips. On principle, she would have never excused the use of violence against any other human being. But she had really meant to say that she couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wasn’t alive. She just couldn’t contemplate the idea.

“I owe you my life.” Prince removed her hand and put it in his. His voice was very low, but the meaning was loud and clear.

As an aside note, I had to laugh when I saw where the lucky number seven lines were. The above passage belongs to a chapter that got the award for the most editing. Amy and I drew a line at revision number 12. Every time I think of the infamous chapter 4, I break out in hives.

Now, the nominations for the next four twitter victims players are:





Have fun. Rinse and repeat!

Lucky Number Seven!

Tea Time

Several years ago, I painted a series of saucers and teacups for the dollhouse I was building. I used a dot of putty glue on the head of a golf tee and attached the little cups and saucers on top of it. Some nice ladies at the local miniatures club taught me that trick, and to this day it still proves invaluable. Would you like a cup of tea?















































Yes… I did glue the leg wrong…



























































To put things in perspective:













Everything is relative:

The quarter scale lamp on the side table was made using one of the teacups from the dollhouse cupboard.


Tea Time