Thursday, March 18, 2010


By: Angelica Hart and Zi

Zi was sitting in front of the computer typing, wearing a visor that read, Bird Crap Happens... Run! This his homage to Hitchcock.

Today we are outlining the plot of a novella we are planning. The working title is PLATINUM ARROW. I want it to have a sports subtext but I am having difficulty convincing her. No, she is not obstinate for stubborn's sake, but she does conspire to stand strong on her opinions. I admire that quality, have a little of that myself. Thus, being at loggerheads is a huge part of every day.

So the question is what makes Angelica unique and special. What comprises her rare genius. I believe it comes from a lariat she has pulled tightly about perception of self, believing in her own mind. She embodies an earnest trust in her gifts. Knowing her you notice she walks to the beat of a different accordion player and does not see it. This oblivious quality is her blessing and the readers' gift.

This makes her sound freaky-deeky. Yep. She is. She is a lark in a flock of ravens.

Seeking her lares and penates as well as the next day's lunch Angelica was at the AC-a-ME. No, not the place the coyote gets his special catch-the-road-runner paraphernalia but our local grocery store. She asked the deli clerk as she pointed directly at it for a pound of pastrami. The sweet young lady responded, "That is spiced ham, ma'am." Angelica shot back, "Who asked you?"

I know Angelica and whereas that appeared mean, there is not a malicious or cruel molecule in her. I believe she honestly thought it was pastrami and was not about to be dissuaded from that knowledge.

I share this story for one reason and that is to help explain the mentality of us as writers. We must be committed to a point, and so committed against contradictory opinion or even truth. We must create non-existent worlds and they must be real and believable. That takes courage and conviction. It is easy to slip into word picturing stuff we know but far more difficult growing the acid hemp to clutch cargo weave the wreaking rugs placed on the taupe floors of Renads Eloquence of the alien world Revlar.

A: What are you writing? (Angelica enters the room and leans over Zi's shoulder and reads)
Z: A Blog.
A: That diatribe makes me sound mean. (Angelica flipper-smacked his forearm a minimum of eleven times) I wasn't that harsh to that counter girl.
Z: You should have seen her face. She looked whoopee-cushion assaulted. Mouth agape. Eyes bulging. (He trying to imitate the face)
A: She insulted me.
Z: Correcting you?
A: No!
Z: Then how?
A: She called me old. (She tried tugging upon Zi's guilt place with pouty lip and a pall of sad eyes)
Z: Spiced ham is code for you old codger?
A: No. She called me ma'am. Everyone calls my mother and aunts ma'am. I am not a ma'am.
Z: Sorry to tell you this, but when you weren't watching, sometime after plucking your first gray hair and diapering your grandchild, you became a ma'am.
A: I refuse to accept that. (She turned her face, presented a nose-floater position and acted offended)
Z: Forever young is a myth of the mind.
A: Then I have a mythy mind. And if you ever call me ma'am...
Z: What?
A: I'll install parental controls on all your sports blogs and websites.
Z: Like you can find them. (His words rolled out between laughter)
A: What are lares and penates?
Z: The ancient gods of the household. In this reference sundries and household stuff. Thought I'd use them as characters in PLATINUM ARROW. (Showed his research)
A: Give me a minute. (Angelica using one of the programs on the computer, fashioned a card, printed it and spent time personalizing it)
Z: What's that?
A: An apology to that deli clerk.
Z: You don't have to do that.
A: Actually I do. I think she spit on my spiced ham.
Z: I ate that.
A: I know.
Z: You opted for soup.
A: I know.
Z: You dog.
A: I know.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who emails us at and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi

Champagne Books


susan said...

Your article was quite interesting but I must comment. My husband would no doubt insult you if you were to meet. He was raised to call any man SIR and any lady Ma'am. These are also words of true respect so next time some one calls you ma'am take it as a compliment and not an age thing. I am sure in the past I was called even worst and something that relates to witch but I don't care...I consider the source at the time. ha ha Another thought coming from a 63 year are not old until you convince yourself you are. I am 63 but when I say it..I do not add old after the number. I am 63..nothing else. ha ha I everyone knows I do not act a day over 25. ha ha Have a good day. susan L.

Angelica Hart and Zi said...


First let us apologize for not getting back to you sooner. This was one of those weeks!

Your husband would be quite right, it was just at that particular moment, Ang felt the fullness of her age, and usually she doesn't feel a day over 25 either.

It was wonderful of you to leave a message, and we hope you continue to follow our blog. Tell hubby, his gentlemanly attitude is admirable!

As an apology, send us an email at and we'll send you an e-book. Tell us your favorite genre and we'll try to keep as close to it as possible.

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