Going In For the Kill

I took Cherry and Coco to a chess tournament. The kids played six rounds. Those with the best records won medals and trophies. Cherry won a medal, and Coco just missed the cutoff. It was a long day on a hard bench for me, but I learned something significant about my oldest daughter. She is ruthless.

It happened during the fourth match. Cherry’s opponent was cocky. Her quiet girl manners were misleading. I watched with my girlfriend, K., from a distance of 20 feet. Cherry sat, facing us at the end of a long cafeteria table.

With serious cogitation, she moved her pieces while he talked trash. I couldn’t hear him, but I saw it in his posture, in the way he moved his mouth, in his smirk.

K. said, “She has on her game face.”

I said, “Yeah. I’ve seen it before.”

“Do you think she’s upset?”

“No, I think she hates to lose.”

A few minutes later she floated her queen to the far side of the board. He countered with a pawn. Then, before he could blink, she slapped her queen to the right, capturing his knight. Checkmate.

My little girl looked right at me, beaming.  I got him.

Vanquished, the boy lifted his hand, admitting defeat to the scorekeeper. He sat speechless as the little girl with almond eyes and a Mona Lisa smile reached across the table to shake his hand.

CherryChess


Golden Heart Scores

I’ve known since March that I didn’t final in the Golden Heart, a contest for unpublished writers sponsored by the Romance Writers of America. It wasn’t a disappointment. I knew the book wasn’t ready. Entering was a ploy to trick myself into finishing the second draft. It worked. I finished and sent it off, knowing I could do better. Finishing the stupid thing felt like winning.

So, last week when I got my scores, I was very pleased. My dreck of a manuscript placed in the top quarter of the Single Title Contemporary division. It was better than I thought.

Here are the scores:

Judge 1    Judge 2    Judge 3    Judge 4    Judge 5     Final Score

7.5              7.6           6.8           8.3         8                38.20 

The highest any judge could give was 9. The highest possible final score was 45. The cut off for the top quarter was 36.50.


What Do You Do?

I’ve been writing at Las Palapas for two months now. I know all the waitresses by name. They know I like chipolte salsa. My coffee cup is refilled so often, it seems bottomless. If I change tables, someone will ask, “Different spot today?” They know I try to keep my back to the flatscreen because it’s tempting to veg out to CNN or Sports Center, closed captioned of course.

No comment is made about my laptop or the printed, scribbled-over pages that make me squint. But my friends know I’m working–just like they’re working in their friendly efficient way.

After two months of coffee and breakfast tacos followed by two hours of staring at my MacBook, Gregarious Dee, who is a constant source of encouragement and caffeine, can’t take it any longer.

“I have to ask. What is it you do?”

“I’m a writer. I’m writing a novel.”

“I knew you were a writer! I knew it!” She topped off my coffee cup. “I want the first book when it comes out!”

“You’ve got it, Dee.”

That was enough. She was off to deliver chips and salsa to the guy at the next table.


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