Fluffy Avonside by any other name by Deb Jennifer

With all due respect to Anna (aka Benjamin), the porn name formula by which I have always sworn is name of first pet + name of the street you grew up on.  My name, by the way, would be Mumpsy Avonside.  Sexy, huh?  Okay, second pet: Fluffy.  This works much better.  Phew!   There’s also a romance novelist name formula I’ve heard of – your middle name + your mother’s maiden…

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Shivering Pomeranians, Pen Names and Ari Gold

As I write this, my basement is filling up with water. Some sort of tempest swirled up from the bowels of the stratosphere and has, apparently tipped Toronto on its side so driving rain can attack the city from the left. It’s always best to attack from the left. Remember that. I should get off the computer. That’s the thunderstorm rule. Maybe so I don’t get hit by e-shrapnel if…

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My Namesake

I’m no stranger to writing under names that aren’t my own. See, when you’re on contract with a magazine and that contract doesn’t net you enough to, say, pay for both gas and food, and yet the parameters of the arrangement don’t allow you to write for other publications — well, you get a little creative. The name I’d use, if it didn’t need to be a female author, was…

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News Flash! April 22, 2007

Deb Friends! Friend of the site Gail Konop Baker has a new Bare-breasted Mama column up at Literary Mama. Debs Are People Too! People magazine has reviewed Promise Not to Tell in this week’s issue! They gave Deb Jennifer’s debut 4 out of 4 stars, and had this to say: “McMahon’s gift is the deliciously twisty way she subverts all your expectations, keeping you guessing with wry wit and feverish…

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On Aging by Deb Mia

Could this week’s post be more apropos? Because I just realized that my post from last week was technically the post we were supposed to write on a month ago. HELLOOOO!! Sheesh! There are so many things I could blame it on, but really, I have noticed a definite drop in my mental capacity the moment I turned 35. I actually think I heard the click. And yes there are…

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Black Balloons by Deb Jennifer

In a little over a year, I’ll be 40.  Yep, FORTY.  Back when I was a kid, a teenager, even in my twenties, this was completely impossible to imagine.  40 is where you have a party with black balloons.  Friends give you cards with pictures of tombstones and jokes about being “over the hill.” Some people avoid this by staying “39” as long as possible.  Me, I’m going to embrace 40. …

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Your Ass or Your Face by Deb Tish

“It’s your ass or your face,” Kathleen Turner once said of turning 35. I’ve never been a huge Kathleen Turner fan–too much forced breathiness when she acts–but the gal’s got a point. I’ve finally reached the stage where this decision needs to be made. Basically, there’s a five-pound spread (cruel, unintentional pun) and at the lower end, your ass looks great in your favorite jeans, at the higher end, your…

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