Posted on September 25, 2001.
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by Janelle Meraz Hooper
I had plowed through an endless sea of dirty used Toyotas when I saw her. She crouched in the corner of a used car lot like a big navy blue crab on the bottom of a dusty ocean. This car was so dirty I couldn’t even tell she was a Mercedes, but I could tell she was special. She had a style the new Mercedes didn’t have. To me, the new ones just screamed money; this one purred class.
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Posted on August 16, 2001.
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by Janelle Meraz Hooper
Author of:
One of the best things that can happen to a serious writer is to find an active, supportive writing group whose members have goals similar to yours. At their best, these writers will listen to your query letters, synopsis, and chapter problems and be able to offer constructive advice. Chances are, it’ll be much more satisfying than asking the plumber who thought he was just there to fix the leaky faucet. Or, the glazed look you get at the dinner table at home when you ask for your family’s help.
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by Janelle Meraz Hooper
Elvis is still alive. I know it. I have proof. And I don’t mean the kind of proof where some guy who’s had too much beer stops at a local filling station and sees Elvis filling up his Eldorado with regular gas. What a joke. Everyone knows that Elvis uses super.
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by Janelle Meraz Hooper
Note: When this short story first appeared in The Blue Rose Bouquet, it was an excerpt of Chapter 1 of the author’s (as yet) unpublished novel, A Three-Turtle Summer; see the author bio after this excerpt for exciting book details!
It’s A Three-Turtle Summer—hot—and Grace has to dump a man who’s meaner than a rattlesnake and dumber than adobe.
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Posted on November 27, 1998.
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This page is no longer a good news-announcements page. For current author information, visit
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