• What happens when...

    What happens when a sassy, red-headed writer meets a too-serious-for-her-own-good brunette?

    You get two crafty word slinging bitches.

    Or, as we decided to call it after toning down the awesome factor…Crafty Word Slingers.

    Welcome to our world. Grab a drink, put your feet up, and get that mouse finger ready to do all the clicking!

    So, how did we come to be?

    Jen: I first met Casey on-line when trying to register for the NJRW conference and everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I hounded this poor woman for weeks in email, feeling a bit of the fool since at the time I was running the tech side of Cool Gus Publishing, go figure the techie got schooled!

    Casey: This poor woman didn’t mind. Jen was just one of a hundred or so pain-in-the-ass emails she received daily from people who couldn’t find their asses with both hands. Since Jen had manners, and maybe recognized my willingness to smite anyone who rubbed me the wrong way, she rubbed me the right way (with words, don’t be a pig), and wound her way into my good graces.

    Jen: Then came the conference and I was on a seek and destroy mission to find Casey and thank her. However, since she was the conference chair, she was busy, and I didn’t run into her Friday night. Saturday, I go to breakfast and since I’m a speaker, I go to my assigned table. I sit down, KNOWING I’m at the conference chair’s table and it dawns on me, I don’t have a freaking clue what this chick looks like. No idea. All I pictures are lips (see her logo and you’ll get it). Some woman, with red hair sits down and says hello and acts as if we met a dozen times. I’m like, crap, who is this woman, so I check out the girls…

    Casey: My tits.

    Jen: I read the name tag and then felt like the shmuck I am.

    Casey: I won’t hold it against you.

    Jen: Awe, thanks (only she reminds me of her tits all the damn time). That night, I went to the after conference party. I don’t remember exactly how we got to this statement, but a few drinks were involved and then Casey said: “It’s not like I was going to go to his hotel room and hump his leg.”

    Casey: Oh, I can help you with that. I was psyched to have Bob Mayer presenting, but then, at the kind of last minute, he had to cancel and l all I got was you…no offense. I mean, you were great and all, but I didn’t have one freaking clue who you were, but Bob? Oh, I so knew who Bob was. I read everything he cowrote with Jennifer Crusie and dammit, I was finally supposed to meet the dude who wrote all the amazing boy parts in Agatha and the Hitman, Don’t Look Down, and Wild Ride. And I was trying to not be obsessive about it. Like most things, the more you try to not be obsessive about something, the crazier you look. In this case, the crazier I looked. So I made a joke about Bob avoiding me. After all, maybe he was catching my fan vibe and it wigged him out. I’m telling this to Jen who’s laughing. Then, while being my natural funny self I say, “Look, it’s not like I’m so obsessed I was going to show up in his room or something and try to hump his leg.” Now, here’s the thing…I go for the funny. Only these words rolled off just a tad too easy and we all froze the minute they were out. That is, until Jen burst out laughing so hard she wheezed and tears squeezed from her eyes. So, from that moment on, I became humpy. And I’m sure there’s still some question as to whether deep down I really want to bump uglies with Bob Mayer.

    We left the conference and for WEEKS, I went on Facebook every Wednesday and wished Humpy (my original nickname for Casey) A Happy Hump Day! It was great because NO ONE got the joke but us.

    For the next year, we chatted on-line, poked each other on Facebook, and then had a radical idea…let’s try being critique partners.

    We didn’t enter into this situation lightly. We both had not so great experiences in the past, so we started out slow, but with one rule: Honesty.

    For me, I knew I hit pay dirt when Casey wrote this:

    This one is so hysterical that when I first read it, I peed my pants. When my husband asked what the hell was so funny, I said: “I’m having sentence babies with a new friend.”

    Essentially, we sling each other’s words into the abyss!

    But we’re more than critique partners. We’re more than friends. We’ve come to develop a business partnership that supports the other. Even we don’t agree (and we don’t always see eye to eye on things), we are there to lift the other without blowing smoke up each other’s ass.

    Two and half years later, I feel like I’ve, know this woman since the womb (of course I came out something like 10 years earlier, but whatever). We’ve had our share of blips, and we’ll have more, but at the end of the day, we have each other’s crafty back.

    Until the next time…sling those words!