MaryJanice Davidson quotes:

Being a writer is great, and being a parent is great, and I hate Marching Band.

It's nice to see you again, Laura." "Thank you, Mrs. T-" "No, no, no. Please, my name is-" "Mud," I suggested. "Mud Barfbag Taylor. Call her Asshat for short." ~Laura, Antonia, Betsy

Magic: The Gathering is like Dungeons and Dragons if D&D was played with cards and didn't take 18 weeks.

I always knew I'd keep at it with the plodding doggedness that I used to master lump-less gravy and wriggle out of fitness classes; I always knew I'd get a zillion rejection slips. I figured I'd write part time while working various full-time office jobs, and maybe, maybe in my 50s, I'd be able to quit and try writing full time.

I'll cough up the bitter truth right now, at the risk of losing my Feminism Club Decoder Ring: I didn't go see 'Inside Out' for Amy Poehler, though she's terrific. I went to see my dark prince, Lewis Black.

You don't scare me, Cadence Jones. I've lived with crazy, I've ridden with crazy, I've vacationed with crazy, I've visited crazy in various hospitals, I've sat in on therapy sessions with crazy. Frankly, I think women who don't have major emotional disorders are really very dull."

Fredrika Bimm, what do you think you're doing?""Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the urge to vomit. Wishing I had died at childbirth.""Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms."

I love interviews, meeting fans, teaching workshops, giving speeches... all of it.

I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.

I used to be a model and a medical test subject, though never at the same time. And since we didn't have much money when I was a kid, I know how to fish and hunt for my supper. And I used to win awards in speech in high school, which comes in handy when I speak to 200 people at a writers' conference.

I might occasionally forget how to open a car door and have too many shower curtains, but I've got some standards.

I know it's practical for career women, but sneakers with suits? Jesus couldn't possibly weep harder than I did.

I walked in on my folks doing it doggy style less than four hours ago." "Waitress!" Jonas screamed, clicking his fingers madly. "Bring two!" then, more quietly,"You want a neck massage? A bedtime story? A bullet in the ear?

I once came back from a book tour where sleek black cars driven by nice men in black suits waited for me at every hotel, took me to every signing, brought me back, opened car doors for me. They were great. I was great. It was a wonderful tour.

I like the idea of federal employees licensed to carry weapons who are also heavily medicated; it just works for me on all sorts of levels.

I can't not write funny. It's literally the only way I know how to do it.

When I wrote the first Betsy book, 'Undead and Unwed,' I had no idea, none, that it would be a career-defining, genre-defining book, the first of over a dozen in the series, the first of over 70 published books, the first on my road to the best-seller list, the first on my road to being published in 15 countries.

All this to say of course Gallo wants to get into your Little Mermaid panties. And if you don't get that, you're dumber than I ever thought, which gives me such a headache to even contemplate. The massive amount of your dumbness. It hurts me,' he whined.

I've got a folder full of rejection slips that I keep. Know why? Because those same editors are now calling my agent hoping I'll write a book or novella for them. Things change. A rejection slip today might mean a frantic call to your agent in six months.

Never, EVER give up. Not ever. Not EVER. Ever EVER!

I love traveling, but I love the bum I married, and the bums I gave birth to, more. And the dogs. I love them, too.

I own two beautiful homes, and I'm always half-expecting the cops to pull in, seize me with firm compassion, and escort me out.

I walked in on my folks doing it doggy style less than four hours ago.""Waitress!" Jonas screamed, clicking his fingers madlyBring two!" then, more quietly,"You want a neck massage? A bedtime story? A bullet in the ear?"

Back off, boys. You don't want to mess with an out-of-work secretary. We're real testy.

What the hell was it about e-mail that made everybody forget the stuff they learned in second grade, like capitalizing I and proper names, and using periods? Hello? We all learned how to do this less than five years out of diapers!

When I first quit my day job, I was terrified. I called my editors and said I'm trying to make a go of this, and they threw every contract at me they could. And for two years, I had a book or an anthology out every month.

They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

Here I am, just wandering down a deserted street in the middle of the night. I hope I don't run into any trouble. Goodness, that would just ruin my whole evening." I strolled and hummed, trying to project Innocent Victim.

She couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the irises began; looking into those eyes was like looking into a well where children had drowned.

I trudged around on the muddy river bottom for half an hour, patiently waiting to drown, before giving up and slogging my way back to shore.

Leave it to a vampire to think a healthy guy in his late thirties or early forties was on his deathbed.

How's your grandpa?""Still worried that your blackness will infect me.""That's the plan. First you, then all the other blondes, and then on to brunettes and redheads. Once we have the womenfolk, all the babies will come out black, too. We all voted on the plan at the last Black Conspirators meeting.

You don't scare me, Cadence Jones. I've lived with crazy, I've ridden with crazy, I've vacationed with crazy, I've visited crazy in various hospitals, I've sat in on therapy sessions with crazy. Frankly, I think women who don't have major emotional disorders are really very dull.

Fredrika Bimm, what do you think you're doing?" "Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the urge to vomit. Wishing I had died at childbirth." "Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms.

Did vampirism encourage Stockholm syndrome?

I wrote for free for, like, fifteen years; I could redo my parlor in rejection slips. It would be surprisingly tasteful - they use nice paper.

Zombieland reference," Jon said, nodding. "How do you know that? That's a thousand-year-old reference!" I looked at laura. "I can't think of a single movie from a thousand years ago." "Uh...Betsy..." "Don't say it." You know how you don't know how stupid something is until you hear yourself say it? That happened to me a lot.

I guess you could say that no matter what the characters are enduring, I try to make them retain their humanity. Their self-absorbed, grouchy, selfish, aggravating humanity.

The silly antics that would get me in trouble at school have put me on the best-seller list. So I guess the moral here is ignore your teach... never mind. That's not the moral. Probably.

My 20s were a blizzard of rejection slips.

I'm more to my family than a wonderful, luminous cook. I'm also a wonderful, luminous butler and a wonderful, luminous chauffer. And checkbook. I'm a luminous checkbook, too.

Among other things, Marching Band forms state that if my kid starts acting like a li'l jerkface on a trip, Marching Band can call and command me to pick up my li'l jerkface.

I'm a sucker for the big, gruff, distant, emotionally closed-off hero who sloooowly warms up to the feisty, awesome, sweet heroine.

I'd go to a bookstore, and I'd flip through flap copy, and I'd think, 'If this gal can get published, I can get published.'

... friends are such a mixed blessing.

All writers are crazy. So never mind what the editors and your family and your critique group tells you. Submit your manuscripts and keep submitting until you get an offer. Then you can be crazy, with a paycheck.

Also,I loathe it when you refer to me as dude" Eric Sinclair to Betsy

Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

Elizabeth Anne Taylor April 25, 1974 - April 25, 2004 Our Sweetheart, Only resting

Has anyone ever told you that you lack focus?

He said my name the way diabetics talked about hot fudge sundaes.

He snarled at me. "This isn't over yet, Betsy." "Excellent," I said. "I would also have accepted 'You haven't seen the last of me' and 'You'll regret this'.

I could have gone to medical school, I said. Except for all the math and stuff.

I was so furious I was actually dizzy with it. There were so many bitchy, sarcastic observations to make, I was having a sarcasm stroke. "My God! You people! You're - you're so stupid you're making my eyeballs throb. They're throbbing, dammit!

I'm in a Roadrunner cartoon, Sinclair. And I'm the coyote.

I'm rubber and you're glue," I told Satan, " and everything that bounces of me sticks to you.

Interesting shade #23 Lush Golden Blonde highlights. Heyyyyyy.... The woman in the awful suit was me! The woman in the cheap shoes was me!

It was scary how much she sounded like me sometimes. Maybe that's why she totally got on my nerves

It's inappropriate for the queen of the dead to be afraid of ghosts.

I've always assumed he'd be around to be, you know, yelled at and taken for granted. And of course I was wrong. Nobody's going to put up with that forever.

I've been stabbed before. Barely a week ago, in fact. AND I've been audited, AND I come from a broken home. In short - no offense, shorty - you don't scare me.

Never let your fiend off his leash unless there's lots of room to run (and no people around).

Take your hands off her, Sinclair told the guy behind me, Or they'll write books about what I'll do to you.

The vampire bible, bound in human skin, written in blood, and full of prophecies that were never wrong. Trouble was, if you read the thing too long, it drove you nuts. Not "I'm having a bad day and feel bitchy" nuts or PMS nuts. "I think I'll commit felony assault on my friends and rape my boyfriend" nuts.

There's more than one way for a girl to Google a cat.

We have souls. Sure we do. Otherwise we'd do bad things all the time. You know, like politicians.

Why is it suddenly uncool to spell? That's all I want to know.

Wow, girlfriend, you're incompatible with life! And here I thought I was just incompatible with pink.

Yeah, well, it's been a super fun week. And by 'super fun' I mean 'horrible and endless'.

You'll pay," she said stonily. "You won't be like this by this time tomorrow." "Bored and pissed off? God, I hope not.

You have attained maturity; display it for us, if you please.