A Word with Mary Ann Peden-Coviello

Okay, that is a mouthful of a name. I met Mary Ann as part of a women's writer group, and she is made of aweomesauce. Editor, writer, granny panty wearer, I think I found my new role model. While I go re-arrange my shrine to include her picture, you read this interview:

Who in the hell are you? What are you doing on my blog! Oh… that’s right, I invited you. *ahem* I meant to say, take a moment to introduce yourself.
 *peeks through fingers* I'm Mary Ann Peden-Coviello, writer of sorts, and Evil Editor. Well, not so much evil as tough-love disher-outter. J

If you could pick one word to describe your creative side, what would it be, and why? Persistent. Why? Because I've tried to crush it when it wasn't convenient for me, and it just keeps right on cropping up. Like weeds. Or a danged wart that you can't get rid of.

What do you like on a baked potato?
Sea salt, lots of pepper, sour cream. No butter. Sometimes chives. Definitely NO butter.

What do you think lead you to do that voodoo that you do so well? 
Destiny maybe. Or maybe I was born under the sign of The Evil Red Pen. Or general cussedness.

Who do you consider your biggest influence in your field?
For writing, oddly enough a non-horror writer, Joan Hess. She writes murder mysteries with lashings of humour. I write horror with the same.  For editing, no one in particular.

What’s the biggest potato you’ve ever eaten?
 I don't know. I ate it. Can't weigh it now.

If you had to pick between the three primary colors—yellow, red and blue—which do you think the world could do without?
Oh, heavens! None of them. Without yellow, little kids couldn't draw blondes. Without blue, there'd be no blue skies. And where would any editor be without red? Perish the very thought. (And Word wants me to change that last sentence to "Perish the much thought." 'Cause, y'know that makes sense. *sigh*)

Do you prefer granny panties or thongs? Or perhaps neither?
I go for the granny panties. Dude, I'm 66 years old and fat. You do not even want to think about my butt in a thong. Yeah, go ahead and rid your mind of that image now. *is evil*

In fifty lying words or less, tell us why they call those little buds on potatoes ‘eyes.’ (In other words, I am not looking for the real reason. Be creative!)
Potatoes are really the larvae of an alien species trying to establish a colony on Earth. In our far-distant past, we fought them to a standstill, and now they live as tubers, still plotting against us. The eyes are just that, the eyes of the larvae. Eat more potatoes to help save the Earth from the invaders!

In one word, describe the secret to success.
Bloodyminded-determination. Okay, so I fudged.

Why is it I can never find a parking place when I am in a rush? Every time I go somewhere just for funsies or goofing off, there are twenty places right up front. But if I am in a rush? Nope! Not a space in site!
Because in a former life, you parked in a handicapped space, and you weren't handicapped. (As a disabled person, this annoys me beyond all reason.)

How many potatoes do you think you can you lift? I am talking standard Idaho, approx 13.5 oz. What? I am NOT obsessed with potatoes! You’re like the third person this week to say that. Just answer the question.
I'm disabled. Probably a half dozen. If I'm feeling good that day. If it's a bad day, I'd be doing well to lift one.

If you could treat any one person to dinner and a movie for all they have done for you, who would you take, where would you eat and what movie would you see?  
Oh, gee. I can't answer this. I'd have to rent out the whole restaurant and then the movie theatre to boot.

What projects do you have on the burner right now?
I'm always editing for someone or another, sometimes multiple someones. I'm currently writing a novel, a novella, six or seven short stories, blogging about writing, and blogging recipes. Once in a while I sleep.

 If you had to have a few words of warning about yourself tattooed on your forehead to alert others of your dangerous nature, what would it say? (Hint: Mine would probably say, “Beware of gassy emissions.”)
"Annoy Writer and Get Whacked in Horror Novel in Most Unpleasant Fashion."

 Say goodnight, Gracie.
"Good night, Gracie."

Mary Ann has lived her whole life below the Mason-Dixon Line. She writes mostly horror with a Southern accent and a bite of humour. She has one husband, three sons, and the best daughter-in-law in the known universe. She is owned by two cats and one fierce dog.

http://skewednotions.com/ Skewed Notions, my writing blog

http://merikat1948.wordpress.com/ Mary Ann's Thoughts, a little recipe blog