Saturday, August 22, 2015

Fifty Shades of...

...my thoughts.

I was going to leave this alone, but I once told a group of people at an Author's Panel to never let something go that you can't get out of your mind.
This blog post will be a testament to that.
So then.
Fifty Shades of Grey.
When it first came out, I had little to no interest.  I had opened the first book at random and read a couple of pages.  It was...meh.  Then the movie came out, and I thought (being a visual person) that I might enjoy the story better that way.
I was wrong.
I'm not here to bash E.L. James.  Not going to happen.  Not in the way she's been bashed before, anyway.  The mere content of these books is a trigger.  BDSM, for many, is a trigger because it's not a consensual act but a horrible power play between someone being the aggressive and someone being the submissive.  But it's not.  While I don't practice the lifestyle, I can see where it might appeal to some.
Christian Grey was indoctrinated into the lifestyle by an older woman.  He thought that she gave him the perfect outlet for those parts of him that he deemed not normal.  The abuses he suffered as an extremely young boy manifested themselves out into this chosen lifestyle.  And while he refers to himself as "fucked up", it's quite clear that he considers being a submissive, and then a Dominant, integral to who he is.
And he believes that only through this lifestyle will he be able to connect physically with someone.  I find the psychology behind that fascinating.
My problem with the story stems from it being contrived.
Good authors try to make a seamless story that readers can follow through with no hitches or bumps in the narrative.  Great authors succeed.
While I didn't read the book, it's been said that the movie closely follows it.  And if that's true, then I shudder at some scenes.
When Anastasia Steele (and God help me, that name is contrived all by itself) drinks too much and drunk dials Christian, he shows up JUST IN TIME to save her from a friend who is becoming too handsy.  My eye literally twitched.
When he happens to show up when she's with her mother, it was all I could do not to stop the movie right then and there.  I mean...c'mon!
And then this older woman is thrown into the mix right in time for there to be conflict.  Seriously.  I hadn't heard her name before, and suddenly she's all over the place.  Ugh.
Stories, no matter the content, should neither be choppy nor contrived.  They should flow smoothly.
Our protagonist, Ms. Steele, walks the fine line between Too Stupid To Live and simply naive.  I struggled with her character in the movie because she made me literally wince.  Falling into his office.  Losing her place in her notes.  So I took a breath and tried to imagine myself in that position.
Early twenties.  Innocent.  Sheltered.  Settled.  Perhaps a billionaire would upset my little world, also.  Doesn't make her more appealing to me, but I find myself trying to understand her actions.
To sum up, it's a "C" movie.  It's not great.  It's not even particularly daring.
Average storyline.  Below average writing.  Above average casting.
Because hello, Mr. Dornan.  I've missed you since they killed your ass off "Once Upon a Time".
There will be two more movies to round out the trilogy.  It'll probably be one and a half too many.
Grins*

Saturday, August 08, 2015

Get a set

*blows out breath*
Alrighty then.
I love writing.  Love it.  There's is nothing else that touches me like the words.
So what's my problem?

I've dicked around for hours today because at the end of my list is writing.  But not any writing.  No. It's my TFH novel.
And it hurts me.

Let me explain.
I am an empathetic person to the point I can't watch reality shows because they embarrass and raise my blood pressure.
I stopped watching "Deal or No Deal" because I was living and dying by those sorry ass little fucking suitcases.
The Honey thought I was sleeping during "Tammy" with Melissa McCarthy.  I wasn't sleeping.  I was averting my eyes from the screen because I was embarrassed for her in a couple of scenes.  Ok.  Let's be honest, most scenes.  geez

I banged out several thousand words last time I worked on it.  Now I need to go back and flesh some scenes out.  But they hurt.  It's not pretty.  It's not a romance.
I can literally only take so much of the ugly before I have to take a step or four back.  I can only take so much intensity before it wraps itself around and chokes me.
This story needs to be written.  I need to write it.
It's important.

On a semi-related note:  Killing your darlings.  Stephen King advocates offing characters.  I've only purposely killed one character, and I felt bad.  But I knew he wasn't going to make it from the get-go. A lot of readers become attached to characters.  That's the mark of a good writer and book.  Not only have you breathed life into a character, but they've also found a home with others.  That's powerful writing.

Now I'm wrestling with characters and trying to soothe myself through the process.  It's exhausting.
One of my favorite sayings:  If it was easy, everyone would do it.
Guess I need to get a set.
*******

Friday, June 26, 2015

Equality for ALL

Flags are symbolic.  
When you fly the flag of your Alma Mater, you are proud and recognize the great traditions that the institution represents.
A Confederate flag symbolizes slavery, death, and denigration.
It’s no laughing matter when you post opposing college school flags or NFL flags and say those “offend” you.
Really?  What, exactly, offends you?  Be specific?  Did any of those “longhorns” come and rape your girlfriend?  Whip your father until he died?  Fight to keep you and your kin in chains?  Please.  Do tell.  I don’t remember any of that in the History books.
How about we make a flag that symbolizes prejudice against redheads?  Or short people?  Or tall people?  Or those with blue eyes?  Green eyes?  
Let’s make all rednecks fix cars and hunt.  They don’t need a degree.  And how about all women under twenty-five need to be married.  You don’t need a degree, either.  You can be the little woman that your man takes care of.  And poor people must remain poor.  They obviously don’t have the intelligence to do anything but be a drain on society in general.  Take back women’s right to vote.  We don’t need that.  Who do we think we are, anyway?
Let’s just use the hell out of stereotypes.  Because THAT’S what you’re supporting.  Outdated and societal ills that plagued our nation in the past.  So why can’t you leave it there?  Where it belongs?  I don’t care if we leave Confederate flags hanging in museums.  That’s where they belong.  If you honestly feel the need to pepper your vehicle and your front porch with the same, do it.  Tattoo your damn ass.  I don’t care!!!
However, all government building needs them removed.  Any place that serves the people, all people, needs them removed.  There are no people in this nation that need a constant reminder that they were property in the past.  That they could be harm or killed for simply having a different skin color. 
My grandson is biracial.  And, quite frankly, he’s fucking beautiful.  Woe to ANYONE that says or treats my grandson differently because of his appearance. 
Black people are less than.  Our ancestors fought to prove that.  And this flag shows how proud I am of that moment in history.
Really?  You prejudicial asshole.  THAT’S what you’re proud of?  By the way, I’ve READ the history of the “Stars and Bars” and subsequent Confederate flags.  It’s sickening.
Speaking of history, let’s go back a bit further.
We are on Native American land.  That dirt you’re stomping on with your self-righteous shoes belonged to others long before it was yours.
Do you see the idiocy yet?  If not, look a bit closer.
Where does it fucking stop?


And now, guess what?
EVERYONE has the right to marry.
*gasp*
LEGALLY marry anyone they choose.  Regardless of sexual orientation.
Some people are up in arms because OMG…these homosexuals are throwing their sexuality in my face.  Sick bastards.  Twisted people.
I can guarantee you that there are some so-called “straight” people out there that are doing things that would trigger a homosexual individual’s gag reflex.
Bedroom things can stay bedroom things.  Privacy is sacrosanct. 
Marriage is simply that legal bond that says two people believe that they are meant for each other and wish to be bound together in this world for life. 
For those that wish to throw the Bible at this argument, please don’t.  It doesn’t hold water.  Because if you wish to pick out passages talking about marriage, then you need to read all the definitions of it in the Bible.  And some of those, my friends, are distinctly horrible.

All people should be treated with dignity.  If you’re incapable of that, then YOU are the one with the problem.
*******





Sunday, June 21, 2015

Fooled Myself

Happens sometimes.

We tell ourselves that when the kids are out of the house, we'll have more time.
This is horseshit.
I told myself that when I had the last kid graduate that I would have more time for the writing.  Also horse feces.
I've moved since then.  Two hour commute daily.  I have a beautiful grandson.  One child in Florida. I'm planning a wedding.  I work forty hours a week.  Throw in some health issues and YAHTZEE!
I was talking to my therapist the other day.  (Yes.  I have a therapist.  I believe EVERYONE should have a therapist.  I need someone who will actually listen to me and then give me another perspective.  It is marvelous.)
Anyway...I was going on about stress.  My body hurting.  Wanting to come home and exercise and write.
So she asked about my schedule.
I get up at 6.  Out the door at 645.  At work around 745.  Work 8-5.  Leave work.  Get to the city around 6-630.  Pencil in tanning.  (It's my only vice.)  Now it's almost 7.  Need to eat dinner.  In bed by 8.
And she says, God bless her, "sounds like you don't have enough time in the evenings."
whoa
WHOA
Did she say that I don't have enough time in the evenings???  That I don't have to mentally beat myself up for dragging my ass home and hoping there's something in the fridge I can eat cold or nuke within a couple of minutes???
holy shit
Well, then.
And do you have any idea how nice it was to hear that I can quit being so damn tough on myself because I'm NOT fitting everything I want to in a day?
That maybe, perhaps, I can focus more on the weekends when I DO have time?
*blinks*
That I don't have to be Superwoman and fit things into my day that will actually take a toll on me instead of enrich the day?
Who the fuck knew?
I've been hardwired to do as much as I can in one day as humanly, or inhumanly, possible.  Sacrifice my health.  My sleep.  My own guilty pleasures.  Hell, I don't know if I even have guilty pleasures, anymore.  And since I'm having to type that...it's doubtful.
But I'm not growing any younger.  In fact, I seem to be aging.
Would you believe that I found a wayward eyebrow sticking STRAIGHT OUT from the rest of my eyebrows?  Just sticking out like it was about to shish kebab something.  I was utterly aghast.
What the hell is that all about?  Before you know it I'll need to trim nose hairs and the like.
*shuddering*
Before I get lost in all the ways I'm sure my body will betray me...
Life is not what you think it's going to be.
Plans are made and ruthlessly destroyed.  Timing is a nice thought but hardly ever works out.  Just when you think you've got a hold of it, you don't.
Trust me.
You don't.
So.  I've learned to adapt more.  I try to use what little time I have in the evenings to unwind.  Maybe catch up on the news.  Play a game on my Kindle to unwind.  But I'm turning the corner on the massive expectations I placed on my time-deprived self.
I will use what I have when I have it.
If that means jotting down notes on a story but not touching it until the weekend.  So be it.
Because this progress, as slow as I might find it, is at least PROGRESS.
So I'm going to wrap it up here.  Open up a couple of stories.  Write the stories that pour out of my soul.
And I'm going to be happy with it.  Because what joy can be found when stress squeezes the life from it?
I deserve that joy.
And so do you.
*******



Wednesday, November 05, 2014

Forward Thinking

I don't much use this blog for anything political.  If you're my friend on FB, then you might see a few posts about elections and whatnot, but usually I simply move right along.
Not today, friends.
Not today.
I cannot, I WILL NOT, let this mid-term election debacle go without a word or two.

Republicans won back the Senate.
This state re-elected a Republican Governor who is the epitome of egocentricity.

What happens if your daughter is raped?  What happens if she becomes pregnant from the worst event of her life and won't be given the option to terminate the pregnancy?  And what happens if she lives in one of those GREAT states where the rapist gets visitation rights?
Do you fear for your daughter?  For your GRANDDAUGHTER???

Do you think your daughter should be paid as much as your son for the same job?  Do you realize that the numbers of single parent families are through the roof right now?  So your daughter working her ass off won't make as much to support your grandchild as your son?

Do you know how many households go to bed hungry each night because the minimum wage is far below what it needs to be?

Do you know what I see every day?
I see homeless people.  I see 18 year-old young adults who have to stay at the Salvation Army because they have NO PLACE left to go.  They have no skills and no transportation to acquire them.
I've had customers tell me that they were kicked out of  a friend's house where they were staying because there wasn't enough food for all of them.

Are you listening?

NOT.  ENOUGH.  FOOD.

I've seen more pregnant teenagers than I care to count because this state teaches abstinence.  Yeah. That's really making an impact.

NOT.  ENOUGH.  EDUCATION.

We send our kids to school every day not knowing if it will be their last.  I don't want to take your God damn guns.  I only want to make sure that some lunatic who doesn't need an assault rifle never gets one.

NOT.  ENOUGH.  REGULATIONS.

So now I'm living in a country that's so divided they can't even work together to better the lives of its citizens.

This great country?
Not so much.
Not if we cannot work together and quit using elections as pissing contests.

ARE YOU LISTENING???
*******


Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Don't Give Your Power Away

Don't give your power away.

To the takers who take take take. And the people who manipulate and wind around and wear you down and drain you deep. 

Don't give your power away.

To the leeches who suck you dry and come back again when you've built yourself up. And the people full of sweet words that drip poison if you don't do what they want.

Don't give your power away.

To the assholes who care nothing for you but everything about themselves. And the people who would leave you in a ditch unless you promised them something you don't even have yet.

Don't give your power away.

To the so-called friends who say one thing to your face and several others behind your back. And the people that agree with them and then turn around and agree with you.

Don't give your power away.

To the liars who say want you want to hear when you want to hear it. And the people who talk out of both sides of their mouths because they have no spine and no convictions.

Don't give your power away.

You walk tall. You give yourself love. You dismiss those that try and tear you down while not sinking to their level. You are proud. You are convinced. You know what you want and will not stop until you get it.

And, please...Don't give your power away.
*******

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Booty

Yes.
I'm talking about butt, rear, ass, etc.

JLo put out a music video that may or may not be called "Booty".  Honestly, I don't know the title.
Nor, honestly, do I care.

I watched the video partly because it has Iggy Azalea and partly because I hoped I would like JLo's more current releases.

I will never get those four minutes back.

The lyrics are meh at the best.
The video is trash.

Here's a few things JLo needs to realize:
1.  She is not Beyonce.  Nor will she ever BE Beyonce.  There is one Queen Bey.
2.  Rubbing and shaking your ass at 45 (no matter the shape of the ass) is pathetic.  Your youth ran screaming at the first slap.
3.  Trying for some homoerotic moves appeal to teenage boys.  If that's your only market...you need to reevaluate life.
4.  The cut scenes aren't sexy.  They're nauseating and will more than likely cause a seizure.

Who sanctioned this shit?
Did no one have enough balls to tell her self-proclaimed highness this entire video sucked "booty"?
And Iggy!!!  I expected so much more.  So.  Much.  More.

There you have it.  Another video that completely ruined the song for me.  Not that I had high expectations, anyway.
But, seriously.

Grins*



Sunday, July 20, 2014

Word Synchronicity

This post has been floating about in my head for a couple of weeks now.  Just now getting to it.

Something bothers me when I watch certain movies.  I noticed it a great deal in "Divergent".  Loved the book.  Movie was alright.  Read the book first.  That seriously helps.  If not, you'll be a bit lost.
But I digress.

Divergent is the anomaly.  Fair enough.  Our fair heroine, Tris, does not even hear the word spoken until she goes into testing to find her faction.  It's mentioned a few more times during the movie in a hushed whisper.
All good.
So far.
But then in one of the last scenes, everything previously building to a nice climax only for Tris to tell the evil villain that she's dIvergent.
Okay.
Here's the problem.
Every time it was pronounced previously...it was a soft "i".  Divergent.  No prob.  And it's obviously not a word bandied about on a regular basis.
But what is this???
Tris pronounces it with a hard "i".  What the hell?
It's that moment that takes me completely out of the movie and smacks me with the realization that these are simply actors.  Shailene Woodley pronounces the word differently than the other actors.
*sigh*
Another example would be Gandalf in the beautiful Tolkien books.  Elijah Wood pronounced the "l" specifically in Gandalf's name.  I don't particularly recall anyone else in the movies doing so.  Most pronounce it "Gandoff" not "GandaLf".

These are little things.  I realize that.  But I also believe it takes away from the momentum AND the story.
You need synchronicity for anything to flow.
Hiccups in the story will take you right out of it and lessen the impact of whatever you're viewing at the time.

Big things are important.  Obviously.  But so are the little things.  They can make or break a story.
And sometimes those are the most important things of all.
Grins*

Saturday, April 05, 2014

Terrified

Never been scared shitless to write ANYTHING before.  Never.  Pretty damn fearless when it comes to the writing stuff.
But now that's changed a bit.  And I guess that's great.  Right?  Being terrified to write something?  I'm not frightened of "it" per se...I'm scared that I will not be able to give it everything I want it to have.
Crazy, huh?
Considering I'll be the ONLY ONE who will be able to do that.
Still fucking terrified.

I spoke at the Oklahoma Library Association this last Wednesday.  Man, I love speaking on panels about writing.
But when asked about the works I have in progress, I popped off immediately with about 10,000 words left in the C&S story.  A third of the way through my Paranormal Erotic story.  And then:
"Have you ever seen something so beautiful, you're afraid to touch it?"
That popped out of me.
And it was the perfect description of this book.
I am scared to death that I'll miss something important.  Or I will not give it all the attention it needs.

In my heart of hearts...I don't believe either of those.  I will sculpt the hell out of it until it's EXACTLY what I want.
But damn.
Really???

Daunting.  Good damn word for what this one is.  Because it's huge, my friends.  HUGE.

So I simply need to calm my ass down and let the words come.  They've not failed me before.  They won't fail me now.
Onwards and upwards.
I hope.

Grins*

Sunday, March 23, 2014

I don't write porn

But I could.

I tend to get that a lot.  You write porn right?
Um,  no.  But thanks for asking.
I write romance.  Sub-genres of said romance could be Time Travel, Erotic, Contemporary, Paranormal, or Fantasy.
Erotica, in my opinion, is literary porn.
Erotic romance is explicit romance with non-PC terms for genitalia and sexual acts.  ROMANCE.
That neat little word there is an indicator of happily-ever-after (HEA).  Porn doesn't care about the HEA.
I do.

When I speak on panels, there are oftentimes questions such as the porn one.  I try to educate, but a lot of people have it stuck in their heads that any explicit romance is porn.  Maybe it is.  Who am I to judge?

Not all readers need a closed door during sexual acts.  Some enjoy reading the explicit.  Neither one is "wrong".
And that's the bottom line for me.
Read what you enjoy.
WRITE what you enjoy.

I may have one sex scene in a book.  I may have twelve sex scenes in a book.  I don't have a handy little diagram that tells me to "add sex scene" here.  And even if there was one, I would tear it up.
I let the story dictate to me the rhythm of the scenes.  Be that ANY scene.

So let's all quit slinging mud on things that aren't our cup of tea.
And roll those sex dice.
Grins*

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Getting it right the first time

When I'm writing my lovely stories, I'm not a fan of the delete or backspace key.  I use them, but I use them sparingly since, to me, that's wasted time.
Editing at the end is different.  Snip here.  Change there.  We're not talking brain surgery here.  I'm not reinventing the wheel.
So imagine my disappointment, okay---pissed off at myselfness--when I realized that an entire scene from my current book is shit.
SHIT, I tell you!
What was I thinking?
Was I thinking at all?
Who wrote that drivel?
It doesn't even fit with the two characters.  Okay, ONE of the characters, but still!!!
WHAT HAVE I DONE???

*breathing*

I tried to fit the square peg in the round hole.  I do that on occasion just to make sure I still can.  But this???  This is wasted time.  This is squandering my precious writing time.  This is...unacceptable.
And I didn't get the click.
I should have known better.

So I'm going to open up my latest writing venture and do some surgery without anesthetic.
Take out the scene and write it as it should be written.
Because meeting my own approval is simply brutal, folks.

On a lighter note, I'm eating Easter peanut M&M's.
Life is good.

Grins*

Update:  Gutted the last third and made it work.  Damn bossy characters.

Thursday, January 02, 2014

Cave Girl?

Please explain to me why the blue hell choosing food has become such a bitch.
After living on sausage balls for nearly a week, I decided...screw this.  So thought I'd do a bit of research and find some more nourishing noshing.
HA
And HA some more

Let's see.  Vegetarian/Vegan?  They suggest using tofu and soy.  But those are "processed".  So that goes against Paleo, right?
And no little cute cartons of egg whites as they are likewise processingarily compromised.
Oh, help me.
Paleo sounds okay, I guess.  I don't mind eating a bit cleaner.  And after looking it up, I'm a bit scared.  Not a fan of root vegetables or "rabbit food".
Now.  I like me a salad.  Don't get me wrong.  Don't care for croutons.  Not a big fan of meat up in there, either.
Simply clean eating?
Um, okay.  But that's a bit of a strict regimen, isn't it?  I'm  not saying I can't live WITHOUT an occasional breaded something.  I'm just saying I shouldn't have to.
Butter vs margarine?
Butter, in all its full fat glory, seems to be healthier than margarine.  Score one for me.  How about ghee?  Should we be purchasing that and using it?  Coconut oil?
*rubs forehead where a nice headache is forming*
And pasta?  I've tried the whole grain.  I...didn't care for it.  So I asked for and received a lovely little tool for Christmas where I can run it down my defenseless zucchini and make "zoodles".  Pretend pasta, if you will.  Still waiting on trying that.  Perhaps this weekend.
Also picked up some spaghetti squash.  Yes.  I love pasta.  But white processed stuff makes me tired.  That's indicative of an allergy, right?
Pass the water.  I think I'm safe there.
Grins*

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Don't mind me

My life has a way of getting back on the right track whether I'm ready for it or not.  Mostly not, quite honestly.
When I was in the last relationship in a massive rut where neither of us was happy, but we just stuck it out...house fire.
Little extreme, I'll admit.  I mean, seriously.  Who wants to lose everything they own just to make a fresh start and new beginning?
Oh...and to add insult to injury--the ex and ex-best friend hooking up.  Really?  Wouldn't have been easier to drop a house on me or something?  I rather thought so at the time.
But look at me now.
I'm happy.  Imagine that.  I have a great job.  Great friends.  And I have someone who supports what I do no matter whether I'm immersed in the writing or not.  Brilliant.

Oklahoma has been doing its best impression of the arctic lately.  Icy slick roads.  Weather closings.  And wouldn't you know...my effing car decided to die.
DIE!
Battery was just like...eh.  I'm done here.  So my poor little Escape is frozen in my driveway.  Baby Chicken has been ferrying my ass to and fro.  Love that child.  But guess what?
I go home dragging ass most everyday of work.  My body has its own set of issues, and they tend to tug at me and wear me down.  Today, given no other option, I'm staying at work probably a couple hours past quitting time.
And I'll write.

My life and its situations have this way of snapping back to where I should be whether I realize/appreciate it or not.

Back when I was more of a control freak, yeah--I owned it, I would worry the hell out of myself that things had to be "just so."
Until I had to go to the doctor with severe stomach pains where they found a nice large ulcer.  Because I'm an overachiever even when I'm jacked up.
True story.

I've told friends and family that I sometimes don't catch subtleties and nuances.  I tend to be a bit thick when someone is not hitting me over the head with something.  Then there are those times, without trying, that I am so intuitive it's scary.

Bottom line is this...sometimes we miss the little signs on our road that say "turn here" or "slow down"...but we usually pay attention to the one that says "bridge out".

So I'll be happy with my lot.  I realize that even if I venture off my path, I'll be guided back whether with a nudge or slap.
Entirely up to me.
Grins*

Saturday, November 09, 2013

OCD

Afternoon my lovelies.

Time to crank out a blog and then get to writing.

I've pondered over a question asked at the Author Panel I went to last Saturday.
How do I concentrate with OCD?  How do I shut everything else out and write?

Not easy.

First of all, I've been to a therapist/counselor.  I've not been properly diagnosed, but I'm most certainly OCD.
Sometimes it's worse than others.  Whether I have to check the lock my magic number of times or check my alarm the same number.
But thankfully, it doesn't rule my life.

Blocking out everything to write is difficult enough.  But it's a real bitch when I have to make sure that certain items are where they always are.  That I've done everything else that needs to be done.  When I have my water nearby and my ear buds in so I can concentrate ONLY on the story or stories.

This five-book series requires me to listen to my Writing playlist on iTunes which consists of beautiful music sans words or Enya-type or Celtic Woman songs.
Because it fills in the holes I need filled to work on the writing.
I need the background noise so that other things don't bother me.  My phone is on "Do Not Disturb".  I will give the death glare to any who bother me when I'm working in the zone.  And God forbid you interrupt.
While I'm a fairly nice person on any given day, I am a snarling bear woke from its hibernation when jacked with in the middle of a nice writing jag.
Ear buds in.  Writing on.  Woe to anyone who doesn't respect that.
And I mean WOE.

Food has been consumed.  Water sits to the left of my laptop.  iTunes is about to be fired up and put on repeat.

Shall we begin?
*******

Sunday, November 03, 2013

To dream the impossible dream

It's scary, isn't it?
Putting yourself out there.  Leaving yourself open to criticism and unkind words.  Cutting yourself open and leaving bits of yourself exposed.
Terrifying is probably more appropriate.

I'm reminded of that ol' "sticks and stones" rhyme reiterating that physically we can be hurt, but words won't harm.
That would be a bunch of bullshit.

Ever been called stupid?  Worthless?  Ugly?  Fat?  Skinny?
Ever had something you've been beyond proud of decimated by words?
EVERYONE has.

Take that in.
Those who utter those words have probably had them thrown at them more than a few times.
And while there is no excuse for all that hatefulness...I tend to feel bad for them.
There lives must be miserable.

When I spoke yesterday at the Author Panel, it really hit home for me that there are a lot of people scared to put themselves out there.  They want to write, but they are scared, unsure, and fragile.

Some people will love your work.  Some people will hate it.  Some people will cherish it.  Some people wouldn't stop to wipe their ass with it.

So fucking what?
Seriously.
Think about that for a minute.
So what?

If you tamp down that part of you that wants to create, then you are EXISTING, my friends.  You are not living.  You are suffocating such a beautiful part of yourself out of FEAR.
And that's unacceptable.

Write that book.  Paint that picture.  Sculpt that statue.

LOVE your creativity and embrace it tightly.  And then set it free into the world.  Give it wings to fly and enough courage to stand on its own.
Not everyone has the strength.
But you're doing yourself a disservice if you're not even trying.

Grins*