Happy New Year!!!

Yes. It's been quite a year to remember.

I've had the wonderful and not-so-wonderful happen.

The wonderful:
I have a teenager in the house now. (Did I put that in the wrong category?)
I have a full-time job (outside writing) that helps pay the bills and promo stuff.
I actually received about eight child support payments. (I knew it wouldn't last, but it was nice while it was there.)
The kids are all happy and healthy.
I've had number one bestsellers on Fictionwise and Whiskey Creek Press.
I'm another year older.
The writing seems to be growing and evolving.

Speaking of writing...What He Wants received FOUR STARS from Romantic Times Magazine (February issue). I won't be able to receive the online review because my subscription doesn't start until January (with the March issue). But I'll be snagging my copy at Waldenbooks and reading what they wrote about my story. Then, of course, I shall be sharing that with y'all.
If you receive the magazine, email me. I'd love to know what they wrote about the book.

Don't know when I'll be able to get back on a computer and blog. Probably after the first.

So, until then...Happy New Year, my lovelies!!!
May it be blessed, bright, and bountiful.
Crystal*

Why I spent Christmas morning in the ER

Well then.

Been one hell of an ending to a year, don't you think? And yes, at 6:30 am Christmas morning, I was in the nearest ER because I'd been throwing up for nine hours straight. A nice shot in the hip (burned like hellfire itself), and I've quit throwing up. Now if I could only take care of the other end.
Ah. Well.

Kids had a great Christmas. And I hope you and yours did, too.

I've spent a bit of time (when not throwing up, sitting on the toilet, or sleeping) putting bits of my life into perspective.
First...I will never, not EVER, eat cream cheese again. Because the second time 'round is NO good for NOBODY.
Second...I won't be attending RT this year, though I had originally planned on it. I think buying another computer first would be best.
Third...it's stuff. And I cope with this on a day-to-day basis. I'll think of something that I used to have and try to readjust my thinking to 1)Realize it's gone. 2)Know it's never coming back.
Stuff. Just stuff.
Fourth...People are fundamentally good. And I have enough Thank You cards to write to prove it. Thank God.
Fifth...the writing will come. My Muse scattered with the ashes of the house, I'm thinking. Because I can't get into the swing of it for anything. Irritating? Yes. But I know it'll come back. Because I still get those little pieces of dialogue/character/story at the oddest times. I'm just scared to open the floodgates when I don't have a trusty desktop to take the load off. Longhand? I think it would be a nightmare. If I can't transcribe from thought to fingertip, I'll lose something in there. So I'll wait a bit on that.

I have no pearls of wisdom. I barely have enough "oomph" right now to type this. But I wanted all of you to know that I wish you and yours the best of holidays and happiest of new years.
Crystal*

Oh yes, my friends, there is a Santa Clause

He left a tin of popcorn on my desk today with four candy canes attached. He's also made sure that my kids have a nice Christmas even though other events would suggest otherwise. AND...(because I'm pretty sure my chickens don't read this)...there is a special surprise for baby chicken on the way. Details as the event approaches. But let me just say that my publisher is one of a kind.

I love the spirit of Christmas. And even though I'm not quite ready to *grin* yet...(*wink* @ Bryan)...I think my spirit is a little stronger.
There is a Christmas program tonight for the elementary children, and I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to going to the school and receiving all the glances and whatnot. But I suppose that's part of it all.
I haven't gone back to the site of the house. I've put it off and put it off. And just when I think I have a grip, I find that I don't really.
I want to go during the day. It wouldn't be fair to drive-by in the dark and call it good. I need to actually be able to grieve for the walls that no longer stand and the memories made in the house that linger only in my mind now.

So even though there is still more dark than light...I can see the beams shining down and lighting those dark places. A little bit at a time.

Crystal*

One week later...

...it's rather surreal.

We're making do with what we have, but I'm so eternally grateful for the community we live in and our co-workers. I'm simply overwhelmed by the generosity and caring.

I appreciate all you lovely people, also. *waving* I wouldn't know how to put together a PayPal account if my life depended on it. So don't worry about it.

I could sit here and blather on about what I don't have...but I'd rather not.
Here's a list of what I DO have:

Every member of my family.
My favorite pair of underwear. Details not provided. But they are PRETTY.
All our animals, though three of our cats are still MIA.
Both vehicles.
The digital camera that we forget to get out of the van.
My new tennis shoes because I wore them to work that day.
BRAND NEW socks that match from Penney's. And they're FUZZY, too. *dancing*

What more could a girl want?
Crystal*

My house burned to the ground Saturday

I got a call at work Saturday, a little after three, that my laundry room was on fire. I left immediately. A couple of minutes later, my best friend, there with the kids called and said to call 911. I did.

By the time I got to my house, a third of it was burning. I thought to myself...not to bad. We'll lose the last couple of rooms and have smoke damage. A couple of minutes later, half the house was gone. And the fire had spread to the north pasture. The fireman who arrived on the scene had a first priority to stop the spread of flames. I understand this.

My best friend told me to take the kids to our friend's house. She didn't want the kids to see the house burning. I quickly left.

Two of the chickens didn't even have shoes on. One had slippers. We literally lost everything we had in that house. Everything.

I haven't grieved yet. I'm still holding onto my sanity by a shred. And I have yet to see the site where the house used to stand. I don't think I'll handle it all too well.
Do I care about the towels, cd's, etc. that I lost? Not really.

I care about the outfit I brought all three girls home in. I care about the pictures I can never replace. I care about all the homemade gifts that have been made with little hands and big hearts.
And it hurts like hell.

Everyone in this community at our works has been unbelievably kind and caring. Donations of money and clothes are coming in. Food. Help in every shape and form. I'm incredibly grateful, blessed, and humbled by everyone's generosity.

I'm also so damn tired and frazzled that I can't put together a coherent sentence. As soon as I finish one task...six more open up. It's incredibly wearing. I have a horrific headache that won't go away. I'm so tense that every muscle in my body aches.

And the chickens? Safe. And so well-adjusted that they put their Mama to shame. Because, you see, they are grateful for all this stuff. They think we're rich. Because even stuff that has been gently worn or used is new to them. And they embrace it all with an amazing spirit that lifts mine every day.

Me? I have sad eyes. I can feel them aching in their sockets as I try to get a handle on a situation that has taken the floor from underneath me. Sad eyes that wonder when it'll be okay to be happy again and not worry about what tomorrow brings.

I apologize to all the entrants for my contest. My computer is lost. All my files. All my books on it. Everything. So I'll get to you, I promise. But I'm not sure of timeframe.
We're taking it day by day.
So please keep my family in your thoughts. We appreciate it.
Crystal*

I'm not WEIRD! I'm ECCENTRIC!

Thanks for all the well wishes. Have a doctor's appointment Monday morning. *groan*
I'll draw the three winners when I get home this evening. (I get off at 5:00 pm)

Lyvvie has challenged me to write six weird things about myself. I find these little memes fascinating. So without further ado...
Six Weird Things About Crystal (in no particular order or severeness):
1. I remember the most inane, useless stuff. Really. The little factoids that cling to my gray matter with evil intent and probably take the place of stuff I really need to know. *shrug* But who can remember?
2. I have OCD. I've confessed to this before. And no, you don't get to know my magic number.
3. The left sock MUST be put on before the right. I attribute this to years of marching in band where the left ALWAYS came first.
4. I do NOT listen to radio commercials. The ONLY exception being the BC Clark jingle that has been playing on the radio for more years that I've been alive. Ask any Oklahoman to give you a couple of lines, and I guarantee that they can.
5. I have a thing about noses. (Geez. I cannot believe I'm actually sharing this one.)
I love a cat nose. Dog nose. Horse nose. You get my drift. Not quite sure where the nose fetish came from. I'm not so keen on homo sapiens' noses. But there ya go.
6. I will break out into song any damn where I please. Embarrasses the chickens...but that's a perk.
And bonus, um...eccentricities:
1. I don't drink warm pop.
2. I don't let the microwave timer ding.
3. I hate to hear a phone ring.
4. I've actually done my own little "Singin' in the Rain" dance. No details provided.

I'll check in later with WINNER'S Names!!!
Grins*

Just shoot me.

Please.

I've felt like shit the last two days. Actually, I felt crummy Monday afternoon but sucked it up. Tuesday...not so much.
I'm having these horrific pains on my right side. Had to actually break down and call the doctor. Damn it.
The last time I did that...I had my nonfunctioning gallbladder removed. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Now you know why I don't like going to the doctor. Plus...um...I wait until something's really wrong to go. Damn it again.

Professionally...I think we get our EPPIE scores Friday. *fingers crossed* I'm hoping for the best. Let y'all know how it works out.
Take care of yourselves.

Oh. By the way...you guys are GREAT! Loved the comments on my last post. Nanu nanu, indeed.
Grins*

I'm scarred for life

The other day I was messing around with the chickens while they were playing PS2. They said something to me, and I said, "Really?"
The oldest chickens pipes up, "Fa Rizzle."
For those of you who need a little vocabulary update...that loosely translates to "For real."
Where in the hell did that come from?
Why in the name of all that's holy and good did my oldest chicken channel Snoop Dogg? *eye twitch*
Of course, I almost wet my pants because I was laughing. But that's beside the point.

Pop culture seeps through our lives in the oddest of places. And it springs up likewise.
The good, the bad, the ugly.

And although my children wouldn't understand a "Mork and Mindy" reference, I make it my business to understand all of theirs. For obvious reasons. Never can tell exactly what's copacetic and what's harmful.

Fa Rizzle.
Grins*

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

...and so are the chickens.

In cold weather, the consumption of toilet paper, ibuprofen, and food has gone up considerably. Chickens are climbing the walls. The Mama is in her room blogging (hiding). Yeah, I'll make no bones about it.

Yahoo is only sending through about a third of my emails. The fuses in our well are fried (no water). And I'm cranky.
However, this afternoon, all will be right with the world again.
Fuses are being bought as I type this, and I've tried to straighten out the Yahoo snafu. (Ha! I made a funny.)
Meanwhile...back in my subconscious...I couldn't go back to sleep this morning at seven thirty or thereabouts because my mind is on Water Goddess. So that will be filling my time this morning/afternoon.

I just realized that I haven't given away a book or two in awhile. So I'll have a contest for a week. Anyone commenting on this blog through Midnight December 8th CST will be entered. If you comment twice...your name will be entered thusly. (I really do like that word.)

What will you win? Good question. There will be three winners. If you've a mind for naughty, I'm putting up Fall Fires and Christmas Candy. If you'd rather have something a little less spicy, I'll put up The Portrait.
All will be sent in pdf.

And to end this loverly blog, how's about an Okie snowman? And check out that snazzy blue scarf that middle chicken donated.

Grins*

Jack Frost...kiss my ass

I'm dealing with this and this and this. *sigh*
Kids home today and tomorrow. Our work shut down today. And tomorrow there are enough people there that I don't dare try to go in. All the ditches on my road are gone, and I don't want to become part of the scenery.

It's cold Cold COLD! All the furry babies are inside. And I just want to be lazy and curl up. Pitiful, huh? But I do have several ideas and dialogue running through my head. That's a good thing. Stay warm.

Grins*

25 days 10 hours 29 minutes...

...until Christmas.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

You know. That wasn't right. Even for me. But alas, there it is. *grins* I'm assuming that there are others out there as shell-shocked as I. C'mon. Tell me ALL about it.

Drove to work this morning, and it was 71 degrees. When I leave this afternoon...it'll feel like just the opposite. Literally. 17 degrees. *gasp* *wheeze* Talk about not right.
Okay. I realize it's late November. Yeah. Seriously. But I also realize that I detest driving in winter weather. And the road I live on becomes not so pretty. Fishtailing all over the place, whitened knuckles gripping steering wheel while expletives are uttered through clenched teeth.
That is SO going to happen.

Chickens are all doing well. Had a basketball game the other night, and I took my new digital toy. May have to download some pictures on here this weekend. First...find time. Second...download pictures. It's a sequence of events, people. *grins*

Hope you and yours are warm and cozy on this lovely Wednesday.
Grins*

Got coal?

Okay. I'll admit it. My day has seriously inhaled. Tomorrow I go back to work, and I've done NO writing. None. Nada. Zip. Damn it.

Today the children and I put up the Christmas tree. Because I thought that would be fun. (I'll plead temporary insanity.)

They argued about the color of the limbs they would get to put in. They argued about who would help put the lights on. They argued about who would put the topper on. They argued about who would get to hang up the last damn pine cone. They argued about who would plug the SOB in. They argued about the Christmas stockings. They argued about who would put the damn pipe cleaner candy canes on. They argued about EVERY. Damn. Thing.

Then I had the absolutely brilliant idea of them helping me hang lights on the outside of the house.
Me=blatantly stupid.
We ruined two strings of brand, new lights. Oldest chicken and baby chicken both broke a string. So I'm done. Period. Though the tree looks REALLY pretty.
And then the little buttheads had the AUDACITY to ask if we were going to wrap some presents today. I would rather jab myself in the eye with a sharp stick.

Not only have I noticed how absolutely pissy they were today, I can't help but notice what jackasses other people are.
Yesterday: To the lady who let me cross the little shopping mall lot and then waited until I got halfway to the sidewalk before gunning it around me...the middle finger I showed you does NOT mean "Hi!"
To the sorry SOB who pulled in my parking space even though I had my turn signal on and my van halfway maneuvered to home...you suck.

There. Now that I've vented a bit, perhaps my head won't blow off my shoulders.
I'm off to work on some of my writing.
Grins*

Got a new toy

Allie. Bitch kitty from hell. And those are my pretty red toes.


And it's a PG toy. *grins*

I've moved into the high-tech world of digital cameras after a lengthy conversation with a photo chickie from Wal-Mart. They obviously don't pay her enough. Especially for having to deal with techno-goobers like myself.
So I've taken pictures of some of my furry babies and will attempt to post them on here.
Adds a whole new dimension, methinks.

That top left picture is Chance. The horse dog. And yes, he IS as goofy as he looks. But he's a good boy. The top right picture is Pumpkin. Pretty kitty of Perfect Timing fame.

Too much fun. Enjoy the weekend. I'll stop in as time allows.

Grins*

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hello, my lovelies!

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

I'm thankful for many things this year. Family, friends, my writing. And as I age, I become increasingly aware of those around me who may need a helping hand. NOT a handout. A hand up.

Let me give a little background.

I've been through some very difficult times in my seemingly short life. And there have been times when I've literally had not a dollar to my name. One of these times, I worked at a chemical plant in the nearest city. I worked my ass off twelve hours a day and was barely making my bills. It was so damn hard some days. But you persevere because you have to. Because you have kids to feed. Because you need gas in your vehicle and shoes on your kids' feet.
I knew Christmas would be sparse. Even the Dollar Store was a bit too much to ask for.

But I received a surprise that to this day brings a tear to my eye. A lovely, large box at the guard shack to Crystal Inman and girls. From Santa Claus.
Yep.
Santa Claus.
I was dumbfounded. At a loss for words. And so completely touched by coworkers' generosity.

I never found out exactly which ones put together the holiday care package. I suppose in the long run that it doesn't really matter. What matters is that feeling. That I wasn't completely alone. That I didn't have to worry about providing something for my girls. That someone completely unrelated to me cared enough to give of themselves.

I had some relatives that pretty much told me that no matter my problems, I could deal with them myself. They didn't care. And didn't seem to understand that I wanted help. Not a handout.

So I ask this holiday season for your generosity unto others.
When you see the big, red kettle...empty your change into it. Adopt a family to help. Give to a worthwhile charity. Volunteer.
Make a difference in your community. Even the smallest gesture can have a great impact.
Grins*

HUGE news!!!

I've been invited to participate in a Romance Writer's Panel Discussion February 2007 in conjunction with the Norman Arts Council. WOO!!! *pumping fist in air*

And guess who else has been invited? *dancing in my chair*
Sharon Sala, Christine Rimmer, and Merline Lovelace.
Oh. My. God!!!

I will, of course, be the peon. But that's fine with me. Did I spell "peon" right? Hmmmmmm. *shrug* You know what I mean.

Now I have plenty of time to stress out, er...get myself together, before the big event. Friends of the Norman Library also hold a Romance Book Sale the same day. Talking AND shopping. What more could a woman want?

So if you're around Norman, Oklahoma on February 10th...drop by the library. Please.
LMAO

Grins*

Cluster Theory

When I was five, I didn't have much of a personality. Life was filled with naps, fingerpainting, and learning the alphabet. I do remember a big ta-do with my kindergarten teacher because I WOULD NOT drink chocolate milk. Thus, I dug in my heels and that was that. Mom had to come down and back me up, of course. I was, after all, just five. *grins*

When I was twelve, we moved to another school district. I had to start all over with making friends and trying to fit in. I certainly felt like I didn't. And one of my best friends was also from another school, so all was well.

Junior high was hell. Period.

In high school, I was into band. And various other activities I won't share here. LMAO
I hung around with a group of girls that were as different as different could be. What brought us together? I certainly couldn't tell you. Perhaps a wicked sense of humor. An overwhelming urge to stand on our own two feet. Loyalty.
But academically? Socially? Nope. None of the above. Family lives? Negatory. But there was SOMETHING.

I'm an adult now. On most days. *wink*
And who is in my little cluster? People who love books. I am blessed both personally and professionally to surround myself with people who love what I do. How amazing is that?
I've got around 140 friends on the MySpace page. And all but about five are readers/writers/publishers. My exceptions would be UFC men (GO TIM SYLVIA!!!) and a couple of people I work with or graduated with.

So the Cluster Theory in a nutshell? It's the inner circle. The ones we let into our lives when we have the chance to pick. We cluster up together and link arms to face the world. The support system that won't ever let you down.

(Loving, wonderful thoughts go out to Betsy. I love ya, woman! You'll be just fine. And if you need to talk about ANYTHING, I'll always be here for you.
Hugs*)

Grins*

Half-naked used to be good enough

I really don't know what it is with the kids. Half-naked used to be just fine. And now they actually think they need clothes.
???

I spent a LOT of money yesterday on clothes for the little heathens. (I enjoy calling them heathens because the oldest asked me what that meant and I said "strange and uncivilized." You see where I'm going, don't you? *grinning*)

Back in the day...I had to FORCE them to wear clothes. Going au natural was just the thing. And now the oldest is addicted to beanies and hoodies. Middle child has found THE store to get clothes at in the mall. And baby chicken can wear something exactly twice before it becomes stained/torn/unsuitable for wear. *sigh*

It's crazy. Simply crazy. And socks? Holy shit. I swear there must be an alternate universe out there with beings sporting my family's socks. I hope they enjoy them. I just bought a lot more just to even out this whole parallel universe thing.
(I was going to impart my Cluster Theory. But I'll hold off for another day.)
Watching UFC this evening. Writing tomorrow. Hope you and yours have a good one.

Happy Saturday!
Grins*

1000 BOOKS!!!

I received my royalty check today for this quarter. And the number on the lovely check is more than I make for two weeks of my full-time, above minimum wage, paying job. Oh. Yes.

And that's great. But I don't write to make money. Sure, nice perk. But here's the biggie... I have sold almost 1000 copies of What He Wants this last quarter. And all together, I've sold more than that since its release date!!!
Isn't that absolutely freakin' amazing?

I realize that to those of you who sell print books and have an established name that this isn't a big deal. The number may just receive a simple smile. But to me? I was beyond ecstatic! I called my best friend. My mother. My sister. My other best friend. And I am SO not a phone person. But...ya know...I was pretty damn excited.
Still rather jazzed, to tell the truth. *BIG GRIN*
So. 1000. *dreamy sigh* One milestone down, many more to go.
Grins*

Directionally impaired

Oh. Lord.

Tomorrow I head off to a work-related meeting. In another city. A city that I've never been to. Okay. Once. And I wasn't driving.
I am afeared.

I downloaded directions from our company website. And mapquest.

Hell in a handbasket. This could be very, very bad. However, I do have my cell phone. And my trusty Diet Pepsi. But holy shit.
*heart fluttering*

What little aspect like this scares the shit out of you that other (probably rational) people handle just fine?
Grins*

Too many? And when is when?

I saw the previews to Spiderman 3 the other evening. One of those "make me sit up and pay attention" previews. Because, you see, I LOVE Spiderman. Probably from the early Electric Company episodes. But I digress.

It's Spiderman 3. Not the first. Not the second. But the third.
I didn't particularly care for the second installment. It was incredibly sad for me to watch. Peter Parker just kept eating it. And eating it. And well, eating it some more. The ending was great. But it was a SAD movie. And as you should know by now, I don't do SAD.
Will I go see Spiderman 3? Sure, I will. The same as I'll go throw down money to watch all the Harry Potter movies. Or Pirates of the Caribbean.

But let's look at this logically. Most movies/books/media of this sort grow weaker with frequent telling like taffy that's been stretched too far and too thin. And that's a shame.

I loved the first Batman. It's one of those movies that has all sorts of lines that I still enjoy to this day. A lot of it was the absolute brilliance of Jack Nicholson. And the brooding intensity of Michael Keaton. Hearing Kim Basinger shriek every five point three minutes? Not so much.
But the second Batman? Or the third? *shudder*
A waste of time. Not to mention money.
The first Rocky? A classic. No doubt about it. The ones that followed? Spare me the absolute painful retelling of the same story over and over and yet OVER again.

And books? Nora has made the trilogy her motif. And three is powerful anyway. As long as you don't let the middle child become a filler.
But series that seem to go on and on ad nauseum? What a waste of time and effort. If all you're doing is making do with the same story and switching names, then you need to move on. Let the characters live happily-ever-after without beating the hell out of them.
Janet Dailey has the Calders. Jude Devereaux has the Taggarts. And I enjoy most of these. But when the family tree has split and has as many branches as there are blades of grass...narrow it down.
Make it worth the telling. And the sharing.
And for God's sake. Know when to say when.
Grins*

Shrimp exercises--Crystal spews Diet Pepsi

Never, I repeat...NEVER, read weird stories when drinking.

This is what I found on MSN.com:

"As far as I know this is the first time that shrimp have been exercised on a treadmill and it was amazing to see how well they performed," Scholnick told LiveScience. "Healthy shrimp ran and swam at treadmill speeds of up to 20 meters per minute [66 feet per minute] for hours with little indication of fatigue."
To further challenge the healthy shrimp, the researchers designed a small backpack made of duct tape to add extra load to the shrimp. With the extra weight and lowered oxygen, they were active for up to an hour."

Okay. I was good until they strapped on little duct tape backpacks. Then I kind of lost it. Is anyone else having a visual?

And here's one that you seriously need to mentally block after reading:

LONDON - A 22-year-old man suffered internal injuries after lighting a small firecracker he had inserted into his buttocks, paramedics said Thursday.
The man suffered burns and other unspecified internal injuries in the incident in Sunderland, 275 miles north of London.

Though I know there's no ready answer for any of this...I must ask...WHY?

I don't require my shrimp to sprint up and down my plate before I eat them. And I don't need any more holes than I already have, thank you very much. So what possesses these people?

Grins*

My day off

Yes, dear ones. I have a day off. Even though I was supposed to work tonight, I took comp hours.
So HA!

Up at the school early getting an updated basketball schedule then back here for writing and whatnot. Working on CC-an Erotic Paranormal short. Also need to look at Water Goddess. My other work is in progress on my work computer.

Chickens fly home around four o'clock. Then dinner. Then off to another basketball game. So I suppose I better enjoy what I have going on right now.
Listening to downloaded songs (Queen/Evanescence at the moment) and typing furiously on the books.

I'm reading Lisey's Story by Stepehen King and listening to his "On Writing" on CD. Utterly heavenly. I've read "On Writing" twice. But to hear it from his lips somehow makes it stick all the better. And perhaps, that's what I need. Because I find myself adding more descriptives (the area I lack). I'm more comfortable with adding them. And I believe that's a good thing.

CC is about halfway through. It's not due until January. And maybe once I put it to bed, I can seriously start hammering away on Water Goddess. Because even now I have bits and pieces of it floating about my cranium.
The funny part being that these items have never really been named by me. These pieces of the puzzle that will eventually fit to become the final work. I don't label them "subplot" or "heroine's trait" or any of those things. These come to me wholly. Not with tags. But somehow they always seems to fit at the end.
I love the process.

And for the insult of the day: Do we really need new episodes of Sesame Street? By now, even Keanu Reeves had learned to read. Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.
Not nice. But funny as all hell.
Grins*

A message from and to the stars

Yesterday's horoscope:
Your career plans may seem unrealistic to others, but don't let their judgment stand in the way of your ambitions. You might have to work harder than you prefer, but your determination now will likely be rewarded in the weeks ahead. Just remember that success won't come without a price, so make sure you know what you are willing to give up to get what you want.

And to this I reply: Bring. It. On.

Grins*

Last night...

...was AWESOME! It was the first basketball game for the chickens. Well, oldest chicken and boy child. Middle chicken (leggy heifer that she is) informs me she doesn't like crowds. But she wants to cheerlead. And when I asked the difference, she explained to me that people wouldn't be focused JUST ON HER. Apparently, this freaks her out a wee bit. Go figure.
So. Oldest chicken was told that since she didn't dress out for five practices that she wouldn't be playing. When I arrived, she was up in the stands, huddled in a corner trying not to be seen.
Don't know what changed the coach's mind (don't care). But oldest chicken was summoned down to the court and (luckily) we had the uniform at hand. She changed and joined her team on the bench. Game started.
The other team was pretty good. Had a couple of really tall girls. We were being outscored 6-4 or something of the like. Coach called out the starters and oldest chicken went in. *insert loud hollers from proud Mama*
The VERY FIRST play she had was that she tipped the ball out of tall girl's hand and drove it DOWN the court for a SWEET lay-up. *insert proud Mama screaming her head off and telling oldest chicken she ROCKED!*
Oldest chicken tore it up. Made a hell of a difference. I can really tell the maturity difference from last year. Last year, when she did good, I got the look up to the stand and a thumbs up. This year, she would glance ever-so-often, but basically she concentrated on the game. She had assists, three or four shots, and some great defense.
OMG! I was beside myself. Excellent, excellent game. Final score? 20-8. Our favor.

Now. For the moral part of my blog.
It IS that time of year again. Basketball for us. About the only sport our rural school offers. And it's also that time of year when parents of opposing teams root for their respective kids. Yay for all that.
But four IDIOT women were actually outside talking trash about our boys such as: knocking one's knees out and flattening another. The "flattening" talk was about boy child. My friend informed these hateful witches that boy child was her son, and there would be NO flattening. In NO UNCERTAIN TERMS.
Can you believe that shit? Honestly.
I get frustrated sometimes, too. But talking about harming another child because my kid's team isn't as good as the other one?
Screw that. And these women, who I have mentally and visually marked, had really better hope that not another offensive word is uttered. Because, you know, I won't have that shit. Period.
In fact, being the hateful individual I can be, I waited for them to come down from the stands. I made eye contact. Boy child's mother was right beside me. And not one word was said. But I guarantee I made my point.

If you can't hold your damn tongue when it comes to this...then stay home. Or someone bigger than yourself will be glad to check you.
Grins*

And on the seventh day...

...I'm working like mad because it's my only day off. Rest? Let me smite ya! No such thing happening here at the ol' homestead.
Because there's writing, cleaning, organizing, posting, updating, and inhaling Diet Pepsi. ALL in a day's work.
I gave the chickens until ten-thirty, and then we're going to hit the house hard and heavy. Hopefully there will be no casualties besides my sanity. But hey! It's a small price to pay. I have GOT to clean. And write. Everything else is a bonus if I can muck my way through it.

Chicken update:
Baby chicken scored 7 goals yesterday morning at her basketball scrimmage. She didn't walk off the floor. She FLOATED. She's also on the Superintendent's Honor Roll for straight A's last nine weeks.
Oldest chicken watched a movie at the theaters and spent the night at a friend's house. She fell asleep first (no surprise there) and got a bit of canned cheese on her face for her efforts. *laughing* And apparently the girl she shared a bed with was a restless sleeper. So she was fairly comatose yesterday. Good news? Principal's Honor Roll. A's and B's.
Middle chicken continues to crack me up. I swear her mind works like NO ONE else's. Even her teachers agree with this. She drew some designs and entered the Design Bratz Clothes contest. We'll see how that goes. She's also on the Principal's honor roll.

Gotta run.
Desk to clean, breakfast to eat, and children to yell at.
Grins*

Ho! Ho! Ho! My. Ass.

I love Christmas. Really, I do. *nodding*
The colors. The nostalgia. The time of year I actually LIKE to bake and cook. Ahhhh...good stuff.

But the commercialism? And the fact that I believe I only have THREE paychecks until the BIG DAY?
I'm not so fond of.

For those of you who actually have most (or God forbid, ALL) of your shopping done, let me sum up my feelings by saying-BITE ME. You=bite me. Because obviously you are not right and should be shot so that you may be put out of my misery. Indeed.

The gas station down the road already has their Christmas lights up on their shrubs. The very night of Halloween. Undamnbelievable.

Christmas gets sooner and sooner every year. It used to be after Thanksgiving. Now everyone has the green light after Halloween. Pretty soon I'll be coloring eggs and making stockings at the same time.
Perish the thought.

And what happened to the gifts? Not only are things more expensive when they first come out, but advertisers (demons, I tell ya) are constantly shoving the latest and supposedly greatest down kids' collective throats every twelve minutes on television.
Dammit! I used to like getting fruit and nuts in my stocking! The smell. The glorious smell. *sigh*
Damn hard to smell a PS2 game. That's all I'm saying.

So yes. Let's deck the halls and jingle the bells. But let's not forget two things. One-you can't buy memories. And two-Santa likes butterscotch cookies. *wink*
Grins*

New contract and writing updates!

Just received another contract! *dancing* I feel pretty. Oh so pretty!

Programmed for Pleasure (catchy title, eh?) will be available November 2007. It is, of course, an Erotic Romance. Controversial, in case you were wondering about Heat Level. hehehe
It will be released by Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. Where, I might add, I have the #1 bestseller for the FOURTH month in a row. (Can't remember if I've already shared that or not. But it bears repeating. *grins*)

I'm also working on finishing two short stories for Torrid. One to be released in a June Anthology and the other to be released in an October Anthology. IF I pull this off...my schedule will look like this:

February 2007-Whiskey Shots Vol. 2 Whiskey Creek Press
June 2007-Paranormal Short story in Anthology WCP Torrid
July 2007-Fire Goddess Whiskey Creek Press
August 2007-Torrid Teasers (2 naughty short stories) WCP Torrid
October 2007-Paranormal Short story in Anthology WCP Torrid
November 2007-Programmed for Pleasure WCP Torrid
December 2007-Water Goddess Whiskey Creek Press

A review for What He Wants will also be available in the February 2007 issue of RT Magazine. A fact that I am VERY excited about! *dancing some more*

I don't have to go into work until later this evening, so I'll be working on one of my short stories and possibly Water Goddess.
Oh. And downloading music. *smiling* MUST type to the tunes.
Grins*

Breaking the rules...and getting away with it

Yeah. I admit it. I'm a rule-breaker. And I like it. I also have a lot of respect for other rule-breakers.
Those mavericks of the writing world. The literary liberators who snap the rules and bend perceptions.

Dexter, new show on Showtime, actually has a hero (and I use the term loosely) who is a serial killer. Who thought that up? Was he/she freaking out about the fact that it may not be received well? I doubt it. Because the idea beckoned to him/her.

Does Mary Janice Davidson lose sleep at night because she has a vampire heroine who can stand sunlight, has been staked, and squicks out at the thought of sucking blood? Nah.

New writers are heavily cautioned against bucking the system and writing out on a limb. Heaven forbid they step outside that damn box. *snort*

There was a show back in the eighties called "V." It was about aliens who came to earth. The only alien I can remember was Robert Englund as the one alien who was a vegetarian.

Dare to be different.

Form is one thing. Content is another matter entirely.
I'm off to buck the system.
Grins*

I have a teenage daughter

She turned thirteen yesterday.
How did this happen?

Okay. Smartasses. I KNOW how this happened. But good God! Where has the time gone?

Wasn't she just in Pre-K the other day? Sitting in the sand and making pasta pictures?
And now she's talking about a license and a job. And most of her years with me are gone. She's thirteen. A teenager. And now she'll be working on spreading those wings and becoming the wonderful woman I know she will be.

The one absolutely brilliant part of yesterday was that I would break out in song while we were shopping. The ENTIRE day. Oh yes. *grins* The "Happy Birthday" tune came out frequently and at high volume.
Wal-Mart. The Game Stop. Cato. The Dollar Tree. Parking lots. Anywhere. Everywhere.
*sigh* Good stuff.

Thirteen.
Happy Birthday, baby.
Grins*

The best little whorehouse in Pompeii

Apparently there is a lovely brothel in Pompeii that is being restored to the tune of over a quarter of a million dollars.

I'm not a conservative individual, but I'm astounded by this.

"Among the buildings was the two-story brothel with 10 rooms -- five on each floor -- and a latrine. Each room on the ground floor bears a fresco of a different sex scene painted over its door -- possibly suggesting the prostitute's specialty." Who needs a business card when your *ahem* speciality is painted on your door?

The prostitutes were slaves. And all the money (EIGHT times the cost of a portion of wine) went to their John. Gee. Just the kind of place I'd like to check out on a sightseeing tour.
Now. I'm not downplaying the importance of the artifacts. I believe it's an important view into the ancient world.
But, oh boy, what a view.

I guess what happens in Pompeii...is available for the world to see at roughly a quarter of a million dollars.
Grins*

My cat is the Nellie Olsen of the feline world

Allie adopted us. Let's get that straight from the get-go.
The tabby simply wandered up from the fields and proceeded to eat everything she could get her mouth on near the porch.
Then we decided to bring out a cup of cat food.
And yes. I do take full blame and responsibility for that. *sigh* It's that ol' hindsight-foresight thing. Damn it.

So we take her in. She is little. Scrawny. And obviously has no social skills.
I'm not simply talking about with other cats. I'm talking NO SOCIAL SKILLS. Her idea of affection is to bite the bejeezus out of whomever is petting/touching her at the time. Seriously. And if you put your hand down BY her when she's eating...she'll scratch you with her nails.

Then she comes into heat. And I'm thinking...Whoa! We'll let her have one litter of grandkittens, I'll litter-train them, then we'll have her fixed. Except for she has kittens and has NO concept of what to do with them. They all die. Which was extremely hard for me to deal with at the time.
But Allie is simply not equipped.

So we keep her in until we can shuffle her to the vet. And WARN the secretary at the vet's office that Allie is um...not quite right. She takes the info.
We go back to pick Allie up the next day and apparently they had written "Dangerous!" on her carrier, and she hissed at the nice secretary lady. *sigh* Yeah. She's a bitch kitty.
The vet said he didn't have a problem but asked if we REALLY wanted her.
Makes one wonder, doesn't it?

But this is not my problem. In fact, she's calmed down considerably. She's a good house kitty. But therein lies the problem. She's not the ONLY house kitty. She was the last adopted and one would think that would put her at the bottom of the totem pole. Ah...not so.

Pumpkin (whom I adore) was our first. Then Sir Phillip Thomas (who after being snipped is hereby referred to as Thomasine by me), then Toby. Allie will put up with Toby. Even though she beats the shit out of him on a daily basis. But it's simply playing.

She catfights with Thomasine (who was a lover and not a fighter, anyway) and Pumpkin.
To say this pisses me off would be putting it mildly. I will NOT leave my other kitties outside in the cold nastiness while bitch kitty lays on a warm bed in front of a heater.
Hell. No.

So now I wonder if there's an easy fix for this or if I just need to google "kitty shock collar."
Suggestions?
Grins*

Insert madness

This post brought to you in the most roundabout way by Romancing the Blog (sidebar at left.)

I loathe inserts. LOATHE them. When I pick up a magazine and half its weight is comprised of those nasty little rectangular pieces of joy, I see red. Then I proceed to rip out each and every damn one.
That's been my pet peeve with Harlequin for decades. (Yeah, decades. I was a precocious teen.) Sure, it's great to win a free book or three...but at what price? Everytime I pick up the damn book to read, it flips open to THAT SPOT! Grrrrrrrrrrr

Then others hopped on the bandwagon. Sure. Get right on with that. Put in sixteen ways to become a subscriber or buy the latest doll that supposed to look like a real baby but in actuality scares the hell out of me because she looks like something that could go wrong at a rapid rate of speed. Very, very wrong.

I do NOT want forty-six catalogs sent to my house. My God! Do NOT send a packrat catalogs. I could order stuff from 1982 because I HAVE that issue. (It's a sickness. But I think I have it under control now. heh)
Okay. It's not THAT bad. But honestly, how many trees have to die for an issue of Cosmopolitan? Hundreds? Thousands?
There are saplings shivering in their dirt because they KNOW what fate will befall them. And it ain't pretty.

Put out money for a full page advertisement. Actually pay postage for catalogs that tell us ALL about your merchandise.
But QUIT flippin' sabotaging me and my reading pleasure!!!
And when it's in the middle of a good part?
Oh. My. God.
These "so-called" advertisers need to be shot. How can you read about the goodies when you're interrupted with an ad about something totally off the subject? And then you have to flip back. And then forward. Just to remember who was doing what to whom?
Despicable. Totally reprehensible.

Rant off.
Grins*

The Doctor

Okay. Yeah. I'll admit it. I'm a pretty cool customer. If George Clooney or Hugh Jackman were to stroll into my place of business...I would be calm. Seriously. Unless Hugh was wearing Wolverine costume. Then all bets would be off. hehehe

But I am FANATICAL about Dr. Who. Really.
Okay. I KNOW it's David Tennant. I KNOW these things. I realize that the TARDIS is a simple police box. I KNOW the words are scripted. I can be a fairly logical human being. But I swear to God, if that man walked into my work, I would squeal like a schoolgirl and probably swoon. Swoon, I tell ya! And I do NOT squeal. Just so you know. And swooning? Nope. Never have.
This show rises so far above all other television shows that I simply can't make a reasonable comparison.
Children are not allowed to come into my room during this program. If they do, they are taking their collective lives into their own hands. Seriously. *nodding* This is common knowledge in my domicile.

I. Love. This. Show.

It's the character. Here is a man who holds the Universe in his hands. Not human. But more human than some we share the planet with. Compassionate. Funny. Mysterious. Wounded.
And good Lord! He's an incredible character. Delightful. And heaven knows I'm wondering right now who I can bribe/blackmail/harm/help to get to visit the set one day.
Do they have protective orders in England?
Grins*

The common cold

Yeah, right.
Nothing common about me wanting to unscrew my head from my shoulders and toss it as far away as possible from the rest of me.
Oh. My. God.

I have a sinus headache from hell. And I'm sneezing. And some damn germ from purgatory has decided it wants to live in my nose. Bastard.

I woke up every two hours last night and finally gave up the ghost at seven this morning and got up. Never mind it was my ONE DAY OF THE WEEK to sleep in. Nah. Screw that.
When one cannot breathe...one cannot sleep. And there was no air circulating through my nostrils. Sorry for the visual. heh

So now I'm a whiny butt with a sinus headache who keeps sniffling. Geez. Talk about the height of pitifulness. Seriously. And I have to work until nine this evening.
Oh. And did I mention the computers still aren't up? And that we have work piled sky high? I didn't?
Well. We do.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

*sniffle*

NOW NOW NOW

Yeah. That's my subconscious. It has that annoying habit of chanting NOW NOW NOW just about every second of every day. Rare is the day that it simply shuts the hell up.

I'm a "RIGHT NOW" kind of individual. And this has been dialed down from my manic NOW NOW NOW mindset. Seriously. I'm still wound tight...just not as tightly.

Please don't mistake my mindset for high maintenance. Two entirely different beasties. I wouldn't know fashion if it bit me on the ass. No idea which styles are "in." Don't care, quite honestly. But if I did know or care, I would want them RIGHT NOW. *laughing*

Today we are without computers. And to tell the truth, I kind of like it. In this "right now" world, I catch myself saying..."hold on a minute." (The devil may be donning ice skates as you read this. You just never know.)
And I simply take my time to get all the information and then move on to the next person. Not a bad day whatsoever.

And totally OFF the subject...Things that I know that I really don't need to know.
1. Sara Evans is getting divorced because her man is addicted to porn and a piece of shit.
2. Madonna adopted a child.
3. Nicole and Paris are friends again.

Now you know these worthless things, too.
hehehe
Grins*

Necessary evil

I refer, of course, to our work computers.
Temperamental pieces of technology at best. But even I would take temperamental to non-functioning.
We have a computer upgrade tomorrow that will probably last ALL DAY.

Let me explain.

We use our computers continually all day long. To run this business. And with that in mind...we will now be writing everything down by hand. Getting my drift?

So. I'm getting my blogging licks in now because I'll probably have carpal tunnel tomorrow. *sigh* Isn't that treatable with ice cream?
Grins*

You mess with the bull...

...you eat the canvas.

We took the chickens to Frontier City Saturday. It's Oklahoma's answer to Six Flags. In fact, the same company owns it.
And the first thing the chickens want to do is ride THE MECHANICAL BULL. Except baby chicken. Who looked at her siblings like they had lost their collective minds. Which, in fact, is never far off from the truth.
But I digress.

It's five bucks per child to watch them hop on the bull and let the ride operator flail them around like rag dolls. Let me just say...they are charging WAY too little. *evil grin*
I laughed until I hurt. Oldest chicken and boy cracked me up. They couldn't quite get the motion. Middle chicken went to mount the bull and totally flew over it the first time. Oh. My. God. I thought I was going to wet my pants.
So. We're cackling, and they're all giving it a go. And I have to say, money well spent.
Sure, we rode some rides. All that good stuff. They played. But the bull?
I will never forget watching them mount up like it was their sole purpose in life and then getting their heiney knocked for a loop about four seconds later. But I give it to them...they got right back on.
Hats off.
Grins*

How 'bout some Christmas Candy?

Whiskey Creek Press Torrid is putting out a lovely collection of holiday stories this Christmas. Okay. Lovely may not be QUITE the right word. How about naughty? *grins* Yeah. I'll stick with that.
Here's the cover:


My story is "Elf Mistress." I had a great time writing it. Nothing like a little Noel naughtiness to warm up those chilly evenings.















Wicked grins*

Acclimation can be a bitch

I'm just now finding those crevices of time that I took for granted before. Sad, isn't it?
I've finally figured out times of the day when I can write. And although I'm not writing nearly as much as I did...I'm still doing pretty damn good.
I blog, when I can, on my break.
I write at lunch. So far...between 500 and 1200 words per day. All depends on how fast I eat and how easily the story comes.
I work on the story I want to pitch at RT while I'm at work. It's found it's own little special spot here. Fascinating, that.

I only have three right now that I'm really concentrating on. If I don't finish PFP soon...I will lose what's left of my mind. And no. I'm not being facetious. *grins*

My desk is a sad, sad testament to my struggle to find the balance for time. And then the chickens simply insist I drop everything and actually keep them in clothes and food. I mean, really! That must have been in the fine print on the birth certificates. *muttering to self*

An interesting turn of events...Perfect Timing is now in the Top Ten Hot Titles for this month at Whiskey Creek Press. Again. Even though it came out in February. Hmmmmmm.
I like it.
Grins*

Habla Espanol?

I don't. Wish that I did. I can only pick out a few phrases and words.
But Saturday night I couldn't find anything to watch and began to channel-surf. Lo and behold...Underworld was on. I vaguely knew it was about werewolves and vampires. And the chickie who stars in it had a kick-ass outfit. Other than that...not so much.
So I flip over, and it's in the middle of a big fight scene. Pretty cool. People transforming and such. Eight minutes later, a character opens her mouth, and out pops...Spanish.

I blink. Squint. Blink again.
Then realize I've tuned into Telemundo, I believe. (Apologies if I'm wrong on the name.)
Did I already mention that there was NOTHING on?
So I watched it. Almost the entire movie. In Spanish. And to tell the truth, it was fascinating.
Did I get the plotline? Sure. The emotions? You betcha. I didn't need all the frivolous dialogue. I paid attention to body language. A LOT. Voice inflections. All that.
And I came to realize that I quit listening to the words, so to speak. I began to use my eyes more. To catch something that would tell me more than mere words. A look. A tear. Eyes widening. Glaring. Bodies moving from one position to the next. Open. Or defensive.
Quite a little lesson. Not to mention a movie that wasn't half bad.

What else did I learn? Well...Deal or No Deal in Spanish is "Vas O No Vas."
Grins*

Just a nod

I'll tell you what I like. *wink* The PG version.

A nod.

When Bon Jovi sings a new song but gives a nod to an old one. When a book respectfully reminds us of another character. Another couple.
I'm not talking about a series. That's a different story entirely.
A nod.

Just a little tip o' the brim to another artist. A reminder of someone or something else that brings a memory to the forefront. A sense of nostalgia for some. A simple sign of respect for another.
Some singers sample songs. Most are absolutely dynamic. A way to blend two into one that's stronger and more ear-catching.
Just a nod.
Makes a difference.
Grins*

Release schedule 2007 (so far)

Hello my lovelies!

I'm at dinner at work and decided to take the opportunity to share my release schedule for 2007. I don't get off work until nine. And well, I just don't really see me blogging at that point. Or thinking in any way, shape, or form in general.

February 2007-Whiskey Shots-Whiskey Creek Press-eformat only
Two stories..."Out of the Shadows" and "Into the Shadows" (Crystal Inman)

July 2007-Whiskey Creek Press-Book one in four book Guardian series-ebook and paperback
Fire Goddess (Crystal Inman)

August 2007-Torrid Teasers-Whiskey Creek Press Torrid-eformat only
Two erotic romance short stories..."Moon Goddess" and "Sun Goddess" (C'ann Inman)

December 2007-Whiskey Creek Press-Book two in Guardian series-ebook and paperback
Water Goddess (Crystal Inman)

I have PFP (Full-length erotic romance) that I NEED to finish. ASAP!!!!
I'd like to squeeze that in this year. Plus, I'm working on a story to pitch at RT 2007. *rubbing hands together*
I can't WAIT!
Grins*

By threes...a deduction

I have discovered:

that at the end of the day, I sit three inches lower in my driver's seat than I do in the morning when I leave for work.

that I lose approximately 3% of my total IQ at 5:30 pm.

that three of my children at any given time will need SOMETHING from Wal-Mart.

that three of my cats will drag something dead onto my porch and strut like they've won the Pulitzer.

that I will miss three of my favorite shows. You guessed it...three days in a row.

that I have to say something three times before middle chicken hears it.

that I have to drink three Diet Pepsis before I feel remotely human. Emphasis on "remotely."

that I will tell myself three times that I need to go Christmas shopping before I'll actually flippin' do it.

It's my manic motif.

Thanks to everyone for the lovely congrats! It was a great review, and I'm rather proud.
Grins*

There's a fine line...

between love and Hate.

Excerpt of a review for Hate An Anthology:
Stories of hate and betrayl, murder and lies, this collection is packed with some truly memorable characters embarking on journey’s that will change their lives forever. This anthology is definitely a good read.

And for my individual story...
5
What Goes Around by Crystal Inman. One of the shining gems of this collection, Ms. Inman paints a picture of evil and revenge like I’ve never read. This short story was perfect. Drugs, sex, murder and family… brilliant.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

See? I'm good when I'm bad, too. *wink*
Grins*

Missing in Action

Yeah.
I know.

That's been me. Sorry 'bout that. Too much stuff-too little time. Sounds familiar, eh?
I was actually going to work on my writing this weekend. Who would have thought?
But then I have shopping to do. A party with my co-workers celebrating end of summer. A birthday party for the oldest chicken's friend. And then baby chicken turns 11 Monday. Quickly followed by middle chicken turning 12 the 20th. Oh...and rounding out the festivities...my oldest chicken turning 13 the 28th.
I've already warned my co-workers not to expect sunshine and light. More like pulling hair and gnashing teeth.
Good. God.

Must go:
Gird my loins, take some ibuprofen, and start my day.
Grins*

Ouch...haha

First of all, I began my morning by getting to the dentist by eight o'clock and proceeding to go through Dental Purgatory. The third level is getting three shots in my mouth and then yankage of offending tooth. And oh shit. It hurt like holy hell. The perk? Loritab. LMAO

Once again, I am forced to confront the kids' school about inane rules. Um...like tucking one's shirt in. A teacher threatened my oldest with a pink slip. No. Not even close. It's not in the handbook, and it's not happening.
The new principal has taken it upon himself to try to enforce this rule. Oh...and another charming sidenote to this year. The new coach for the middle school actually told one of OUR students (he better thank God it wasn't any of my children) at a game at another school...to get his head out of his ass.
Yeah.
You read that right.
And people wonder why I become so irritated with these so-called leaders of our youth.

And the haha? Here it is:
There was a little meeting after school explaining to the children that bringing home an attitude simply wasn't acceptable. And then THEY'RE trying to explain that they've had bad days. So I explain that we can work with that.
And the middle chicken pipes up, "I wish school was like the movies. I could just buy a ticket and then go home."
ROFL
Yeah. That's my middle chickie.
Grins*

Falling short

When I write a book, I have Great Expectations. I do.
That's not to say that I expect every book to hit #1 all over the Internet and bring in fame and fortune. Not at all.
I simply believe that a good story will find a good home.

But when I believe a story is a good one, and it falls through the cracks, I become increasingly frustrated.
Erotica is selling like hotcakes at Whiskey Creek Press (the Torrid side). At Fictionwise, 90% of the top fifty, for my publisher, is erotica. And I don't mind that. Hell, What He Wants is still number one. But I look at my poor mainstream step-children and wince.
Those are good stories, also. But they're too dirty to be inspirational and too clean to be erotica. *grinning* Such as it is.
Frustration abounds.
However, a handful of authors and I have pooled money and will be placing ads in RT. I'm excited! A new venue in which to showcase our works. The naughty and the nice. We'll see if that brings a few more readers to the mainstream table.
Grins*

Anbesol addict

Shoot me.
Please.

I have a toothache that is literally killing me. From my lower left jaw, up my cheek, to my ear. I'm currently rubbing orajel/anbesol/otc oral pain relief on my gum like it's going out of style.
I have an appointment Monday morning with a dentist whom, I hope, will yank this SOB out and be done with it.
That's all from Whineyville.
Back to your regularly scheduled bloghopping.
Crystal*

Too much for one blog...Part 3

I love my jobs.
*ahem*
All three of them. Mama. Writer. Worker.

But on the writing...I think I've become a bit jaded. I like to read the dialogue more than the *ahem* physical scenes. I would rather laugh over the characters' antics than worry about the horizontal (or vertical) dancing they may be doing.
Worries me a bit.

Sure. I'm all for connecting physically. But that's easy. REAL easy.
I don't need my characters, or those I read, to discuss Plato or Wordsworth. But I need a spark. One that will ignite and strengthen the characters through verbal as well as physical contact.
I read a MJ Davidson book last night. One of her Queen of the Vampire books. And I laughed my ass off. Betsy and Sinclair don't have the problems in bed. They have them when they try to protect one another and try to relate on other levels.
And let me tell you... it makes for some great copy.
Grins*

Too much for one blog...Part 2

EYE CANDY

Oh. My. Freakin'. God.
Last night I was in visual bliss.

First was House. I think we're all aware of my snarkilicious predilections for the man. And he's got a STALKER! BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I'm loving the storyline. A MUCH younger stalker. *wriggling eyebrows*

Then there came Eureka. Absolutely fantastic show. Except the D.O.D. heifer has some serious issues. I mean, really. She keeps going back to emotionally unavailable workaholic Stark. Why, oh why, (besides to drive me nuts) would she do that?
Carter would be lots of fun. *wriggling eyebrows again for good measure*

Then Nip/Tuck.
*drooling*
Yeah. I'll say it. Christian is hot. Bad boy hot. I've seen better-looking men. (No offense, Julian) But his character absolutely makes me want to tear his clothes off with my teeth.
Tmi?
Um...maybe.
But for me, it's the visual that keeps on giving. hehehe
Grins*

Too much for one blog...Part 1

Popeye Lied

You know he did. Do you SEE all the things going wrong with spinach these days? OMG! And I went on a spinach salad binge about a month and a half ago. Thank GOD I've gotten over that. *grins*
Back to the beef, people. Moo. And then some.
The kids are having a little hallelujah party. They're wondering if they can put cauliflower in the same pasture. Heathens. *snort*

Life is bipping right along. Had ANOTHER idea for a story. *rolls eyes* What IS it? No time and plenty of ideas. Turned the corner with an important manuscript. We'll see what's shaking there this weekend.
Yes. I have a WHOLE weekend to write.
I don't know why I'm excited. I always say that and something ALWAYS comes up. *sigh* Such as it is.

GOOD NEWS!!!
Baby chicken is going to be a reporter for her school newspaper. How exciting is that??? I'm tickled. And so is she. In fact, she didn't even let me get out of the car before she verbally attacked me with her cheese-eating grin and big news. Heifer. *laughing*
Part 2 in minutes.
Grins*

Act your age

And to this I reply...Why?

Are there guidelines for this?
At eighteen, you must assume adult duties.
At twenty-five, you must have a job that is both responsible and profitable.
At thirty-five, you must have two children and a good retirement plan.
At forty-five, you must slip into the role of grandparent.
At fifty-five, you can join the AARP and become "retired."
At sixty-five, you should take up knitting golf.
And so on and so forth.

Screw. That.

My best friend took the kids a couple of weekends ago to play laser tag. Yeah. Laser tag. I went shopping with another friend.
The doctor thinks that my BF has fractured her foot in two spots playing said Laser tag. And when everyone asks what happened, and she tells them, they laugh aloud. Because, you see, my BF is almost forty-two. And here she was being 007 and dodging behind barrels and such.
She wouldn't go back and change a thing. She'll take the broken bones and the great memories.

We are constantly telling our children to "grow up!"
So what the hell does that mean? That's rather a vague instruction.

Right now, I'm watching bullriding. A bunch of men riding dangerous mammals with horns. Grinning like fools. Tearing it up. No guarantee of a monetary reward. Most likely bruised and busted all to hell.

So to all those who say "act your age"...I say...
Bite me.
Grins*

What's mine is, well...everyone's!!!

Hmph.

I have a desk at home (currently snowed under) that has MY stuff on it. You know, you office supply addicts, what I'm talking about. My own stapler, staple remover, tape, pens, highlighters, pencils, etc. I LOVE my desk.
And the chickens know that what is taken from Mama's desk goes BACK to Mama's desk. But since they get home before I do...this rule seems to have gone the way of the wind. *sigh*
I have found my poor woebegone pencil sharpener hiding atop the freezer waiting for me to rescue it. I have seen my stapler peeking out from papers on the FLOOR!!!
Me? Not so pleased.

It seems that when you procreate...little pieces of you are snatched away to be used in your child's make-up. (I believe I've given away pieces of sanity, too. But that's another post.)
What's theirs is theirs. What's MINE is theirs. See where I'm going with this?

Case in point.
I bought everyone new socks. At least six pair of said new socks. I finally broke down and bought myself some, too. SIX PAIR. A week or two after everyone else's purchases.
My socks are nice. They feel like nylons on my poor tootsies. And they're colorful. Double bonus.
So.
Three days ago, my middle girl is rooting around in the dryer looking for socks. Me=*eye roll*
"Child! What do you need?"
"I can't find any socks." (insert needy voice)
*sigh* "Look in my top drawer. And take ONE pair out."
(Dryer slams) Chicken hurries to my drawer before I change my mind.

Two days later...one sock of each color is on top of the coffee table in the living room. FILTHY!!!
*gasp* *wheeze*
I hadn't even worn them yet!
So I have a snit fit. Warn her that she will never lay hands on my socks again. All that good stuff. Lo and behold...when I finally get my socks back...I don't have the aforementioned six pair. I have six socks. In six different colors. I'm wearing one red and one green right now. Think nothing of it.
Grins*

The absolute BEST search phrase EVAH!!!

So. I'm cruising my sitemeter. (No eyerolling, please.) Lo and behold...what do I find?
A google search. And it said...
"Where to buy Crystal Inman books"
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I need more of those. LOTS more of those. *grins*
Awesome search phrase. Beats the hell out of some of the other goodies I've gotten. But I have to admit. Mine are usually boring. Mostly just my name. Sometimes odd when I write about something naughty or use body parts in my post. Then I receive some crazy-ass searches.
Ah. Well.
Grins*

I just watched an animated frog wipe his butt

Commercials nowadays. *eye twitch*
Remember back in the day when a parent told you to go to the bathroom and wash your hands? And there were no "special" pieces of toilet paper or hand soap? You simply took your butt in the bathroom and did your business?
Remember that?
Now we have little animal animations that tell our children (not mine, thank God), to buy these special toiletries that will soon amount to that of their college fund. I. Jest. Not.

I'm also displeased with the tampon packages that change continually. (Maybe a little more info than some need. That's why it's called My World, people.)
Anyway. They've changed a brand of boxes to have flowers all over it. And the slogan? Pretty much---Buy these! Everyone woman deserves flowers once a month.---Can you believe that sh*t? I'll tell you what I deserve. A pound of chocolate with nuts and a world that caters to me for a week. *grins*

Or the orange juice commercial that uses the phrase..."simply unfooled around with." This irks me to NO end. "Unfooled around with"? What the holy hell? The phrase is butchering the English language.

And Carl's Jr.? Can they put any more crap on their burgers? Eat one, and you're screwed with the calories for a WEEK! There is literally everything between the buns BUT the kitchen sink.

And some of my *wince* favorites? The ones on Spike Tv. I could really do without watching some scantily clad chickie put her lips against a Xience (sports drink) can like she's about to show it a good time. Or the inane voiceovers for the television advertisements. "Real men scratch their asses and don't pay any attention to vegetables." (Okay. I made this up. But I'm basing it on a REAL commerical.)

Good commercials?
They're out there. The ones that make me laugh, cry, or do a double take. Those are well worth it. The rest?
Not so much.
Grins*

Ode to Jinger Heaston

I received a lovely phone call today. It was from my cover artist Jinger Heaston. (Go forth and check out her work.) She simply called to tell me that she loves my writing. Can you imagine?
This...from the woman who gave me my hot avatar for What He Wants. And the artistic genius who put THIS


















together. I literally read her a portion of the book, and she came up with the exact portrait that the curse is based on. She is absolutely magnificent. I can't wait to see what she comes up with for Fire Goddess. Stay tuned!
Grins*

Why is it...

that the only morning I have off during the week is stuffed with playing catch-up with irrational people who think they know more than I do?

that I have exactly NO cold Diet Pepsi in the fridge and must actually make myself a cold drink?

the cat is a freaky piece of fur who continually runs by my chair so that she can freak out even more and race around like she's on crack?

that I've already gotten an email from the chickens' school that says the boy child is not paying attention?

that I've started to feel more productive at work than when I'm at home?

that I was actually having a nice *ahem* dream and then the alarm woke me up to make sure the chickens got on the bus? grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

that I didn't win Powerball last night?

that I haven't had a vacation in God knows when?

Why is it, exactly?

Gotta run. People to deal with, cats to spazz out, and bills to pay.
*sigh*
I miss my rich fantasy life.
Grins*

Fictional parents

When authors form their fictional characters, they tend to take the whole picture into consideration. Siblings. Pets. Character.
And PARENTS.
Ayuh.

I'll admit it. I kill a lot of mine off. Or I'll make them absent. Or they'll be uncaring buttheads. My first book I wrote (living in several notebooks) gave the hero a wonderful pair of parents. Married forever. Deeply in love.
I also gifted Sheridan (What He Wants) with similar parents. Isadora is a wonderous woman who fairly rules the roost. Even though her husband is the ruler of a supernatural race.
The first heroine that I gave both parents (still alive and deeply in love) is Kelly of Fire Goddess.

Parents form our worlds. Shape our opinions. Touch or lives in ways that even we don't fully understand. Scribbling about fictional parents is a work in psychology. That's why many heroes and heroines don't have them in books.
Nothing like a lesson in fictional genealogy to form the hero/heroine that reflects a fictional ancestry.

If a parent is uncaring and selfish...a character might be. Or he/she may choose to go in the opposite direction. A character orphaned young might not have the social skills a parent could teach. The character arc could reflect that.

I love my heroes and heroines. Love them. And I come to love their fictional parents as extensions of my story.
Or I simply kill them off.
Grins*

9:00 PM

That is how late I worked last night. And that is ALSO the time I went to bed the night before. *sigh*
So I am REALLY grateful I have the next three days off! WOO! Time to get down to the business of writing again.
I'll be working on the erotica tomorrow. And I've designated Sunday as Family Day. Monday, being the holiday, will ALSO be writing time.

It's flippin' September! I'm still rather out of sorts about that. All the girls' birthdays are next month. *gasp* *wheeze*

And the good news???
What He Wants is STILL the #1 Bestseller for the month of August at Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. That's two months in a row. Yay! And it's still in the Top Five at Fictionwise in Erotica. The Portrait came in #2 bestseller at Whiskey Creek Press.
I was really hoping to be #1 at both sites. (That's just how I am.) *grins* But I'll take my numbers and be happy with them.

Have a GREAT weekend!
Grins*

Blanket rules

I don't like blanket rules.
You know...when a rule applies to everyone...no matter what.

Now, I can see the whole "Don't shout FIRE in a crowded movie theater" or something of the like. That has validity. And other rules of that sort.
But I was very irritated last year when my chickens' school bus was divided into gender sections. Girls on one side. Boys on the other. So this meant that boys could sit by themselves while my girl chickens were pressed THREE in a seat.
Me=not so happy.
And this was because some idiot high school couple couldn't keep their hands or whatnot to themselves. *rolls eyes*

So. Last night we went into town because I wanted my upper ear pierced. You know...in the cartiledge area. And we were ALL going to get it pierced. The girls were excited.
We arrive at the place, and the manager explains that only kids thirteen and older can have it done.
I, of course, asked...why the rule?
Apparently, according to her, some children under thirteen won't maintain upkeep. Won't clean their ears. Yada yada so on and so forth. *eye twitch* It's a LAW.
I promptly say that the oldest is thirteen. (Small lie. We're two months shy of the celebratory day). Other two chickens are disappointed. So am I.
We were going to bond, you know. Over the puncturing of our ears.

I certainly would make sure my girls take care of their piercings and whatnot. And just because some twit of a parent wouldn't...two of the girls have to wait.

Blanket rules annoy me. It's as if one person has taken away the rights of many. And how democratic is that?
Grins*

Disposable world

I was just thumbing through the coupons and trying to find some good items. One thing in particular caught my eye. Little disposable cups of peanut butter.
Wow.

Gone are the days of scooping that stuff into a tupperware container and sending the little chickens off to school. You can spend twice as much...BUT (and here's the kicker)...NO dishes. *sigh* I hate dishes. Really I do.
So I waffle back and forth on this type of thing. Financially, I'm all for buying the industrial size and paring it down. Much better. But the damn dishes. And there is never just ONE container at my house. Oh no. Perish the thought. Usually EVERYONE has to have one. *sigh again*
But my favorite time is when everybody forgets they actually have the container and it sits. And sits. Wait...and sits some more.
Oh. My. God.
Roadkill has nothing on the stench of dirty, forgotten plasticware. (You know what I'm talking about.)

So what's a Mama to do? Well...I make concessions.
I don't buy the little container of ranch and such. I only buy the little containers when I'm really in a hurry and the chickens have an event of some sort. It's just flat easier.
What about you?

I know that my ex-MIL actually used to wash her plastic bags to reuse. Tried it once. Thought about suffocating myself with said bag. Never tried it again.
Grins*

Fall Fires-October 2006

What comes easy

There are many pieces to writing a novel. And not all authors use the same pieces. Some are heavy on character. Others heavy on plot.
Some authors are liberal with description. Others...not so much.

The one thing, and sometimes the ONLY thing, that comes easy to me is the title. I LOVE thinking up titles. I like matching the title up with the story. To me, it's one of the key elements to the story. It's the first thing (besides the cover) that catches the reader's eye.
The second thing I enjoy is characters' names. I try to get them to match. To convey a rightness when linked together that strengthen the story. That is the only research that I truly enjoy.

The hard part? The sagging middle. With romance, it's rather difficult to sustain the middle sometimes. In my Detective series, I simply kill someone. *laughing* Don't knock it.
In a romance, you have to throw another monkey wrench in the works. Not as big as the ultimate conflict, but important nonetheless. And the chemistry must still be strong.

Onwards and upwards.

Went to Wal-Mart today. Baby chicken is office-supply afflicted like her mother. She had around thirty dollars to spend and spent twenty on a high-tech labelmaker. (I bought rubbermaid desk supplies and highlighters. *grins*)
Seriously.
You type words in and can put borders and all sorts of other stuff on there.
That's my girl.
And what was one of the first labels she made? Well...she decided to make a label that says "butt" and put it on the toilet.
Yeah. That's REALLY my girl. LMAO
Grins*

Rhythm

Oh yes. *wriggling eyebrows*
There are ALL sorts of rhythm. *grins*
But I'm talking about the rhythm of our lives.

Since taking this job, I've lost my rhythm a bit. I'm so tired by the end of the day, I forget what I have to do. The only thing that comes to mind is getting out of my clothes and taking off my shoes. That's the sum of it.
I need the rhythm to accomplish things. To make them smooth. Or at least, as smooth as they can be.
The chickens are finding their rhythm with school starting and me not being here when they get home after school. And there are adjustments being made.
But I'm still trying to find the balance. Between work and writing work. It's better. And I'm hoping for even a little more smooth by the beginning of September. My body will adjust to being up by 7:00 am to get the chickens off and getting ready for my own day.

I don't like the scattered and sporadic. I need the rhythm. The cadence of my world when things have begun to shift into their proper spot.
I'm writing today. Kids are at school. And besides the psychotic kitty, it's quiet here. I feel my seams mend to create the rhythm I need. To shift.
And it's a welcome feeling.
Grins*

I'm back...sort of

Well hell~!

I was going to post yesterday but couldn't find the time. I went to the funeral and came to work an hour late. I'm staying an hour late this evening because I needed to make up the time.
I'm blogging from work. hehehe

The kids are home today because school was closed in memory of Cindy. That's going to be hard for them to accept. Even now, they talk of not really believing it. And they all want to personally give a gift to her son. I'm trying to stress the importance of simply listening. It's a skill that is seriously underrated. But I'll also let them pick something out.

I hope to finish editing and whatnot on PFP. It's the Contemporary Erotica I'm currently working on. Once I finish that...it's off to Book 2 in the Guardian Series.

Where OH WHERE has the time gone? Hmmmmm.
Once I get Book 2 underway, I can't decide if I want to work on the Paranormal or Time Travel to pitch in Houston.
So...a question. Which do you prefer to read? I realize Paranormal is HOT. But I know Time Travel has its staunch supporters.

I'll make my way 'round to MySpace and my blogs (I MISS you guys!!!) Friday. YAY! Then, hopefully, I can do it again Sunday. *crossing fingers*
Off to suck down the other half of my snickers as I am in dire need of chocolate.
Grins*

Passed away

I don't like to say that someone has died. Or is deceased.
I like to use the term, "passed away."

They've passed away from this world. From these pains and heartaches

Yesterday, two people passed that I cared about.
The first was one of my best friend's father-in-law. RG treated my family as his own. Gave my children hell along with the rest of his grandchildren. Always happy to see us. Asked about us when we weren't there. A good soul that is finally at peace. And as much as it hurts, I know that he is truly in a better place.

The second was the preschool teacher at my kid's school. Her son was in my middle girl's class. Cindy was a good mom to Tanner. A woman who ALWAYS had something nice to say. A smile for everyone. And a dedication to her craft and her kids that surpassed what was asked for.
She passed at a young age. Too young. And it was a shock to all of us. I can't believe that she will no longer be at basketball games and teacher nights.

Yes. These two wonderful people passed away. And those of us left behind grieve for what we've lost. For the time we thought we should have still had...but now don't.

God bless them both.

Speak softly...

I don't understand why some individuals feel the need to speak down to children. I'm not talking four and five year olds. I'm speaking of pre-teens and teens.
What exactly is that?

I sent my baby (almost 11) into Subway the other evening to order two sandwiches. I sat in the van (directly in front of the store with eyeball coverage of said child).
There were two subway workers that were cleaning two machines with their backs to her. Then one stepped behind the counter and a couple of minutes later...went BACK to what she was doing.
*blinking*
I waited. I counted five minutes. Then I noticed a woman approach the counter and get service RIGHT THEN!!!

So I, in my mostly undressed state, turn off the van and proceed to go inside. (Here's a nice visual...little clothing and no underwear. Yeah. I was pissed.)
The lady has her back to me and is getting the bread out for the other customer. I clear my throat. Say "Ma'am." Then "Subway Ma'am." She finally turns around.
I explain my daughter has been standing there for about ten minutes now and no one bothered to help her. And I believe she owes my daughter an apology.
She blinks and looks like I just slapped the sense right out of her.
Then she nods her head and apologizes. She says she didn't see her. I stand there while baby proceeds to handle her business.
The woman ended up giving her free cookies. *sigh* She's killing me.

Now there seems to be an issue with the new coach and new principal at the high school. Good. Grief.
So I get home from work, get comfortable and give the man a call. The coach. Because apparently EVERYONE must have a glove for baseball tomorrow. And if they don't, "Then they'll find out what it's like to play without one."
Um...excuse me?
I call and tell him that I'm pleased he has furnished his phone number. I am pleasant. And then I ask what he said about the gloves.
Dead silence.
Then he explains that he doesn't really remember. *nodding* Uh huh.
And I tell him that there is no way I can even buy the glove tomorrow as I will be at work ALL DAY. He explains that's fine. I assure him I'll pick up the glove Saturday.
The problem as I see it?
He's trying to get his bluff in on the children now. That's fine. But there are ways to go about it. My oldest is already talking about dropping out of two sports activities (which she absolutely KICKS ASS at). And that is bullsh*t.

There are ways to empower children without giving your power away. And I honestly think that some people need to realize this.
Or as my oldest chicken put it..."They'll have to go through you to get to me."
Damn straight, baby. Damn straight.
Grins*

Paperwork

Oh. My. Freakin'. God.

I have paperwork out the ying-yang.
I went to Norman today and had my benefits talk. Pretty cool stuff. But lots of paper. Packets of paper.

Then I arrive home and am BOMBARDED with slips of paper from the chickens. *eyes cross*
I mean, My God!!! Didn't we just do this last year? They go to the same school. Ride the same bus. Do all the same stuff. But yet I STILL must fill out reams of paper on them.
*taking a minute to mourn the forest that died for my forms*

Now the good news...I have another contract!!!
Too tired to dance, but I'm smiling. :)~~
It's for my Torrid Teaser...Moon Goddess/Sun Goddess.

Bryan, my dear, I'm heiney-deep in edits. And THAT will take quite awhile since my time has been pared down. But it's done!!!
Hope everyone's well. I won't get to play catch-up until Sunday!
Grins*

One down...three to go

Just finished up my second short story and submitted it to Whiskey Creek Press.
I bent the rules. Again.
This story is written from the male POV. Wonder how that will go over? *grins* Guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Now...I need to put a major dent in PFP (the Contemporary Erotica) tomorrow. And it needs to be totally done by Tuesday at midnight. Period. I only lack between 8,000 and 10,000 words. I think I can write at least four tomorrow. Possibly six. That'll work.

After I finish PFP, I'll keep working away on my second Guardian book. And while I'm doing that, I'll concentrate on the story I want to pitch at RT. Plenty of time. *fingers crossed*

And since I have so much free time...*snort*...I've decided to start a Yahoo group.
I think I would unequivocally inhale at a newsletter. So I thought perhaps that a group would be better. Button at left. No pressure. Click if you've the inclination. Or just tune in here on a regular basis to see the lunatical ravings of a writer.
Grins*

Every seven years

Every cell in your body is changed over a seven-year period.

Isn't that fascinating?
I know there are things I wouldn't have eaten in my childhood that I readily eat now. Broccoli tops the list. And raw spinach in my salad. I never cared much for the veggies.
My body continually changes, of course. I've got the lovely premature gray that has been passed down the female generations. Hair coloring does the trick for that one.

But lately, I FEEL different.
Could be all the changes in my life. And God knows, there have been MANY. But I've calmed down a bit in my mid-thirties.
In my early twenties, I was easily led. And that led to many unpleasant experiences. In my mid-to-late twenties, I shifted the paradigm and became a ball-buster.
(Gee. I didn't really have to take someone's BS. Therefore, I didn't. And it made me a rather hard person.)
But this last year, I've mellowed quite a bit personally.
I've come to realize that not everything can be put on a list. And even if it's on a list, it may not get done. And there are things on lists that I can save for another time.
I've learned to let some things go.
And this has been a problem that has always been there. Pieces of things that clung to me and didn't want to leave. From force of habit, possibly. But I've shed them and left them in the dust. I'm lighter for it.

So I approach my thirty-fifth birthday with anticipation. New cells and all.
I believe in this:
At thirty-five comes a solidity factor that gives you the opportunity to say, "Wait a minute. If I am going to do that, whom do I have to listen to?" If you are cutting and severing the influences of the past, you are probably, for the first time, deciding for yourself what you want to do. It is a freedom factor. Understand that when we talk about the cycles of growth, we are not saying that at the age of thirty-five you cut off everybody you know and hate your parents. We are saying you finally separate those concepts which are really yours from those which belong to somebody else.

A mellower, more-complete me. Sounds good. My new cells and I are pleased.
Grins*

Possible movie from my book!

Okay.
I WAS going to keep this to myself, but I can't.

Remember when I wrote about a scriptwriter writing the script for Virtually Yours?
Well, he did. And this last weekend he went to Hollywood and pitched it to a producer.
She WANTS TO SEE THE SCRIPT!!!

This wonderful woman has an established name, and I'm too excited!

This is my size large news. *grins*
So any and all good thoughts in my direction are extremely appreciated.

Plus...
I received my first fan letter this morning. A thoughtful reader dropped me a line and told me she LOVED What He Wants. And then she goes on to say that she'll be picking up more of my books.
It don't get much better than this.
Grins*

Time is at a premium

Let the neurosis begin!

I've had a headache the past couple of days. Not enough hours in the day.
I'm halfway through the promised short story. And I must say...it's different. In a good way, I hope.
I'm about 10,000 words shy on my Contemporary Erotica. But I'm off this weekend and will have NO interruptions! Yay! So I hope to plow through at least two-thirds of that before Monday.

I apologize to all my lovely blogging buddies whom I have NOT come and visited the past couple of days. Even sadder news? I don't know if that will change or not. Sporadic? I guess so.
Pfffftttttttttt

I also have HUGE news percolating. But I'm not going to speak of it until something really breaks on it. Could go either way. So send good thoughts my way. And I'll appreciate them beyond measure.
Have a great weekend!
Grins*

Keyboard dependent

Since really taking on this whole writing gig, my handwriting has gone straight to hell.

I wrote my first book longhand. Five notebooks worth.
Then I got my computer...which I LOVE! And keyboarding became the norm.
And now, when I write a note, or a letter, I wince.
Because I used to have decent handwriting. Nothing spectacular. I have an aunt who has the most beautiful writing. I've always admired it.
Me? Not so much.
And when I jot notes for my books, they're fairly illegible. *snort*

Hi. My name is Crystal. I'm a keyboard addict.
*sigh*

I don't write letters. Well, except for Christmas. I get a kick out of that. And I print it out, anyway. On pretty Christmas paper.
But I email. Which is nice. But not everyone I like to communicate with has a computer.
And did you know...HALF of Oklahomans don't even HAVE a computer? *gasp* *wheeze*
Just floors me. We're rather behind technologically.

So if I drop you a line...expect an email. Or a printed note.
Because I don't think anyone can read longhand Crystalese.
Grins*

Crystal Revisited

Had to do a bit of shopping this afternoon.
Anyone else feel like they pay Wal-Mart's electric bill? *rolling eyes*
So we're traveling in the van, and I can't find a single decent radio station. I finally turn to KMGL here in Oklahoma. Magic 104. It's more soft rock.
You know how Kenny Loggins was the movie soundtrack guy for the 80's? And Bryan Adams was for the 90's?
I LOVE Movie Soundtracks. So I'm listening to the station when a duet comes on. A ballad from the eighties. It's a good one. I'm thinking Stevie Nicks and Joe Cocker, perhaps.
I hear this funny, little noise come out of my oldest (almost 13).
She's riding shotgun.
I glance over and see her pretend to light a lighter and proceed to sway back and forth in her seat.
What do ya do? *laughing*

And then I had this funny feeling of deja vu. Because my mother would sometimes listen to KOMA (Oldies) while we would travel about. You know...when she didn't pop in an 8-track. *snickering*
And I would suffer through the oldies with rolling eyes and heartfelt sighs.

Now guess what?
I'M the Mama. And my seventies and eighties are the same as my Mom's fifties and sixties. Isn't THAT just an eye-opener?

But then I got the oldest back when I acted like a complete idiot by singing "Yee-Haw" while driving. People looked. She sank into her chair. And all was right with the world again.
Grins*