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*

It's all about me

YES!

I have DONE it! I've finally beaten Mandy Roth at her own game. I AM #1!!!
*singing "We Are the Champions"*
Yep. What He Wants is #1 in the Erotica section at Fictionwise.
And let just assure you...the scream I let out scared the hell out of my cat. See? Double perk.

I'm the main attraction the Whiskey Creek Press Reader's Group today. You can join here.
I'll be chatting all day Tuesday. As if you don't get enough of me in this venue. *snickering*

You are now reading the blog of a woman who will start working FORTY hours a week next week.
If you think I'm crazed and off my nut now...just wait. It gets better!

Oh. And did I tell you that I promised my publisher to "whip up" a short story to match the one I just subbed? *nodding*
As soon as I do that...then I get a happy release date. (This news was alluded to before)

This is all my good news for now.
Grins*

Parameters

Seems I once again missed the big Ta-Do at RWA. Or at least the cluster some chick named Jan something-or-other started over a letter.
Thanks to Rene. I really DO need to keep up on one person's utter stupidity and how it affects the masses.

Jan wrote a letter to RWA pushing the definition of "romance" as between "one man and one woman."
Anyone hearing Dubya's voice? I am.

Sure. She can push this crap on the masses until her hands become arthritic and the rest of her gray matter rots. That's her prerogative.
But to think that it represents MOST of RWA...and that some are just TOO scared to say anything...is bullshit.
She's puffed herself up quite a bit. Inflated. Same difference.

So I googled what Rene suggested I google. And I hit upon Kate Rothwell's blog, which I read upon occasion.
There she posted snippets of the lunacy letter. And posts her opinion.

It's rather delicious.

But what I REALLY like is the fact that Nora Roberts has ALSO posted responses. *nodding*
Jan felt the need to hold Nora up as an example and spout her nonsense.
Nora responds back that those are HER experiences. And therefore, (and stick with me), she probably knows them best.
OH. MY. GOD.
I adore this woman.

I'm liberal by most standards. *shrug* It is what it is. But I do believe in Freedom of Speech.
I do, however, have a problem with someone who has a God complex.
Grins*

Google me

I LOVE to be googled. Oh yes. I'm a dirty, dirty girl.
*blinking*

Oh. Yeah.
Googling.

Not quite as sexy as it sounds but still thrilling.
You can put a Google Alert on anything. I have one on Crystal Inman and the other on C'ann Inman. And I get a kick out of receiving an alert and noting which links were clicked.
It's rather telling.
You can see if someone has clicked on your website. Or your publisher's link. Or Fictionwise. And it's a great backtrack measure to find links you didn't even know existed.

Also...got a bit of good news this evening. But I'm going to wait until the other shoe drops to share.
hehehe
I've been DYING to do that.
Grins*

Fish: The Next Generation

We decided one day that the kids needed fish. They were fairly low-maintenance. (The fish. NOT the kids.) Pretty to watch. (Ditto)
So each kid picked out two fish. There were six regular fish and two cleaners.
All of a sudden...they were dying off. I had flashbacks of Michelle's "Tank of Death" posts. Then I realized that I had uttered the foolish promise of replacing whatever fish died. I didn't expect quite a huge turnover though.
So we waited for a bit.
This morning, I was informed that the goldfish and blackfish that were left decided to procreate. Lo and behold...my tank now has two adults, one cleaner, and five baby fish.
The kids are excited. I'm cautiously optimistic.

I'm not stepping foot outside today. It's the 24th day in a row that's above the 100 mark. And today is supposed to be 105 or some other ridiculous number.
I'm working on my Contemporary Erotic. Around 10,000 words to go. And I feel good about it. I want it done by August 15th, and it shall be so. *grins*

The Whiskey Creek Press Authors are chatting at Coffee Time Romance this evening at 7 pm CST. That's 8 pm EST. 5 pm Pacific.
Drop by if you've the inclination.
Grins*

Diary of a mad, black woman

I watched this on one of the Showtime channels last night. It was one of those rather long evenings where sleep was long in coming, but my headache thought it would cozy up and stay awhile.
This movie is one of the best I've ever seen. Period.
It had heart, humor, and realism.
I found myself on the edge of the bed...waiting. Then crying a bit here and there. I could have done without the "Officer and a Gentleman" ending, but the rest was absolutely wonderful. Evenly threaded. Wonderfully written.

Took the chickens to a city-wide garage sale today.
(My aching feet. Sheesh.)
The kids got lots of clothes. Thank goodness.

Thinking about retitling my blog, "Diary of a short, white girl."
What do you think?
Grins*

Phantom keyboarding

It has begun.

Life is cutting into my writing time. *sigh*
I didn't blog yesterday! I didn't write a word!!!

The interesting tidbit of the evening? Apparently my keyboard has been heard tapping while I'm asleep.
Yeah.
Who else is freaked out?
Maybe it's my subconscious trying to get its licks in. Geez. Just what I need. REALLY no rest for the wicked. *snickering*

I interview Monday for the forty-hour per week job. Fingers crossed.

The "Sooner Nation" has been rocked.
Okay. For those of you who live in college football states...you know what I'm talking about. Sports are HUGE here. And the Oklahoma Sooners are at the top of the heap.
But, unfortunately, there is a small problem. Seems our chosen quarterback and another member of the team decided that taking $18,000 per year for a 5 hour week from a booster was a good idea.

Can you believe that crap?
First of all, if I worked FORTY hours a week...I wouldn't make that much money. Second, they KNEW it was wrong. Guess the greed just got to them. And third...if I hear the term "Sooner Nation" one more freakin' time...someone better have emergency services on speed-dial. I am SO not kidding.

Had something else to say. *pondering*

We had a big electric storm/monsoon last night. The electric was out for around two hours.
Picture this: Four children. Pent up in a house. With only their collective imaginations used for something to do.
I laughed until I hurt.
Who else smells a new reality television show?
Grins*

Great Expectations

I borrowed a LKH book from the library the other day. Micah, to be exact.
It was my first.
And let me just say...eh.

There were a couple of nice dialogue pieces. The storyline was fair. Nothing spectacular. And it felt more like a sandwich piece. You know...a filler.
I won't be reading another.

Reading is subjective. LKH has flocks of fans. They like her writing. And that's a wonderful thing. But I certainly won't fall into the LKH legions. I'd rather read a Mary Janice Davidson or Gena Showalter.

There is not a lot of time these days to spend reading books. More's the pity. And I am more in the habit of putting a book down after the first chapter than finishing it. Because why waste that time?

Ever have those Great Expectations dashed? Pick up a recommended book...and be utterly disappointed?
And how far in do you read?
My tolerance has shortened considerably. That surprise anyone?
Grins*

Nicknames

I love nicknames.
My sister and I grew up with nicknames. All my girls have nicknames. Hell, even my animals have nicknames.
Somehow, my orange tabby's name stretched from one to four words. And yes, she only gets all four when she is doing something VERY bad. *laughing*

I've also noticed that when females have longer names, males will shorten the names to sound masculine. I've been "Chrys" forever to my friends. But it was the males who called me that first.

I tend to call my friends "heifer."
Hey! I live in Oklahoma. And I only use it as a term of endearment. Though some don't seem to find it endearing. But it's growing on them. It has to. It's one of the first words out of my mouth. Forget "girlfriend"...use "heifer." It gets their attention faster.

But nicknames are also something very special. People who do NOT know me and try to use "Chrys" receive a blank stare for their efforts. Put in a little time and effort. Start a background with me. THEN, and only then, may use my nickname.
And if you're lucky...I may just call you "heifer."
Grins*