Saturday, September 30, 2006

Missing in Action

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 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.

Monday, September 25, 2006


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. 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 get his head out of his ass.
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."
Yeah. That's my middle chickie.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

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.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Anbesol addict

Shoot me.

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.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Too much for one blog...Part 3

I love my jobs.
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.

Too much for one blog...Part 2


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.
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.
But for me, it's the visual that keeps on giving. hehehe

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.

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.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

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.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

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


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.
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 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.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

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"
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.

Friday, September 08, 2006

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.

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!

Thursday, September 07, 2006

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.
I miss my rich fantasy life.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Fictional parents

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

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.

Friday, September 01, 2006

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!