Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Mixed Bag

You know, I don't even have it in me to check and see when the last time is that I posted. It's been that kind of year.
But the holidays, for the most part, are over. Now it's time to gear up for another year. Another start. And I hope to God...something a little more even-keeled.
2010 sucked on the whole. I had hoped 2011 would be somewhat better. Silly, silly me. That's not to say it was all bad. It certainly wasn't.
While my day job was extremely stressful with database changes and my major concern being a pain in the ass on a daily basis...I feel a great deal of accomplishment with that.
My books continue to sell extremely well with Warrior and the Sparrow being the #1 bestseller for this month at my publisher, Whiskey Creek Press. What He Wants never slows down, and Elemental Guardians are still zipping right along.
But personally? I lost my step-grandpa who was my grandpa for over thirty years in April. I lost my Dad's Mom in October. And early December, the girls' dad passed away.
I've battled depression this year with stress from seemingly every angle including my work/my children/and my writing.
I am having a hard time finding my footing, it would seem, though I feel more balanced right now than I have in quite some time.
I still have books to write--a five-book series that I am UBER excited about--among the top of the list.
So while I've been gone from this blog for an unacceptable amount of time, I endeavor to do better for 2012.
My best to you and yours,

Monday, August 22, 2011

Too annoying to live

We have this nice acronym in romance novels that is TSTL. You know, where the heroine is Too Stupid To Live.
Well, I've run across a different type of heroine this past few days. TATL--Too ANNOYING To Live.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not some heroine purist where she has to fit into a certain mold in order for me to pay attention and like her story. Not at all. It's the idiosyncrasies that make her different and stand out. I'm all over that. I am not, however, forgiving with some female that waits for her hero to shield her and whatnot.
You are the HEROINE of the story for the love of God. You are expected to at least shoulder some of the storyline. Don't stand there and wring your hands and bemoan your fate. Get a set!!! Make shit happen.
I read a book a few days ago by a popular author that almost made me flinch in some parts. It was a showstopper, folks. I had to shake off my dislike and forge through the fluff. It was to cleanse my literary palate, so to speak.
I had read halfway through Jaycee Dugard's book "A Stolen Life" and needed to give my heart and mind a respite. Powerful touching story that I simply couldn't read in one sitting. But I digress.
I needed fluff. And I don't mind fluff. I DO mind fluff that is annoying. But I soldiered on and finished the damn thing. Just so I could blog and bash it. LOL
Not really, I was rather hoping it evolved and grew and became better. Not so much. It plodded along with wringing hands and an annoying "climax" where everything resolved itself in roughly three paragraphs. *sigh*
My opinion on characters: Make them memorable. Make them human. And by God, make them strong. And I don't mean strong as in a ballbuster or some Alpha male that readers want to castrate...I mean strong as in frame of mind and purpose.
And for the love of all that's good, don't make characters TATL!!!

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

My boobs are photogenic

Who knew?
I went yesterday afternoon for my first mammogram. Yes. I'm knocking on forty, but I don't think about this until:
1. My children remind me
2. My doctor reminds me
The last time I went to the doc we had SO much fun that she decided to share the love even more and book me for a mammogram.
I was highly nervous. These are my boobs. Being squished between two items while the rest of me is supposed to "relax." And my doc is so cute that after telling me she would have her secretary make me an appt for said mammogram that she made a reference to freezing two dictionaries and placing my breast between them. One of us was more amused than the other.
Let's get this straight. I have not had a mammogram conversation with anyone. If my friends have had one (besides you, C) then I haven't been privy to that. My mother? Are you kidding me? I thought I was the second Immaculate Conception for the longest time. But I digress.
This was unknown territory. And no one gave me a map, a compass, or a freakin' granola bar.
So it was with much trepidation that I left work early and drove to the clinic. Nervous habit had me powdering my face so I would not blind the nurse. Then I realized she could give a flying fuck about anything above my neck. I put the powder away.
I walked up to the clinic and to the check-in counter that was open. The secretary and I joked a bit, and then she gave me directions to Mammography Central. I thought I'd stop in at the restroom first.
On a sidenote: You. Selfish bitch who was blowing up the hospital restroom WHILE on your cell phone??? I loathe you.
Back to my story.
I wash my hands, cursing under my breath, then exit the restroom.
The clinic has a nice redesign. In fact, I was wondering if Mary Kay or Avon got into the boob squishing business. Everything was all lovely and pink and rosy and whatnot. I dialed down my gag reflex and approached the petite chickie behind the computer. Perky would be an understatement, but she was sweet. Kind of like a brunette Tinkerbell. I hatefully wondered if she was a patient as well as an employee. And if that smile stayed on her face while checking out the facilities.
I signed in and sat down. I'm way out of my demographic at this point which I found odd. Everyone in the other seats, only a handful, were at least a couple of decades older than I. Pixie came over and handed me a clipboard with a small section of questions I needed to answer. I always find these amusing. I answered the ten or so and then handed it back. She assured me it wouldn't be too long. Assured. Ha.
Then a nurse with short brown hair called my name. After digging my fingernails from my chair, I follow her into another room that looked more like a long hallway. She shuts the door and gives me the instructions.
Everything from the waist down can stay on. So much for my sexy underwear choice of the day. Everything from the waist up has to come off. Then take the folded up piece of cloth on the chair and tie it under my chin and around my neck. There were antiseptic wipes I could clean the girls off with. And when I was ready...I could follow her through the next door.
So I strip down, tidy up, and then pick the piece of cotton up off the chair.
Two things: The cloth was SOFT, and I loved it. And after I tied it under my chin, I was wearing a cape. I'm sure not everyone wanted to be Wonder Woman, but I was digging it.
Sure, my boobs were barely tucked beneath the cotton. But I had a freakin' CAPE! I strongly resisted the urge to put my arms out and do a couple of fly-bys in my undressing hallway.
I turned the knob and found myself in...the room. It was soft light which I'm sure my boobs appreciated. No one likes fluorescent lighting when they're half-naked.
Then the nice lady moved toward me and begins to maneuver me this way and that. I have profile boobs shots. Straightaway boob shots. Then this one she called the "cleavage shot."
Let's get this straight, it wasn't a picnic. Yes. My boobs were in-between two flat items that squished down and rotated and did all sorts of weird shit to them. And no, I don't care for strangers to handle the girls. But it was NOT THAT BAD!!!
One of the worst parts was having to not breathe when she took the shot. I wish she had mentioned that before as I had just exhaled the first time she hit me with that one. I guess it messes up the images. So my left boob is all out there, and I'm thinking that this isn't so bad when I hear, "Don't breathe." I nearly hyperventilated. But then I got used to the rhythm of "breathe" and "don't breathe".
Did I mention I was wearing a cape?
She finished my chestal pictures, and I was told to wait back in the hallway but not take off my cape yet. Apparently all was clearly visible as I was told that I would get a reminder in a year, and I could change back into my clothes.
I was out of there.
And that's how the girls spent yesterday afternoon.

Always the writing

So. You people think I just am falling apart, right? lmao
Well, there are days it feels like that, but that's beside the point. Yes, my dear dear friends...I'm still writing. So before I go into detail about my lastest medical experience, I thought I would list what I'm working on right now and the plans heretofore the abovementioned. hahaha
In no particular order. Okay. They START out in particular order, but then I start babbling about all the rest of the works floating about in my cranium. Bear with me.
1. Five-book series. All titled. First book about halfway finished. All the rest have characters and plots fleshed out. Probable release early next year with the first book and then releases every six months afterwards.
2. Erotic short I'll be releasing through CreateSpace and Amazon to see if I like the way that feels.
3. Erotic long I'm about 20% through and will likely release through Whiskey Creek Press Torrid.
4. No less than three novels with 10,000 words each, so far, that will not be erotic but more Paranormal/Fantasy Romance. Hope to finish these out around 60,000 or so each.
5. Oh...and another Paranormal Romance that I'm sporadically working on while still plotting and writing. This one is research deep. It's quite interesting.
I think that's it. So never fear that I've given up on one of the only things that keeps me (quasi) sane.
And I need to work on the sequel to "One Enchanted Evening." That just popped into my head. So there you go.

Monday, August 15, 2011

If it's not one end...'s the other.
The girls (my breasteses, not my children) and I are getting a mammogram this afternoon.
Yeah. I'm thirty-nine. No. I've never had one before. ARGH! Who thinks UP this shit, anyway???
Do males have to lay out their boys on a cold metal plate while someone tries to make wine out of their grapes? NO, I tell you!!! NO!!!
Honestly, I could be blowing this out of proportion. *shrug*
Bottom line being that this will happen whether I find it painful or not, more's the pity. And, for the record, I'm hoping for the latter.
But it constantly amazes and appalls me at the amount of testing that needs to be done as we age.
All your innards need to be eyeballed. And your appendages. And then the knees begin to ache. And there's a pinched nerve here or there. Your fingers start to swell. Periods start. Stop. Men can get happy. Then they can't. Hair falls out. Hair grows where it's not supposed to.
I mean...MY GOD!!! When will the madness end???
And, by the way, where can I get off?

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Cowgirl Up OR Why My Feet Were in Stirrups

There was no horse involved. Stop reading here if you wish. *smile*

I don't dislike going to the doctor. In fact, I quite like my doctor. Usually we chit-chat, prescriptions are written, I'm on my way. But I put off my "well woman" exam for around two years.
I may have put it off a little longer if my insurance guy hadn't said something to me. And really, my Mom had a tumor that no one could see or feel so why was I being such a WUSS and not doing this one small thing???
Because it hurts like a bitch.
This may not be true for every woman. Some find it uncomfortable. Some zone out and go elsewhere. Me? I'm in pain the entire time.
I swear to GOD I felt the q-tip in the back of my throat.
So I get to the doc's. Sign in. Called back pretty quickly. Am shown to "the room" where the festivities will take place. Told to change and then wait.
There is a pink paper pile on the patient bed thing. I pick up the first piece. It is made out of that shit the dentists clip across your chest so that you don't dribble on yourself. Paper. But nice gingham like paper, if that makes sense. It looks quite like a pattern for a vest once I get it unwrapped and pray to God I don't rip an important part and have my right nipple hanging out the entire procedure.
That should be the least of my worries.
So I strip down and put this paper blouse on. Then I fold this lovely matching square and drape it across my lower half.
I am...not happy. In fact, I'm muttering "this sucks" under my breath the entire time. It seems to calm me a bit.
In comes the doc and nurse. I lie back so she can do the breast exam. No biggie. I thank the good Lord that though there is cancer in my family, it's not prevalent or pervasive.
The only issue would be that my lovely pink cover-up that is draped across my naughty bits keeps slipping. My doc smiles and jokes that perhaps they need to put a hole in it and catch it on my belly button ring. *grins*
After my breasts have been tucked back into their temporary pink paper home, I must place my feet in the stirrups.
*rubs temple*
I hate this.
I've had three children. I've had this exam done before. It doesn't fucking matter!!!
It is...hell.
Finally, I can remove my feet from those damned stirrups and sit up. Q-tip is labeled and about to be sent off to the lab gods. I can put my clothes back on and try to purge this office visit from my mind.
I live in Oklahoma. Stirrups should be good things. *shuddering*

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Hijacked by my subconsious

When I lay down at night and attempt to sleep, there is a process at work. I let go of the concrete--the day's events and schedules, and I say hello to the abstract.
Okay. I don't really say hello. I say...AIIIIIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHH
Because my creative side deems it's suitable to come out and play. Everything the subconscious has filed and set aside while I deal with the real world and its problems.
I am, for want of a better word, cranially hijacked.
I love it.
Have you ever had to get out of bed after midnight when you went to bed at ten and couldn't sleep because you had to jot something down to get it out of your head? That would be a resounding YES!
Have you ever had a running dialogue in your head with characters who want you to write their stories? Indeed.
Ever just had a freeflowing train of thoughts that led you somewhere you were looking for but didn't know how to get there? Ah...bliss. *smile*
Sleep seems a small price to pay, doesn't it?
I've often said I get my best ideas right before I fall asleep. What's a few hours of slumber when your subconscious hijacks you and takes you places that reality can't touch?

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

I am who I am

What possesses adults to take two names and bastardize them into one sickeningly irritating one?
Like Brangelina. Or Benifer.
My latest obsession is Andrew Lee Potts. (There's been no protective order as of yet so I think I'm good to go for now. But I digress.)
He's a british actor and just so happened to play "Hatter" in Syfy's Alice. A different version, of course, of Alice in Wonderland.
Except when I want to go gaze upon his talented goodness on YouTube...some videos are titled "Halice" as in "Hatter" + "Alice."
*trigger gag reflex*
What do I think when I see the word "Halice"? Wasn't George Hallis (sic?) someone in the government or politics? And then I think halitosis. Hardly the pleasant feeling I want to be getting when I think Andrew Lee Potts.
Just saying.
Or even the hideous dual moniker "Brangelina."
They are philanthropists for the love of God.
It's not cute to slag two people together like that. Quit being so damn lazy and type out a full name. They are individuals. Treat them as such.
Have a little respect.
Rant off.

Monday, July 11, 2011


I have the occasional yen for an ice-cream or candy bar. I don't do fudge or brownies. Too much...everything.
But my craving yesterday was entirely different.
I craved...a story. But not any particular story. I craved the Nora Roberts trilogy with the vampire in it.
I'm such a creature of habit on some things. But on others, I don't care what I did the time before or the time before that. I want it different!
It tends to drive some people 'round the bend.
(I get my jollies where I may. haha)
That is, in large part, my issue with TV/books/dvds. I've seen it once. I don't need a repeat. I read it three years ago. I'm good.
It, whatever the media may be, better pretty fucking exceptional for me to look twice.

But this trilogy, I didn't even have a name yet, beat a tattoo in my head. I had to have. I had to find. I had to READ.
So I thumbed through my bookshelves, and there it was. The Circle Trilogy.
*deep content cranial orgasmic sigh*

I read it yesterday. The trilogy. And it sated me in a way that only fulfilling a craving can.
That's what good books do.
Stroke the imagination. Take us farther than our own four walls. Excite. Entice. Fulfill.
That's what I strive for my own books to do. For readers to crave what I've written. To take my hand as we explore characters and stories that touch us. To connect on a level reserved for that precious relationship between author and reader.
Ah, sweet bliss.

Monday, July 04, 2011

Can you hear me now?

Sometimes I forget how far-reaching this blog is. How someone from another country can tap in a few words and find me.
It is...incredible.

What do I have to say for myself? Way too much. lol
Work is a bitch right now. It's the busiest time of the year plus we're training on a database changeover. Imagine a buttload of women working their collective asses off while serving the public, training in their supposed "off-desk" time, and not killing each other. Weaker sex, my ass.
Personally there is a major transition with three teenage daughters trying to spread their wings while I'm trying not to let those wings knock me in the head nor clip them so short they are unable to fly.
I'm stretched thin. I know this.
I'm also writing the first book in a five-book series. Well, I'm SUPPOSED to be. Find me some quiet time, and I'll be yours forever. *grins* I'm also going to be starting a HUGE venture at the beginning of the year.
And did I mention that I have a book out now that I'm trying to pimp out??? Prepping for my oldest daughter's Senior year? Taking my middle daughter to Driver's Ed? Acclimating a beautiful kitten to the house? Retaining my sanity???
Well, something had to give. You guessed it. It would be the last one. :)
It's July. The month of summer vacations and relaxation and parties and whatnot. But it's also the month of driver's ed, work, writing, and shuffling children hither, thither, and yon.
So I tell myself to breathe. To enjoy the hectic, almost frantic, pace I have going on now in preparation of a time in the not-so-distant future when my children are on their own and, God willing, semi self-sufficient.
The irony???
I live for my girls and the writing. I would rather be busy than twiddling my thumbs and wondering what's happening next. By God, I will MAKE something happen. lmao
So give me the balls-to-the-wall mentality. Give me the self-imposed deadlines and schedules for three active daughters.
I can take it. Hell, most days I revel in it.
Because there is no feeling quite like accomplishment.
I can do it. I WILL do it.
(but I'm really looking forward to my vacation in October-hahaha)

Friday, May 20, 2011

My other maddening children

Those would be the literary kind. *smile*
I have Warrior and the Sparrow releasing in June 2011. Then I've decided to publish my own starting January 2012. I have a five-book series started with complete story arcs and whatnot. So I'll release one every six months. Both January and July until they are complete. I am so excited I can barely stand it!!!
The only thing that I think I need are beta readers. argh
I have a cover artist lined up. Editors. Someone (thanks, honey!) to help me with the website. And while it will be more expensive for me to do this, I will have more creative and financial input. my socks.

Offspring Insanity

It's funny, all right. Until it happens to you.
Then it tends to lose the humor at a rapid rate of speed.
I have three wonderful daughters. They're beautiful, intelligent, and fun to converse with.
They are also moody, temperamental, and stubborn as all hell.
I have gone out of my way to try and be the Mom who is always there. Someone who will listen and try to help no matter what.
Can I just tell you it's an absolutely fucked-up thankless job when those lovely daughters became teenagers???
Having been one of those moody teenage daughters once upon a time, I can understand some of it. Everything is magnified. Emotions are on edge almost 24/7.
But I did NOT skip a core curriculum class. I did NOT skip any classes. I did NOT use my mother nor lie to her on a daily basis because it suited me. I did NOT choose friends over family (though my family was uber dysfunctional--there was really no problem balancing the two). I was grateful for what I had. I learned to amuse myself. I biked or walked to and from work because that was my only option. I took care of MYSELF out of necessity.
When, in the fucking blue hell, will my children pick THAT nifty little trick up?
Neither Dr. Spock NOR Erma Bombeck (God bless her) covered this in any book I've read.
I'm contemplating shifting my paradigm a little and branching out into non-fiction. Possible title being, "When to Put Your Footprint on Baby Bird's Ass: Fly or Fall, Sugar." Or, "You've Got Your Damn Wings--Now Flap!"

Friday, April 22, 2011

I had forgotten

Life can be a right bitch sometimes. Bossy, intrusive, and demanding. Needy and overwhelming.
Mine has been all of the above as of late.
And I did, as I always do, the one thing I should never do when this happens.
I pushed the writing aside.
Damn it all.
In fact, I pushed it so far aside that my children and co-workers thought that I wasn't writing anymore.
That hurt like a motherfucker. Not going to lie.
I would still do my poetry purges. Pushing out the words just enough to lower the internal pressure some. Then I'd continue to make the day, week, month, year.
Here I was...stressed out of my fucking mind...and instead of writing (which is something I NEED), I'd push the urge aside.
Yes. I'm a dumbass at times. This would certainly be one of those.
I have a release in June. Then I need to start releasing books every six months or so.
Because I'd forgotten. And I can't let myself do that again.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Warrior and the Sparrow

Okay. It's official. I am freakin' EXCITED!!!
My cover artist just sent me the mock-up for Warrior and the Sparrow. It will be released June 1st, and I'm beyond ecstatic.
This book means the world to me. Each book I've written carries a piece or pieces of me in the pages. It's inevitable as a writer.
We give. We bleed. We purge. We love.
And I love this book.
Willow, my heroine, is so unsure of herself. But still continues to give everything she has. And that speaks to me.
As a woman who has gone through extremely hard times, unfortunately one after the other the past year or so, I can relate.
Because I keep moving right along. Sometimes ever-so-slowly. But I try to keep moving.
On a panel once, I was asked why I write about Oklahoma women. And I replied because we can do anything. And I meant it.
But I also refuse to write the silly heroine who is more concerned about her toenail polish and hair than anything else.
I write about women who care. Women who give. And, like Willow, women who can change the world.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Didn't meet Princess standards

My youngest daughter came home yesterday talking about the story of the Princess and the Tin Box. My middle daughter jumped all over the story about how disappointing it was and what a selfish, shallow witch that princess turned out to be.
It was fascinating.
I Wikipedia'd it.
Princess looking for a Prince...blah blah blah. Four rich Prince suitors. Fifth was extremely handsome but poor. Gave the Princess a gift from the heart. So she chose the third prince who gave her a jewel-encrusted box.
What a bitch.
Not only did you break the most romantic Prince's heart, but you have appalled the romantic readers.
Shame on you.
Sure, I would get on board the Princess is an evil self-centered piece of crap train. Save me a seat. But the most interesting thing was hearing my daughters talk about how horrified they were at the ending. At the Princess' choice.
What woman in her right mind would choose wealth over love?
And that's the sticking point.
We hold these fictional characters to a higher standard than most. They are supposed to be the epitome of right choices and love matches. But how crazy is that?
For those of us raised on Fairy Tales and Disney and Sesame Street...I expect we think crazy is choosing the jewel-encrusted box.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Winter Weather

I've decided that I need either 1) undies made from dryer sheets or 2) to put said dryer sheets in my undies. But I think they would itch. *sigh*
The weather is making it to where I'm a lovely conduit for electricity. I walk two feet, touch metal, and lose a fingerprint. My hair currently looks like Nanny McPhee's BEFORE the children started behaving.
I am not, as they say, digging it.
I don't mind the snow. Not a bit. It's rather lovely. As long as it doesn't rain then freeze, all is copacetic.
But if I were to walk from one doorway to the other in my house, I could defibrillate someone. I'm scared to touch the handle on my desk drawer when I return to my desk for fear of stopping my own heart.
What is it about this weather that makes me transfer electrons left and right?
I don't know, but...BZZZZZZZZZZTTT!!!
Damn it!
Anyone got any bubble wrap?

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Blowing away the cobwebs

Hello all!
New year. New thoughts. All sorts of new. And I'm looking forward to it.
I could go on and on about all the shit that happened last year. The loss, the change, and the pain.
I choose not to.
That simple.
Onwards and upwards, my lovelies.
My girls, while still maddening, are healthy. My personal relationship is a magnificent strength. I have a job that I love.
I have a book coming out in June. *smile*
So goals for this year?
I want to be healthier for one. And why in the blue hell does this have to be so hard??? Why don't celery sticks taste like burgers? We can clone animals but can't tweak some veggies to be palatable? Our resources are being wasted.
I want to finish at least two of the books of the five book series I've started. That means less FB and more sitting on my ass and writing one word after another.
I rattled off a cute little short story for the Honey the other day. It was over 1000 words.
This just shows me I'm squandering time and potential.
Forget that.
It's the last year of my thirties, you know. I turn thirty-nine next month. And while forty doesn't bother me in the least, it's a bit of a wake-up call.
There's no reset button. This is it.
My life.
My World.
Time to bend it to my will.