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?