Weekend

My weekend is usually split in two.  One day will be a day of running errands, cleaning up around the house, and basically running amok.
One day will be me planted in front of my computer working on the writing.
Guess which one I prefer?
*grins*

Today is the running day.  My beloved Simba, Patron Saint of Foo Foo Kitties, has his annual vet appointment late morning.  He is a sheltered kitty.  Doesn't go outside.  Has a water fountain of his very own.  Things of this nature.
After losing my kitty family after the house fire, it took me years to be able to form a connection with another feline.  But now I have Sim.  And he's my heart.
I'm sure we'll both be scarred after the vet appt, but usually I'm forgiven in the early evening hours. And it's only once a year.  Thank God.  So I'll shove his little contrary booty in the carrier and cart him off to the doc.  Sim's my 18 poundish Wonder Kitty.  Add a large carrier onto that, and I'm calling cardio for the day.

Then we're off to the mall to get our rings checked.  Afterwards, I'm on my own for going and doing. Grocery run to stock up the larder.

Actually loaded up all my short stories on Amazon.  The Erotic Romance shorts are on my left sidebar.  I cannot even begin to tell you how much I love the cover for "Taking Pleasure".
It is AMAZING.  Probably need to check around on Amazon and work up a giveaway or two.  Also need to work on my Inman Books page on FB.

No rest for the wicked.
Or the multi-tasking chicklet known as me.
Grins*

Get a set

*blows out breath*
Alrighty then.
I love writing.  Love it.  There's is nothing else that touches me like the words.
So what's my problem?

I've dicked around for hours today because at the end of my list is writing.  But not any writing.  No. It's my TFH novel.
And it hurts me.

Let me explain.
I am an empathetic person to the point I can't watch reality shows because they embarrass and raise my blood pressure.
I stopped watching "Deal or No Deal" because I was living and dying by those sorry ass little fucking suitcases.
The Honey thought I was sleeping during "Tammy" with Melissa McCarthy.  I wasn't sleeping.  I was averting my eyes from the screen because I was embarrassed for her in a couple of scenes.  Ok.  Let's be honest, most scenes.  geez

I banged out several thousand words last time I worked on it.  Now I need to go back and flesh some scenes out.  But they hurt.  It's not pretty.  It's not a romance.
I can literally only take so much of the ugly before I have to take a step or four back.  I can only take so much intensity before it wraps itself around and chokes me.
This story needs to be written.  I need to write it.
It's important.

On a semi-related note:  Killing your darlings.  Stephen King advocates offing characters.  I've only purposely killed one character, and I felt bad.  But I knew he wasn't going to make it from the get-go. A lot of readers become attached to characters.  That's the mark of a good writer and book.  Not only have you breathed life into a character, but they've also found a home with others.  That's powerful writing.

Now I'm wrestling with characters and trying to soothe myself through the process.  It's exhausting.
One of my favorite sayings:  If it was easy, everyone would do it.
Guess I need to get a set.
*******

2012--More or Less

There's really only two ways about it. More or less.
On the more side:
write more
publish more
focus on myself more
rest more
On the less side:
stress less
worry about others less
It would seem rather simple now, wouldn't it?
I miss writing. I miss it like an ache in my chest. Between working the day job and going and doing and seeing and taking care of others here there and everywhere...I don't do it nearly enough.
The writing is like a forgotten gift. Sitting in its shiny red box gathering dust while I zip all around it making sure everything else is taken care of.
I hate it.
I hate not being able to push everything ELSE to the side while I settle into a chair somewhere with my laptop, the voices in my head, and my "writing" playlist on iTunes.
There are so many expectations now, aren't there? Things we're expected to do. And God forbid those things are pushed to the peripheral while we take a moment.
I want to be a wee bit selfish. *grins* I want to clasp my laptop to my chest like Gollum with his precious and slink off to somewhere...ANYWHERE...I won't be bothered.
What do you want? What do you need that has been pushed to the side???
Grins*

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.
Grins*