To dream the impossible dream

It's scary, isn't it?
Putting yourself out there.  Leaving yourself open to criticism and unkind words.  Cutting yourself open and leaving bits of yourself exposed.
Terrifying is probably more appropriate.

I'm reminded of that ol' "sticks and stones" rhyme reiterating that physically we can be hurt, but words won't harm.
That would be a bunch of bullshit.

Ever been called stupid?  Worthless?  Ugly?  Fat?  Skinny?
Ever had something you've been beyond proud of decimated by words?
EVERYONE has.

Take that in.
Those who utter those words have probably had them thrown at them more than a few times.
And while there is no excuse for all that hatefulness...I tend to feel bad for them.
There lives must be miserable.

When I spoke yesterday at the Author Panel, it really hit home for me that there are a lot of people scared to put themselves out there.  They want to write, but they are scared, unsure, and fragile.

Some people will love your work.  Some people will hate it.  Some people will cherish it.  Some people wouldn't stop to wipe their ass with it.

So fucking what?
Seriously.
Think about that for a minute.
So what?

If you tamp down that part of you that wants to create, then you are EXISTING, my friends.  You are not living.  You are suffocating such a beautiful part of yourself out of FEAR.
And that's unacceptable.

Write that book.  Paint that picture.  Sculpt that statue.

LOVE your creativity and embrace it tightly.  And then set it free into the world.  Give it wings to fly and enough courage to stand on its own.
Not everyone has the strength.
But you're doing yourself a disservice if you're not even trying.

Grins*

Everybody has 24 hours

This is what I tell myself, anyway.
On those days where I struggle to dress, make it into work, go home, make dinner.  There are people out there who do more before nine than I do all day.
heh
No shit.
I don't have that in me.  Just saying.
But surely to God I can fit a bit more in than I usually do.

Started to try and fit in treadmill/walking time.  Then there's the writing.  I would love to be able to simply have the writing as the full-time job.  I have literary envy for those that can do that.
Taking care of groceries/paper products/bills.  Making sure every one has food, clothing, and shelter.
You know, the basics.
Then why do I feel like a rag someone has twisted tight?
On a daily basis?

Always thought I had my business on lock.  But lately there doesn't seem enough time to do all I want to do.
Which brings me back to that lovely "everybody has 24 hours".
Waking up earlier will not happen.  No one would be able to be near me.  A morning person...I'm not.
So that means squeezing time in during the day job on breaks and lunch.  And also going home after feeling like someone worked me over with a ballpeen hammer and wringing the last bit of intelligence from my gray matter.
Ouch
Really?
These are the options?
They suck.

But adjustments need to be made.  They say 21 days until you make something a habit.  I guess if I don't end up in a padded room, it may work.
This ought to be...interesting.
Grins*  

Author Panel at Newcastle Public Library

I have the honor of speaking at an Author Panel this Saturday, November 2nd, at the Newcastle Public Library.
Here's the release:
****

The Newcastle Public Library has a wealth of writing knowledge coming into its doors, with six local authors taking part in an Author Discussion Panel at 1 p.m. Saturday Nov. 2, at the library, 705 NW 10^th St.

Panelists for the event will be Darleen Bailey Beard, Caitlin Hensley, Crystal Inman, Merline Lovelace, Linda McDonald, and Mel Odom. They will discuss their careers, the books they’ve written and writing in general. Members of the panel have dozens of published books, including more than 140 alone by Odom.

****

I've been on Author Panels with Merline Lovelace and Mel Odom.  They are always a good time.

So if you're out and about and looking for something fun to do next Saturday, please come by and see us!

Grins*

Turning over a new leaf

Actually, at this point I will require a leafblower, but let's not split hairs, k?
It's rather easy to not do anything.  Most days I'm on autopilot in the morning getting ready for work.  I swear to you that I have no recollection of washing my hair as I'm straightening my wayward bangs.
Autopilot can be great.
Or it can be total bullshit.
I'm leaning toward the latter.
Because sometimes you have to CLAIM those minutes/hours.  Which is not the easiest thing when the day job decides to totally stress you out and monopolize and inhale everything it can.
Selfish shit.
It's like sleeping with someone who is a cover hog whether it be a significant other or animal.  Sometimes it's just easier to shrug and freeze under your sheet.
But really...what kind of favor is that?
None to yourself.
Shrug off the martyr mantle.
Damn it all to hell...you deserve covers, too!
*pulling myself back from my tangent*
AHEM
To continue...time is fleeting.  And the older I am, the more I realize that little factoid.  It'll pass whether you're productive with it or not.
Minutes are extremely apathetic to the human condition.
tick tick tick tick tick

While I have a bit over 40,000 words on book one of my five-book series, I feel the need to write something else.  The other book is not on the back burner so much as occupying another closet in my mind that the door is cracked.  I'm sure I'll go in and wander about when taking breaks from the other work.
But this new piece is different.
And we all need that every now and again, don't we?
Grins*

Buzz Buzz

No, sorry.
This blog post is not about vibrators.  Some of you may want to switch pages now.

In almost every facet of every job you have "buzz" words.  And most you will hear so often that you want to choke the everloving shit out of anyone that dare utters one or more.
And I get that.
But I'm about to throw one out there.
High concept.

That's what every movie/book/song hopes to achieve in some way, shape, or form.
Original and unique with mass audience appeal.

But with this idea comes...wait for it...a lot of pressure.  Loads of pressure.  Sleepless nights.  Days monopolized with fictional issues.  Dialogue.  Plot.  Characters.  It's a LOT.
And I'm so excited!!!
Nervous as hell.  Bursting with anticipation.
While my daughters are the children of my body, these books are the children of my mind.
This latest one is pushing on me, but I'm not quite ready to begin the process of putting it on paper.  Still fleshing it out, so to speak.

Send good thoughts.  I'll be living in my mind more than usual for awhile.
*grins*

Frenetic

That's how I feel most days.  Rushing here and there.  Working at the day job.  Working at the house.  Making sure my kids have what they need.  Having a relationship going on four years.
I'm...busy.
But isn't everyone anymore?
Seems like.

The only time I truly think about my writing and stories and ideas and whatnot is right before I go to sleep.
Not exactly a lullaby, you know?
But I guess it's not only then.  Anytime I'm not occupied with life in general and can take a minute to let my mind wander...it does.
Back to the writing.  To the stories.  To the voices in my head.

But you know what really sucks?
I only let them put a foot in the door.  There is only one time in my life I've let them bust the door wide open and accepted all of it on a day-to-day basis.  And I wasn't working 40 hours a week then.  I'd write 4000 words easily per day up to 7000 on my most prolific.
I immersed myself in them.  And it was glorious.

Balance is not easy.  And I'm not much of a balanced individual.  (Hush, people)
I run till I fall.  Balls to the wall.  Throwing myself into whatever it is that I'm in.

I HAVE to make room for the stories.  Because right now I feel lopsided and out-of-sorts.
Nothing more satisfactory to me than writing.  Nothing feeds my soul like the words.
I need to get past the feeling that I'm being selfish with my time.  How does one do that?
Definitively, one would guess.

And what do I want to work on?
Well, then.
First book in a five book series.  And a few others in the series.
Erotic Paranormal.
Short romance.

Wish me luck.

I'm cranky

Most of you will stop reading right there.
*grins*

There's nothing more upsetting than being subjected to selfishness all day long while other people hop and skip through life like they deserve anything and everything.  Just bend and flex around them because their needs are SO much more important than others.
No...they're not.
I wish someone would explain that to the egocentric individuals.

Everything seems to be in flux, as of late.  It's so damn hot here that I come to work sweating and go home the same way.

I need a vacation.
No.  Seriously.

The many stressors in and around my life are distracting.  I'm tired of being distracted.  But it seems as soon as I shore up my defenses and get some perspective...something else happens.
That seems to be my motto as of late...and then "something else happens".
How incredibly rude.

I would love to have the occupational freedom to take a chunk of time off to hole up in a hotel somewhere, with Simba the Wonder Kitty, and write.  Write until my brain oozes out of my ear, and I'm so exhausted that I crumple unconscious on the bed every evening.

I need a writing purge.  And some Crystal time. 
I don't see either happening anytime soon.
Hell, most days I'd take a candy bar and five minutes to myself.
My needs are so small, people.
hahahahahaha

But I'll persevere.  I'll shelve this annoying shit and get a grip.  Rock on with myself and the writing.  While it's never a smooth road...it's my road...and I'm going on an adventure.

Grins*

Writers need professional help

I went to a meeting Wednesday with a lot of managers in it.  People stood and talked about conferences they went to and new ideas to implement.
One woman stood and talked about seeing an author panel and how the authors went on about "how hard it is to write" "how difficult it is to be published" so on and so forth.
Everyone laughed.
I did, too.
But how funny is that?  Really?

I've been on at least half a dozen author panels.  I've attended at least that many as part of the audience.
It never fails that some author(s) bring these facts up.  Every time.
Because, let's face it.
Writing is fucking hard.

If you've simply enjoyed the finished product, congrats.  The level of blood, sweat, tears, curse words, time, sacrifice and difficulty mean nothing to you.
Along with...why the hell do I have to wait so long for another book from this author???

To a writer...it's a birth.
It's sending a child out into the world walking ten miles uphill both ways.  It's literally taking nothing and shaping it into a beautiful story that will be hated and adored, loved and loathed, by readers who know nothing of you and your struggles.
You will be judged simply by your offering to the literary world.

Writers are odd creatures.  If a writer seems to be normal, believe me, they are simply pretending.  We see things others do not.  We feel things others refuse to feel.  There is a deep and abiding psychosis waiting to suck us in and have its way with us.
And we love it.
Have you ever felt pleasure so keen it's pain?
It's a glorious torture.

Writing is masochism at its best.  Cranking out a story that has been tumbling about in your head for months is neither easy nor fun.  Even when you're finished with the story, there is more to be done.  There are worries that invade even the happy thoughts of publishing.

Only a writer will understand another writer.  Nothing against readers or doctors or lawyers or mechanics or any other profession.  I adore you all.
But unless you've been kept up by stories and voices in your head and dialogue and characters...you're not quite sure why writers bitch and moan about words.
For the love of God...they're just WORDS!

But what I do with the words is my secret.  My skill.  My love.  My passion.  My voice.
I can make you weep with me and laugh aloud.  I can make you scared and excited.  I can weave the words into a story that will transport you from wherever you are into my world.  The world I created.
And for that period of time you read my words...you're mine.  All mine.

There is simply nothing better.

So before we lump writers into a needy profession that loves the sound of their own voice, postures for approval from the masses, and needs attention to function...realize this:
My pleasure comes not from book sales or author panels or good reviews.  It comes from the simple art of putting down words in such a way that a story is born and flourishes and lives.

That's why I write.  The simple truth stems from the reality that I have to.  That something in me that needs writing as I need air to breathe.  For when I don't write...I suffocate.  Parts of me atrophy and wither from lack of attention.
It's a slow death.

This morning I'm off to the writing cave to work on at least one story, perhaps two.  I'll put my ear buds in and listen to my "writing" playlist I made in iTunes while gingerly stepping and finding my way again.
Yes.  I'll curse and step back and close my eyes and do everything in my power to tap out words that I love and can't live without it.  I'll mutter under my breath and talk to myself and sweat and motion with my hands and be off planet for awhile.

But what a trip.

Grins*

Everything has a season

Hello all!

Half the year is over, and here I am.  Realizing that the last story I submitted was July last year.  And shame on me for not keeping up in the meantime.
There are excuses, of course.  In no particular order:
Two daughters graduating
Two daughters getting their license
One daughter taking off for another state
That daughter coming back
Two daughters coming and going
Painting the house
Migraines
Health issues
Expensive car issues
Meeting in-laws
Grandson birthday
Other grandson birthday in July

But these are just THINGS.  Roadblocks, yes.  Pains in the ass...OMG...YES!  But in the still of the night when I try to unwind, I see my stories.  I feel them.  I can taste them.
Same five-book series in progress.  One erotic romance that I really do love and can't wait to get into a bit more.  Maybe 10,000 in on that one?
I miss the words.  I miss the immersion.  I miss becoming pissed off at the characters and glaring at them through my computer screen.

So what am I going to do about this?  I have a short week next week with the holiday.  Closed for business Thursday, and I took off Friday.  I think it's time to quit letting all these external forces sit on my chest and beat at me with closed fists.

I ran into a dear friend yesterday at Wal-Mart.  He writes horror stories.  Always been a storyteller, even when we were young teens.  And the joy I felt in speaking with him, with another writer, lingers in me still.

I'm never fully anything until I let that part of me breathe.  So I'll try and wake the creativity from its hibernation and make nice.  Apologize and see if we can hold hands and be friends again.
Because I can't live without it.

Chrys*

Back to work

Yep.  Time to reacquaint myself with the day job.  I've gotten used to, and enjoyed, working two days and off five.
But also back to work with the writing.  Jotted down more ideas for a single title that has me excited.
My problem is not coming up with high concept ideas.  Oh no.  My problem is carving out the time in my busy day to implement them.

Doc appt this morning.  Then off to the day job.  Need to work the treadmill in there somewhere.  Plotting and planning.

I find that if I don't do the most modest of planning...that it will be 9:30 at night, and I'm ready to lay my  head down with absolutely none of my plans implemented.

Better use of time.

But my big 2013 goal/resolution/idea?
Flexibility.  Physically and mentally.
We'll see how that pans out.
Grins*

The last of the last of the last

I've already stated my extreme dislike of 2012.
So let's move on, shall we?

2013.
Hello, gorgeous.
What are we going to do for each other?

Several years ago, I believe I jotted down goals of a sort.  Things I wanted to do, perhaps.  Some things to accomplish.
So we're giving that another go because I do better with all that business written down.
Let's see.

Need to work on the writing.  Have you ever had an idea for a book...sat on it for too long...and someone else wrote the story?
Third level of hell.  Hate that.  Need to pop on it and make writing a priority.  I don't know whether I would do better making myself write ever so often or penciling it in or what.  But writing?  Yes.  Need to pay attention more to that mistress.

Children.
Sweet Jesus.
I'm going to have to let them make their own mistakes.  This one's a killer.  No.  Really.  I've never been a helicopter parent, but I've always been there for them.  Now I'm going to have to pick and choose the situations for my sanity.
Two are literally adults.  So why can't I get the feeling that they're still "little" out of my head???
Work in progress.
oye

Working it.
My day job.
I will continue to give my all at work but discontinue to bring that crap home with me.  So what if the MB doesn't work?  What can I do?  Wave a magic wand?
I can only do what I can do.  I need to retire my occupational cape.  Dreams about the day job?  I'm really over that.  Unless they are warm fuzzy ones.
More often than not...they are nothing of the sort.

Physically.
My body has had one HELL of a year.  Two, three (?) trips to the ER.  Unbelievable pain in my back/legs/hips.
I'm rather done with it.
That translates into taking better care of myself.  Do you know that the other night was the first time I went to the grocery store and only bought one apple?  Two zucchini?
I'm used to buying in bulk and cooking in bulk.  Don't need to do that now.  Waiting for that to sink in.
Not going to lie.  I loved it.

Mentally.
I know that there are some of you out there who are your own worst critic.  Your standard for yourself is far and beyond any that anyone else could/would set.
Welcome to the club.
This has a place in your life.  But it should not occupy the "be all--end all" spot.  You can make yourself literally sick with this crap.  Fretting and figuring.  Sucking up precious time with crap that is so not worth it.
I've started letting more things roll off me this year.  I hope to continue that next year.
Or you'll find me in the nearest padded room counting the creases in the wall.

Why do we wait for the turn of a year before doing things that need to be done?  Is it so imperative to have that clean break where one year ends and another starts?
Perhaps.  Perhaps it is.
All I know is that 2013 will be better.
Because I will do better and be better.

Hope you and yours have a New Year filled with joy and laughter and moments that make you look back years later and hold them to your heart.

Crystal*

Good riddance, 2012

I'm ready to see the backside of 2012.  The view of the front and middle certainly sucked ass.
While this year had a few highlights...it mainly blew.
I won't miss this year.  I'll likely try and forget it.  And while there are probably some that say "it's what you make it"...I can only fight an uphill battle for so many months.
So.
2013
Will you be my darling?
Do you think we could possibly start out on the right foot?  Dance cheek-to-cheek?  Pursue mutual goals?
I'll try harder.  You try not to trip me every step.  Things like that?
Because I honestly can't take another year like this one.  I've already warned the family.
Things must change.  I have a plan in place.
Now...if only everyone else hopped on board.
Because that's part of my problem.
Doing it by myself.  I've had to do it so long by myself that it is just natural for me to run myself into the ground while telling myself I can do it.
HA!
Reality check.  I shouldn't have to.  I have three "adult" daughters for all intents and purposes.  They are quite capable of pitching in and helping.  Now...if they would.  There's the rub.
They, like I, have become used to Mom doing it all.
Not so much.  Not anymore.  Not this year.

So I wish you and yours a sincere Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
I hope to be back in 2013 a bit wiser, a bit calmer, and a bit happier.
Crystal*

Hermit

This year has sucked ass.  Let's not sugarcoat this bullshit. 
It's been year of financial hell, personal tribulations, and health issues.
I'm sick of it.
In more ways than one.

But wait!
What if I could just take my little cheeks away somewhere?  Somewhere with wi-fi and a view?  With no expectation from others about what I should be doing and who I should be doing it with???
Grab my laptop and Simba (you knew damn good and well I would be taking boy child with)...and boogie like my ass is on fire.

What would that be like?  Just a woman and her feline on the run? 

I'd come back...eventually.

I've simply come to the point where all the external shit is fucking with my internal voices.  To say I loathe it would not be giving it the full attention nor gravity it so richly deserves.

I'm exhausted.  And I know damn good and well that none of this will simmer the hell down until perhaps next year.  Perhaps.
And if it doesn't?

Watch out for the crazy woman in the blue Escape with her orange feline riding shotgun headed off into the sunset.
She needs a break.

*******

I've come to realize...

...I really DO need a writing cave.  (With a nice desk and all the office supply goodies it can hold)
...Motherhood is just a migraine waiting to happen.
...I can take or leave people
...I have music in my soul.  And, thank God, on my iPod.
...what I THINK I know is subject to change.  Repeatedly.  On an hour-by-hour basis.
...mean people still suck.
...no one lives forever.
...the voices in my head keep me company.
...one small decision can change your life.
...sometimes a smile and a nod is better than opening your mouth.
..."clever" to me is foreplay.  Self-confidence is sexy.
...my movie popcorn must have butter.
...sleeping with my cat, who wants to hatch my head like an egg, makes me happy.
...hearing my children laugh lifts my mood.
...there is nothing better on a cold Sunday than a warm roast.
...losing myself in a good book is a gift. 
...judging someone by their differences and accepting them because of their similarities is fucking stupid.
...cranberry grape juice is delectable.
...if you have my attention, use it wisely.
...I'm the person who, if locked up with crayons, would be scribbling all over the walls and probably perfectly content to do so.
...that listening is a lost art.
...my creative side doesn't need a leash.  It needs free reign.
...happiness is not a guarantee. 
*******

 

Blogger hates me

I know, I know!!! 
I've been bloggerly remiss.  Beat me with the nearest font, and be done with it.  It's been MONTHS since I've posted.
And you have no idea how long it took me even to get ONTO my blog today.
o.O
I thought it was being held hostage.  I really did.
But ALAS!!!  Here I be.  Ready to take this bitch by the horns and make it surrender to my bidding.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I'm so shamelesss.
And this stupid little message keeps popping up.  Um, I should probably publish this before Blogger sucks it into a time void or something.
In shortest terms...I'M BACK!!!
Grins*

Time is of the essence

Time is a squirrely thing. Sometimes it flies by. Sometimes it crawls. But I've found this one thing to be true: If I don't make time for myself, no one else will bother to.
And I'm not being hateful. I'm simply throwing out a few hard truths. Just because you're free, doesn't mean I am. Just because it's convenient for you, doesn't mean it's convenient for me.
And I've found, as the stress and pressure from both personal and professional life intrudes, that I NEED time for myself.
Call me selfish. But don't call me.
I try my best to respect others and their time. I've gotten better, especially with the girls. I've come to realize when a good time to talk is vs. fighting them to pay attention to what I'm saying.
Everyone is different. Time in a bottle is just a song, folks. You can't save Jack.
So I'll continue to call timeouts for myself and hope that others understand that I'm not being rude nor selfish. I'm being self-preserving.
Gone are the days when I empty myself out for others. When I give until I collapse.
So let's be grateful for the time we have instead of trying to push and push and push to fit something into a mold it won't fit nor wants to be.
Time is flexible.
Grins*

Herd of cats

I would rather raise a herd of cats than teenage daughters. Cats have no vocal cords to whine about phone bills needing to be paid. Cats do not wear underwear and therefore do not need bras and panties and socks. Cats do not have opposable thumbs and so they are not texting God knows who about God knows what and thinking that anyone and everyone on the other side of the phone is a "friend." When cats attack you, they come full frontal force with ears back and claws unsheathed. (Except Simba who sometimes prefers a rear assault) Cats do NOT talk shit about you behind your back and then expect something from you. Cats are happy with food, water, an occasional treat and a nice litterbox. They do not have a list longer than my arm which includes pricey shoes that will be worn exactly once. Once again...cats roll naked--except maybe a collar. Cats are happy to see people, and if they're not--then you know it. Purring=good. Ears flat to head=get to steppin'.
So in the midst of this clusterfuck with my three (COUNT THEM---THREE) teenage daughters...I shall kiss my precious little Simba and thank God I had his pom poms snipped so he's not a hormonal asshat, too.
Grins*

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*

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,
Crystal*

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.
*gag*
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!!!
Grins*

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.
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*

If it's not one end...

...it's the other.
The girls (my breasteses, not my children) and I are getting a mammogram this afternoon.
o.O
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?
Grins*

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.
*sigh*
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* Alas...no.
Grins*

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?
Grins*

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.
Brilliant.
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.
Grins*

Craving

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.
*smile*
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.
Grins*

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.

*waving*

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)

Grins*

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. That...rocks my socks.
Grins*

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!"
Grins*

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.
Grins*

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.
Grins*

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?
Several.
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.
Grins*

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!!!
ARGH
Damn it!
Anyone got any bubble wrap?
*grins*

Blowing away the cobwebs

Hello all!

*grins*

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.

lol

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.

*grins*

My children are too nice

Who would have thought that this would be a problem?
Not me when I was teaching them "please" "thank you" and "excuse me." Not me when I was teaching them to show respect for other people's feelings.
But guess what?
All these attributes that I tried so hard to instill in my children are being thrown back in their faces by asschildren. Malicious, manipulative asschildren.
Now. Before everyone gets up in arms about my terminology, I will qualify it by stating that asschildren aren't born. They're made. By negligent and selfish parents. These children LITERALLY don't know any better since they're were raised by horrible excuses for human beings who should never have procreated.
What in the HELL is wrong with kids today? Where the good kids are verbally abused by the liars and users? Where half the time I don't want to send my kids to school for fear of subjecting them to something that I can't fix?
What...in the blue fuck???
Children are precious. Whether they are two, twenty-two, or fifty-two. Their spirits so easily crushed by neglect, harsh words, or apathy. And that child who doesn't get enough attention will leech it off of someone else and suck them dry.
I don't want to UNDO my beautiful children. I love them as they are. But who would have thought I needed to send them to high school in battle armor? Or try and teach them to be a bit more selfish with their time since they're the only ones who will be?
This parenting job? Not so fucking easy. Overworked. Underpaid. Stressed out. Embattled on occasion.
But the perks? Beautiful, strong children who know their own worth.
I'll take the scars.
*******

J.D. Roberts?

I love Nora Roberts' romances, and I love J.D. Robb's detective series. I am not, however, fond of Nora's crossover attempts by throwing murder and mayhem up in the middle of her romances ala J.D. Robb.
I enjoyed the splashes of paranormal in her romances because I consider that to be a subgenre of romance. But mixing up the mystery with my romance? If I wanted that, I'd pick up something else.
And I'll be honest with you. There are times I completely dismiss the mystery part of the In Death series for the scenes of romance and whatnot between Roarke and Eve. Rawr!!!
So what has prompted this? Why the need to muddy up the waters, so to speak?
I honestly don't know.
I do know that instead of Nora Roberts being one of my very few auto-buys that I have to actually read the premise before I take the time to crack the cover.
Nora Roberts=fantastic
J.D. Robb=superb
J.D. Roberts=not so much
Grins*

I'm cheap!

Well. Not like that. Well, maybe like that. But that's not what I'm referring to right now. *grins*
What He Wants (The Kindle Edition) is now on sale for $1.96!!! People! Go forth and snag it while it's on sale! I'm ranking right at 57,250 at Amazon which is nothing to sneeze at. *smile*
My Elemental Guardian Megabook (Four FULL stories) is on sale for $4.28!!!
You just can't beat that for books!
Okay. I think I've pimped myself sufficiently.
Have a great day!
Grins*

Let the good times roll

I signed a contract Saturday night for Warrior and the Sparrow. *smile* Haven't received the publishing date yet, but I will let everyone know. And then I received an email from the Sapulpa Library Director inviting me to come to her library in October to do a booksigning.
WOO!!!
I feel good.
It's so funny because I assumed that a lot of book publishing was like songwriting. Once it was introduced, it had a sort of short shelf life. I'm finding that my books are just continuing on even though I hadn't published anything new last year or this one.
How amazing is that?
They've found a secondwind on Amazon. Makes me happy. So I'll delve back in and make the writing a priority again with WATS and my five-book series. Have lots more in the wings that I want to publish, but it's so hard to find the time!
I think I tend to do better writing in the fall/winter. So that is something to most assuredly look forward to.
Oh...and the kids going back to school.
Grins*

Warrior and the Sparrow has a home

I signed the contract on Warrior and the Sparrow last night. *smile* I'll let everyone know the publishing date as soon as it's given to me.
One less thing to worry about. *grins*
Now time to embrace the next series I'm researching right now. A five book series with a strong thread that will tie the five together. Plus several other plots and subplots to thread together. Yes. A lot of work. But well worth it.
Creativity sparks a part of people that lights up their soul.
As for Warrior and the Sparrow...I'll wait for a publishing date. But I'll have to fill out forms for ideas on artwork and whatnot. Title information. And then *sigh* editing. This being my longest venture up until this point in time, 90,000 words or so, and I'm dreading the editing.
I love my people. There's no doubt. But after you sit with the same folks for days on end and fine-tune everything about them and everything around them, you're rather ready for them to stand on their own.
It would be like having your best friends stay with you for two or three weeks and spending every waking second with them.
Oye. Yeah. Like that.
At least I can take a break from that with my other people.
Grins*

Lisbeth Salander

Fractured but not broken.
I love this character. Love. Her.
Sure. She's "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." But she's also so damn complex. She's brilliant but socially inept. Her mind is amazing. She's been abused repeatedly but always maintains who she is. Never deviating from her own personal code.
I envy Stieg Larsson for breathing life into her. For shaping an incredible character who breaks stereotypes and survives on her terms.
I read somewhere that Stieg had planned a lengthy set of books for this series but passed before they could be completed. So I'll console myself with his works left behind and a character that has left an indelible mark on me.
Grins*

What Middle Chicken and I IM about

----- Our chat on Mon, 7/26/10 4:50 PM -----

MIDDLE CHICKEN (4:47 PM): Wanna know what i just realized? >.> the rudolph the red nosed reindeer song doesn't make sense.you know how when you drive and your lights are on you can't MIDDLE CHICKEN (4:47 PM): See because it bounces off the fog? The 'rudolph with your nose so bright won't you drive my sleigh tonight? ' part is just like that >.>his nose wouldn't help
MIDDLE CHICKEN (4:47 PM): Santa at all <.< so kids are being told lies all over north america O.O
CHRYS (4:47 PM): lol
CHRYS (4:47 PM): but....rudolph's nose is red. it would cut down on the glare immensely. wouldn't be like putting your brights on in the fog. >.>
MIDDLE CHICKEN (4:50 PM): Not the point.<.<
CHRYS (4:50 PM): so noted

What a wondrous weekend

I didn't work Friday since I had to work Saturday. And let me tell you, I wasn't much looking forward to it. But Saturday, even occupationally, turned out to be a good day. A lovely gentleman, regular customer, brought me fresh tomatoes from his garden. And my ex-coworker chickie brought me a Cranberry Limeade from Sonic, and we caught up for quite some time and laughed until my stomach hurt.
Then I packed up my stuff and headed for the Honey's as I am wont to do on the weekends. Dinner was made. Impossible cheeseburger pie and shells and cheese. And guess what??? As soon as I arrived, there was a beanie baby gecko! He looks JUST like the Geico Gecko. *grins*
His birth certificate said his name was "Gus", but I reject that. So I've renamed him Giles. Actually, Giles Geoffrey Gecko. Or Triple G for his homies. *grins*
Then after dinner, I was told to close my eyes and go sit on the couch. Which I did. Apparently it was Christmas in July. Who knew? Because the Honey bought me a laptop. *tear*
Let me tell you...I've had my other laptop for almost three years. The cord was starting to trip out and not want to stay in the laptop to charge which was stressful when I hit full writing Mode and didn't want to dick with it. Or keep looking down to see if I was charging to break my concentration.
So I have a wicked beautiful new laptop, and Giles, the Gecko who would rule the world.
No wonder I'm able to tolerate this Monday so well.
Grins*

In the stylings of...

...others.
Here's the website du jour for writers: http://iwl.me/
Click on that. Submit a sample of your writing. Ta da! You get a comparison of the work you submitted likened to a famous author. My regular blogs are similar to Stephen King. My blog about Warrior and the Sparrow compared me to Margaret Atwood. And my diatribe about Dr. Who? That would be Douglas Adams. My concise review of Undead and Unfinished? I'm the next Stephenie Meyer.
I'll admit. I was EXCITED at first. Wow. Who do I write like? What can I find out?
Um, that would be nothing. I found out nothing.
This site takes keywords and subjects and then matches you up with a writer who is similar.
Who do I REALLY write like?
Myself.
Grins*

Fair Trade

Hello lovely readers!!!

Tell me something about yourself. Right now you're just a lovely number on my sitemeter. What do you do? What do you like? To read? To eat? To do in your spare time? Do you have pets? You gotta have at least one quirk--share it with me. *grins* I have several.
How did you find me? Were you looking for me or "takes her clothes off for money" chickie? What state are you from?
What do you want to read on here?
And for my part in all this:
I'm just me. Voracious reader. The smartass gene is dominant. Writing another series of books. I dream big. I work hard. I'm the person who will look in your medicine cabinet. I'm in major advertising lust with the Geico Gekko. I know. I have issues. He's just so damn cute!!! I want to take him and set him on the table and have discussions with him. But I digress.
I think I'm like a butterfly.
Hold me too tight, and you'll crush my wings or smother me. Hold me softly, and some of my color may rub off on you.
Grins*

Five Book Series

Well. I did it.
I reopened the literary floodgates. *grins*
And I am well pleased.
Not only did I work on the first book in the series, but I researched some of the others, too. I have dialogue and scenes. Plots and subplots. Some of it is just pouring out of me. And I love it!
So that's what I did on my "vacation" days Thursday and Friday.
Just a fantastic feeling to be creating stories again, my friends. Fantastic. I hope to finish Book 1 by October 1st.
We shall see.
Grins*

Literary Utopia

I've missed it terribly.
The freedom to open a document and type to my heart's content and feel good about what I've written.
But I'm back!!!
OMG...and I'm feeling freakin' fantastic!
Wrote for four and a half hours today. Took notes. In fact, I still have my notes and document open because bits and pieces are still coming to me.
Working on another four-book series. Well, actually five since the fifth is the Epilogue.
I love my characters. I think the stories are brilliant. I absolutely am enjoying every word I'm typing and every scene I'm creating.
It's been too damn long.
But the literary drought is over.
I'm hard at it and feeling on top of the world!
Grins*

Indecision

I am not, by nature, an indecisive person. I see what I want/what must be done, and I do. Period.
So why, for the love of all that's good in the world, do I not know which story I want to work on at the end of this week when I have two precious/sacred days off? (And yes, the answer to your unspoken question is: The backslash is my friend. K?)
I have MT which is the last story I worked on. But there are SIGNS. No...keep the tinfoil off your head. I'm just saying...I feel like I'm being pushed in another direction. And *deep breath* it's another four-book series.
Is that why I just want to shrivel up like a raisin in the hot sun of my literary dilemma? Am I drawing odd fruit comparisons??? YES to both!
There is so much research involved with the four-book series. And while I embrace the theory, *grins* the practice makes my eye twitch sometimes. I want to WRITE!
But with so many threads, I have to sort before I sew. Ya know?
Oye. And the sorting--it is a large and daunting prospect.
But if not now, when? I feel like THIS is the time to take this on. And I always go with my gut.
SO...*massive hyperventilating sigh*...I suppose I'll break out the books that I need to make notes and start culling information to weave into my stories.
Oh, and did I mention that there's actually five total with the fifth being a lengthy epilogue-type piece?
Grins*

I have a new toy

And no...it isn't one of those. Though if I DID get a new toy (one of those), I doubt I would advertise said toy on my blog. Unless I was feeling frisky. But really...when am I NOT feeling frisky? So now I must ponder. If I DO get a new toy (which implies I have at least one or more old toys--heh)...would I share with the masses?
But I digress. For now. Breathe deeply, people.
I'm referring to my new technological toy...Microsoft OneNote.
Holy shit. I'm in Microsoft lust.
It comes in Microsoft 2010 suite, and it's freakin' awesome!!!
I can title a page and then open up tabs and import stuff from the Internet, and I LOVE IT!!!
Normally I take my notes down in notebooks, post-it notes (I LOVE post-it notes), and sticky things on pages of books I need.
And while I still may do some of that, I cannot tell you how happy I am to have all my info at my fingertips with a click of the tab.
*trying not to hyperventilate here*
How fantastic is it going to be to be able to refer back to my notes without digging? Sure, I color-coordinated my post-it notes per hero/heroine/book.
Shup.
But now I can just click and voila! I'm all up in it.
Love. It.
It will make my multi-tasking that much easier. And isn't that what the ol' laptop is for?
Well, that and keeping up with my friends on FB.
Grins*

There's an app for that

Numbers vary per electronic device, but there are tens of thousands of apps out there.
Some are useful and timely. Some are useless and time-consuming. Let's have a look, shall we?
Stupid/Worthless/Why the HELL did I buy this apps:
1. Rate a Fart 2.0: Not only can you enjoy the sound of over 700 melodious flatulent individuals, you can upload your own and share with friends!
2. ipickuplines: For example--Your eyes are as blue as my toilet water back home.
3. igirl she obeys: for the repressed male user. (I hope there's a screen protector on your electronic device. ick)
4. Wooo! Button: Yeah. That's what it does. Says "Wooo!" (What? Now our vocal cords are incapable?)
The examples are numerous and, quite honestly, revolting.
But the flipside?
There is also a world of apps that will rock your socks. Apps for documents and reading. Making music and storing a whole classroom of information.
So where's the line? And how fine a line is it???
I started thinking about this while reading CNN and finding an app that tells users when to reapply sunscreen. Something people have, obviously, been doing for decades.
Have we reached that point? Honestly? A place where an app should tell us when to apply sunscreen? Wash our hair? Feed the cat? Hug our children?
How many pieces of minutiae throughout our day must be spoon fed to us? And when will we begin to choke on it or, God forbid, welcome it?
Independence and individualism are priceless. Listening to people fart and sharing your own? That'll be ninety-nine cents.
Grins*

Relationship Chameleons

I have a couple people I know who are pulling this right now. Morphing into something the person that they're seeing wants. Forsaking sense of self for someone else's pleasure/opinion.
This bothers me.
First of all, let's take into consideration that if you don't know who YOU are...then how in the hell can you offer anything to someone else?
Second of all, if you DO know who you are...then why in the hell are you forsaking that for someone else?
Third of all, if you're forsaking pieces of yourself to make another happy...then you're selling yourself supremely short. And if you sell yourself short, my friends, you'll always find a buyer.
Compromise is one thing. Full-blown martyrdom is bullshit.
A relationship is two whole beings fitting together to make something beautiful while still retaining self.
It's not puzzle pieces from two different puzzles mashed together to try and fit when it obviously doesn't.
I'm reminded of the Runaway Bride with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere. (They should have stuck with Pretty Woman...just saying).
Julia Robert's character lost herself so completely when she was with her partner du jour that she hadn't a clue who she really was. If they liked scrambled eggs, then so did she. Whether she really did or not.
That's overwhelmingly sad.
Each person has an infinite value unto his/herself. This value should magnify when with the one he/she professes to love. It shouldn't diminish.
No one said it was easy.
But, damn it, it's worth it. And so are you.
Grins*

Undead and Unfinished

I couldn't have been more pleased when I discovered MaryJanice Davidson and the Undead series.
But then enthusiasm waned a bit. I didn't much care for her Mermaid series. Read two of those and didn't bother with the third.
So, with a bit of trepidation, I picked up Undead and Unfinished.
Let me say that this is, by far, one of the best--if not THE best, book in the series. Pick it up. Wallow in its cleverness, snarkiness, and all that is Betsy The Vampire Queen.
And now that I've indulged myself with a worthwhile book, I'm off to work on some of my own.
Have a fantastic and safe holiday weekend!
Grins*

Can you hear me now?

Writing is subjective. Reading is subjective.
We, as readers and writers, know what we like. It's there in every purchase we make or consider making.
But my likes are not your likes. They can criss and cross, intersect on occasion, but tastes are as individual as, well, individuals.
As a writer, I take this in stride. If I didn't, I would assume and retain the fetal position on a daily basis. My feelings would be hurt to the point of incapacitating me. I would simply give up.
That's not me.
You can like what I write. You can hate what I write. Point is: I LOVE what I write. *grins*
It comes from a creative part of me that is connected to every cell I have.
I could try and borrow someone else's voice or writing pattern. I could mimic bestselling authors on the NY Times list. I could...change.
But I refuse. My voice is my own. My ideas are my own. My mistakes...MINE ALL MINE!!! LOL
A writer is only truly a writer when he/she creates the story of his/her heart and soul. No matter the packaging. No matter the opinions of others. No matter...no matter. *smile*
So let me clear my throat and prepare to breathe life into the dozen or so stories I've started but have yet to finish because I was trying to be someone I'm not, and in the process, blocked off my creativity.
But I'm back.
Grins*

Over the top

I've had a lot going on as of late. Shuffling the girls to and fro. Shuffling myself to and fro. Baby Chicken had lumps in her armpits which freaked me the hell out. So that involved doc visit, referral, specialist doc visit, ultrasound, WAITING, doc visit.
Luckily, the right lump is a cyst. The left lumps are lymph nodes and are not big enough to worry about.
Thank God.
Summer is the busy time at work. Inundation would be a key term here.
But amidst all the loveliness known as life, I submitted another book. And I also received word from my publisher that What He Wants is a Top Ten Bestseller at WCP Torrid this month. *smile*
It makes me happy.
So I track down where exactly all these sales are coming from. Amazon Kindle. It amazes me, and I'm just floored.
People who bought the Percy Jackson series are buying it. People why buy Linda Lael Miller are buying it.
*dancing*
What a lovely afternoon.
Grins*

Warrior and the Sparrow

I love this book.
*smile*
And that's not my ego talking. It's my heart.
This is the latest book I've submitted. And here's what it's about:

Willow is a simple woman who keeps her father’s house. A loner by design, she exists unnoticed among the village beauties. That is, until the day a stranger tears through town hell-bent on fulfilling a prophecy no matter the price.

Tait needs Willow . It’s as simple and complicated as that. Dark days loom for their entire world. A sleeping sickness has spread all the way to the royal kingdom while a madman lets loose a disease on the masses that tears apart the very fabric of humanity.

Warrior and the Sparrow is one woman’s journey from negligible to remarkable. It shows how the human spirit can grow and flourish even under the most horrid of circumstances. And it is a woman’s rite of passage from bystander to savior.
****
This is my longest foray into the storytelling of romance--almost 90,000 words--with all the blood, sweat, and tears that goes with.
Here's hoping my story finds a loving home.
Grins*

Crystal Inman

Yeah. That's me. But there's also the Crystal Inman who's young, thin, blond and cavorts about without clothes. The first three---SO not me. The last one? *grins* If you know me, you already know the answer.
lmao
I get a weekly tally of visits to my website, both traditional (Crystal Inman) and erotic (C'ann Inman). I average about twenty visits to the traditional while the erotic is more sporadic because I haven't had anything published in the last couple of years.
So when I receive a weekly tally that is just below a hundred, I must go investigate.
I thought my young counterpart must have put out a new porn tape or something. :)
Here is what I found: Around eighty-five of the hundred or so were visits from Slovenia. I promptly googled the hell out of that to locate it on the map.
What boggles my mind is that some of the visits were two pages. So that means that after finding my website, the searcher promptly clicked on another page (probably hoping to be rewarded with the sight of "Crystal Inman" wearing chaps, holding a whip, and nothing else). Alas, they must have been sorely disappointed.
We have to be TIGHT for those photos to circulate. Ya feel me? *grins*
So either some wonderful individual is sharing my literary goodness across the Atlantic, or those Slovenians love them some young, thin, blond chickies.
Either way, thanks for the numbers.
Grins*
Oh for criminey sake...before I wrap it up...I submitted to Samhain about a week ago and hope to hear something soon.
Just looked on Fictionwise and find that my earlier titles are still selling well. And One Enchanted Evening was the #8 bestseller for my publisher last month. This is just the kick in the ass I need. *smile*

Time in a bottle

There are moments locked in time, in recent memory, that are as rare and precious as each breath I take.
The combined laughter of my children and myself.
Dancing with the one I love.
Hugs from teenage daughters that don't hug all that often anymore.
The wind in my hair after a hard day that wore me down.
Another's hands preparing dinner.
Baby Chicken looking at me after we watched a scene on TV where the teenage son looks at his Mom and says, "You're a good Mom", then turning to me and saying the same thing.
Embarrassing the Oldest Chicken while mimicking her dance moves in the car on the way to the high school.
Laughing at something (God, ANYTHING) Middle Chicken says.
So on days when I just want to bang my head against the brick wall, kick the door, and scream until my lungs collapse, I'll pull these moments out and wrap myself in them as a cushion between the wondrous beauty of parts of my life and the stress that tries to cling to me and bring me down like quicksand.
*humming Jim Croce*
Grins*

THIS is my reality

I don't much care for Reality TV shows. I know a lot of people do. (Hopefully forestalling the Hate Mail here)
I DO watch Survivor because the honey does. I watched Big Brother one season. *laughing* Apparently where the winner has now taken his earnings and tried to turn himself into a drug kingpin. How fantastic is that? I clearly remember him stating that some money would go to help others. I didn't know he meant nose candy.
I watched the Amazing Race one season. I can't remember who won.
Reality TV is just not for me. And I'll tell you why.
I like spontaneous as much as the next person. And there's a lot of spontaneity (unscripted) business going on with RTV. But what I really enjoy are getting to know the characters. The familiarity with quirks and opinions.
There are some TV characters I'd love to sit down and chit-chat with. Dr. Who, obviously. *grins* Hawkeye Pierce. Mr. Roarke. lmao
Don't judge me. :)~~
These characters mean something to me. They kept me company and shared their fictional little lives with me. They opened my eyes to different emotions and ideologies. They symbolize so much more than just a two-dimensional character reading lines and going through the motions.
RTV characters? Eh.
I don't need the drama. Seriously, I have enough of my own. I don't need the conflict or background of their muddled-up lives. Tales of plastic surgery and divorce. It squicks me out, quite frankly.
Rarely do you see the sunshiney side of RTV. The high ratings comes from conflict, and I just can't get on board with that.
Really.
Grins*

The Inimitable Dr. Who

Tardis, we have a problem.
Where is the Dr. Who I love? The genius Time Lord who saves multiple planets with humility, compassion, and wit in place?
I'm all about giving a guy a chance. Matt Smith, Dr. Who du jour, is okay. I say that without rancor. But I haven't had my Dr. Who moment with him. And the way the writers are writing...I'm not sure I will.
Hmph.
Dr. Who is the last of the Time Lords. He has seen and done things that the mere mortal cannot imagine. That's fine. He also has a companion which makes him, in my eyes, a bit more well-rounded.
But when you make HIM the hothead, and HER the voice of reason in all things...I rebel against the notion.
He has seen the birth and death of earth. He knows what humans are capable and not capable of. Yet in the past two episodes of this show that I absolutely LOVE...Amy Pond (latest companion) has saved everyone in a pinch.
Excuse me???
I like the fiery redheaded Scottish chick. She's no Rose, Martha, or Donna. She's her own person. And I love that about her.
But this is DR. WHO for God's sake!!!
This character is interplanetary Mr. Fixit. Amy Pond can hand him the tools, but by God, Dr. Who is THE MAN. Okay. Time Lord.
But the bottom line...give the Time Lord his due. Or I will lose all respect for this amazing show.
Grins*

The weekend from hell, and TMI!!!

I knew I was screwed at 9:03 Friday evening. I calmly put down my food and waited. Around and hour later, the onslaught began. I was in full virus force. A virus, to me, feels like barbed wire in my stomach. There's no other way to describe it. Therefore, when it strikes, I know what I'm in for. Hell.
I am throwing up. I have diahrrea. I am spent. Done.
HA!
Or so I thought.
The food is all gone. There is NOTHING in my stomach, people. NOTHING. And yet I continue to vomit. It's an anomaly that pisses me the fuck off, quite frankly. So up comes the stomach acid. Yeah. For hours.
Which, by the way, felt lovely brushing up against my stomach ulcer.
I don't think I slept fifteen minutes Friday night into Saturday. The first time I got any rest at all was about five o'clock Saturday.
I was weak and exhausted. I'm quite sure I smelled lovely. I was scared to drink water, people. Water. Yeah.
And when I did, I took little sips in case that tipped over the vomiting scale one more time. Because seriously, I just couldn't take another go-round.
I missed a wedding Saturday. I missed church Sunday. I was still weak this morning but took Middle Chicken to the oral surgeon to get four more teeth pulled so she can get braces.
You could tip me over with a feather right now. I'm not playing.
I only get this type of virus once every two years or so. Thank God. One time it sent me to the E.R.
I was headed that way again, before I located some phenagren and prayer.
Now that I've purged the hideous weekend onto my blog, I feel better.
*smile*
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hand me a rifle, and don't argue with me, son.

There is talk of a militia in Oklahoma.
This is enough to turn my stomach. Bad enough that this state supported McCain and carried him. Bad enough that I knew people waiting in line for HOURS for the Sarah Palin book.
A fucking militia??? Excuse me?
This brain fart from leaders of the Tea Party and Conservative members of the Oklahoma Congress.
So we're giving small-minded people firearms now?
We're going to listen to pathetic extremists who "draw inspiration from the white supremacist thriller The Turner Diaries"?
When is enough enough???
RIGHT NOW!!!
Oklahoma is still a part of the United States of America though at times I feel like there are some in power here that would gladly secede and make women wear burqas and walk behind men. Who would harm anyone whose skin isn't white or sexual orientation isn't hetero. Who would annhilate those that have a voice and an opinion.
So...those extremists in the Oklahoma Congress that have their own agenda need to be STOPPED! NOW!
They don't represent the people. They can't because the people are all different races, religions, backgrounds, financial statuses, and sexual orientations.
We will not be silent. We will not be stepped on. We will fight for our freedoms as well.
A volunteer militia in Oklahoma is unacceptable.
But I'm full of ideas of where you can put your guns.
Crystal*

And then they go and do something like THIS!

It's no secret. I love my children and want to strangle them. All at the same time. I'm eternally tired. Still getting over the death of my dad. Struggling to keep the house clean, my ass to work, and my sanity.
And then what happens?
Middle Chicken writes an Ode. To me. *grins*
I needed kleenex.
Without further ado:
An Ode to Mom

When I was little,
I thought I was indestructible;
like nothing could hurt me,
break through my skin.

But as I got older,
I wanted to explore more;
I would climb up on things,
and fall down hard.

You would always be there,
with a band-aid and a hug;
no matter what happened to me,
I counted on you to protect me.

When everything went wrong,
or when my dad was never there;
you stayed with me always,
you were always there.

*sniff* *sniff*
I'll put off the strangling for another day.
*smile*
Chrys*

Um, seriously???

Today I've dealt with:
Faxes
Phone Calls
Books by the hundreds
A large German Shepard
The incapacity to understand English
Repetitive instructions for those that just don't understand
PMS pills in mass quantities
Ambition-challenged people around me
Sore feet
Massive exhaustion
Juggling multiple people
People who are incapable of helping others
Indecisive children
Screaming ovaries
Headache on the back burner edging toward the front
****
*sigh*
Is it Friday at six o'clock yet???
Grins*

Clash of the Titans 3D

I'm SURE I will have spoilers in here so just a warning!!!

Allrighty.
This movie was mediocre. There. I said it. I was so hyped on the trailer that I downloaded the main theme song they use in the trailer from iTunes. Let's just say I could have watched the trailer and saved myself $50 for my family to go see the thing. In 3D, no less.
The pros?
Liam Neeson and Ralph Fiennes as the opposing mythological Gods and brothers Zeus and Hades. Poseidon didn't get any face time. I suppose he was out hanging ten or something. Anyway, these two talented actors did a hell of a job with a weak script and corny lines. And you have no idea how much it pains me to say that. Seriously.
Love me some Liam Neeson.
And it was cool when Hades would throw out his arms and do this little "whoosh" thing and this black smoky stuff would envelope him. Yeah, good stuff.
Sam Worthington is credible as Perseus. Give the guy his due.
The Kracken is some good digital monsterizing, but he has very little screen time before he's turned to stone.
I like my daughter's God of War game better as far as mythological baddies.
This movie had unexpected bits of humor in it which I enjoyed immensely. But those don't happen until later when Perseus decides he going to kill Hades who killed his family. Hades, being a God and all, lives, by the way. *snickers*
The cons?
This movie did not have as many mythological creatures as I would have liked to enjoyed. Hell, Pegasus pretty much had a cameo.
I KNEW everybody but Perseus would die. Criminey!!!
Dialogue is stilted.
Movie is choppy.
It's like someone divided the movie up into six parts. Put them into bags. Then tied them up and told the producers to put them back together again. And they didn't do a bang-up job.
Andromeda? Forgettable.
The talent was there. The money for special effects was there. Good cast. Someone, somewhere, failed along the way. And shame on them.

There was a very small but extremely cute part where Perseus finds this odd little machinelike owl before he starts his quest. *grins* The head of the army tells him to put it down, and he does. I think the movie may have been better if he'd taken the owl.
But there it was. A little nod to the first Clash of the Titans with the odd little golden owl that was a gift from a goddess.
Too bad she didn't gift the directors/producers with a little help. Or in this case, some magical thread and a needle to stitch a good premise together to please the masses.
Grins*

Clash of the Titans

OMG! I remember seeing the previews to this movie, and my jaw just dropping. Yeah, I loved the Harry Hamlin (old, children...the OLD version) as Perseus movie. But with the special effects and digital mastery of today's age, I was uber excited. And then when it was thrown out there in commercials that it could be (dum dum DUM) 3D!!! I'm not too proud to admit that I became a bit more than a bit excited.
That lessened considerably while reading an interview with James Cameron about the movie. He explained that it wasn't shot in 3D. That only 1/3 of the time usually spent was put into MAKING it 3D. And so it was pretty much "Clash of the Titans 2.8". Color me highly displeased.
2.8?
Really?
Can I just pay 80% of the damn movie price? How would THAT do for ya??? In fact, I still have my 3D glasses from another movie. How's about I just take those little suckers in with me so I don't have to buy another $3 pair? Well?
*crickets chirping*
Yeah. I thought so.
So after church tomorrow, we're headed out to see Clash of the Titans 2.8. More to come on if it was worth it, or if 2D should suffice.
Have a Happy Easter!
Oh, by the way, two blogs in one day. Just saying.

AND...I looked up earlier how a rabbit is synonymous with Easter and whatnot. It's interesting. Google it.
Grins*

Crystal Update

Hello all!

I need to try and blog a bit more often. That's something I'm going to work on. That and the cursed treadmill. LOL
Since we last connected, in no particular order: My Dad died. My oldest child has gone through about four significant others. I submitted a complete manuscript to Pocket Juno. My middle child is getting braces. My baby child has been getting some fierce migraines (doc appt Wed). Watched "Lightning Thief" at the theater (the books are so much better). And any one of numerous other trivial things have occurred.
I hope to focus more on: 1. the damn gym 2. the marvelous writing 3. keeping my sanity while doing all that, mothering three teenage daughters, and working a full-time job.
Quit laughing.
I've read the time management books, and I say...bullshit. For one, I'm not a morning person so even though I CONSIDERED getting up and going to the gym at the buttcrack of dawn--that has no relevance in the real world in which I live.
Most days I work until five-thirty. Hit the gym for two hours. That makes it about eight when I get home. Sometimes cooking dinner. Cleaning up. Laundry. Paperwork/homework with the girls. Catching up with the girls.
I'm managing the hell out of my time. I just need about six more hours. Really.
Professionally, I want to finish another full-length novel (80,000-100,000) before the girls go back to school. This will be nine kinds of fun as summer at the library is akin to a sleep-deprived individual herding cats.
Pass the bottle.

So that's it in a nutshell, my lovely blogger friends. Have a Happy Easter!!! I'm working today but am going to church tomorrow followed by "Clash of the Titans." Can't wait.
Grins*

When high school becomes Sunday School

I'm a Christian. Just throwing that out there to (hopefully) deflect the lunatics that think I bite the heads off live chickens and whatnot.
I attend church every Sunday. I love it.
What I do NOT love, however, is the State of Oklahoma taking it upon itself to offer the study of the Bible up as an elective in high school.
Pisses. Me. Off.
Will these same people offer up an elective for studying the Koran or Paganism? Wiccan Arts? WELL???
Yeah. Close-minded, full of themselves, pompous jackasses at our State Capitol.
We can't feed our children healthy food in the fucking cafeteria, but we can zip a law through that makes the lawmakers look like suckasses. That's sure enough. Yeah. We're a Red State. Turns my stomach, quite frankly. I'm so damn sick and tired of the bible-thumping hypocritical bastards here.
Why don't you try giving a hand up instead of using that hand to pat yourselves on the back??? Why don't you pass some fucking laws that HELP the people of this state?
If a person wants to learn about the Bible, there IS a class they can go to. It's called Sunday School.
Make a note of THAT.
Crystal*