A Pictorial

We were HERE last Saturday. The chickens had a good time. Since I'm nursing the headache from hell today (re: too many rum and cokes and amaretto sours and too little sleep), I decided to post some pictures. *Note to self: Buy digital camera. The cost of developing pictures is HIGH*
Middle chicken on top. Boy chicken. Baby chicken on his right. Oldest chicken on bottom. More pictures to come when I don't have to wait ten minutes for the *&^$%@* pictures to load.



Adolescentus Hermitus and Supine Feline (Oldest chicken and Toby the Wonder Kitty)











Carnivorous Middle Chicken

Grins*

Insomnia: Inspiration or Sleep Deprivation?

I couldn't sleep last night. Which ran into this morning. I finally closed my eyes around 2:30 and probably slept a total of four hours (that would be a THIRD of what I need to function normally) before I had to make sure the chickens got on the school bus.
And as I lay my weary head back down on the pillow, relishing the blissful thoughts of unconsciousness, thoughts began to tumble through my head.
I ran through my literary playlist. And I started thinking about all the wonderful advice y'all gave me. I pulled my story ideas to the front of the line and picked through them. And one in particular snagged my attention.
And then another damn title.
And then a sequence of events in a new story. And a villain. And my characters. And, of course, I sit here hopped-up on Diet Pepsi and peanut butter M & M's. But I have the outline for a story that I'm excited about.
The story that I culled this idea from would also be fun to work on. And maybe I need to give the erotica a break for a bit. Because those are two that I have open now.
But this other notion...it's high concept. It has universal appeal. And if I could peddle it right, who knows?
That's my professional good news.

On the personal front...guess who's going out Friday night? *whistling*
And guess who also has to get up Saturday at 5:30 am and 7:00 am? Run around all day. Go grocery shopping. Shuffle children to and fro. Adopt another child for three hours. And then will proceed to die Sunday from sheer exhaustion?
*grinning* Yep! Me!
A friend and I are going to take a small break and simply get out of the house.
I see alcohol and dancing in my future. *snapping fingers* Hey! Maybe that's why my Muse decided to come back and visit. LMAO
Grins*

High hopes dashed...or how I lost four hours of my life

I like mini-series.
Throw in a little magical/mystical, and I'm there. "Merlin" and "Excalibur" are two of my absolute favorites. I loved "North and South." But I'm partial to MAGIC.
So, when Sci-Fi Channel advertised for "Dark Kingdom: The Dragon King", I was rather excited. It was split in two days in two parts.
At the end of day one, I was a little disappointed, but I just KNEW it was going to get better. Backstory, I told myself. Have to have a solid base. But then the second half came on last night.
And let me tell you, it was jacked up.
Not only was the acting sub-par...but the story SUCKED.
Yes. You heard me. It inhaaaaaaaaaaaaaled.
And do you know what the ending was? (This is your opportunity to scroll past.)
The guy died. Died. This dude bathed in dragon's blood to make him invincible. I watched this through my fingers. Ewwwwwwwwwww. And then some idiot nailed him with a large spear.
Picture me watching in utter disbelief. And then he's gone. Zip.
Okay. And the woman who was the love of his life? Well...they set out the funeral pyre (hero BBQ) out into the lake. And out pops this woman from the boat. She stabs herself with her sword and falls over his body.
VISUAL: Me. Jaw hanging open in disbelief. Blinking. Once. Twice. Then cursing.
I wasted four hours of my life on this. Four hours I could have been watching The Surreal Life. LMAO
Okay. Maybe not that. But certainly not the crappiest movie I've seen in awhile. Geez!
Even an altoid couldn't get the bad taste out of my mouth.

And I think I know my literary problem. I can't get titles out of my head. My wee cranium is bursting with them. The title comes first...and then the idea behind the story. It's driving me batty.
Halo on My Bedpost--Angel come down to Earth. Case of the Ex--Woman falling back in love with old love. Goes Down Smooth--Contemporary Erotic Romance. I could go on and on and on.
*sigh*
I would take some plain ol' writing at this point in time.
Grins*

Directionally impaired

And I'm not talking about my usual. You know, when I go into a store in the mall and come out and have NO idea which way I came from. Not that. At least not right now.

I feel as though I've lost my literary map. My compass is gone. And I'm lost in the vast wilderness of my mind. Spooky, in case you were wondering.
I have not written anything this week besides perhaps a paragraph or two. I did edit a story. But I have not originally written much of anything. And I'm flailing here.
Why?
I haven't the foggiest.

I still get flashes of insight for works in progress. I still have creative thoughts about titles and characters. But I don't have the SOMETHING in my right now to pursue it. I've lost my way.
I have a Contemporary Erotic that I'm almost 20,000 words in. I like the way it's going. I'm still pleased with the result. But I cannot seem to grasp hold of the reins again.
I don't think this is a block. I think this is a mouse-in-a-maze type thing. Where's my cheese, I ask? And who the hell is pulling the lever?
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
I don't do well with frustration.

My other oddity would be that my thoughts have shifted. Just a small sidestep. A shifting of feelings and perceptions. And I think that's what has altered my writing world. And I don't know how to get it back. And even at that, I'm not sure I want to.
I have sat at this damn desk this entire week and done absolutely nothing. (Besides the small edit) And I would rather go walk, get out, or plan my summer. Because I don't do well with all this inactivity. And if I'm not writing, then I'm going to start doing something else.

Also...still looking for the perfect job. We'll see how this one pans out.
Grins*

Book Swap

There is nothing good on television this evening.
So I decided to watch Wife Swap. You know, instead of doing that pesky professional thing called writing. *rolling eyes*
This is the first time I've ever watched the whole episode. It's just a little too much for me. But I stuck with it this time. *shrug*
And here's what I think...how uncomfortable!
Can you imagine someone taking something you hold so dear and holding the complete polar opposite views? And then being able to implement those views to teeth-gnashing results?
It would be like finishing a manuscript and then offering it up with lowered head and raised hands to someone else. "Do with it what you will." Ack! My eye is twitching.
Is anyone else going to have nightmares over the thought?
I have a friend who can tell me exactly when Louis L'Amour died and his family started writing. It changed. The tone. The wording. The voice.
A different perspective is nice. A complete overhaul to someone else's specifications is purgatory.
I suppose some think that it makes good television.
But here's what I think. If there were meant to be more of someone...there would be. Clones and whatnot. But we're individuals. With our own minds. Our own hearts.
And we should respect that.
Grins*

Normalcy is overrated

Why be normal?

You don't get bonus points. An extra hour in the day. Or chocolate.

And what IS normal, anyway?
By definition...it is REGULAR. SANE. AVERAGE.
YUCK.

While abnormal has it going on. By definition... it is UNUSUAL. EXCEPTIONAL.

Don't be a parody of normal in your life. Don't try and fit somewhere you don't. Be yourself. Just yourself. And let the rest of the world wonder.
Grins*

It's all Tori's fault

Yeah. You heard me. Tori. ALL Tori. She did it.

She blogged not too long ago about Dr. Who. If you haven't seen it, then by God, google it and check it out. And what did I do? Well. Crystal just happened to see that it was on Sci-Fi channel, and she decided to watch it.
And I'm hooked.
HOOKED, I tell ya!

Now for the funny part...hehehe.
I have this affinity for British shows. I absolutely love them. The accent. The dry wit. I've always been interested in what the Brits have to offer. And Tori knows dang good and well I go weak in the knees for the accent. (Tori: You're not right. No. Seriously.)
I have an editor who emailed me the other day and asked me if I was British. *blinking* I almost fell out of my chair laughing.
You know...me...hayfield...hick. I sound like sped-up molasses.
I told her the Limeys would clutch their collective hearts and fall over in a faint.
But she says my phrasing has a lot in common with British authors. *beaming* Isn't that awesome?

We've been gone all day, and I'll blog about that tomorrow. I just needed to give credit where credit is due.
Grins*

Love the one you're with

I can't get this song out of my head. So, I'm blogging about it.
You know...the song that states, "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with."
This applies to more than just relationship between individuals. It can also refer to our relationships with things.

I, personally, want to write a humorous Chick Lit. And I have this damn idea for one in the back of my mind. But I'm not sure if I can pull it off. In fact, I've liked very few Chick Lit that I've read. So maybe I'm writing a Romantic Comedy?
Right now, I know that it's not time for me to approach the Chick Lit/Romantic Comedy. I'm loving the one I'm with right now. Which is currently book 2 in 4 and two Erotic Romances.
And it's also hard when you see someone pull off something so well that you're aching to try and do. Almost painful.
But on the other hand, you know when you're meant to be with someone or something. You get "the click." And even if it's unpopular or others don't understand...stick with it. Your hopes and dreams aren't subject to a popularity contest.
I may not love the one you're with, but you damn well better. And if YOU don't, then trade-up. Because life's too short.
Grins*
still humming

Try, try again

It's easy to give up. Many people make it a way of life. A habit that becomes so ingrained that they automatically resort to it when times get tough. But that's no way to live.

Becoming good or better at what you do takes time and practice. Even the phenoms put in a little time to hone their skills. Or a lot. *grins*
People must invest themselves in the goal to succeed. No deposit--no return. When was the last time you got something for nothing?
The world doesn't owe you a living, a good time, or a soft place to rest your head. It takes a bit of effort on your part.

When I seriously started pursuing a career in writing, I was scared shitless. All the talk of agents, queries, synopsi, and publishers. It was enough to drive me stupid without half trying. I picked up Jeff Herman's book. I immediately googled the hell out of all of the above. I worked my butt off to get information to better myself and my odds of success.
I'm STILL learning. There is not one day that goes by that I don't learn something new. I refuse to let setbacks keep me down. Because there are only two things to do when you're down. Stay there or pull yourself up. I won't let myself atrophy because it's a little harder to accomplish something than not to.
Sure, there are brick walls. Hurricanes. Tornadoes. And roadblocks. But everything and anything is surmountable when you give it your best shot.
And if you've tried and given it your everything...then there's no shame in failing or succeeding less than you had hoped. The only shame is not trying.
Grins*
This inspirational post brought to you by the letter "C" and the number "7"
Though I don't think Sesame Street would use profanity. LMAO

I'll be chatting tomorrow!

Hi everyone!

You can pop by whenever you like and chat with me on Love Romances Book Club. I'll be posting excerpts, chit-chatting in general, and offering giveaways. I'll be on and off ALL day, so anytime you can make it is fine.

And I'll be attending my oldest chicken's first honor band this evening. She sits SECOND chair. You know how much I LOVE that. hehehe
So be prepared to hear far too much about my evening. How it was. What they played. How beautiful my oldest looked. You know, the usual Proud Mama stuff. *grins*
I'll try and take some pictures to roundout the embarrassment. It's the least I can do.

Have a nice night!
Grins*

Have I been this way before?

Shamelessly pilfered from Paperback Writer on her blog.
Who were YOU in your past life?

Your past life diagnosis:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation. (I KNEW I was a studmuffin previously! I'm feeling rather validated right now.)
You were born somewhere in the territory of modern USA South-East around the year 1875. (I bet I got to wear chaps. Man, I love chaps.)
Your profession was that of a teacher, mathematician or geologist. (Do teachers get to wear chaps?)
Your brief psychological profile in your past life: Such people are always involved with all new. You have always loved changes, especially in art, music, cooking. (This rings true. I bet I was the first male teacher to wear chaps. Or...I could have taught something OUTSIDE the classroom. hehehe)
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation: There is an invisible connection between the material and the spiritual world. Your lesson is to search, find and use this magical bridge. (If I find the bridge...do you want to come along for the ride? I'll bring snacks.)
Grins*

And speaking of dinosaurs...

Prehistoric times were brutal. Smaller creatures were low on the food chain for the big boys. The T-Rex ruled the world with fierce teeth and bloodthirsty tendencies.
And then he evolved.
Into my middle chicken.

That girl can put away meat like she has a hollow leg. Carnivorous. I honestly think that a T-Rex would tuck it's tail and run away in terror from her.
Case in point:
We went to an all-you-can-eat buffet the other night. Middle chicken proceeds to load down her plate with steak, beef tips, roast, and pork chops. Then when she's through with that, she looks up and says, "I don't know whether I want ice-cream or another steak."
I had to laugh. Because the last time we were there, she ate FOUR pieces of steak. For her birthday last year, she ate five pork chops. The girl can put away the protein.
She doesn't much care for bread and such. She would rather have meat. And lots of it.
We told her she better purchase some cows when she's older, or else she'll be broke. She got this rather disgusted look on her face and said, "I'll buy it in the store. I don't want to know it."
LMAO
So I guess as long as it's nameless...it's fair game.
Grins*

The green screen

Do you remember watching Jurassic Park and being in awe of the dinosaurs? Huge panoramic shots of miles upon miles of creatures that we never were able to see before. It was utterly magnificent.
I recall sitting on the edge of my seat, marveling at the realism of it all.
But it was only movie magic. A few (Okay, more than a few) clicks and strokes to make a prehistoric world come alive. Industrial Light and Magic is one of the leaders of these kind of special effects. Computer animation. Making the impossible...possible.
And the green screen.
A marvelous device that can make literally ANYTHING appear behind or around an actor. I remember watching the making of "The Matrix." And that scene where Nemo bends backwards and all those little bullets come flying at him. And the Mr. Smith that becomes LOTS of Mr. Smiths. And I was amazed.
What more can they do? I pondered silently.
They can damn near do anything. I saw an article in a TV guide where an actress from ER was sitting on four steps. And behind her was this HUGE brick building. And in the next picture, she was sitting on the four steps in front of NOTHING--but the magnificent green screen.

Writers don't have this option. Or at least not writers of books. There is no green screen. You can't shout "Run program!" at your manuscript and expect a lush setting of your choice to magically appear. There's no one behind the curtain of the Wizard, if you get my drift.

Words are powerful. They create. They destroy. They can be used to do great things.
Because when I write about an island with palm trees, white sand, and blue ocean...each person will process it differently. You may have coconuts on the sand. Wild flowers blooming hapharzardly along the treeline. A ship set sail on the ocean, masts billowing in the breeze.
Because readers don't need green screens. They have the gift of choice and preference.
When I write, I don't tell you what to see. I take you by the hand and lead you gently into my make-believe world. I have a map. But you, dear reader, have the green screen. And that's better than anything out there in the world of media that they imprint on your retinas. Because these images are imprinted in your mind. We share them. And that's the gift.
Grins*

My imagination: Friend or foe?

I like my imagination. For the most part. It comes up with lovely ideas. Twists. Turns. All kinds of fun.
But when it becomes overactive or taps into my subconsiousness...the party ends.

We were watching Animal Planet something or other last night. The show was about people who got too close to wild animals and lived to tell about it. (I added the last part. Because, you know, some people won't be telling the tale.)
There were grizzlies, polar bears, lions, snakes, and sharks. Pretty, pretty, pretty, shudder, shudder. Oh. And some kind of freaky crocodile. It was kind of green/yellow.
And it wasn't a bad show. This one man actually shot pictures of a shark DOWN ITS THROAT. (Yeah. I think that deserves caps.)
The guy wanted to get pictures, but the shark was not feeling it or something. The shark opens its mouth, and I swear to you, I could see its tonsils. The camera actually shot inside it. I thought that was neat.
Apparently my imagination had other ideas. Oh, did I mention that I'm very susceptible like that? You can beat me over the head with something, and I haven't a clue. But small things seem to crawl under my skin.

It's bedtime. I'm all tucked. And, of course, I'm awake until after midnight because I have sleeping issues. But when I DO fall asleep, I wish I was awake.
I dreamt (had the nightmare from hell) that I was in my house that had sharks and crocodiles under the floors. And then there were rectangular holes cut from the floor where people could actually SEE the water.
And I have this handy little device that helps me track the evil spawns of water so I knew where NOT to be. I'm turning it on. Moving it around. And then I walk over to this rectangular hole (Cue the "She's an idiot" music) and push a button that says "Track" on it. A bright, red beam shines into the water. And at first all I see is seaweed. But I KNOW something is in there. (Note to self: Set alarm earlier) So I proceed to keep pushing the button and all of a sudden, the scariest, most full of teeth, jacked-up shark I've ever SEEN moves forward.
(Small note of self-congratulation: I didn't wet the bed)
Why do I DO this to myself?
And since I feel so comfortable with y'all, let me freely admit that I woke up at 4:33 am and had to go to the bathroom. I was so scared that my feet would sink right through the floor that I waited around forty-five minutes for my irrational fear to fade. I thought about throwing the cat down first, just to check. All for the greater good. No one from the ASPCA need contact me.

Is this a writer's affliction? I know Stephen King says he hates to go down to the basement because he just KNOWS there's a velociraptor down there with its claws outstretched, waiting for him.
If you're so inclined, let me know. I hate to be alone in my neurosis.
Grins*

Popularity contest

What makes someone popular? The adulation of others, yes?
And some writers have followers that will buy their books no matter what. The "auto buy" option. I have a handful of those on my list. And I'm proud to say that I have a handful of people who "auto buy" me.
But I've come across something new and different this past week. LKH has a new book out. Micah.
I have heard nothing good about it. From the cover to the content. In fact, Mrs. Giggles, has rated it a 02 on a scale from 0 to 100.
I've never read LKH. But I know enough about her books to know it's the Anita Blake series. Heavy on the undead and sex. Lately she has taken a lot of flack over everything. Her characters are stale. Her writing is lacking. Sites are popping up that take shots at her.
What went wrong? I am honest to goodness serious. I want to know.
Has her writing simply detiorated over time? Has she gone back to the Anita Blake writing well one too many times? Is she starting to become a parody of herself?

Because writing is like everything else. It comes and goes in cycles. And only those that know how to reinvent themselves will survive. Hell, Stephen King is the Cher of the horror genre. It's all still scary and immensely well-written. But he has evolved. He's writing about terroristic cell phones, people. The man keeps up.
I like James Patterson's Alex Cross novels. There are a lot of similar plot lines in them, but something about them keeps them fresh. And he's not afraid to kill a major character off. I can appreciate that. And for Stephen King, it's almost a prerequisite.
I'm still iffy on Nora Roberts. She likes threes. And I can understand that. It's a great motif. But the minute she introduces all the men in the first book, you know who matches up with who. It may be comforting to some, but I find it cloying sometimes.
However, JD Robb continues to fascinate me. Eve and Roarke are together. Forever. Peabody and McNabb are paired. Mavis and Leonardo. That dynamic doesn't change. But everything else does. And that's what keeps her at the top of my "Who I want to be when I grow up" list.

It's good to push the envelope. Take some risks. Shake up the status quo.
But do it with style. Knowledge. And accuracy. Because reinvention keeps it fresh. And who likes a stale read?
Grins*

Occupational hazard

I received two books in the mail the other day from a contest. One I immediately liked from the cover. The other, not so much.
So I decide to pop open the more aesthetically pleasing one and try it on. It's not like I need to be editing my short story for Summer Sizzlers for Torrid or anything. *big grin*
And it's not bad. It's from a USA Today Bestselling Author. She has about nine books out and has won the RITA. No names will be mentioned. But I will say that I had never heard of her before.
I'm a third of the way through, and I've noticed an alarming trend. I'm not reading it. I'm STUDYING it.
Instead of diving in and taking everything at face value, I read passages and look at how she uses description. What order she describes in. When she inserts back story. I don't know whether to cheer or cry. This is a borderline book for me. It's not an immersion book. You know, such as Harry Potter or Amy's new book, Unexpected Complication. (Amy, I'll be pleading with you in a private email about a signed copy.)
And it's not like the Sil. Desire I picked up at a thrift store and slogged my way through. And when I was done, I literally threw it away. And I NEVER throw away a book.

The book is okay. It has funny parts. I like the characters. They have depth. They're engaging. All that good stuff. It's just not stellar. I can see what's going to happen and could in the first couple of pages. But it has just enough oomph to keep me reading til the end.
The only really fascinating thing I've read and noted, is that the author uses punctuation marks for description. I found that interesting. I can't remember the hero or heroine's name. I know the plot line. But everything else seems interchangeable.
So I'm pondering. Danica, are you pondering what I'm pondering? (Oops! That's the Take Over the World pondering. A whole other email. hehehe)
I'm simply pondering what in the heck sold this book. What was the key? Was she in the right place at the right time? Does she know someone who knows someone? Does she go to conferences? WHAT?
Because it's a good story but unremarkable.

And since I know how to put those url's in now the neat way, I had a couple of things to say.
Book buying is EXPENSIVE! I go on a bender about once every four to six months. For those of you with TBR piles past your eyeballs, I envy you. BUT...readers such as myself can go to different sites around the web and enter contests. And let me tell you, there are some hellacious books to be had. Authors will post contests and give their books away as prizes. They will also have chats and give away downloads. My Lord! It's literary Utopia courtesy of the web.
If you're interested, check out:
Romance Junkies
Coffee Time Romance
The Romance Studio
Fallen Angel Reviews
Love Romances
And there are so many more! (And no, there were no kickbacks involved in the making of this blog post. LMAO)
So, if it's a sickness for you as it is for me, then check 'em out.
And when you find the magical publishing formula, you can let me know about that. I mean, besides the stars lining up, the editor having a good day, and me having a voodoo priestess say a blessing over my manuscript.
Grins*

I didn't win the CAPA

*sigh*
I was against some pretty heavy hitters, as I've said before. And Christine Feehan won for Dark Secret in the Paranormal Category. My second release, Perfect Timing, was nominated in the same category.
I've never read Feehan and don't plan on starting now. But I've heard of her and pretty much realized that I was cooked. *grins*
It was so nice to be in the same category, though. I can't discredit that. Not to sound incredibly hokey, but I was pleased just to be there.

So I guess I'll persevere and rock right along with myself. Write some more books. Submit for reviews. Do my literary thing.
And mebbe, just mebbe, I'll win the sucker one of these days.
Grins*

Images

I was watching CMT this evening when I noticed something. A LeAnn Rimes video, the new one if that helps, was playing. And she was looking for someone special. That was the gist anyway. So she zips through all these blind dates and whatnot. And while some of them were questionable for my tastes, some of them weren't. But she wrinkled her nose at all of them.
Until, of course, the Greek God she lusted after in her apartment complex bumped into her and made her spill her laundry. Then there were hot gazes exchanged and such. END VIDEO.

So. Individual taste certainly accounts for something. And each of us has certain preferences. Hair color. Eye color. Height. Weight. Clothes. Do you find yourself gravitating in the image rut? If you're single, do you look for that one person who fits all your criteria? And if you're married/taken, do you gravitate towards someone who looks like your spouse?
I can find almost anyone who has at least one characteristic I find desirable. And I love looking. *grins* That'll never change.

And for the writers...do you find yourself writing a certain type of hero/heroine? I'm not just talking Alpha or Beta. I'm talking about deep traits that reflect maybe your POV or habits?
I made my first heroine addicted to Diet Pepsi. hehehe
Such is the power of the keyboard. But then I've had heroines who drink coffee. I don't touch it. These aren't life-altering things.
But maybe if all my characters adore animals. Love to read. Are blunt. Then I see little images of myself shine through. And I find it difficult to have my heroine have the hots for a man who isn't desirable, at least in some aspects, to me.
It's a wide world out there. And I don't really think you have to look like a cover model to be attractive. It's a widely accepted image, but one that doesn't impress me much. Unless there's a lot more behind those eyes and smile.
Grins*

Women behaving badly

What IS it nowadays?

There are shows on TV like "Daddy's Spoiled Little Girl" or something of the like. A show literally called "Girls Behaving Badly." This simply perpetuates the "Let me pout, and I'll get anything I want" mentality.
I like to watch Spike TV for UFC and CSI. And I'm bombarded with advertisements for videos such as "Girls Gone Wild" and all that crap.
I'm not suggesting we go back to the days of pinafortes and such. But can't we at least have some couth? Some class? A little bit of dignity?
And when Jessica Simpson sashays into a pizza parlor wearing an outfit cut down to there and barely covering her ass, I say FORGET IT! You're not selling pizza bites anymore, you're selling the sexual innuendo attached to it.
How many times have we heard "sex sells"? Too many. Way too many.
You can be clever without being trashy. Sure, it takes more effort. But the result is worthwhile. And it won't show legions of little girls that it's okay to act slutty. It's NOT the norm. It's NOT acceptable.
I don't want my girls to think it's okay to flash their breasts. Call me old-fashioned. Hell, I don't care what you call me. I'm not backing down off this one.
When did it become acceptable to watch a multi-millionairess get oral with a hamburger while hosing herself down? And where the hell was her Mama?

That brings me to marriage.
For all the talk of what marriage is, here's what it's not:
It is NOT
a quick fix
a temporary situation
a trial live-in
the answer to the baby question

But for some unknown reason, that's what some people perceive it as. Young females especially.
"Oops! I did it again! *giggle* *giggle*"
This irritates the hell out of me. And what receives the most media coverage? A runaway bride. (Who is getting a book deal, but I digress) Britney Spears. And young, seemingly intelligent, wealthy women who trade boyfriends like pairs of shoes.

I begin to wonder where the good influences were for these women and why they grew up to behave so badly. Because once upon a time, they were little girls searching for things to make them happy. The sad part being, they still haven't figured it out.
*hopping off soap box*
Grins*

If you knew the destination, would you change the journey?

*tapping fingers*
I believe I've already discussed my lack of patience. But somehow I find myself very accepting of my situation as far as my professional goals go. Quite frankly, overnight success in the author field is a joke.
But I'm constantly amazed by how many stories there are. And the journeys are all different. Families who support. Individuals who support themselves. Friends who chip in. Friends who could care less. Writers who have had three books squirreled away for fifteen years and just now feel the need to publish them. Writers who have finished their first book and can't wait to submit it yesterday.
I know it's hard to wait. Heaven knows it isn't my favorite thing to do.
So. I'm sending out huge hugs to those who wait. And those who have gotten the call recently. Those who are taking the same journey. And those that simply stop by to see what's shaking.

I know where I'm going. I know where I've been. And I'm still loving the road I'm on. Bumps and all.
Grins*