This is Crazy!

I know this may sound crazy, but I actually forgot about this blog!

How?

Well, life happened. And as life is unexpected, life had certainly not taken me in the direction that I wanted.

A year ago I knew that 2015 was going to be an extremely hard year. I was seven months pregnant with my third, carting around my fourteen month old little girl, and five year old preschooler. And my beloved mother in law was dying of cancer. We knew the end was near and we only prayed that she would meet her fifth grand child and go peacefully.

Sadly she did not meet our baby, but she did pass peacefully. When our baby was two months old my husband and I had a blow out fight...because I didnt get to the laundry on the bed and he had no where to lay his suite. He packed his bags and left me and his three daughters.

This major shift in our relationship didn't make sense to me until July and my oldest let slip that daddy's friend came over for breakfast. I found that he had not only had one, but two affairs with women he works with.

My ex is a narcissist and he has been manipulating me for over a decade. He even had me convinced that we could do this divorce ourselves and not get lawyers involved.  And then it all made sense. He had left me so that I wouldn't' find out about the other women.

Needless to say I went strait to a lawyer and filed for divorce. I could go on, but there is another blog for that This Girls New World.

This one had been dedicated to writing.

Which is what I am doing again and it is amazing. Since I no longer have the pressure and stress form being married to a narcissist I have taken the opportunity to find out what I want in life.

I shed a lot of insecurity and a great many fears and put myself out into the world.

I am now freelance writing. Small jobs. Free jobs mostly. But I have to start somewhere.

Today I went back to my blog and this one popped up. Imagine my surprise, especially when I saw how many views it has had in my absence.

So here I am again. Thank you all for reading and I promise, I wont forget again.

Hair pulling and James Patterson

I want to pull my hair out. And not fist fulls of hair. Just one strand at a time to prolong the frustration.

What a frustrating process. I am beginning to wonder why I started writing in the first place. Grrr. Nothing is magically flowing from my fingers to create anything, well...magical. Grrr.

And by the way while I am ranting. I hate James Patterson. What the hell? Has anyone noticed how many books a month that man puts out? Seriously. Every time I open Amazon peruse new kindle books there he is right on the front page NEW JAMES PATTERSON NOVEL.

Does he have an army of minions caged in his basement being forced as slaves to write for him? How does he do it? Really, I want to know. In the time I have been writing alone he has published FIFTY NINE books.

Yeah you read me right. FIFTY NINE BOOKS since December 2009. Son of a bitch!

How??? I don't understand. I cant get one out. It makes me want to cry. I wonder if he leases his minions? But that probably costs a very shiny penny. All of my pennies are kind of ugly and have stuff stuck to them.

Don't get me wrong now, I am thrilled with how my book is starting. And that's the problem. The beginning is great. But it's a new tone and that leads to different plot developments. So while I have a beginning that I am excited about I don't know where to take it...and thus the one strand at a time hair pulling.

I hate plot development. It sucks.

I believe that there are two kinds of books out there. (If you wonder if I make this shit up as I go...I do.)

There are what I call 'surface books' and 'involvement books.'

Surface books are books that if you don't look too closely or spend time analyzing them they are a pretty good story. But once you look beyond the surface (get it?) the story is week and unsupported.

Involvement books are stories that no matter how involved you get, the story stands up strong and you can look as deep as you want and nothing falls apart. Think Harry Potter or Game of Thrones.

Sadly I am currently in the former instead of the latter. So my little brain continues to mull until the answer comes. So if your talking to me and I look like I am not paying attention. I'm not. I'm thinking about more interesting things.

Back on the rant. I like George R. R. Martin so much better than James Patterson. The last book George published was five years ago. That is a much more realistic timeline than the Evil James Patterson. And the worse part about the all mighty Mister Patterson is he doesn't publish crap.

However there is a twinge of bitterness with George. I happen to be enjoying Game of Thrones and I wish he was more like Mr. Patterson and published the last two books by the end of September. Hear me George? I don't like waiting. Patience was never my favorite virtue.

Okay. Deep breath... 

Maybe some day I will write something about kittens, and flowers. But not today. Today its bitter and angry. Today it's Evil James Patterson. Maybe tomorrow...But I wouldn't bet on it.

Reading and Writing

Again I have been a bad blogger. Slap the back of my hand and send me to the corner.

But I haven't been posting for good reasons. I have been busy writing and reading.

I have been working on expanding my horizons. I have been exploring more genres. Stepping outside of my comfort zone and reading book I never would have expected.

Case in point:

I recently finished Beyond the Highlander Mist. Okay, I will wait while you skip over to Amazon look it up, read the synopsis and let your mouths hit your keyboards...

Tap, tap, tap. Look at imaginary watch on my wrist. Roll my eyes impatiently, scratch my head and heave a great sigh.

Back?

Yes, I know. Shake your head, blush for me and squirm appalled in your seat. I read a romance novel cover to cover. It was very lusty and there was lots of purring. But all in all it was a good book.

This was the debut novel for Karen Marie Moning. If you have been with me this whole time you will have read my review of the Fever Series. This is same author that took me down the romance isle at Barns and Noble. I was curious what her version of a romance novel, was considering Fever was not close to lusty yearnings.
To her credit it was completely different. BHM was sort of a prequel to the Fever series and shared a few of the same characters, which was a surprise. I had no idea.

Another reason to read BHM? It was a debut novel. It was a great learning experience to read the first book an author published and the most recent. If you know what your looking for you can see the author learning and evolving through their writing.

Moving on. I have never been a fantasy reader. I find fantasy novels to generally be more complicated than 'As the World Turns.'  But several people insisted that I read Game of Thrones.
So bravely I did...and what a pleasant surprise it was to find myself getting really involved with the characters and the story.

I will admit there are some parts that aren't for the happy go lucky readers. Bad things happen to good characters  and some ceremonies will make people put the book away in a deep forgotten corner never to be picked up again. If you are not easily offended Game of Thornes offers a lovely ride of adventure through politics, war, betrayal and yes, incest. Gross. My kindle tells me I am only 61% through. So I will be a bit for a thorough review.

Now on to my writing. It's going so well!! Some of you will be shocked to know that I have shared the first twenty thousand or so words with people that have previously never read one word from this particular story. The feed back I have received has been more positive than I could have hoped for. This is good, very good.

I am so please with how well the story is evolving. There are a lot of rough patches that need to be smoothed out and holes that need to be plugged but that will come. I have no fear. I finally have a publishable story!!

I have also taken the stress out of it. I am not working on it every day either. I am letting it come. I am letting my thoughts and ideas work themselves out in my head before I put fingers to keyboard. That was a hard thing to do. Not sit down with it every night and force a few words out. It was like weening myself off an addiction. There was headaches, frustration and sweating...or maybe that's the humid heat I hate so much? Anyway, the story is coming freely and easily. Yay!

Now for an announcement. Drum roll, breathless anticipation, eager bodies waiting not so patiently. I officially have a title! Isn't that great!!  It took so long to find a title I really loved. A title that sets the right tone. That brings you into the story before you open the flap to read the synopsis. This is a title that grabs you, and keeps you. (I hope.)

Bet you want to know what it is, don't cha?

It is so not easy

It's harder than you think. To write a story. To create an entire world. Even if it is based on this reality.

Writing a book is creating a life inside your head. A life full of complicated relationships, and problems.

To say that your going to sit down and write a book, story, article or poem because it's easy is nearsighted.

I know because I said that and it's difficult for others who don't write to understand.

My poor friends. I will go to work and say things like, "I changed my main characters name."
After writing five hundred thousand words with her original name. Some of them look at me and are encouraging. "That's great. I like the new name so much better."
Others roll their eyes and I can see the question on their faces. "Why cant she just finish the book and get it over with?"

I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just finish it and get it published.

I did it again today. I changed the name of my main character. It was stale and too young for the turn that my story has taken. I got the same looks and same encouraging lines. Except for A. I know I have said it before, but my writing buddy needs to be blessed for putting up with me.

I have made some serious changes, and added a whole new level of darkness.
What people have a hard time understanding is that it's a process. The basic story has stayed the same, but it has evolved beyond anything I could have hoped for.

Each time I make a change I hope it's the last but I know it wont be. If I don't adapt to the story it will die and never be published.
So I've started to think of my writing like working in the kitchen.

Some times there are a lot of dirty dishes and messy spots that need to be cleaned up . Some times it's like trying to catch water in a colander. Sometimes it's like putting chili on the stove and letting it simmer, taste testing it. Adding spices and tasting again.

Other times it's like batching a giant batch of cookies. Putting a dozen in at a time checking the temperature, and making adjustments.

One day the chili will be spicy enough, the cookies will bake perfectly and I can plug the colander.

I will get published. I will have a well spiced, perfectly baked, nonleaky book. Someday...

Her name was Hilde

I see weird shit at my job and I work in one of the strangest towns.

Case in point:

I was doing my thing. Standing at my computer screen, watching the monitor flip from facial view, to over view every two seconds. I saw the van approach. It was a monster. One of those seventies fifteen passenger vans. It slowly pulled up to the speaker box and I greeted the woman on the phone.
I asked her what she wanted, she asked for three tickets cause she had a gold card. Okay, whatever.
She's on her phone trying to figure out what to order while the cars are stacking up behind her and I am fairly impatiently waiting for her to pull it together and order.

That's when I saw it. A fuzzy long curved up neck. 

The screen flipped to overview before I could confirm what my crazy brain processes the image, cause there is no way I saw what I thought I saw.
The screen flipped back to the woman and she starts ordering and I am sure I was imagining things cause whatever it was was gone. I'm confused, she's confused and we're having a hard time understanding each other. She's on the phone trying to figure out what she is supposed to be ordering and I am going, "NO WAY!" In my head over and over.

She ordered, and ordered and I saw it again. 

"There is a llama in the back of that van." I jumped pointing to the screen as it flipped to overview. Everyone at my store looked at me like I was crazy. I'm not offended, they do that a lot.
I got a few, "Ha, ha, yeah rights" and "It's a dog." Nope. I'm sticking to my guns. It was a llama.

The screen flipped back and again the llama is gone. I looked at everyone again.
"I swear to god, there is a llama in the back of her van."
Still stares of craziness heading my way.
She finishes her order and pulls up to the window. By now there are several people behind her waiting to get through.

Sure enough the old brown and gold van stops at my window, and there it is. A llama, wandering around the back of the van that has been customized (I can only assume for the comfort of the llama) so that there is just space in the back of the van.
The woman has a conversation with me as if the there is nothing odd about what is going on.
I asked about the llama, who I don't think liked me very much because it kept showing me it's recently shaved rear end.

The woman told me the llama was one of her babies and she took her every where.
And if your thinking why not get a dog to cart around. She had one. A poodle, that was sitting very stately on the front seat staring at me is if I was the bane of it's existence.

The woman took her coffee and drove off like any other normal day. And I am left standing there saying, "There was a llama in the back of that van."
Course when I turned around to face my coworkers I wasn't the crazy one anymore.
By the way, her name was Hilde.

Okay I know...I'm lame.

I will admit that I haven't been a very good blogger as of late. But my poor little brain has been over worked. I have been stressing about my lackluster writing and my failure to strike the right tone. 
But then I had this conversation with my mother. You might have read. Then I joined a few writing fourms.

There are some amazing writers out there and I have had the wonderful opportunity to read pieces from people who are far more intelligent than I.
Then I began to write a satire. It's going well, there are fear farts. And then...I was driving to meet my girlfriend and I was thinking about the tone. I was actually seriously considering tabling the entire manuscript for a while. Let my brain rest, take a little R and R.

Then I was thinking I needed to rethink the entire plot. Keep the characters the same, but do a massive overhaul.

And then it happened. An entirely new beginning came to me. A whole new version. Different place, different writing style and a vision popped into my head.

I sat down at the coffee shop and told my girlfriend that I was going to set my story aside and give it some time, all the while my brain kept playing the vision over and over. She looked at me surprised but accepted my decision.

So I did. I put it aside, I didn't think about it. I shelved it...for about thirty seconds.
I wrote the vision, and then I wrote some more. Then I went home and I continued to write and write and one week later I have over nine thousands words that feel good. Really good. Like I want to share it good.
Someone is going to get to see it other than the two people that have already read it. My sister, hated it so I know I am off to a good start.

And now I'd like to say stay tuned for a playful little story about Poot. The Wobbleweeble.

I cant believe you just said that!

I have been in a little bit of a writing slump these last few weeks and I have been itching to write something, little did I know all I need to do was call my mom. Poof. A short conversation was born for one of my side projects. Now the actual conversation I had with my mother included ‘other things’ that I really didn’t want in my book. As inappropriate as I can be, (Shock? Shouldn’t be.) there are just somethings that I am NOT going to talk about on my blog, or in my books.
Crap, I am showing restraint…I’m not going soft I swear! No really!
Don’t look at me like that. Pot calling the kettle black. Yeah that’s right, you know who you are.
Anyway the following is something that I will most likely include in my book about a girl named Willa Cross.
　
Today sucked. Bottom line.
Whenever I am scraping the bottom of the sucky barrel and need a little perspective on life I call my mom. She never fails to disappoint.
“Hey, mom.” I sighed into the phone when she picked up. Big surprise, she’s distracted.
“Oh, hi honey.” At least she’s happy to hear from me. “Remember don’t wear your panties tomorrow.”
“What!” I cried. I actually let the phone fall to my side and I blushed with my eyes squeezed shut. I took a deep breath and put the phone back to my ear. “Why wouldn’t I wear panties tomorrow?”
“What?” She turns her attention back to me.
“You just told me not to wear panties tomorrow.” I said.
“Oh, honey.” She sighed as if I should know better. “I was talking to yours sister.”
“What!” I cried again. My younger sister is so innocent angels look to her for inspiration.
“We’re trying on dresses.” Mom told me cheerily.
“And why are we not wearing panties?” I pinched my nose. I’m getting a headache. Suddenly my problems don’t seem so bad and I would rather wallow in my misery than learn why my virgin sister isn’t wearing panties tomorrow. But I’m an idiot and I asked anyway.
“Why not?” She asked.
“You know what, never mind.” My eyes hurt from rolling so much in such a short period of time. “I gotta go.”
“Okay.” Mom is missing my thoroughly annoyed tone. “No, no, no. If your going to do that wear that red one, the one that looks like the devil.”
“Huh?” I am so lost in this conversation.
“What? Oh, you didn’t hang up? I was saying if she has to wear underwear she should wear the red thong-”
I hung up. Slumping down on my couch, I realize yet again, my life isn’t as bad as I thought.