Away from desk

Rounded out the granddaughter birthdays in September. My youngest child's bday is today. She's 29. Last of my babies clinging to the twenties. My middle child turns 29, apparently AGAIN, on October 20th. 

I'm simply happy to actually be sitting at my desk. AT MY KEYBOARD.

Taking youngest granddaughter, newly 3, to shop and lunch this Saturday. I've been spending Mondays and Wednesdays with the heathens (newly 6 and 4 year-old granddaughters). 

This time of year is hectic, and I am beyond the realm of tired. 

Need to make a list for my professional items to round out the year. Need to FOCUS.  

Unfortunately, Amazon sent their toy catalog, and I'm thumbing through there like a mesmerized nine-year old related to Bill Gates. My inner child is so much my outer child.

These toys are next level, and I am HERE for it. Grandson loves Spider-Man and the yellow-haired Anime guy in the orange suit. Don't come for me. Too lazy to Google it right now. Granddaughters love race cars, TMNT, Paw Patrol, Barbies, dress up, and so much more.

In all seriousness, I need to finish "Dream Walker" in the next couple of weeks and push it out by the end of the month. Life has been SOMETHING lately, but goals are goals. Then finish "Canary: Out of the Shadows" which is burning brain cells as I type this.

Onwards and upwards.

Always writing*

...and sneaking peeks at that damn catalog...oooooooo

Dream Walker

I write what I should write. 

In essence, I write what the voices tell me. Does the absolute madness of that sentence bother me? Not in the slightest. The voices say it shouldn't. 😂

While I have over two dozen ideas for books TBW (to-be-written), I don't go willy-nilly into the fray. I have some semblance of order in the madness and gorgeous chaos.

However, sometimes a stray idea wanders in, tells every other story to fuck smooth off, and settles itself into my grey matter with a bottle of Wild Turkey. The liquor flows. The story goes.

Two completely unexpected things happened this year. 

I tried to force myself to write to market. Sweet Jesus. This was horrific. I failed miserably. Wasted my time. Regret. Flogging myself with an ampersand. Shame, etc.

The other being a character named Rissa, who wandered into my world. Okay. She kicked in the doors, scared the shit out of everyone but Ray, and settled in for the long haul.

Her story resonates. I have a thing for damaged characters. A ken for the lost souls. Being a serial killer at the grand age of seven counts.

Ever had something special about you? Something wonderful no one else could do? Then have it twisted to become the worst thing about you? Used with absolutely no regard to your mental or physical health?

Rissa has.

And the price?

The price was only her soul.

I had to tell her story before I finished Ray's in "Canary: Out of the Shadows". 

I should finish this month. I lack right around 10,000 words or so. Some stitching. Definite polish. 

But the story? The awful story? And Rissa's redemption? Oh. It's all there. 

Mother/Mimi/Writer

Yes. In that order.

I always thought once I reached a certain age, I would have less complications in my life. I now know that was bullshit to the highest power. 

There are second-generation issues from my babies.

There are third-generation issues from my gbabies.

Everything else steps aside for them.

I write every weekday morning, Saturday, and occasionally Sunday. This morning, I chose to write and work on my book cover for "Dream Walker". (I DO like my period outside the quote marks.)

I edit from the beginning of DW, do a bit of stitching (pulling scenes together, adding chapter headings), and write on a couple of scenes.

FB message from middle child. She is encountering a large amount of stress. Would like my thoughts on something. My pleasure. We chat for a few. I think she feels a bit better as we wrap up.

I go back to the written work.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, oldest child snaps me and asks if I'm busy and if he can vent. Nope. Not busy. Hit me, child.

Snappity snaps.

Writing is my passion. I often joke I would be the woman in Bellevue, back in the day with a piece of chalk in her hand, content to scribble on walls the rest of her days. I know for sure I wouldn't have been let loose on the streets. But I digress.

But those who come from me are my soul. These are the pieces of me left long after I've disappeared from this earth. They deserve my love, time, and support more than any one or thing. 

That is perspective. 

If it takes me a wee bit longer to finish DW, then I suppose it takes a bit longer. 

True dat.

Always writing*

...and searching for the purrfect gif...

   

 

Continuing Education

Everything in this world could use some continuing education. You like to paint ceramics? Keep taking classes to find out new brush strokes or combinations of colors. You like to write scripts? Keep taking classes to keep up with what's in demand. You like making slime? Keep watching YouTube videos for what you can put inside slime that won't disintegrate.

And if you love writing books, well, you've a world of continuing education in front of you.

First of all, the book world is constantly evolving. "Never" is never used. Writers will "never" like they've "nevered" before. I love it. Second of all, market changes on a dime. Vampires are big. Now not so much. Buggy (Amish) are big. Now not so much. What's hot right now? Dark Romance. Reverse Harem. Women are ruling the world AND in-between the pages. 

What do writers do?

We educate ourselves.

I would advocate taking at least six courses/workshops/going to a couple conferences a year. This keeps you connected to the living breathing being that is the writing world and especially your genre(s).

I wasn't able to go to a workshop I registered for last week because I was watching granddaughters, but I caught up this morning. An hour and forty-five minutes on Planning and Brainstorming by Jen Graybeal. It was fantastic and FREE. If you ever get a chance, take one of her classes or workshops.

I have an Oklahoma Romance Writer's Guild Meeting at 2 pm. If you can join a group of likeminded individuals, please DO! This is ALSO free! Wonderful to have a supportive peer group.

At 3 pm, I'm attending another workshop. This one is "Secrets of a Bestselling Amazon Book Page" with Penny Sansevieri. I believe this one cost $10.

It's incredibly important to continue with learning your craft. Honing. Shaping. 

Learning never stops, guys.

If you're in love with what you do, then this is truly a labor of love. 💖

Always writing*

...or attending some writerly business...

The world keeps spinning

I'm in the "WOAH WOAH, you wily bitch...slow your ass down" phase.

It's Thursday, right?

Monday, I got up at 3:35 in the AM because a family member had surgery. Didn't leave the hospital until nearly eleven. Vaguely remember arriving home to shove something in my mouth and fell into bed where I stayed until nine the next morning.

Body? Displeased. Brain? Slightly scrambled. 😬 

Tuesday, I picked up groceries. Well, I park, and the wonderful associates at 'Hood Mart bring them out to me. Shout out to EJ and Kameron! Brought them home(the groceries, not the associates) and attempted to meal prep and whatnot. Was in the kitchen until two in the afternoon. Trying Keto. Wore myself out. In rocker recliner rest of day.

Wednesday morning, I received a text from hospitalized family member saying she's sprung, and I put on clothes and drove down to rescue her. We waited for Rx to be filled. Three out of four. 😒 Dropped her at home and then came back to the city to go to Sam's to finish the rest of the grocery list. 

It's hot.

Have y'all noticed?

The heat wears on me like bags of sand around my waist. I feel like I'm swimming in mud uphill. I loathe it. So I grab a cart I can lean on and amble into Sam's. 

Grab my stuffs.

Check out my stuffs.

Drag my ass back to my car.

Unload.

Park cart.

Shuffle back to car.

Start car and put air on HIGH.

Leave butterfly shades on front because I'm sweating like a dog. 
Eventually cool down enough remove shades and get the hell home.

Repeat grocery hell.

Strip down and slingshot bra (secretly hoping to never see it again). Lay on bed. Fan on. Briefly wonder what day it is and decide I really don't give a shit.

End scene.

Actually in the Sanctuary today. Hoping to write before it gets too hot in here to do so. I'M DONE WITH SUMMER, THANK YOU.

Always writing*

...and bitching about this bullshit heat...

What do readers like?

"A little bit of everything."

I asked every reader who came to my table yesterday what they liked to read. Nearly every one gave the answer above. I love that because that's what I write.

The problem being...the powers that be tell writers to stick to one thing and make it your "brand" except I don't stick to one thing. I like several things. I read eclectic. I write eclectic. I can't brand myself as a paranormal romance author or contemporary romance author or fantasy author or urban fantasy author because I write them all. 

I LOVE writing them all. And as I tell readers and will tell them repeatedly...the characters dictate the story, I simply write the book.

Right now that's an urban fantasy I'm halfway through and a contemporary romance I've only started. The next is the third book in my fantasy series trio. 

When I came up with my logo and tagline, I knew what I was doing. It's broad, yes. But who knows what I'll come up with in my writing? My first book in 2005 dealt with the world of Virtual Reality FAR before its time. I've toyed with a book about parthenogenesis. Flipping the script on gods and goddesses. And an idea I had last night about an alcohol study I find fascinating. 

I have to write everything down, or I will not remember! That's the important part. 

Inman Books

Infinite Possibilities

Yes.

Always writing* 

We all do it

Writers, I mean.

We can't help ourselves.

Honestly? We don't WANT to.

It's an itch. A deep, under the skin, nearly to the bone, itch we can only assuage if we give in. And we SO give in...with delight, I may add.

I love post-it notes. This has only gotten worse as I've aged. It's a need, folks. I have my pastel post-it notes in the "using now" tray whilst the other posties hang tight and wait for their turn. Will they HAVE a turn? Or will I simply reorder more pastels??? Depends on my moody ass. 😁

Oh, sweet Lord. I love notebooks. The reason? I have ink in my veins, and I so need to put that down in...you guessed it...notebooks. Of course, I only write in the PLAIN notebooks because how could I write in the gorgeous notebooks with only notes??? No, folks. Saving those for something special. What that special thing is...no one knows. Not even me. Yet, we wait. And we save them like they're the Holy Grail of paper bound in sacredness. (This the tiniest fraction of my cache. Amen)

I have gel pens, colored pencils with multi-colors for the lead, highlighters, pastel highlighters (yes...I am on a pastel kick--but they are so PRETTY), and colored pens.

Of course, if you read my last blog, you know I only write my notes with one pen. 

The irony, right?

BUT...when my one pen ran out of ink and was being wonky, I simply reached over and snagged a pen, silver thankyouverymuch, and continued writing. Do I need this many back-ups? 😂 

Of course not! But I think I'm going to use them to write letters to the gbabies. Mimi is that extra.

I'm also a complete sucker for planners. I've actually purchased a 2025 from Amazon, already. But I'm not sure I like the feel of it. That matters, of course. My last two were from the same company, and I liked both the look and feel. 🤔

To sum up, if you take me into a bookstore, not only will I spend forever in the clearance books looking for that weird title that will somehow light my fire and help when I'm writing, I will drool over every notebook and planner in sight.

Yes, I have a problem. No. I will surely not even try to fix it.

Last note: My now-wife took me to a bookstore on our first date. I told her it was foreplay. 😄

You're people will know you. 💖

Always writing*

...and adding more to the collective...