Why am I like this?

You'll never guess what happened last night as I was trying to drift off to sleep. Never ever. Never. 

*ahem*

ANOTHER book idea. 😒

Dear. Lordt.

Good news? My creativity has decided to make a guest appearance.

Bad news? Um...I already have at least three projects...*snort* AT LEAST...to work on.

But am I completely enamored with this idea? Fuck yes, of course I am. 😑

Great premise. Awesome characters. 💃💃💃🖕

The timing is exquisite, right? With all this free time and nothing else to do. 😶😂

So here I am this morning. Sitting at my desk. Fans on high because Oklahoma is trying to bake me. Brain actually firing on the creative side. Water at the ready. And...unsure of what to do.

Start on ANOTHER effing book??? Because I know I could easily bang out at least 4,000 words on it today?

Or work on "Out of the Shadows" which may or may not work out, depending on if I can get in the groove on it or not? 

This some bullshit.

Wish me luck. Just going to throw myself in a trench and see where I land.

Did I mention I have TWO book conferences in August???

I'm a hazard to myself.

*******

No ducks here

People are all about the saying...having their ducks in a row. 

That's cool. For them.

I have no ducks. There are no ducks here. If I had ducks, I would be petting them and oh-so-unconcerned about them lining up in a row.

And little known fact, I DID have a duck once. He was a mallard. Named him Drake. 🦆 Oh, but he was a sweet boy. Got him as a wee duckling. He was being picked on by the chickens. Took his little ass home and loved on him. And ducks are so soft and sweet...NOT Muskovy ducks...he was a treasure. They have the softest little place on the underside of their beaks that is pure silk. Their wings are smooth and glossy. There's a gland on their little duck ass they use to rub on their wings to help them float. Some oily something or other. Then to watch them dive and eat in pools. Head all down. Ass in air. 😁  

What were we talking about???

Ah, yes. My non-existent ducks.

I've been struggling. And I quite hate it. I've a new med doc, and they're messing with my meds because of my new ADHD med. It's creating chaos that I neither want nor need. My body's in an uproar, and I'm completely not a fan. 

My creativity...my LIFELINE...is nowhere to be found right now. It's a slow death, to be honest. I can't focus when I'm in pain, and right now, my body is trying it's best to play Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, cannons and all.

Let's be honest, the best I do, on the daily, is to try and manage the PTSD, GAD, depression, and ADHD. You don't ever get one over on them. You simply try and juggle the best with what you've got. And while I truly want to work on "Out of the Shadows" and my newest Contemporary Romance AND my Paranormal Thriller...I don't have the fucking wherewithal to do so at this moment.

I have two conferences in August. Ya girl is feeling somewhat defeated at this point. 😞 

I would honestly kill for some ducks right now. 

quack quack

The call is coming from inside the house

When I'm in the writing flow, I can easily pop out between 4000-6000 words a day. It feels seamless. The words are coming to me effortlessly, and I am in authorly ecstasy. But when my world is not going well, everything is affected. Simba's passing was a heart punch I'm still dealing with daily. My body is flaring like it thinks it's the best thing to do. And my brain? That heifer feels like she's split into a million little pieces right now.

Focus? Biggest joke ever.

Usually, at this point, I would start the self-defeating talk. Asking myself why in the holy hell I can't just pick myself up by my boot straps and carry the fuck on. This is the talk I would always give myself when everything would be too much. And I'd pick myself up, weary as fuck-all, and continue. 

I mean, really? What the hell was wrong with me, anyway?

ADHD.

Not an excuse. But a verified, late in life. diagnosis. Why can't I pay attention? Why am I bored easily? Why am I easily distracted? Why do I zone out when I should be doing something? 

I'm NOT a weak-ass bitch. 😤 (Thank you, trauma, you fucker.)

My brain was made this way, and I'm just now taking meds that can help alter these patterns. Is it still frustrating?

BEYOND

so so beyond...

But I'm working on being a bit nicer and more understanding to myself and not such a force of unforgiving nature.

I once had a boss tell me that if I expected everyone to work to my standard, I'd never be able to work with anyone. How right she was.

I have two conferences in August, and I need to finished Canary: Out of the Shadows. I'm watching my oldest granddaughter Monday-Friday, and life is still popping. Will I make it? Jury is out. But the bottom line?

I need to calm down.

Crystal*

Exhales...

...a little.

Feel like I've been surrounded by bad juju for a long minute. Still trying to find my feet as I'm off-balance. Not my favorite position, in the slightest.

Still dealing with the loss of Simba daily. And oh, but it stings like a son of a bitch. I've put his little box of ashes back on the day bed behind me on the blanket he used to lay on. It, at least, feels a bit familiar. 💔

I've not been writing because I can't find focus with the Webb Space Telescope at this point. It evades me. I wake with eyes sore and already done with the day I haven't yet started. My thoughts here, there, and wherever but anywhere they are supposed to be. Thought the new ADHD med may help with that. So far? Not really, kids.

I've a running headache. It keeps me company. The little bastard switches to either side of my head and behind my eyes. It's on the side of my right eye at this moment. 

But still?

Life is better. It's getting there slowly. I'm thinking about the books. Always my intro to get back to them. Thinking about Ray and her multiple dilemmas. Serena and how she fits into Ray's cracks. Nessa and Cody. Lacey. Dale. John. I DO love my characters...

The other world has always saved me, you know. From a young age, I would immerse myself in the stories as opposed to what was happening in the real world. 

I still do.

Crystal*

OKC Thunder wins 2025 NBA Championship

Bet.

You heard it here first.

Literally.

You guessed it. I'm on one.

Series tied 3-3. NBA analysts verbally fellating Joker and panning J Dub. 

I'm so sick of this shit.

First of all, let's cut to it. 

NO ONE, as far as analysts and NBA elite, wants OKC to win a championship. We're still "too young" and "too inexperienced".

fuck you

That shit played out last year. 

None of you can stomach us, let alone stand us...thanks Em. 😙

We have EARNED this mfing spot, you elitist shits. That goes for you keyboard players who would shit yourself if Lu or Chet came up on you, and YOU KNOW IT. We didn't get here by chance. It's called talent, you remorseless fucks. And we have heart. You don't LIKE the fact we're kicking ass and kicking teams down? Sucks for you.

We're going to keep doing it.

Over and over and over again.

Nuggets on Sunday to eliminate and then the Timberwolves in the series to win the CHAMPIONSHIP. Because that's how we motherfucking DO.

Shai will be MVP because that's how he DO.

@stephenasmith You're running around looking like a cartoon character on acid verbally jerking the Joker off and trash-talking the Thunder. For years, dude. Years. Sing another song. Your shit is old as you are.

@shaq If you had to say a nice thing about the Thunder, I think it would physically PAIN you. For real?

It was worse when it was KD, Russ, and the Beard. Exponentially. But 9 and 10 years later? Y'all still coming with your tired old bullshit while we're on the come up. 

What's going to happen when when we hold that trophy high? A bunch of mumbling and more weak ass shit? Or finally the recognition this team deserves?

Handle this shit.

Crystal*

Simba

 Lost my feline son of 14 years Saturday.

Going to be radio silence for a bit. 💔

Why the villain?

I speak in fiction, of course. There's the cute little saying about how you should pick a villain over a hero because a hero would pick the masses while a villain would pick you and let the world burn.

Romantic, isn't it?

Is it?

Women are both simple and complex creatures. But we are each different to such a degree that a partner cannot carbon copy their behavior from one relationship to the next. Even if their type is sporty. That could mean fishing, kayaking, climbing a mountain, running, biking, etc. 

We come in different flavors.

But yet...throw a bad boy in front of us, and we are on board.

And he doesn't have to look a certain way. Because this "villain" is all about the confidence. The arrogance. Oh. He can do what he says he can do? 😳 Yes, please.

But let me back it up a second. 

Let's take my favorite sociopath, Sherlock Holmes, specifically--Benedict's version. A sociopath lacks empathy for others. Sociopaths now have "Antisocial Personality Disorder" which rather spells out the issue. They must have lifelong treatment to adjust behavior and reduce the risks of harm to those around them. Sherlock is grey area. He IS anti-hero. He's the drug-addicted, risk-addicted genius who steps on those around him without a second thought. But the magnetism is unholy.

Nonetheless, Sherlock is not the "villain" I refer.

A fictional villain doesn't belong on a psychological spectrum, in my opinion. These villains aren't true sociopaths nor psychopaths. If they were...there would BE no redemption unless chemical interference or something of the sort. They simply COULD NOT CHANGE. The Joker, being a great example.

A fictional villain, the kind a reader flocks to, is damaged. They may be armored, but there are cracks in that armor which have been tended to and reinforced. Nice was two decades back. Nice didn't work. Kind was for idiots. Only power. Only cruelty. Only madness prevails. 

The villain, no matter the gender, buried that piece of humanity deep inside the armor. They actually told themselves they've purged it. But the tiniest bit of their soul clutched it tightly. Held it deep.

And that's the part, dear readers, we connect with.