Well, well, well...

...happy Thursday or whatever this is.

I try to blog at least every other day. Ya girl has been slacking.

So let's catch up, shall we?

Off to the doc today with GI issues. Bloating. Miserable. Burping. Nauseous. All the fun.

Ethan thinks it's a stomach ulcer (My second! 🥳) and started me on a pill I take four times a day. Cool beans. I'll conveniently fit that in with the three one-week pill planners I have for morning, mid, and evening.

I also have a trigger finger.

Okay. I've heard of trigger finger but never knew what it was. Months ago, I noticed my right middle finger would hitch and then pop back. I assumed it was from overuse. But nay, my good people, stupid finger won't slide into the stupid sheath so I'm stuck with a finger who has had better days.

Good/bad news?

Apparently it's an easy surgery!

Pardon me.

Fuck me.

WHAT???

Yep. Sure. Ethan explained how they go into the finger and clip the nerve, and I'm doing the squirm in my chair because it's a hell of a visual. 

I asked if they did anything with my wrist. He said no. Only the finger.

sigh

Not like I use these bastards to write books or anything. 

My face

So woot for that referral. 

FFS

I want to Google but I so don't.

Kinda like when I had my hip replacement. 

Give me the animated version!

In other, Crystal's body is fucked up, news, I received my handicap placard.

I'm still sitting with this. 

Back in the damn day, I was a work horse. A hoss. Give me the task, I'd bust through it.

From lifting heavy hydraulic arms to working sixty to seventy-two hour weeks to barely sleeping because the kids were in half-day school. 

I did that shit.

And I did it well.

Now, my body is a little bitch most times.

Chronic pain is bullshit. 

Surprise pain is bullshit.

The regular pain is bullshit.

Sharp.

Achy.

Stabby.

Throbbing.

Burning.

PAIN...is bullshit.

Hurts my legs to walk for too long. And for a woman who used to be on her feet in steel-toed shoes for twelve hours at a time, I'm trying to reconcile myself.

Does it help?

Fuck, yes.

I used the placard one day for a WM trip that was too small to have a pickup. Saved my blessed legs and back. Started hurting after I crawled back into my car AFTER the trip. Not too bad during. (I lean on carts.)

Do I feel ten kinds of horrible for having to use it?
Yeah.

Like I somehow need to suffer to prove my fucking disability. 

I suffer enough.

Now.

If the rest of me would calm the fuck down...

Release dates for 2027 titles

Progress.

I've actually made some.

How lovely.

Am I using this day, as I stated several blogs ago, for rest?

Sure am not.

Gotta take the better days when I have them.

Working on my erotic short story for an ASB Publishing anthology coming out for Christmas. Sorting Rabbit God out in my wee grey matter. Editing Macaria for a December release. The eBook will be a dollar cheaper on preorder than publishing date. 

And as I sent October goals to my PA, I actually looked at them.

I mean...really looked.

👀

JANUARY--WARRIOR AND THE SPARROW-ROMANTASY

FEBRUARY--THE GORDONS-PLOT TWIST BK 5

MARCH--FIRE GODDESS-ELEMENTAL GUARDIAN SERIES BK 1

APRIL--THE RABBIT GOD-PLOT TWIST BK 6

MAY--WATER GODDESS-ELEM GUAR BK2

JULY--WIND GODDESS-ELEM GUAR BK 3

AUGUST--GEORGE SAINT-PLOT TWIST BK7

SEPTEMBER--EARTH GODDESS ELEM GUAR BK 4

The Elemental Guardian series needs editing. It was heavily edited 20 years ago by a professional. I'll still comb through it with the fine tooth. The four books are the entire series.

Warrior and the Sparrow will also be edited. Same for it. But, you can always edit. Always.

Do I enjoy it?

Fuck no.

Does the book become better for it?

Always.

Looks like I've tracked off the end of the year. I'm not sure about that, yet.

We all know I have three gdaughter bdays in September. October is the kids' bdays. Then...hello holidays!

And I can flex release dates except for the first two titles of 2027 in my Plot Twist series. I'll make sure they are on time and in the best shape.

Gave myself a bit of time between "The Rabbit God" and "George Saint".

You just never KNOW what may be around the corner.

Do I want to start George now?

YES!

But I need to sit my ass down and think of the chronology. I can't go willy-nilly into it.

I really want to, though.

My chaotic nature is craving it.

Because LA Bennett thought she'd been through it. But wait until Mayor George Saint presents her a problem.

Nothing much can rattle our battle-tested LA.

But this will.

Ace

Ace is an overabundantly egocentric Yoruba deity. The third book in my Plot Twist series is his story. Because this man doesn't believe for one second that LA is there to help him. He assures her it's the other way around.

Between his highness and a kitchen renovation, LA is about to lose what's left of her sense of humor, her mind, and her so-called sanity. Juggling both takes a lot more out of our anti-heroine than she expected. Ace refuses to divulge anything that could help. 

Rhagus takes the lead as LA struggles with new revelations and old scars that never truly healed.

Ace is available now.

*Cue Mary Tyler Moore theme*

For you younglings, it has the line "We're going to make it after all."

I might.

After I slogged through yesterday and got a bit more sleep, I feel like I may be able to write a little today and be productive.

For some reason, the past four or five days have had me down, physically and mentally.

Maybe I'm on the upswing.

Please let me be on the upswing.

Maybe I've pressured myself too much.

Maybe that's my default.

Maybe...🙄

Let me be blunt

Fuck this day. It's not even 9:30 in the AM, and I'm pretty much done with it.

Murphy has decided I don't need any more than four hours of sleep at one time. He was up my ass this morning so many times, I finally decided to get up.

Went to open the blinds and stepped in his vomit. On my bare heel. It was nasty as fuck-all.

Huge headache.

Sinuses blaring.

Keep forgetting I have an appt at 1. Finally wrote a big "1" on my left hand to remind myself.

Had to "verify" my fucking identity on Kindle Direct, or they would shut all my shit down.

So, fuck them, too.

It was a got damn process.

Between two devices and zero patience.

Then, I go online to fill out a form for something I need, and it asks for an email I don't have and won't go to the next page, because I guess that shit is unacceptable. So fuck me.

Oh, and if I don't get the email, then everything is snail mail. 

Difficulty after difficulty.

Ya girl woke up with a sore body and no sense of humor. 

I'm at my limit at a salty 9:35 am.

It's got to get better, right???

Edit, edit, and edit some more

Editing is a never-ending event. You literally must call it when you've run out of time for publication. One of my favorite ways to edit now...having a voice read it back to me.

This also has its bullshit.

Grim ACED. Like the card. I twitch every time.

Character names are often slaughtered.

It likes to spell out some words if they're too short. Example: Nyx. It says N-Y-X every fucking time. 

Why, phantom voice?

Enunciates the "f" word like a dream. 

And I love how it phonetically tackles non-English words.

Also, these eyes don't always catch "here" when I meant "her".

It makes me question comma and period placement.

It's great and annoying all wrapped into one.

Today's fun-filled work day?

Editing "The Gordons", which is full of so much action that needs to be properly conveyed. Also, it needs to be fleshed out a bit.

Will I start on Rabbit God anytime soon?

🤫

Don't ruin the moment.

Do I have to?

Nothing will bring the petulant child out in me quicker than having to talk on the phone. Never mind we had the LONG cord when I was younger that you could stretch across three rooms to talk to your friends. No. Never mind that shit.

Never mind the fact I was on that phone for hours at some times.

We are friends no longer.

Ironic as my phone holds my life in its little rectangular self.

And, like many others, I use my phone all the time.

But not to actually speak to another person.

Received a letter and needed to make a call this morning.

I attempted to bypass this horrific necessity by visiting the website. Chatted with Mike. Nope. That man gave me a phone number I needed to call.

Really, Mike?

🤨

If there is a plus side, it was that Victoria, who answered the phone, helped immensely. 

But, with all my acronyms, sometimes it's fucking hard to actually tap in the number. Much less, have a conversation with reasonable acumen.

Sometimes I'll save up phone calls like I'm a squirrel hoarding acorns, and do the deeds one after the other. 

Purge them sequentially. 

Then exhale after the last, like I had a life-saving reprieve. 

Dramatic?

Probably.

Necessary?

Indubitably.

There are things, as I age, that I specifically will butt up against and refuse. If you don't need my weight at the doc's office, you're not getting it. If something is damaged in my grocery pick-up, it's being returned. 

Less patience. A little more understanding.

Could be worse.