Labor Day

It's funny. I work for other places, I have Labor Day off. I work for myself. Here I am in front of the computer about to tear it up.

The irony.

I did take yesterday off. It was surreal but nice. I think I need to designate Sunday as a rest day. Except, if I get a really good idea. Or one of several other things.

Then, all bets are off.

I only have one appt this week. Have to take Mom to her long-distance standing med appt. Like 6 hours of the day. So Tuesday (never count this day) and Wednesday are booked. 

Remember how I bought that nifty pretty weekly planner thing to write down when I should post on socials?

Yeah. That went south quickly. 😬

I'm now using its magnificentness to write down what I need to do for the week.

This week is: Edit Macaria, write The Rabbit God, and polish another book.

Because my neurodivergent brain must have options. The only one I don't feel like doing is writing "The Rabbit God." This is a problem for two reasons.

1. I need to write the damn thing.

2. I want to write the book after that one in the series.

Here's the dealio...I want to write the book. I have it in my head, chilling. With all the other cool ideas. But the book after that is comedic as fuck, and you know I like to wallow in that shit. Because LA Bennett is taken by surprise. 

As in, all the other surprises, up until now, she could swallow. This one...not so much. Nor does she want to.

Man, I love her.

I switched "Macaria" and "The Gordons" after I finished both. But sequentially, I need to stick with Rabbit God first. 

I respect the process.

I will, however, flip it off, tell it to go to hell, and threaten it with all my literary homicidal tendencies. 

But, I respect it.

Also, stitches update.

Got damn annoying.

Went back Wednesday (10 days) after knife fight. PA Wong removed one of the four stitches and immediately stopped because my skin was pulling apart.

So he slaps a steri-strip on it and tells me to come back Sunday (14 days) after knife fight.

Well, when Crystal only has one place to go that isn't a big deal, Crystal does not bother getting dressed. 

Now, I need to find time to throw on some clothes to wait for an hour for someone to remove three stitches.

At this point in time, I'm just going to adopt them. 

Cue the trio of cute names together:

Marsha, Jan, and Cindy

Tic, Tac, and Toe

Harry, Ron, and Hermione

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy

Luke, Leia, and Han Solo

Don't even get me started on snipping them, myself.

Molly is absolutely appalled but not surprised.

Welcome to my marriage.

Back to the salt mines

I do best when I start immediately working after breakfast. Like, let my food settle and then get on it. I am less ambitious when I have to do things after breakfast but before writing.

We had to run to the bank this morning.

Necessary but extremely tedious.

I am not feeling much of anything right now, much less the will to write.

But, I will.

I need to for a few reasons:

1. It saves my sanity while robbing me of it. (It's an interesting dynamic.)

2. I have deadlines I actually wrote down.

3. I need to add more things to my Book Funnel page to make it aesthetically pleasing. (Someone shoot me.)

4. All I have is the back three pages or so to edit for a book. Why am I blogging, then? 

Blogging is writing foreplay. I'm trying to get into the mood. 

Fun news?

I have all the stuff for my swag bags now so I can build them tomorrow.

About, um, two-hundred, I think.

But that's an item on my to-do list for another day.

I think I have quite enough to tackle today.🤨

In related news...

 ...yesterday damn near killed me.

I count Wednesday as a work day. The only day I don't count is Tuesday because of Spravato. No worries. I usually work at least half a day Sunday and most of Saturday. This is my fix.

Antyway...did a WM pick up at seven in the morning. Because I made an appt at 8:15 for Urgent Care and removal of stitches. Then...eleven o'clock was eye appt and new glasses.

sigh

WM pick up went swimmingly. Rushed home. Put stuff up. By that time, I needed to change and go to Urgent Care. It's a mile away.

Lo and behold, when I arrived in a timely manner, I was told I could indeed, NOT, get my stitches taken out there. Some new policy within the last couple of months. So I took my annoyed self in some Thai lounge pants and Salem, Massachusetts "witch" shirt back to Mercy ER.

Front chick checked me in. 

Then another chickie took me back to weigh me.

Now...let's be clear. I weigh myself every Wednesday. It's my routine, at this point. I look at the woman, tell her I weighed myself that morning and gave her the number.

This heifer looks at me. The scale. Back at me. 

My reply? "No."

That shit will make the sun shine out of your ass. 

She was pissed I broke protocol. I thought it bad form to break out in dance, but I wanted to.

She huffs and takes my blood pressure.

Back out to the waiting room.

Keep in mind, I'm in the ER for the removal of four stitches. They didn't weigh my short ass coming in, so I thought it was extra stupid. You know...above and beyond regular stupid.

Finally land my ass on a hospital bed in the hallway. 

PA Wong comes over and checks out his handiwork. I ask him if he's about to undo it. He says he'll grab his stuff and be right back. 

Cool beans.

The man comes back, snips one stitch, and the skin tries to pull away. BECAUSE OF COURSE IT DOES.

I knew my body wasn't ready for stitch removal, cue the soreness and pain, but I believed 10 days was enough time blah blah blah.

It was not.

Sir put a steri-strip across where the first stitch was and advised me to come back on Sunday (two weeks since my idiotic move.)

Fine.

Then, as an afterthought, PA Wong tells the nurse to get me a thumb splint.

Here's where it gets dicey. 

I assumed...why why why???...this would be something small that wrapped around my stitches and kept my thumb immobile. 

It was indeed, not.

I'm salty as the ocean by this time. 

Seriously? This monstrosity? For my fucking thumb?

First of all, I feel like this is overkill.

Do I want my thumb to peel open like an overripe banana?

Absolutely not.

But, FFS. 

Second of all, this bastard hurts the massive bruise I have on said injured hand.

But do I wear the bitch? Yeah.

I ask the nurse whether I need to shower with it.

She says no. And I don't need to wear it to bed.

Pardon my finest fuck, then why am I wearing it?

I'm supposed to keep my thumb up, and I've been doing that.

The only time I'm probably not is when I sleep.

So I listened to Dr. Inman, myself, and wear it at night now. 

I'm typing right now with no issue, thus far, and my steri-strip is calling my thumb "home" so there hasn't been a huge necessity to put on the beastie. And it's HOT. My poor thumb is in a sauna.

Later, I get ready for my eye appt at 11. It's in one of the malls. Great. I get a map. I find my spot. I park. 

I'm protesting, loudly, at the shit fucking day I've had whilst I glare at my left hand. Yank open the first JC Penney door, it was the closest to the eye place, and then reach for the second. There's a young man behind me who probably heard my diatribe.

This soul looks at me and says, "JC Penney doesn't open until 11."

BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY FUCKING DON'T.

I sigh, turn around, eyeball where my car is parked and think it can't possibly be that far to the next entrance.

Have I stated previously that my impulsiveness is probably an issue?

Yeah.

Found the next exit. Finished my business.

Then hiked half a mile back to my fucking car. In the heat. With this stupid hand binder on.

By this time, I have a lovely headache at the base of my neck, I'm sweating like I think it's a fun thing to do, and I'm cranky as shit.

I am peopled out, there were like ELEVEN of them, salty as Morton's, and could not give a fuck less about anything. 

My body hates me, I'm brain dead, and Murphy has started drafting "Missing" flyers for me.

Today, my darlings, looks to be a bit better.

One hopes.

I have so much to do as far as work, and I'm having the executive dysfunction hilarity, and I need to just do it.

Nike...don't sue me.

It's the last thing I need.

Organization...bahaha

I strive to be organized. Like...STRIVE. This is the first year I've used a planner for every month. And wrote shit down. At fifty-four. 

I know some of it is ADHD. It's actually in the description. Because I have the best of intentions, but I forget. A lot. Like it's a hereditary trait my DNA must hold onto, or I will wither up and die.

I have a PA now. Love her. She helps, thank goodness. She has a sheet with goals for every month and whatnot. Forced me to jot down the wants and needs of my business in black and white. Did I do it for the next eight months?

Of course I did.

It's feast or famine with me.

Sent out a test newsletter a couple days ago. 

Told you about my shitshow with Email Octopus.

But when I went to upload my actual newsletter, it took me five minutes.

I need everyone to breathe deeply with me and say a couple of "ohms" because fuck.

Now. I think I was supposed to let my PA do all of that.

I think I needed to only find the platform, and I don't fucking know what.

🤷

Then give her snips and snaps I wanted in there.

I mocked the whole thing up in Canva, loved it, and uploaded it.😬

I'm a basic bitch with this stuff. It's clean and easy-to-read. Nothing dazzling or glittery. I'd rather save my time for writing. But even having a PA is confusing. She does my reels, ARC management, and newsletter management. 

Unfortunately, my PA dictionary is missing.

What does this MEAN?

I used to be a control freak. Now...I'm a little better. But I want my imprint all over everything. I want my readers to know it's me, and I put the effort in.

Is anything ever easy with me?

Stay tuned for an upcoming blog, "I think the fuck not."

Email Octopus

Ah. My newsletter "platform" which I've been on for the past three fucking hours trying to send a simple test newsletter.

I am cranky as hell and completely over it.

Next time, the heavens help me, I hope to reduce that time by half. 

Needed to take some anxiety pills as I'm teetering on the rails over here. 

Some of it may be the ADHD. But that site is NOT intuitive. NONE OF IT.

And I'm struggling to find air as I'm clicking all the POS words on the side and trying to find something to help.

Tried Google. Tried the site's source of info and help.

None for me.

Finally fucked around and found out. But Christ on a fruit newton, I'm exhausted.

Makes me want to hop off the keto train and self-soothe with ice-cream, or cupcakes, or a tasty cheeseburger WITH the bun.

sigh

Sometimes this life is a bit rough. 

Woe to the two other tasks I specifically needed to do today.

Kuzko and I are in mourning.😭

Bottomless tool box

I'm like a little sponge. I follow several writer groups on FB. I read articles almost daily. I want to KNOW all about the book business. What works. What doesn't. What do readers like/want/hate?

My newest addition to my writer tool box is listening to some guy read my manuscript back to me. It's slow as shit. Around 25 pages an hour. But it's also thorough. I can't listen to audiobooks because they're: 1. too slow 2. I got distracted and almost ran into ditch

So listening to this male is a little bit like death at first, but he grows on you. I follow along visually since that's my type of learning.

If you're not sure of yours, look it up. This knowledge is invaluable.

I don't remember verbal instructions. Don't give a damn if there's only three. They'll be lost in the shuffle of my grey matter.

ahem

Threw together a newsletter.

Okay. Labored over what to put, how to put it, where to put, etc. Because I will overthink a blade of grass, given the opportunity.

Hoping that goes over well. Quite a few readers entrusted me with their email and WANT to hear about my wonderful world of make-believe.

Bless them all.

I'm also contemplating adding book art? fan art? whatever the fuck it's called art to my books. I actually have an artist I can use, and I want them all to be a certain style. 

Am I juggling too many plates?

Is there ever a time when I'm not?

Guys! I have a PA, and I'm still plowing through all these new things. It's exciting and daunting and makes my wee mind explode, in a mostly good way.

Next up, book boxes and maybe kickstarters...to be continued.

Over the weekend, I got in a knife fight.

With myself. We both won. I cut the fuckforsaken industrial strength zip tie, and I went to the ER for four stitches in my left hand.

Should have opened the POS item with scissors and not my pocket knife. I called it a pocket knife until my wife posted this on FB:

Hers is on the left. Mine is on the right. With my O- still on there.😶

Because...I don't play.

Today has been getting over my Spravato lag. It's been getting worse every Wednesday. Exhausted would be putting it mildly. But the stuff works, so every Tuesday it is.

Going to fine tune "Dream Walker" again. 

You really can edit your book all the time and STILL find something to improve.

Daunting, I know.

Finished editing "Ace" and set it up for my preorder. Had my PA send out the ARC forms. 

September looks to slow down with appts (August has been ridiculous), but it's full of birthdays. 🥳🎉

And also, healing from my knife fight. 🗡