I'll forever be that girl

1.   Story idea

2.   Make OneNote Notebook

3.   Jot down shit I know like names and places and plots

4.   Stare blankly at computer

5.   Realize my short ass is in for a lot of research

6.   Look up big themes

7.   Research small themes and crossovers

8.   Go down rabbit holes no human was ever meant to fall into

9.   Find fascinating shit I'll use in a future book

10. Be so appalled I can't look at myself in the mirror 

11. Reread the scintillating stuff

12. Grey matter does its thing by weaving together in my subconscious

13. Have ah-ha moments.

14. Can't sleep

15. Compulsive writing

16. Happy dance at the beauty of it all

17. Want to yeet keyboard into oblivion

18. Research more

19. Lose myself in the web for a day or two

20. Come back crazier and armed with factoids for days

21. Resume writing

22. Question self. Then question why I question self.

23. Manic writing

24. Euphoria

25. Finishes book

Rinse and repeat until the end of my existence.

Ace

I'm near the end. Total of 75,116 words. I know what I want the fourth book to be about. Funny thing being, that's all in my head, where the good shit is. But the good shit needs research. I need a connecting factor and may have found one between the Greek and Egyptian. We'll see.

So I'm on the last chapter of Ace. Jotting down the intro to book 4. Encapsulating the basic plot into a few paragraphs. Then filling in with all the shades and nuances.

I'm building a bridge, basically. 

Book four is quite dark, actually. That's what happens when one backstories the Gorgons. When past abuse begets future abuse. When silenced voices roar. When amends are demanded.

I've been SA'd. Most females have, which is beyond fucked up. I was going to say it was "sad", but you know what? IT'S FUCKED UP.

And writing this material and subject matter with a lighter hand is cathartic. 

I'm reminded of this Joss Whedon quote: “Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke.”

That's me. 

I'll unwind you quicker than shit and then make you blow snot from laughter. I carry tissues for both instances.

There is an art to pain. Every brush stroke. Every key stroke. Every exhalation.

Fear is the memory. Living is the triumph.

Everybody has a story

DISCLAIMER: I have intensive therapy once a week. That is today. I cannot drive myself to or from said appointment. I am more than likely still under the influence.

Proceed with caution.

The Honey works from home. And she and her people are literally at the ass end of a HUGE PROJECT. Months in the works. So on and so forth.

Today is my once a week therapy where I'm unable to drive myself.

Honey is busy.

I take Lyfts.

First of all, I'm me. Second of all, ADHD. Keep those close to your chest.

But I think someone, not me, should put together a story of Lyft drivers. Like my guy this morning has advanced diabetes. He rents the car he drives, by the week. It has the bells and whistles that make it easier for him. 

But still.

The mind boggles.

They are every shape, size, and color. Spectrum of gender. I'm curious as to how they started and why. 

Nice thing about Lyft rides are I can specify I'd rather have female or non-binary drivers. 

I do.

But back to the meat of it. I want to know things. I want to understand them. And having a crack at these stories would ensure better understanding of the job and lifestyle.

It's fascinating.

Yes. I would look in your medicine cabinet, given half the chance. 

Top Five Meme.

😂

This bitch is on fiyahhhhhhh

It's true. Finished up my writing day on Ace with over 70,000 words. Still haven't finished the title yet, though.

Where's my Brad Pitt?

I'm a virtual "say three words, and I'll sing a song" lady

Ace, my third book in the Plot Twist series, is at 62,200 words. There will be at least 10,000 more, I believe. So far, it'll be the longest by a few thousand. 

Writing is my jam. My jelly, also. But my mind has a tendency to think quicker than my typing fingers (100+ wpm), and then the fun really begins. I always read through what I wrote the day before because it's just enough but not too much, you know? And behold...there were four words missing scattered throughout the text. Because I thought them when I was writing and assumed my fingers kept up. 😑

That's a little hitch in my giddy-up. I also love the songs. If I don't stop myself, I'll have contrasting words in my head between the latest song kicked off by a phrase or word and the actual story. 😕

This happened yesterday, and I caught myself typing the lyrics into my text. Then snorted at myself and fixed it. 

Maybe it's my wee grey matter taking a moment. 💀

My ear worms are varied. I have three or four I always fall back into when writing. Then, triggers by text. Singing an ode to Murphy. You know, the regular shit.

Of course I'll share! Thanks for asking.

Ear worms from the underworld:

Take a Chance On Me

Stayin' Alive

Love in an Elevator

I'll Make a Man Out of You

There's at least two more, but I'll save those, I guess, for when I'm writing on Ace. 🙄🤣

A winner in the G search data

Boustrophedon. (BOO stro FEE don)

Isn't she amazing???

*swoon*

Best believe I'm using her.

Finished at a bit over 50,000 words. 

I kinda feel like the word should be a dinosaur or something. Huh.

 

A bit salty

First of all, I've unequivocally stated my position on AI and its ilk. Research? Fine. Doesn't seem much of  way to circumvent that these days. At least not with my browser. But that's the lane it should stay in.

*slides large soap box over*

Authors are special souls. They dig deep when they write. They're passionate about their works. They are proud of their tales.

When I worked at the library, my blood pressure would go through the roof at yet-another celebrity book being published. Children's? Yes. But also, adult. 

I read Drew Barrymore's "Little Girl Lost" and loved it. I picked up Britney Spears' book, and I couldn't finish it. It was horribly written.

Just because you can does not mean you fucking should.

If anyone were to run my stories through AI, and it popped 75% or something (that's a number I read in an article a minute ago), it would easily be sorted. 

All my notes are online. Right now? I have 57 tabs for "Ace". From god origins to popcorn varieties. I'm beyond sick and tired of people who want to be published, pushing out far inferior works that may actually hit a bestseller list. 

The. Fucking. Audacity.

Any writer who uses AI isn't worth their salt. 

If you don't bleed for your art, why are you creating it?