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? 

No moderation or in-between

 Never been a moderate person. Various ways that's both good and not. 

I find myself writing on this mythological retelling series and being fucking delighted. Briefly pulled off to look at two other pieces, but I'm right back to it.

In fact, halfway finished. Sitting at a little over 35,000 words. If pattern holds, I'll finish this by the end of March (maybe beginning of April) and start on book 4. 

These characters live and breathe in me. Maybe that's part of the magnetism. Because it's more like revisiting an old favorite place instead of reinventing the wheel. 

Time to write until my body can't stand it anymore, or Murphy sings the song of his people.

This could go either way.

OG

I've asked agents, at conferences, about blogging. None were enthused. Pity. I enjoy this. And while it may not have a lot of readers, I write it for me. As memories and accountability and a timeline of events.

Now. That doesn't mean I would be adverse to more readers. 

Thought I would wander over to Substack and look at the hype.

I didn't like it. 😑

The layout smacked of the ill-conceived love child of the old Twitter and TikTok. 

Did I ever tell y'all I tried that platform thing where you could keep track of two Twitter accounts? Fuck all if I can remember the name. It'll come to me at 1:33 this afternoon in the middle of another thought. But it was INTIMIDATING. I tried to keep track of both my personal and professional comings and goings. 

Nightmare fodder. 

Promptly signed in back and forth between the two. 😤

As far as Substack, I'll stick to Blogger. We've been friends for decades now. Never been a WordPress girlie.

And the writing?

Well, you guessed it. Hitting up "Ace" again today. I enjoy this story because it's not precisely like the first two. There's a bit more emotion and depth. As for the fourth in the series, it'll be dark. 

Oh, but I love this.

Thought I'd want to continue working on my Time Travel Romance, but this series occupies my mind and time. I cannot wait to write each day. To sit down and weave words and worlds. 

If only I don't spontaneously combust in the Sanctuary.

😓

Ace

Currently working on "Ace", the third book in my PT series. Stopped today at 31,200 words. Couldn't quite leave this series alone. That's not a bad thing. I am deep in Yoruba mythology. Fascinating.

Sometimes I'll blog about my G searches. I'll have to admit to having a moment when typing "blunter" into my story. It's one of those words, and one of those days, it certainly neither looked nor sounded correct. 😦

Like...it bothered me, folks. 

The reason, I discovered, is because it sounds too much like the British slang word "punter". 

Like, my medulla oblongata was not well. I'm frantically searching my tattered grey matter for a reason. 

I should know better. 

But my ADHD wouldn't let this SOB go.

😌

Ever have a panic attack over a word? Yeah. 0/10. Would not recommend. 

Antyway, that's me today. Finished writing until tomorrow.

The OKC Thunder plays the Wizards at 4:00. I'm locked in. We're snagging pizza and chilling the rest of the day. 🥳🎉

Will I be back to giving my endocrinological system a workout tomorrow?

You betcha.

The Murphenator

Murphy Lee. Mighty Murfin Power Ranger. Murphenstein. Murphenheim. Murfinturkle. MiniMurf. Screech. Squeak. Boy Child. What is your damage, Murphy? Murphenfoofoo.

I love my new ginger boy. We are all still adjusting, but that's to be expected. I think it takes a feline at least 3 months to get mostly comfy.

Not only did I adopt the Murph. He adopted me. This is uber prevalent and germane to today's post.

I try and write from whenever I crawl out of bed until at least 2 or 3. One of us (gives Murphy the stank eye) does not care for this arrangement. Simba, his older brother, used to lie on the day bed in the Sanctuary and rest his eyes. He was completely satisfied knowing I was in the same room.

NOT the Murph. He wants to be in the same skin. 

I do not jest.

We share the same pillow at night, and he must be touching me in some way. He naps in between my legs when I'm in my rocker recliner. 

And the booger head is incredibly vocal. Thus the "What is your damage, Murphy" nickname. Still learning his vocabulary at this point. 

I'm currently at my desk with Murphy approximately 6 inches behind my chair wheel lounging like one of those French girls. I don't mind the proximity. I DO mind writing while he voices his displeasure. When he stands on his back feet and put his paws on my desk top, only to look at me with keen annoyance. When he tries to JUMP on said desk where there is literally no room except for my trauma.

Sir. SIR!

Mr. Man was being incredibly obnoxious yesterday, and I decided to quit writing a bit after 2. I grab an ice water, my phone, and settle into my rocker recliner.

The little shit is NOWHERE to be found.

😒

I beg your finest pardon. I quit, and he splits?

😑

I've told myself I'm not quitting early today. 🫡

My little goober can go amuse himself for a bit longer.

Will Crystal lose her mind and give up the ghost? Will Murphy succeed in his most-irritating ploys for attention?

Find out tomorrow on This is my fucking life.

(picture as proof)