Artificial Intelligence AKA AI

 AI does not recreate. It regurgitates. 

The clue is in the name. "Artificial" is simply a "copy of something natural."

*brings my soapbox over*

Before Internet, *ahem* clears my throat because OBVIOUSLY volcanic ash, people needed to find a solid, literally, source of information.

Encyclopedias, school books, dictionaries, and library books. If you were lucky, you owned at least one and could borrow others.

Knowledge obtained through solid material resources with involved a TON of reading, especially to borrow the requisite library books. And if you could only borrow two or three from the school library, then they best be the best.

But woe unto you if someone quicker obtained the desired material first.

All this to say...it was work. Solid work. Some it was also false. I remember coloring in a diagram of a tongue in fifth grade with different flavor centers in certain areas. 

COMPLETELY FALSE

Science? It evolves, loves. It literally lives and breathes.

But let's toddle back to fiction, shall we?

In the beginning, *cue horns and percussion*, AI was force-fed tons of fiction, also non-fiction. But bestselling authors took a hit. The ones off the top of my head are Margaret Atwood and Stephen King. 

Now, this AI, artificial remember?, can now spit out stories similar to the two authors using diction, spelling, and vernacular. 

Does that make AI as good as Stephen King or any of the others AI content creators stole from? 

Fuck, no.

Because here's the rub. Creativity takes passion. 

PASH UN

AI doesn't have a soul. And if it did, well, I wouldn't give two fucks about writing because the world would be trying to survive the mass genocide.

It's like Chris Pratt said to Bryce Dallas Howard in "Jurassic World" when referring to the specially-bred dino (Indominus Rex) with the bad temperament and super hero features. 

Can't find it verbatim, so I'll paraphrase. 

What's it made of? 

BDH rattles off a few dino DNA names. But it was bred in captivity. 

You mean to tell me she's never been with other dinosaurs? Imprinted on anyone? All she knows is that big crane dropping in a cow. That's all she's bonded with?

LATER...AFTER MASS DESTRUCTION AND DEATH

Well. She's top of the food chain now and knows it.

*end*

Do you feel me?

If AI were simply another tool to use like a dictionary, thesaurus, or resource material, I'd be all over it. But AI doesn't stop there. It can now chat with you. Sympathize (NOT empathize--you need a soul for that). 

And a LOT is being made in creative communities about the use of AI to write and form pictures. 

I hate it.

A lot do.

But if you're not willing to put in the work, use that grey matter, I guess a pale imitation of what could loosely pass for a book or painting would work for you.

I had a problem with something from Amazon the other day. Hitting all the boxes did not help. I resorted to "chat." *LONG SUFFERING SIGH*

Finally, after it had given me back every response I gave to it, with the words messed about, I achieved my goal. NOT because the idiotic AI whatever could glean what that was. I had to STATE IT.

If I need crayons and puppets, I shouldn't have to waste my time.

I don't know what HDs are, but I've got 80 of them.

Current situation.

PT will be renamed "The Broken Discus" as the new working title. The second in the series will be called "The Morrigan."

Finished BD and have 55,000 words on TM. Blowing through it would be putting it mildly. I have never...literally...never written like this. I would say something about "getting used to it," but I'm a believer in some superstitions and will hereby keep my trap closed.

Will edit "Canary: Out of the Shadows" and publish it by the end of February. Tried for the beginning of February but was immersed in my series. When you're in the flow, you keep flowing.

Now here it is...all laid out and about. 

Third book in mythological series. I already know what the fourth is about. But this one comes first.

New Erotic Romance 

And now, as I sit in front of my computer, I can't think of the third thing. Must've been important. 🤨

Update on the Murph 'n' turf. Could've called him "Hunter", and it would have worked, also. This boy carries his crinkles in his mouth. Drags his wands from here to there and back again. Tears the feathers off said wands. Gave him a lamb chop, spur of the moment on adoption day, and he has jacked that poor baby up. 

But when I pet his oh-so-fluffy bunny belly, he makes sure to not scratch me like he would another kitten. However, this little shit digs his claws in, not thinking, and my limbs look like constellations, at this point. 

Murphenstein has also decided to grace me with his feline presence around 2 to 3 in the morning. And he wants to cuddle. I don't even cuddle with people. Or he'll use my arm as a pillow. OR my pillow as his pillow. 

All in all, he's pretty fucking awesome, and I love him dearly.

Haven't been watching the Olympics. But I did watch the entire Bad Bunny halftime on YouTube. Knew I would love it. 

I have been, however, blowing through the Dept. Q series by Jussi Adler-Olsen. I could not get enough of Season 1 on Netflix. Impatiently waiting for Season 2. FOR ALL THE REASONS.

But I'm on book 4 of the series now, and I'm going through one every two days or so. That's my downtime from writing.

Other than that, it's supposed to be 81 here today, and tomorrow will be 61 with a strong north wind. 

Spring? Winter?

Your guess is as good as mine. 

7000

 I really want to think up something like that awesome song "Seasons of Love" from Rent.

Blew my own mind yesterday and ended with over 7000 words. I ached like a mother, but it was worth it. Don't ask my hips and back. Only my mind. And the two huge Cokes I bought from Sonic. You may want to ask those. 

The Mighty Murphin Power Ranger (ginger) figured out how to sleep with me at night, not only during the day. Little chicken butt pressed up against my left side. Used either my arm or pillow as HIS pillow. 

This child. 🙄

Doesn't care for when I come into the Sanctuary and create my various worlds. Mopes around and meows for about fifteen minutes. Now, he's safely ensconced on my day bed, thank you Lordt.

This boy simply wants to be ON you non-stop. Wants to be petted always. I'm all about making that happen. After losing Simba, I still miss him so much, I wanted to make sure I didn't treat my next ginger baby the same. Or have expectations of same behaviour. Though, I did buy the little asshole a water fountain because Simba loved it. Murphy seems to, as well.

You know how kittens wrap their front paws around themselves and do like a full body hug?

Murphy has done that twice--while holding my hand between his paws. Pretty sure my heart exploded.

Still look like a pin cushion.

Thanks, Murph.

I am aghast at this fucking world. 

This piece of shit administration obfuscating the truth on the daily. There needs to be some fucking accountability. Because NO ON else has the option to do this bullshit. All this "above the law" "I make the law" "You are all beneath me" horseshit is about to raise my blood pressure to unsafe levels.

Whew.

Pretty sure most of you know which way I lean, anyway. Always good for a reminder, though.

And a vent before I stroke out.

It's Trayvon Martin's bday today. 

It's a good day to remember this child and the brutality forced upon him. And it's a good day to make sure it doesn't fucking happen again.

Rest in peace, child.

Rest in peace.

Diverse genres

When I attend a book event, and I speak to readers, most are surprised I have such an eclectic collection of books I've written.

And, honestly?

I'd go mad, if I didn't.

Romance is my go-to since I've been reading them since the age of 12. Old Harlequins in my grandmother's rumpus room. I've always been fascinated with fairy tales, fables, and mythology. My usual Christmas gifts included a Stephen King hardback and a book of fairy tales.

Now.

Small fun fact: I read the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe when I was in sixth grade and didn't sleep for three days. 

Moderate, I'm not.

But I'm a sponge. I need to know things, and that doesn't come from sticking with one type of information. I read eclectic, therefore, I write eclectic.

And that reality is simply that when ideas come to me, I sort them into appropriate categories and go from there. 

I never planned on writing an Urban Fantasy/Magical Realism three-book series. But when they come, the ideas DO NOT knock. More like the Kool-Aid man coming through a brick wall.

Yes, I'm THAT old. 

I never planned on writing my mythological retelling series, but I'm a book and a half in. And last night, I thought of a brilliant idea for another erotic romance. 

I needed to add to my erotic collection as I have a smutty conference in October. 😁 I've three titles I can take, but I wanted at least one more, possibly two.

I've learned to never dismiss my ideas. If I can't work on it immediately, I make the notes I have and save it for a better time. I will never, ever, run out of ideas. It's a wonderful thing.

However, branding is a right bitch. Because most authors, especially when they write romance, stick to one type of book. They're Dom-daddy Mafia or Romantasy or dark romance or reverse harem or time travel or contemporary.

I write what calls to me. What I want to. And I will not add elements nor take them away to fit into another person's rules of what a certain romance should have. *insert copious profanity*

All that to say, don't turn down what speaks to you, even if it's something you never imagined writing. Don't try and shove your work into a set of rules you don't like and can't abide by. 

I wanted to write for Harlequin SO BAD (about 20 years ago) because that's what I knew. Like...dream job. But, at the time, there were INCREDIBLY specific rules for every category romance. Like 60% heroine, 20% hero, exotic settings, 20% mystery, and no pets.

I was...aghast. And, let's face it, completely turned off.

I do not create with rules in the back of my mind. I'm a huge proponent of "Learn the Rules" then break the rules. It's freeing and oh-so-delicious.

But you have to make it work in a way that best suits your writing. Don't break for the sake of breaking. But take a deep breath, focus, and then bust that damn window.

Back to PT: the Morrigan. Man, this goddess is SOMETHING. 😬 

A rambling post

True story...when I remember to take my ADHD med, I micro-focus. Like...I can hone in, but then it's like an addiction, and I have to absolutely lose my mind over all the questions I have.

For my fine first example:

Watching the Honey play Animal Crossings New and Improved Somethingorother. And, of course, she's swimming, and I HAVE TO KNOW how much the items are that she's bringing to the surface. Immediately sate my curiosity. But then...dun dun duuuuunnnn...I need to know how much the fish are, and who's the most expensive?

sigh

Then I hop onto FB, and someone asks about Sigourney Weaver and the use of her first name. 🎉🥳

Are you shitting me? Off I go. Because her birth name was Susan, and she chose Sigourney, which is a French name that means "The Conqueror."

I am in the groove.

Then I need to look up whether "mum" is a flower of and by itself, or is it the nickname for "chrysanthemums"? It's the latter, by the way.

That's most of my evenings in a nutshell.

Oklahoma weather is some weird-ass bullshit. Supposed to cool off a bit Wednesday, but then we're back in the sixties and seventies? I beg your finest pardon. WTF is that supposed to be? We going to rubber band back to frigid temps in a week? Is spring upon us? What the what.

My arms and legs look like kitten pin cushions. 

Thanks, Murphy. 🙄

Querying again today (said in my best sing-song voice).

And we all know how much fun I find it. 😶

At this point in time, I wish most agents would switch to Query Tracker. I'm cutting, copying, and pasting my queries, synopses, and chapters. Some through the abovementioned site, and some through personal emails. 

sigh

A lot of it is my unorganized ass, which oftentimes thinks it's organized. I keep copies of the queries. I have a folder. What more do you people want from me???

PT: the Morrigan is now sitting at 30,000 words, and I am most excited about it. It flows, sistren and brethren. It fucking FLOWS.

That's a wrap.

Clickety click click

I've often said when I'm in the flow, my writing clicks. Like cog on cog interaction. Everything meshes together, and it's often like I'm seeing it and merely writing down what I see.

This is the best feeling ever.

That's how my writing has been with PT, and PT: the Morrigan. I'm writing chronologically. Ideas are coming to me as fast as I can write them down. Scenes unfold. I don't have to literally pull my hair out to continue the narrative I left off at. I don't know as I've ever had this level of synchronicity. I can't remember it ever being so.

I'm feeling a bit spoiled as I'm cranking out 4000+ words every time I sit and write. And they're GOOD words. But it's indescribable. Tiring but worth the hours put in. Because I feel as though my works are blooming into a place I'm meant to be.

I've often said, with this series, that I feel as if it's a culmination of my experiences and interests. 

Bettering myself. Mythology. Familial bonds. Growth. Humor. Finding truths in parallel worlds. 

Now that I've beat my own drum, I'm back to PT: the Morrigan. Man, I LOVE that warrior goddess. 

Sitting at a little over 24,000 words. 

Clickety click click.

Winter? Is it still winter? Feels like winter...

Snowmageddon wasn't as awful as anticipated. Doesn't mean my short ass got out in it. Hell...no. I think I left the house the Thursday before and then yesterday. 🤨

And those were necessities. Did another grocery pick up this morning and won't do that again for around a week or so. Tomorrow? Single digits. For the love of all that's good. Then back into the fifties for a smidge. Some absolute optimistic meteorologist/rocket scientist forecast a week from today would be sixty-eight.

ahem

WTF?

Now...maybe reaching fifty. 

The weather, of course influences me in all sorts of ways. My hips have been pissed off and singing the song of their people since Thursday. Not a fan. Had a night I could hardly fall asleep. I have a trigger finger now, because why not? That SOB aches in this cold business.

And my fibro? She's absolutely overcome with...whatever bad things you can imagine. I don't have enough profanity to supply at this time. Shocking, I know.

But I write when I can. PT: M is coming along nicely. I knew who I wanted to be the main focus, but I needed more side characters to complete the story. Lucky for me...I have ADHD, a charged phone, and Google search instincts that are the envy of my children.

I AM their Google. 🙄

The cold weather does provide with the feeling of having purpose. No one's out and about and grilling. I don't have to see people enjoying the sun. (A lot of my meds are NOT compatible with the solar entity.) I can simply take my time and find my rhythm.

Does that mean I want Jack Frost to stay? 

Erm...not for TOO long. But I also don't want 120 degrees in June. 

meh

Climate change is real. 

So are my hot flashes.

Murphy

 Murphasaurus Rex. The Murphin Man. Murphinator. Murphy Lee. Murphstradamus. 

Adopted a new baby from a local rescue. This is Murphy.

He's 7 mos old and the sweetest soul. Adopted him Wednesday, and we recliner-rotted for the past three days. Little man has no idea why I'm on this godforsaken piece of technology when he clearly needs me to provide a lap. 

The indignity AND the audacity. 🙄

That's where we are at. Have a new son. Pushing back to the writing. Waiting for it to pull a snowmageddon here. Oklahoma is supposed to be out of order until Wednesday.

Adopt! Don't shop!

Queries

 This falls under the "trial and tribulations" of this page. 😑

Queries are self-explanatory. The definition is: a question or request for information. 

Awesome.

It is also the way in which an author asks for literary representation. Many agents are on Query Tracker. This is also an excellent way to search for agents and literary agencies who are seeking what you are attempting to sell.

I also recommend MS WishList. Agents can be separated into what they are interested in. Small caveat. Do the research. Some agents are no longer with the agency listed. Check the agency site first.

Having thrown that out there, I'm seeking representation for PT. Am I going to give up indie publishing? Of course not. I love doing what I'm doing. And I write entirely too quickly to settle for a book or two published a year. My goal this year is FIVE. I will make that goal, if not surpass it.

*DEEP BREATH*

Queries stress me out. Not as much as a fucking synopsis, but still. And the absolute insanity, for me, is the repetition of matter. Most queries want a "query" and a synopsis and a sampling of work. Cool beans. But, they want it in different formats and in multiple ways.

This is entirely their right. They utilize what works best for them, and I'm sure they've winnowed down the process to the most expedient.

Do I like it?  NO. Do not like.

Do I understand it? Yes. Of course I do.

But, after a bit, the words start to blur. Oh. You want the first ten pages, first three chapters, or first four chapters? You want a paragraph summation or one sentence? You want me to prick my finger, or do you need a vein???

I don't even remember how many .docx tabs I had open. They filled the bottom of my screen, because I am trying to also be expedient. These two wants, mine and theirs, do not seem to mesh. 😂

But I persevere. It's my way. And so I tell you the same...stick to it. If you've a book or two you'd like to offer to an agent, please do. It IS worth it. I'm seeking wider distribution, as in more readers. I want book tours and bestsellers and bringing fans together. I want it all.

In the meantime, however, I'll finish editing "Out of the Shadows," my third book in my urban fantasy series and start work on book two of PT.

I'll probably also look at another romance. I've one circling pretty close. We'll see how book two of PT works out for me.

Best of luck. Always! 💖

Routine...I wish

People have routines. I envy them. I now realize I wake up daily with some semblance of an idea of what I'm going to do and hopefully enough energy to attempt.

I have the same thing for breakfast. Every day. I swear to everything I never prep the same way twice. I don't do step one every day. It's like my brain can't quite catch the repetitive hook. I have the steps. I don't have a set order.

I remind myself, daily, of what day of the week it is, because I do laundry on Friday. Sometimes, it ends up being Saturday or Sunday because I forget. Like...marker from a white board. Clean slate. I have one standing appt weekly I always forget what time. Never fails. I keep checking my text from them to make sure I have the right time.

It's exhausting.

I AM a planner person. Oooooooo...I am SUCH a planner person. Well, you know, I own pretty ones. And I've become fairly decent at writing in appts. Except, when I move the sacred planner. Where is that bastard now???

I've come to realize several of my "quirks" are, in fact, due to my ADHD. And that's perfectly fine. Except when executive dysfunction hits. Or, a new one, ADHD paralysis. Because why wouldn't there be such a thing? 🙄

Check this:

People with ADHD freeze (ADHD Paralysis) when overwhelmed by tasks, decisions, stress, or sensory input, feeling mentally or physically stuck, unable to start or prioritize, leading to mental shutdowns, procrastination, or distraction, stemming from impacts on executive function like planning and prioritizing. It's a neurological response, not laziness.

Hey hey! Party is in my grey matter. Non-stop. 🥳

All this to say, I somehow manage. It may not be pretty or timely, but I still attempt. And that, my friends, is the win we all hope for.

What if I use my OWN imagination AKA making it up as I go along

It's Wednesday. Didn't type that for you. Typed it for myself, so I would remember what day it was.

Yeah...it's like that.

I am completely appointmented out. Last week? All five days. This week? Three. 

meh

In completely unrelated news, writing on PT is popping. I'm banging out at least 5000-6000 words every day I write. It's smooth, and I'm...flabbergasted but grateful.

I mentioned in a post on FB that I feel this series has been germinating in me since I was twelve. And all the information I've digested since then only makes it stronger. 

The source material is basically unlimited.

And when I hit a dead end with a fictional character...I make shit up. Shhhhhh...🤫

You didn't know we did that? 🤔🤣

But here's the deal: it has to fit. And THAT is no small feat. I will research (rabbit hole) everything I can find on the time period and its people. Then I look at important dates. Study relatives. But when I hit an ancient character, and the only thing listed is father and brother?

I have fun with it.

It's trite to keep using the same characteristics for a certain type of character. Sure, we could make the vampire with dark hair, pale skin, and sharp incisors.

BORING.

What if we make him blonde? Maybe blue eyes that turn to grey when he changes? Good sense of humor. Loves garlic on his pizza. Admires his own reflection.

This is why I continually tell anyone who will listen to me about writing: LEARN THE RULES. BREAK THE RULES.

Or a werewolf that only turns human during the full moon? Banshees that sing lullabies? Hephaestus is insanely handsome but hides it as he doesn't want to be in a competition with the other gods.

The world is not only your oyster but every other seafood you can imagine.

But you need to make it fit. That's the magic. Developing a full character from a hazy description and two vague relatives. You are creating a fictional being with loves, hates, and quirks aplenty. And they need to add to the narrative. 

Have fun with it.

In shitty news, tomorrow they're cutting out the pilar cysts on my head. With fucking needles and stitches. 

I am...unwell. 🖕

Rabbit holes

I need to know things. Or, at least, that's what I tell myself when I hippity-hoppity down another rabbit hole. Okay. I swan dive. 

Hands together. Big jump.

Immersion.

I do this for a few reasons. 

1.  I was born this way. Maybe it's the ADHD. Maybe it's the Aquarian. Maybe it's the INFJ. But it's always me.

2.  I will always, ALWAYS, use information I found in another book, if I don't use it in the one I currently write.

3.  My grey matter insists on knowledge. I want to KNOW.

There are so many facts at our fingertips that it can be overwhelming. That's when I know I need to ease myself out of the hole, slowly, and back up like I'm tip-toeing through landmines. Because one more tiny piece of information, and I'm gone again.

It's incredibly easy to be snatched up. Can't even remember exactly what I looked up yesterday, but I'm reading it, while my hand covered my mouth, and my eyes were saucers. It's engrossing. 

And everything is related to everything.

And while that's a broad statement and arguably arguable...I stand by it.

That's the damn Internet bread crumbs I follow where one search begets another begets another and so on and so forth. I try to stop before I arrive at the edible candy house.

I looked up Modresnact for reasons. It's my Grandma Bell's birthday. I loved her completely. And it fit wonderfully into my story. It was about three rabbit holes in. 

Trust yourself, but also? Dig deep. You never know what may be hiding in the next rabbit hole over.

🐇🐰

Saturday Saturday

I've cleared my schedule today for writing. I'm neither locked-in nor focused right this minute. Hope that'll change after I warm up with this here blog.

This last week was hectic as hell, and I'm trying to recover. A few doc appts and a lab. The absolute horror. Needles and I are not friends. Ironically, I'm going to have to have surgery on my pilar cysts. You know. Local under the scalp. Excise. Suture. 

(I'm so fucking stressed about this...)

Proof.

Ah, yes. 

Evidence establishing a truth.

Some labs already came back. And the numbers? Show I'm inflamed as all hell. Which, you know, I could've told everyone without the blood draw. But the numbers prove what you cannot see by simply looking at me. 

I'm rickety, kids.

I want to tuck the results in my purse and haul them around with me. 

But I shan't.

In other news, working on PT today. 40,000 words. Hope to finish with around 65,000. Then, of course, lead a trail of bread crumbs to the next book in the series.

It's funny, I didn't purposefully start out with this book idea as the first of the series, but it's inevitable with the subject matter and characters.

And, as much as I enjoy stand-alone books to write, I find myself gravitating towards series. 

That's me. Hoping for immersion today and 5000 to 6000 words. 

Renee Nicole Good.

Say her name.

💔

Now, I'm simply showing off

Well, well, well. What have we here???

It's me again!

I've written approximately 5000 words a day, since December 14, 2025 on PT, my women's fiction. I'm at 32,719 words as of this moment. 

I always used to bitch about doing research because I tied that term into the unholy fucking shit I had to do in high school. And my ADHD brain would quit somewhere about a third of the way into it and not come back.

But Google searches relating to my story and all the factoids I can consume?

Gimme

Searches for today:

Tyrian purple--Tyrian purple is a legendary, costly reddish-purple dye from ancient Phoenicia, made from the mucus of Murex sea snails. MUCUS...from sea snails! 😮

Regal Heritage Ring--GORGEOUS

Apollo gem

Laurel wreath meaning

Old Greek precious metals

I'm only halfway finished for the day, but that gives you a pretty good idea. 💖

Currently tempting fate

You are NOT hallucinating. I'm three for three. 😁

Let's talk "Stranger Things"...NO spoilers.

Finally got around to watching the finale yesterday. Had therapy earlier in the day and wondered if I was actually emotionally equipped to handle whatever the Duffer Brothers decided to throw at me.

I was not.

Cried the last 45 minutes of the over 2 hour finale.

Takeaways for writers:

1.  Not everyone will like the ending you create. Write it how you want it, anyway.

2. Make your readers laugh, cry, and curse you AND the characters.

3. Leave them wanting more.

4. A brilliant premise deserves a brilliant ending. Sew it all up with love and care.

5. Character arcs are fucking everything.

6. Epilogue.

I love epilogues. One reason is that I'm that ADHD chick who likes to use the parenthesis and ellipses to continue my thoughts and deepen explanations. An epilogue, for me, is the bow on top. The extra ribbon and flair over the present that's not needed, necessarily, but damn, if it doesn't make it sparkle. 

I want to know what happened to the characters. I NEED to know. Sure, I could use my over-the-top imagination, but I want to know what the creators envision. Give me your ENTIRE soul. I accept no less.

Because characters live within the authors for a lifetime. We've birthed them. Nurtured them. Guided them. They are as much a part of us as our DNA. We've envisioned them in the past, present, and future. And readers, or viewers, deserve all of it. 💖

  

Two days in a row?

Pretty sure we all know this trend won't continue. 😑

But while we're here...

Some tips and tools for the 2026 calendar year.

Canva Premium--I make my covers and Insta reels through them. But no lie...I had to lean into discomfort because I didn't know jack shit about it. Now? I am a sight to behold, or something. 

Play around with it. You can do so many things on the cheap.

Bookmark Publishers Weekly. I subscribed for email and print versions. You don't need both. Website info, without a subscription, is timely and informative. Bestseller lists. Recent books sold. Agents acquiring.

Publisher Rocket. Publisher Rocket is the ultimate tool for authors to optimize their book listings and dominate the Amazon marketplace. It's $199 for forever. You can look up "keyword search", "competition analyzer", and "category search" off Amazon. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

At the least, set up a FB Author page. My website is always in flux, needs a revamp, and annoys me daily. My FB page is clean and accessible to all.

READ READ READ! Visit your local library, or utilize Kindle on Amazon. Hit up a bookstore. But always continue to broaden your mind and spark new ideas.

I DO have Adobe Photoshop. Bought it at a time when it was hugely on sale with Adobe Premiere something or other. CAVEAT:  It intimidates the shit out of me. So many tabs and drop downs and my ADHD brain goes into "help me" mode. I do finish up my reels on here. That's about the only thing I can manage. BUT...there are so many options if you're looking for something a bit more in-depth.

And always...write. Write when you can. Write when you can't. Write when you don't want to. Put those words on .doc or paper. 

That, my dear ones, is the magic.

New year. Same Chaos Cow.

2026

I'm not Cher. I'll not be reinventing myself. I like myself. But improving myself? We shall see. 

Had an office supply Christmas! 🥳

This includes:

shredder

36 gel pens

MORE post-it notes

little white cat holder for said post-it notes

a comb binding machine 

and a cool rack for my books when I venture to events

Still same body. Same attitude. Same neurodivergent self.

The new year looks to bring, hopefully, more time for self. A time to not only inhale, but exhale as well. When in pain, I will hold my breath, as if the mere fact I'm depriving myself of oxygen will help the pain. It doesn't. 

Going to try and breathe through this year and all its many facets. Easy to say on January 1, 2026. Harder to say on March 20, 2026. So, I guess, continuation? A recommitment to these goals? 

I was a control freak, for the longest time, when I raised my kids. Early twenties. Solo parent. Three kids. A year apart. I needed to feel as though I had some power over everything in my world.

I've mellowed a bit, thank God. But I still have those moments when my fists are clenched tight around something I should, perhaps, let go.

Writing?

OMG!!! 

I'm literally nearly 30,000 words in on a Women's Fiction piece I started like three weeks ago. It's smooth like buttah.  Edit "Out of the Shadows". And I would speculate where I go from there, but honestly? I didn't see this women's fiction piece at all until I couldn't stop thinking about it.

We lets the brain do what the brain does. Otherwise? Regret. Lots of it.

That's me. The first day of 2026. Already have a list for tomorrow. Because...of course I do. 😁