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)

At a crossroads

Not an impasse, dear ones. But most certainly a crossroads.

This is when I thank my Executive Dysfunction for being the whore it is. I've referred to this fantastic ADHD bullshit more than once. I'm stuck in neutral and: forgot about it, am looking at my phone, order a soda from Sonic, clip my toenails, pet Murphy, hop down the deepest rabbit holes that have nothing to do with nothing.

No, thanks. I don't want any.

It's hard to imagine this if you don't suffer from it. And, as someone else sagely stated, "It's not only for annoying things, good things also count."

meh

Had one of my intensive treatments on Tuesday, and it took me OUT, fam. Wednesday was also a wash. 

And I could not hate many things more.

Every moment I am away from my writing, I'm twitchy. It's my gateway drug to a happy place. Also, hell. 😂

But literally? My skin hurt. My outer stretchy covering. Pains shooting hither and thither. BAD evil headache that punished me relentlessly. I couldn't sleep because I hurt that bad.

I don't have dermis picnics. I don't write odes to my dermal casing. It's skin. FFS. 

But when that shit is painful, ain't nobody happy.

Now.

Let's regroup.

Today is a day of progress (she writes before she even attempts to open .docx). We shall venture forth and embrace the imperfections of ourselves and our surroundings. I don't know how long I'll last with the fucking temps in the 90s, and my Sanctuary is the hottest room in the house. 😑

But yea...I shall endeavor to make it work for me. Until I pass out, and Murphy has to give me oxygen.

He's a good kid.

So that's it.

My roller coaster with my mental and physical health. My absolute irritation with anything that prevents me from writing and moving upwards. 

As for the writing, it seems lately there are a lot of newbies out there. Hi!...if you're one of them. 

You don't ever pay someone to publish your book. Money should flow in the author's (and possibly agent's) direction. 

Don't buy, literally, the emails that are prevalent in today's society that praise your book to the heavens, and would you like some more information?

No. You would NOT fucking like some more information.

Block and send to spam.

You can format in .docx. To me, the easiest. Other people use Grammarly or Reedsy. I'm sure there are others. I love Word. Always have. It's free, for one. It is easy, and if you have a learning curve of some sort, then practice in it. Also, free. Paying an editor can be pricey. Trad publishing houses, of course, offer editors. Finding one for yourself could run into the thousands. Not trying to scare you. Simply letting you know. But yes, it's traumatic. 😵

You can pay someone on Fiverr to create a cover for you. Or, you can dip your toe in Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Premiere Elements, or other artistic apps. I only have the Adobe because they were on sale as a 2 for 1. My short ass DOES NOT pay that kind of money for anything but MS Office Suite.

But, I use Canva. $15 a month. And I've made some great covers from simple photos thrown together. I had the HUGEST learning curve with it and almost dropped it completely. Glad I stuck with. We're friendly for now.

Real talk.

If you are only writing to give to your friends and family, please don't spend all that money on items you don't truly need. Even if you ARE writing to broadly publish, don't go upside down in your writing journey. You should never be paying out (marketing, conferences, etc.) more than you're bringing in.

Take care of yourself. And your books. And your skin...FFS.

Everything old is new again

I'll admit to being laser-focused on my writing while in the flow. Everything else falls to the wayside. Is that normal? No idea. But it's me and my method.

"Plot Twist" and "The Morrigan" poured out of me. Effortlessly. That's a gift I haven't found in around two decades. Consequently, everything in that time period focused on them. Then, I started the third book. Felt I needed a moment. Put that aside. Started my erotic romance. Am giving that air, also.

But in the midst of my trying to decide what to work on next, reality struck. (It rarely strikes. I think it knows I'm not a fan most days.)

I have five books I published twenty years ago, where I just received my rights back. 

Oh look, Crystal! You can work on them. *headdesk*

Two of my recent erotic romance were published oh-so-many-years-ago. One was the bestseller at my ePublisher for three years. Couldn't stand the cover on the other. 

I edited. Rewrote. Brand new cover. Boom!

Good to go.

Now. Let me explain. When I started publishing in 2005, I signed on with Whiskey Creek Press and its imprint Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. I published at least two books a year, sometimes three.

Word came down that Start Publishing wanted to buy the ePub. Done deal. Then Simon & Schuster took over that. And for years, my eBooks were available on the S & S website. 

I wrote a few times and asked for my rights back. Never heard word. So I kissed the Sanctuary carpet when I received the email I had my rights back to at least nine of my works.

I polished about half and repubbed as second edition. 

Unfortunately, circumstances prohibited me from continuing to write at that time. Major house fire. Major move. It was an ugly time. When I started again in 2017, I went strictly Indie. 

In 2005, if you wanted reviews, there were about half a dozen sites you could submit your work to, and they would review it. Bitten by Books. Dear Author. The Romance Studio. And reviewers would get to know you, and you them. It was wonderful. I had reviewers before I finished books. 

Now?

I hope authors are ready to send swag and a card vowing to give up a kidney, if necessary. The review business is a popular one. ARC readers are rare and beatific. I belong to a couple of ARC groups on FB, and it's the same old routine.

Most readers don't want a pdf. They want a physical copy. But even sending one copy media mail, you're paying as much for postage as the book costs.

That's a lot of money to shell out with no guarantee a reader follows through with previous intentions. There are ARC contracts now, which honestly blows my geriatric mind. There's still not guarantee.

But I digress.

😶 

My point, and I do have one, is that I have a four-book paranormal romance series written. I simply need to put the energy for editing and new covers. I also have a time-travel book I can play with.

While times change in the book business, they also remain the same.

Keep writing.

Keep pushing.

All good books find a home.

😌 

Hard pass

For reasons unbeknownst to myself, I've felt like hammered dogshit since Friday. Was it because I did too much? Maybe. Not ruling that out. That's why I wait and do everything on one day. But I felt hot. And it WAS hot. And my stomach was unhappy. 

Went to bed early and woke up at midnight feeling like I was going to throw up. But the fun didn't stop until after three. Stomach crampy and felt like wire hangers in there. Sharp and awful.

Woke up Saturday and couldn't muster enough energy to do much. Went to bed early again.

I HATE to waste days, and that's what it felt like this was.

Realized as I took my nocturnal meds Saturday night that I forgot to take them Friday night. 😑

Seriously.

Woke up this morning still hot. Stomach still feels like there are wires in there. 

And I'm completely unamused. 

Started my erotic romance and wrote a bit over 3000 words. But my body is not up for any of it. Was going to cook dinner last night. 

Yeah...no.

Trying to pull something together because this next week, I'm booked Tuesday-Friday. You'll find me in a puddle Saturday.

I don't like to be inert. I find it annoying and inconvenient.

But here I am.

Inert. 🖕

I had a blog title

Maybe two hours ago. It's gone the way of the Oklahoma wind which means I'll never see it again.

I've:

picked up groceries

talked to middle child

started laundry

fed the Murphinator

put groceries up

did dishes

Am currently sitting in the sauna known as the Sanctuary. 😑

I believe, oh yesssssssssssss, literally just came back to me. The subject. NOT the title, of course. Curse you, Oklahoma wind.

I wanted to chat about reading and writing.

I read what I want. When I want. The last physical book I put on hold at the library was "King Sorrow" by Joe Hill. I gave it plenty of time to enchant me. It didn't. I felt as though I were reading a Lev Grossman novel. I wanted the spark and terror of NOS4A2. That shit still scares me. No joke.

But I digress.

Then, since I'm an impatient heifer, and couldn't WAIT for Season 2 of "Dept. Q" on Netflix, I proceeded to look up the author of the source material and plow through his books. Author--Jussi Adler-Olsen. I read one every four hours or so. But waited until a new day to start. 

I stopped at book 8: Victim 2117.

I believe he may have jumped the shark*. I'll say no more.

(*archaic reference to "Happy Days" episode)

I've not found anything else I want to take its place. That makes me...sad, actually. All I DID was read in school. Ask my Algebra II teacher. 😁

When I write, I don't need the words in that way, because I already have them. I'm creating my own story. Better than any drug out there. I never feel so focused as when I'm storytelling.

But, when I finish a book, I can take several directions.

I published "Canary: Out of the Shadows" on March 4th. Then I added it to Amazon and Draft2Digital yesterday. Put it on my FB, here, and notified the masses.

But what do I really want to do?

Start another book.

Which is grand, except all I had for my erotic romance was the name of the three main characters. I've added another. And since I'm visual, I went poking about G and finding images that suit. Helps me IMMEASURABLY. 

I have some dialogue. Half a dozen locations. The premise, of course. I am FEELING it.

Having said that, when all the booktok girlies and small-business romance stores want to know what romance I'm reading right now.

*blinks*

My own?

I tried to read an erotic romance highly recommended on a thread and didn't make it five pages in. It was written terribly. Fifty Shades, anyone?

Erotic romance is not only saying the dirty words and using eighty different positions. That's Erotica. Erotic romance demands a connection, a price, a peak, and resolution. All while tying the reader in knots. 

If an author cannot provide the above, then call the book what it is. Erotica. And bad erotica at that. 

Ooof. Didn't see my soap box under me.

Imagine that.

Writing romance and any other genre has broad guidelines. Romance guarantees a Happily-Ever-After. That's the kick. That's the payoff. But the path is what makes the story. The hardships. The pain. The connection. There are only so many tropes in romance, and they're pretty basic. It's what you do with your voice in the story which makes it unique and worthy. I'd much rather forge my own path than take the path trampled down by others. 

*end scene*

Disillusionment

The disappointment Crystal feels when researching for her incredibly erotic romance...only to find out that someone she thought was a natural redhead...IS NOT!

The scream I screamt.

WTF?

meh

I'm not sure I can continue now.

Canary: Out of the Shadows

The final book in my Canary series.

Canary: Out of the Shadows

The gods have joined the game—and they want Ray erased.

Every secret bleeds into the open. Every choice exacts its price. Her father’s name is no longer a mystery—it’s a weapon.

As the war reaches its breaking point, Ray must decide what kind of monster she’s willing to become to end it.

The board is burning. The gods are watching.

And this time, Ray plays for keeps.

Ray has never been anyone’s chosen child. Her mother went mad. Her grandmother is Hecate—the goddess of witchcraft and death. And her so-called family? Half-gods with too much power and too little mercy.

But the real secret isn’t in her bloodline—it’s in her father, the ghost no one talks about. The one even the gods fear.

Ray’s very existence is the catalyst in a game spanning three worlds. And the players will stop at nothing until she’s erased from the board.

It's March

Wow. Not November? Because I swear to all that's good and holy I've lived three lifetimes in these three months. Not in a good way.

Will publish "Canary: Out of the Shadows" today. Entirely excited about it. 

I wrote the Canary series as a trio. I never meant to take it further or continue with the characters.

Small problem. I LOVE these characters. I loosely based my protagonist on Lisbeth Salander in "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo". The will to survive. The compartmentalization. The need to protect, though damaged.

Serena, Lace, John, Stella, Dale, Nessa, and my favorite mutant mortal--Cody. That boy grew on me and Ray at the same time. 

And that's it for me. When the book is finished. When I type "The End" and date the last page, the characters don't go quietly into the night. They still live inside me. Another wonderful thing about being an author. To paraphrase Patrick Swayze to Demi Moore in "Ghost"...you take them all with you. It's quite beautiful.

Is it maddening?

If Chris Evans isn't telling you, I've nothing left to say.

That's why I reference my Mind Cabin. But a nice one. Not one of those serial killer hideouts.

And that's where my characters stay and play. They book their respective room, and we calculate when is the best time for them to visit me.

Does this always work?

See Chris Evans gif again, please.

Truth is, I don't know if I'm ready to let the Canary crew retire silently to their rooms. I'm not sure yet. I wanted a crossover, maybe, but that doesn't vibe yet, either. 

Writers are weirdos.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Canary covers

Oh me oh my.

Sometimes, one forgets what they are doing. I am that one.

I designed the cover for "Out of the Shadows" before I'd written most of it.

Now, I'm excited to put this entire project together.

But, if you hadn't seen them, here are the three covers. Designed by me and Canva.

That book that didn't end

I have never, in my entire lengthy writing career, wrote a book that I simply couldn't blow right through. Characters, premise, and everything in-between came to me.

There's always one.

Canary. My wonderful Urban Fantasy series. I love it so much. I love Ray, my protagonist. Like LOVE. Books 1 and 2 came right along. Then 3, the finale, took months. I don't take months. This is not the norm. And I'm not quite sure where the block or blocks came from. Hold up. It's all coming back to me now. (Thanks Fibro and Celine).

It was the fight above and below. Because the fight below actually came in stages. And my OneNote (praise the technological lordt) made it a bit easier for me as I listed out all the elements and then put them in order of important and timing. Really smoothed me out. But took a couple of weeks. And I, in my literary hubris, thought the battle above would be a piece of cake.

headdesk

No, Crystal. It most certainly wasn't. Because I already had the baddies picked out (LOTS of research) to mesh with the battle below because everything is connected.

Then I had to take the baddies talents and proclivities into my soul when matching with the fighter. Then...blend in other fighters to help the good guys. 

It was fucking overwhelming. And I let that get to me. Like...two to three months worth. It was daunting as hell. 

But, finally got to it. Then I had to sew everything a bit, as I already had the scenes after the battle. Had a checklist for each open scene or problem I had throughout the entire series. Then...went through them one-by-one and fixed those. I think it was some unholy number like 35. Because I remember looking at the list and cursing myself. 

It was giving a row of 50 hook and eye closures where 35 were undone. As in a corset. Then I hooked each individually and tightened up the story.

Ta damn da!

And that, my friends, is one of the reasons I do what I do. Ah, the pleasure of the finale. Then, of course, I'm twitchy and immediately start or continue on something else. Because of course I do.

Speaking on Canary: Out of the Shadows, it's going through edits today, and I'll publish it this week. Uber excited about it!

Pretty sure I wrote an entire new story whilst in the bog of Canaryville. And let's hope that never, ever happens again.

😌

I should be writing.

As a writer, do you ever feel like you have a kink and must somehow work that out before truly working on your main novel? Not like KINK...but a hitch, so to speak. It's almost like a mental cramp to me. Something I need to work out to clear a path for better thinking and cleaner writing.

A lot of times, it's this. I like to blog before I write. Cleans out the cobwebs and helps my ADHD sweep the corners. Those ADHD thoughts like to hide in the dark, sometimes. I suppose it's rather like writers needing a clean desk to write. Though others, such as myself, can make do with cluttered, but not too cluttered.

Started on "Ace" this morning. Little bit of fog so I broke that off to come over here. I'm at 17,369 words. Cool beans. Freshest ever. But now, part of me wants to work on my erotic romance. But it's divisive. I'm on this trail right now, and I usually don't fork off until I'm nearly finished. I'm not that. Give me continuation. Follow-through. I can't mess up my rhythm now. Not that I HAVE a rhythm, I guess???

I mean. I do. But that's constantly in flux. And now I'm more confused than when I started.

Go me.

*deep deep breath*

Ace. Yes. Let's do that. Because once I open the door to my erotic romance, I'll have dialogue and scenes to jot down. There'll be more research. 

Hello FBI! Yes, I write books for a living. Never mind my G search. I need to know what type of adult toys are on the market right now. Most popular. Things of that nature. *ahem* And orgasms. I love me some orgasm research. You never know what you never know. 

Anyway, now that I'm sweating, I'll probably hit "Ace" back up since I cleared out some room in my Mind Cabin, more of a chalet really. Shoved my properly improper heroine back into her room until later. But gave her a couple of catalogs to look through. 🤭

Ah, yissssssss...the writing life.

 

Twice in one day

First, and most importantly, here is a picture of Murphy today. No, he should not be there. Yes. I let him, anyway.

No further questions.

Interesting searches for the day:

Yoruba food

How long do foxes live?

Confucius

Wood clad

Colonial house

451 square meters to feet

hostel/dorm/shelter floor plans

And I'm not done yet.

Admire Murphy again. He doesn't leave the house, either.

I don't do boring

But it's doing me right now. 🖕

Twelve thousand words into "Ace". Okay. But I'm finding it a little on the plain side. Every part of me is against this. The first two books slammed into the reader and continued to take their breaths. This one, I feel, is a bit slower. It works for the fact I needed to divulge some information, and I needed certain characters to do this. It doesn't work for the fact I feel like it's taking forever to get there.

I blame the ADHD. And my absolute dopamine-seeking ass.

I can't do slow burn romances. I'm not about high fantasy (except for the master Tolkien--I've read The Hobbit word for word) because the minute I start seeing all sorts of names I can't pronounce, I tend to skip over and then some of the story, if not a lot, is lost.

My attention span is not my friend. But that also means I can read a 53 chapter book in 4 hours.

Tuesdays are a no for everything from me. I have an intense appt in the morning that washes me out for the rest of the day. 

But today?

I hope to either add in more jazzy scenes or come correct with the pacing I want. 

Update on Mr. Murphenstine. He's a bit better. He did get sick, a little bit, this morning. But apparently, ginger boy kitten asshole has decided to absolutely nocturnally terrorize the hacienda. And, the little shit has dug out tinker toys from lordt knows where. But the little buttcrunch is EATING THE PAINT off them. 😠

They were supposed to be all put up. But when your vertical is 4 inches, you can squeeze into all the places.

He's now behind me and chilling out. 

For now.

🙄

Okay. That's me. 

I already know where I want to go, of course, with the story. But now I'm playing with add-ins. The internal conflict is so much more than the external conflict, and I don't want to lose a beat.

Making magic. ✨✨✨

It's been one shit of a morning

There are days that are simply POS motherfuckers you want to cleanse from your memory and soul. And these have nothing to do with the sacred writing. But how can you write when you want to absolutely show your unhinged side?

I'm having one of those days.

Let me complain for a bit.

Toddled to the Sanctuary after a bit of toast. Look at me adulting. Sit down. Boot up. I'm not quite ready to work on "Ace", as I need to do a tiny bit more research on one aspect. Wiki me this. That was great. Cool. Awesome.

Then I decide, on a fucking whim, to pop over to QueryTracker and look up some possible agents for this series.

alright

I want to save a search, but it will not allow me until I subscribe to Premium. FINE

I've wanted premium for a bit now. Only $25 a year. Bells and whistles. Yee haw. I go forth and fill in my info. Then the site asks for payment info.

NOW

I have a business account. Then we have the general fund. Fine and dandy. I look over to the list on the right as it brings the ones I use all down. I expect my business account card to look like that in the list. 

No.

I accidentally use the Honey's general fund card. And didn't realize THAT until I went to renew my LLC, and it auto filled her name. WHAT? So I grab my card, from the kitchen, and pop back to my desk. 

sigh

I then pay for the LLC out of my account since my card is right in front of me. THEN...I go online to transfer $25 from my account to the general fund. Except...let me call and give you an access code.

You. Mother. Fuckers.

I have my phone on Do Not Disturb for so many reasons. If you're related, you'll ring through. The rest of the world? Big NO. I take my phone OFF DND and wait for the call. I receive the call, jot down the got damn number, and enter it into the site.

I'm in. Transfer the money from my business account to general funds. Put back DND.

Email the Honey explaining I'm about to lose my shit and why.

Check to see if I have QueryTracker Premium now.

I do not.

FOR THE LOVE OF THE LORDT

Run a payment using my business account.

Goes through.

Honey comes to the Sanctuary.

Explains I used an old general funds card.

Because of course I fucking did.

Fine. Great. 

Said I'd simply transfer the money back to business account.

NEEDED ANOTHER GODFORSAKEN FUCKING SET OF NUMBERS

Said fuck this. Lots of times.

Decided to get into my Sonic app and order some caffeine. 

Um.

App was having issues.

*needs a moment of silence*

Finally opened, and I placed my order. Drinks--which are half price through the app. EXCEPT...it wasn't showing that as an option.

And my short ass is NOT paying full price for a drink. 

nah, homie

Turned off my phone.

Turned it back on.

Opened up the POS app again. Looks to be in order.

Put in my info.

And during all this, my poor Mr. Murphster throws up in here and a tiny bit in the hallway. I've changed his dry food, and we're working on making sure he only eats things that are good for his sensitive stomach. And heavens, does he have one.

And that, my friends, is when I did the shutdown.

The shutdown includes completely being still and silent whilst also wanting to take everything in my sight and destroy it. Doors off hinges. Glass at walls. 

Temper tantrum with the premium edition of that.

I, however, did not give into the temptation because what purpose does it serve? Then I'd only have to clean up more shit.

meh

Finally calmed down.

It was quite a long finally.

Grabbed Sonic drinks.

Completely burned out by eleven.

Damn it, Pepe!

And that's where I'm at right now. Three hours into my workday and not in a good way. 

I would say the rest of the day could blow me, but I've my weekly appt tomorrow which consumes the entire day, and I can't afford to lose one.

I hope to hell your day is better.

Locked in? Yes, please.

Finished "The Morrigan" two days ago. Already 6000 words into the next, "Ace." 

Did I have to research a plethora of things that will be more important in book 4 but I need in book 3? Of course I did. 😑

I use MS OneNote Notebook, and it's my jam. Online notebook with each having its own set of sections or tabs. The further I write into this series, the more tabs I'm collecting on the side. Then I can copy tabs to paste into new works on the same series. Luckily, of course, this notebook is online. My handwriting is...eh...illegible for the most part. I blame my thoughts being way quicker than my hands. But with OneNote, I can type nearly to thought. Nearly. 😂

This is uber handy when I'm writing. Scenes unfold. I jot.

Ah, but as I was saying...research. I need my construction sisters to build seven studio apartments connected. I G'd how long it would take. What size the apartments would be. Permits and planning. ADUs. Did I need them to build a parking lot? Contracts out for electrical, plumbing, and HVAC systems. Access rights. Easements. And other wonderful information I'll need a bit later on. 

Back to "Ace." 

LA calls him "acehole" which pretty much sums it up. Excessive ego on this one. Takes no one at face value. And he can't be taken as such, either. Gives nothing to LA about himself. She has to unearth who this deity is and why he darkened her driveway. 

In the meantime, LA discovers more about her mother.

Good times.

Back at it today. Won't write much as the OKC Thunder play the Cavaliers at noon. Then we're off to celebrate my birthday with an early dinner. That will wear my little ass smooth out. 

Murphentology is killing his litter box, and the rest of us with it. Changing his food to see if that helps. Poops are solid, but sweet baby Jesus...they are life-threatening. 

He was tagged, vaccinated, and fixed when I adopted him. Was going to wait until around his birthday to take him to our vet, but maybe I won't wait.

  

The Morrigan

I've a thing for badass deities. I'm kind of off the Greek and Roman regulars, but I'm always open to find ones I've not discovered before.

Did my ancestry DNA thing. I'm 25% Scottish. That makes sense to me. I'm drawn to visit Scotland. The highlands. The remains of castles from long ago. *swoon*

And Celtic deities?

Oh, but they are fascinating and as badass as they come.

Book 2 of "Plot Twist" is about the Morrigan and LA. And the Morrigan? Let me enlighten you. 

The Morrigan:

The Morrígan is a powerful Celtic goddess of war, fate, and death, often appearing as a shapeshifting crow or raven to influence battles and foretell doom, but also connected to fertility, sovereignty, and the land. She embodies the wilder, darker aspects of nature and destiny, inspiring fear in enemies and courage in heroes, and her presence signals imminent death, famously seen washing bloody armor. 

Often called the Triple Goddess or Phantom Queen. The Morrigan is comprised of a trio of individuals, all sisters. They can, however, each assume the mantle of the Morrigan. 

I didn't necessarily know where I wanted to go in Book 2, after Plot Twist. I already knew the main characters in Book 4, because of course I did. But 2? I'd actually put a small epilogue in Book 1 which alluded to another deity completely.

But then, as I typed the ending, and left a trail of bread crumbs for Book 2, I literally bypassed my first option and boldly typed in "The Morrigan". This book, like book 1, basically wrote itself. I've finished the two books in two months. And I've researched who will be in book 3. 

It's easy to stick to Greek and Roman with mythological retellings, but it's not fair to the reader or other cultures. We are a world. We are not only a couple of pieces.

Having said that, I nearly put Anansi as the main character of Book 3. 

Now. I watched "American Gods" for the first two seasons maybe? I watched until they killed Mad Sweeney, and then I flipped off the television (in two different ways) and never watched another episode. (Do NOT kill animals or a main character I love.)

But I digress.

Orlando Jones played Anansi. He was completely magnetic. And his charm? Oh, but he oozed it. But Anansi is too big a character for my book. I like the minor deities, for the most part. While there is sometimes a bit of source material, I can give the character a backstory of my choosing.

OH! The POWAH!

So...I searched for a minor deity with the characteristics I needed. There will ALWAYS be one. Just means you may have to dive a bit deeper.

Because all of these characters bring something out in LA that she's pushed aside or purposely hidden. And she brings something out in them they need.

Literary symbiosis.

Whew. I went off, didn't I? 😁  

I have no "calm your shit down" button. I simply escalate and go forth until it wears me out. 

But I'll wind this down by saying there are perfect pieces to fit into your works. If one fits in three out of four needs, there will be another that hits the four out of four. Keep going. 

This is the Morrigan on top my desk because I love this bitch.

In a mood

Anyone want to start with a Gregorian chant this morning? Just me? Cool. 

Or...because I saw the iconic living room in a picture on FB...the "Three's Company" theme song?

There's always a soundtrack in my head. I have no "skip" option, which is complete bullshit. On loop?

Suuuuuuurrrrreeeee...these few lines in the Gracie Abrams song:

What'd she do to get you off? (Uh-huh)

Taking down her hair like, oh, my God

Taking off your shirt, I did that once

Or twice, uh

No, I know, I know I'll fuck off (uh-huh)

But I think I like her, she's so fun

Wait, I think I hate her, I'm not that evolved

I'm sorry she's missing it, sad, sad boy

Not my business, but I had to warn ya

*****************************

Maybe not as catchy as "Call Me, Maybe", but thank the Lordt for that.

Switching gears...it can be incredibly painful to be an author. 

I've queries out and about to agents for "Plot Twist." Though I'm thinking of changing the working title to "Broken Discus" for reasons.

I'm sticking to my guns about PT being a wider-published title. I'm nearly done with book 2, "The Morrigan."

And I'm completely in love with the characters.

I'd always wondered how Nora (J.D.) kept track of multi-characters and their respective quirks. The machinery in the squad office. Roarke's secret office. Peabody and her idiosyncrasies. 

Now?

I've a town full of characters I truly enjoy. Nax, the petite baker with a gift for baking and lending an ear. Rhapso, the town's clothier that is both bubbly and pushy. Jason, owns the hardware store and is my protagonist's archenemy. Spice seller sisters, Marta and Nona. Complete opposites. Marta is calm and collected. Nona could make a person want to separate their ears from their bodies. The Gordon sisters, owners of Ashlar Gallery, specializing in stone and masonry. Chloris runs the farmer's market. And Mayor Saint aka Mayor McFuckFace to most of his constituents, also for reasons.

But my heart stays with LA Bennett, my lead. Damaged. Determined. Driven. 

Finding her path amongst a traumatic childhood and an even worse adulthood after her mother passes when LA is nearly eighteen.

Did I mention deities galore?

😁

Radegast. Zephyr. The Morrigan. Brigid. Macaria. Tsukuomi. Seshat. Hedjhotep. Idunn. Annapurna. Budi. 

*sigh*

Man, I love this shit.

Now, an amusing story courtesy of my idiotic ginger child, Murphy.

I'm typing this at my desk, of course, in the Sanctuary. The Murphinator brings some of his toys in here to play. My walls are full from the floor up, but I've carved a large square in the middle.

I put down some Amazon stuffing paper (the brown thin business) because Sim loved the way it sounded. Murphy does, too. Then there's the skin of a furry hedgehog that our Chihuahua baby, Harley, disemboweled before he passed. Also, crinkles. Also, lamb chops. Also...I think there's a fucking wand in here somewhere.

Murphy? Not only does he like attention, he wants to be in the same apparel I've donned. I let him camp out with me in my rocker recliner when I've finished for the day. So, this little shit is batting around one of his crinkles (highly recommend) and bats it between my feet where I'm sitting. I kick it back beneath my chair to the carpet. Then Might Murphin Power Ranger bats it around again.

I hear him on the left side of my chair, under my desk. 

(I'm evil. You know that, right?)

So I raise my left foot up, bring it back down, and I hear a small feline cranium hit the bottom of my desk.

I lost capacity to see, hear, and breathe. I was wheezing like Po taking the stairs in Kung Fu Panda. 

Where did the little heathen land it?

By the front left wheel of my desk chair. 

*looks down and sees supine feline*

I love him so much.

Now that I've ironed my mood out a bit, think I'll bop back to "The Morrigan" and finish her up today.

Have a great Friday!

I'm 54

No big deal, except yesterday I was 53. 

🥳😁

Murphy is my Valentine's Day/Birthday present. The little ginger shit.

This morning, I drove over to 7/11 and grabbed a couple Pepsi. Bit of a line for gas and whatnot. Finally got to me, and I motion to the young man behind me and tell the cashier I'm paying for his, too.

He asks if I'm sure. I'm like...yeah. It's my birthday; I'm feeling generous.

So the cashier rings me up, and this lovely young man grabs his drink, gives me a hug, and wishes me a happy birthday.

Best morning evah.

Other than that? Not doing much over here. Had some sort of mental plans that simply overstep my energy level. So. Back in the Sanctuary and working on some written loveliness and watching Murphenstine tear up his crinkles and lamb chop. 

Hope your day is fantastic!

Search engines

I use the big G. I've only now noticed the first hit uses AI. Didn't pay much attention before. I don't have a problem, per se, with AI being used as such. Should be its only use, imo.

Yesterday, I only wrote a few thousand words. I needed to do research. Cool beans. The coolest beans.

I had two interesting searches. Allow me to share.

I am digging deep and finding names that are unusual. I need to know how to pronounce them. Because I don't want to get it wrong. That would be awful. It's important to me. Names...are important.

okay

I have a name with the "h" in an odd place. So I type in the word, and my page is filled with information about this fetish.

I beg your finest pardon. 

Fetish?

Turns out, the name I'm using means "muscle", and that led me to a literal "muscle fetish."

I'm jaded in some ways and so naive in others.

It was hilarious.

Then, I need to pronounce another name, an archaic one. I type in the name and "pron" because I've done this so many times, it usually auto fills "pronunciation". More frosty beans.

I thought it had until my searches came back with adult materials because stupid AI thought I spelled p*rn wrong. 🙄 

Now I'm enlightened about another aspect of other people's lives. 

mercy

I also am redecorating a kitchen in my book and was all over G with searches for everything from color of paint, matching tiles, wet saw, crown molding and its numerous types, and doors, amongst other things. Took far longer than I wished. But it gives me a great starting point for tomorrow.

Today is recovering from yesterday's searches 😂 , cleaning around the house, and having Valentine's Day dinner with the Honey this evening.

Tomorrow?

Back to inappropriate searches and at least 7000 words on my novel.

Write what you know vs write what you love vs surprise me

I have thoughts. When don't I?

For a long time, the old creed for authors was "write what you know." But that's limiting in its context. 

It could mean to write about your passions and interests. Leverage your identity and use universal human experiences. 

Which is cool.

Write what you love. This also includes passions and interests. But it may be a bit limiting if you're only true loves are of ballet and basketball. (Great crossover romance, huh?) I feel as though this gives you rules you never asked for.

But is also viable.

Now.

Some of us use a starting point and then go wickedly wherever. There's so much I don't know. And so much I WANT to know. Example: In "Over Her Head", one of my protagonist's neighbors keeps retired horses. And here goes me...looking up horse breeds and common early retirement issues. Treatments used on horses that shouldn't have been. What type of temperament for each breed. I do a deep dive, and I fucking love it.

Bring your emotional depth, of course, but authors can use so much information to enrich their stories. 

I've looked up types of flowers, knives, scorpions, medieval weapons, horses, furniture, houses, barns, ancient deities, book shelves, Christian Siriano Spring 2026 fashion for men, types of fabrics, expensive cars, and so much damn more I don't have the word space to continue.

And I take at least one piece with me as I go. 

It's euphoric. Quick kick of dopamine that feeds this sporadic ADHD brain with all the factoids I can fact.

I don't always know where I'm going (contrary to the "Whitesnake" song), but I sure know where I've been. And it's a gift to be able to utilize so many parts of the world in one book. And I believe it deepens the narrative. 

How exciting to be a connoisseur of some niche subject and find it in a book you're reading! You can always do the grass is green, the sun is yellow, and there will be a happily-ever-after. 

But if you say the grass is a dark evergreen that smelled of earth and hope, then you've pushed a bit farther past the general greetings. You feel me?

It's the little things that make a good book. All the dynamic elements of genres have been laid out in fine print. Authors know the expectations. It's up to us to go farther and push harder. 

Now.

Let me clarify. 

Let's not dive into the minutiae. I don't need to know there is a ladybug on grass blade number three with 62 dots and a bad attitude. Unless, of course, that ladybug is germane to the story.  

You need to use a Kukri, not a machete. But you also don't need a scalpel to scrape all the meat off the bone. 

Fiction requires our readers to use their imaginations. We don't want to force feed them everything. And as a reader, I hate it.

There's your recipe, authors.

Write what you know.

Write what you love.

Start and surprise yourself.

Kukri

No machete

No scalpel

Seems so simple, doesn't it?

Step in Time

Hellooooooooo...what do we have here? Oh. Just the chorus to "Step in Time" from Mary Poppins that has been randomly playing in my head for about five days. Why? You ask. If you told me, then we'd both know. 😶

Reading certain words, loosely connected to lyrics, always sets me off.

There is a "hellevator" in my "Canary" series. And, I swear to you, every time I typed it in the first book, I would sing "love in a hellevator" and cackle to the stars and back. The honey was not amused. I was, though. 😂

Then there are songs that fade into others with the same beat. Who needs a mixing table, when my ADHD brain does all that without prompting? 🤔

And, concerning my grey matter, there is always something in my internal monologue. Sometimes quite a few somethings. I don't understand how other people can't have this and how QUIET their brain must be. I don't even want to know what that's like. I'll take the chaos and chatter. 

Now.

To get THIS banger out of my head. 😒

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.