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*

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.