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*

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. 😬 

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. 🖕