On Giving It Away For Free and Always Working

It's not what it sounds like. I know what you're thinking, get your mind out of the gutter.

I've recently been alerted that this is "Read an e-Book Week." Who knew such a thing existed? Certainly not me. In any case, since I personally have an e-Book floating around the world, getting read by exactly no one, I took full advantage of throwing my book into promotion mix. For this week only, until March 7th, you can download a copy of my book for FREE! Yes homies, I said FREE! Not like paying for the sucker would break your pocket book. It's typically .99 if you're all about paying for things. But, now you don't have to regret throwing that dollar out the window and you can read my drivel for free! Much like reading this blog. To download your free copy, follow this link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/49360 and use the code: RW100 at checkout to get it for free on your e-Reader or computer.

Now that I've got the shameless plugging out of the way, I'll get down to brass tacks. I may never be a renowned writer, I may never have a best seller, hell, I probably won't ever be remotely popular because I don't write dumb ass sparkling vampire fiction or downright abysmal fan faction based on said sparkling vampire fiction. I've accepted that, it's ok, it really is. The point is, I like writing. Even if it's just for me. I like entertaining my small sphere of influence, even if they're just humoring me by telling me they're entertained.

I've been working a bit on my short story book. I still don't know what the hell it will be about in the long run, but that's part of the adventure. A lot of writers will outline the shit out of their pieces, they'll have everything planned out, and the story will be written exactly as it's been planned. I tried story boarding, I really did. I always stray from the plan and then I think, why did I bother in the first place? So, now I fly by the seat of my pants. The inspiration has been flowing lately. It's exhilarating. Some people get their kicks by jumping out of air planes, and swimming with sharks, or whatever else, but me, I'm electrified by ideas flowing through my mind and getting jotted down on paper.

So even when I'm working my day job, or I'm at home with my son, I'm always driving ideas through my head. I'm always thinking of the next book, the next story, the next disaster. The hopefulness of what that story might be is entrancing. It might not be much, but at least it's something. 

On 2015 and Fake NYE Resolutions

Another year is almost over. I have no New Year's Eve plans. How about you? Oh, I could go to a party I suppose, but then I'd feel guilty about leaving G-Money with the in-laws, and I'd feel even more guilty if he spent the night which has been suggested. Why all the guilt? Can't a bitch go out and have some fun for New Year's? The answer my friends, is NO!

So, after the boy goes to sleep tomorrow night, I may imbibe in some wine, catch some Netflix, and call it a night, all before midnight, most likely. It sometimes makes me long for the days of partying half the night away while dodging shaving cream slaps in the face, and then being able to sleep in until noon the following day. Happy New Year!

On to my "resolution." With resolutions in the past, I always knew I was lying to myself, like oh, I'll stop swearing so damn much, or I'm going to give up caffeine...cold turkey. You know, something that seems so simple, but you know you're never going to do it anyway. Well, I think I've come up with a reasonable resolution, or maybe, a "promise to myself." I think by now, you all know I have a passion for writing. If she's so passionate, why hasn't the bitch written anything since that boy has been born? That's an excellent question that you muttered under your breath. Here's the answer: I use the excuse of, I'm so tired chasing after that little stink pot, that at the end of the day, I want to fall into bed with a book, which, honestly, most days I do, or I catch an episode of my stories, mon'.

I did start a second manuscript before G was born, and was half way through it actually, when I decided to shelve that shit. There might be some good meat in there somewhere, but I came to a giant blockade and couldn't go any further. I didn't like where the story was going and I just gave up.

I thought the solution was... start a new project, get new ideas flushed through, that might bring new ideas to the other project. Of course, I misjudged just how tired I would be all the time and decided sleep overruled writing. So... here we are, a year and a half without a word written. Some writer I am. 

What does all this mindless babble mean to you guys? Well, quite frankly, probably nothing, but, I'm making a personal vow to myself that in 2015, I will sit my ass in that chair, whether it's in the middle of the afternoon on a weekend while the boy naps, or after the boy goes to bed at night and get some words on the page. I will follow through with my book of short stories and get it published. Probably not in 2015... let's not get ahead of ourselves here, but it will be done. I did it once, and I certainly don't want to be some single publication sucka.

In closing, it's been a roller coaster year. We mourned the loss of my grandfather, we celebrated G-Money's first birthday, along with several other of his milestones, walking, talking, eating like a man, climbing, and so on and so forth. We sold our first home and bought another one. We've been sick, we've been healthy, we've been stressed, we've been cool as a cucumber. I always like to think the next year will be better than the last, but that's always a crock of shit isn't it? Has anyone ever had a stellar year, the whole year long? You get the same problems, but in a New Year. I'll just be hoping for no major shit going down, and I'll be happy.

On Inspiration

Should it surprise you that I've been running my mouth about getting back to work on my writing, and I haven't done shit about it? I know it doesn't surprise me. I come up with new excuses every day for not sitting down in the chair and starting the new project.

• I sit at a computer all day at work
• I have to wait until G-Money goes to bed to maybe get an hour of work in. By then, I'd rather watch Mad Men (which I'm addicted to and will probably be addressed in another post.)
• Gah! I just want to relax by reading a book (I'm gaining a small stack of "to read" books that I'm anxiously wanting to burn through)
• I want to go to sleep
• It's pointless to sit in the chair because I'll just watch the clock until I decide it's time to go to bed.

The thing is. I'm working everything out in my head. I know I'm doing a book of short stories. I know I want it to be dark. Like, twisted, haunt your dreams kind of dark. I suppose I'm apprehensive about how far I can really go without having people think I'm some sort of crazed lunatic writing about what I really think. Well, let's be honest, whenever someone writes something, there's always an element of truth in the writing, a little part of that person mixed in with the characters. In any case, I don't want people looking at me stranger than they already do. Ah, I kid. I'm at a point in my life where I shouldn't care about what people think. I mean, anyone who has given birth knows your dignity and caring what people think go right out the window since you've got a team of people all up in your business.

This is another excuse I tell myself. I'm withholding writing what I really want because I don't want to expose any sort of vulnerability. On the other hand, it might be fun to keep people wondering about me. There's two sides to every person. Their mask, which they wear for everyone around them, and what's underneath the mask, their true selves.

On the plus side, I can pacify myself by saying that I'm constantly pulling ideas from everyone and everywhere. Sometimes it's nice to be that quiet person lurking in the corner observing instead of being in the center of it. It really makes for great material.

On Having a License to Thrill

Well, I finally did it. I've become a "licensed real estate salesperson." What does this mean exactly? Not much. Except, if you want to find a pad to live in, or sell your current pile, I could possibly be your go-to home girl. You know, if you're in to that sort of thing. For those of you that don't know, my day job revolves around real estate. I work for a broker, and have been for the last (9) ::gasp:: years. I figured, it was high time to lay it down and get licensed myself, simply because, it seemed like a logical next step, right?

In any case, don't you worry my pretties, my true passion still revolves around writing, which let's be honest, I've done none of for the last year and a half or so. However, G-Money is growing like a weed, becoming his own man, I've got that dark licensing cloud out from over my head, I think I'm overdue to jump back into the writing pool.

Before cooking up my gorgeous little homeboy, I was deep into my second novel. I thought the plot was interesting, something refreshing. It's totally different from "Stress Test." However, the more I got to re-reading it, the less I liked it. It sounds trite, like it's been done. It's not daring enough. I'm looking for shock value, people. This isn't to say I could keep something of the same premise, but otherwise totally rewrite it, and I just may, but, I'm thinking of maybe starting fresh, something completely new. I'm thinking, maybe a book of short stories. I've got an idea for two different books, the first, would be horror, obviously, the other idea is sort of comedy/satire book. In any case, this will probably be my project as we dip into fall and the nights are longer, and maybe the boy sleeps a little longer.

On "That Writing Itch"

Lately I've had thoughts swirling through my head to write. To write something, to write anything. If y'all remember, I was working on another manuscript before I became knocked up with G-Money. Of course, I thought what I was writing was a huge, flaming turd, but rumor has it, that all writers feel that way about their work.

This itch has returned with a vengeance. It's uncontrollable, it's a tick, I'm jonesin'. Yet, I've done nothing about it. Why? I'll blame it on the kid. I'll say, between working full time and trying to give G-Money a happy childhood, there's just no time for writing. Go ahead, you can call bullshit. It's probably true. If I was a total die-hard, my ass would be in the chair after the boy goes to bed. I'd spend an hour or so after his bedtime and before mine feeding my addiction, hunched over the computer desk, staring at the white screen, blinking cursor, thinking of some sort of twisted shit to write.

Do you want to know what I do instead? I chill for five minutes and enjoy the silence and wind down from the tornado that boy is. I let the dog out, and stand out on the deck, listening to crickets and bullfrogs. I pick up the myriad of toys he's strewn all over the house. I tell the cat to shut his fat mouth because he's not eating AGAIN. I plop down on my bed and start reading some quality fiction and escape for a half hour or so before I pass out. Basically, I'm making up excuses not to park my ass in the chair and write.

Lately, I've been thinking about revamping "Stress Test" so it's not so cagey. I've been thinking about rerouting the whole plot, but then, it would cease to be its former self. I think part of the reason I didn't go hard into promoting that book is because, I didn't feel like it was my best work, but it was the best that that story was going to get, at that time. But now, a few years later, maybe I have more to offer to the story. I think revamping the former work is also giving me an excuse not to work on my current "sitting in the drawer" manuscript.

The bottom line is, no matter what else I'm doing with my life, deep down, I've still got the urge to write. Even though, I don't do it nearly as much as I should, (or at all right now for that matter.) It's been a constant for two decades, and I'm sure it will never amount to anything, but at least it will be out there.