On Persistence

When I was working on my first super serious I plan on actually publishing this manuscript, I set a very distinct goal, but still providing myself some leeway since I know I'm an epic procrastinator. I wanted it to be out the world by time I was 30. After I completed it, it took about six months of edits and rewrites and research on the publishing process. It's been nearly five years since it's been published and I don't have my next book out yet. I'm not trying to be Harper Lee up in here, especially since the first book has been a fizzling turd, while To Kill a Mockingbird is a rave success. Yes, I'd like to get more work out there, just so it's out there. I don't want to mistake this with just putting any old shit out there. A lot of people do that, they think everything they write is worthy to be published. Mostly, it's not. I love thinking up imaginary worlds and scenarios and twisting them into something that will scar my readers for life. One could argue my book is drivel, and as its writer, I might tend to agree with you. But when I get rave reviews trickling down the grapevine from strangers, it makes one think, hey, maybe I don't suck so hard.

Granted, I'll throw in the fact that I've had a kid with these five years of no follow up novel. Being knocked up and sick most days while falling asleep at 8:00 pm was not conducive to writing. Having a newborn and sleep deprivation was not conducive to writing. IE: read... excuses for not writing, right? I'm rationalizing my lack of work. However... I started my short story project, probably about a year ago. It's been placed in the imaginary holding station for now. That plan on that one is to create about four novella length stories the revolve around some of the sketchiest situations you can imagine. I started my current project last fall. I should be almost done, right? No! My problem is, I've got the meat of the story in my head. I know what's going to happen. I know the main event, I know how it ends. I just need to piece it together. I need to get my ass in the chair and get all those in-between spots filled in. One could definitely argue that I'm not a real writer because I can't make myself set time aside to write every day, but to be honest, it's tough to find an hour even to have some quiet time to write when there's a full time job and a toddler at home who I want to lavish with attention. The truth is, I may not write every day, but I think about it every day, I think about my story. I think about how my characters are going to be affected, they're real in my head, after all.

I can't help but wonder how to high producing authors do it. Are they more dedicated? Probably. But where do they find the time? How did they get off the ground with their own full time jobs and families?   I'm sure they just say hey, this is my time to work, piss off! Before the boy came along, I was very structured, I had the time to work for hours on end after leaving the office. I could stay up into the evening working because I would have uninterrupted sleep. I could pour over my work and scratch out the shit. I could be obsessed. However, now, now that I like to be an engaged parent, I get about an hour to myself in the evening, after everything has settled down and the boy is sleeping soundly and instead of spending that time writing (like I ought to be), I sometime pour a drink and watch my stories, or I read. I can't help myself. While I'm reading, I feel guilty, like, damn, I need to be writing my own book right now so some crazy broad or dude can be reading my shit while sitting in bed.

The point of my blithering here is that I'm trying to keep myself in check. I am cutting out small sections of my day to write, even if it's only for a few minutes at a time. I don't foresee this current book being finished (completely) in 2016, though it's only April. If I hustle hard, maybe I could get it ready for a fall release, I'm thinking November. That's not much of a stretch if I give myself about five months to finish it and another month and a half for editing and re-writes. That's doable, right? Basically, I just don't want to add another year to the gap between books.

One final note is, I've posted a teeny, tiny, almost incomprehensible shred of a paragraph of the new book on my author page, I think every once in a while to keep all five of you interested, I may post a teaser or three, to keep hype it up.

On Starting a Publishing Business

 

If you follow me on Facebook, this is old news to you, if not, then you won't be completely bored by the following information. I've done some thinking and deciding, and planning. After successfully publishing the first book all by my lonesome, editing, doing the cover art, getting the ISBN numbers, copyrights, etc., I thought it might be time to start my own press. If one is going to ride the self publishing train, it seems like the next logical step. Reading up on it, it makes sense. No one wants to look on the inside cover of a book and see that the publisher is in fact, the author. It does in fact, look hokey.

So, with that in mind, I've set the wheels in motion to officially start my own press. I've got the name picked out. Research is done to make sure said name is available. Next week I'll be putting the papers in to claim the name and business. This might sound like a bigger deal than it really is. Officially, I'm just doing this for myself so that my own books have an actual publisher, instead of just me. However, if it so happens that some other newbie Indie authors want an actual publisher without going through the hassle of starting their own press, well, hey, I'll be available, and maybe I'll pick up some proceeds from it. Yes friends, it really is "All About the Benjamins." Though in my case, it'll probably be "All About the Hamiltons."

In the end though, it's not about the money (obviously because I'm not making any). I mean, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to be Stephen King or James Patterson rich, but if I can get a story out there, and entertain even one person, then that's what it's really about in the long run. It's also about perseverance. Following a story through to fruition, editing it, editing it again, and then one more time. Choosing your cover art, setting your price, your publishing platforms, filing all the paperwork. Being stubborn enough to get shit done. I did it once, and it was awesome. Awesome when it was done, mind you. Knowing that I had it in me. The during is what really grates on you. Having these ideas swirling through your brain, but never really knowing quite how to put them down on paper, or screen.

Case in point, the short story book, the first story is out there, it's started off on a gritty note, but I fear it's treading into the contrite shit realm. I don't know what the main problem of the story is going to be. I don't know who the antagonist is going to be. Maybe the main character? How? This is shit I just don't know. I can't stop thinking about it though. I make little notes, I scribble those notes out, I make more notes, I throw the page away. It's like throwing away your feelings.

It will be done though. Someday. Probably not this year. Sure, I can shoot for November. That would give me 6 or 7 months of writing and a couple weeks of straight editing. For the typical writer, that should be more than enough time, but I'm a procrastinator, I make excuses. I choose sleep over writing most of the time. However, I may be back on the evening writing train some time soon. But, it will be done.

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 A Month Deep Into 2015

Well... now that we've got that nasty bitch called January out of the way, why don't we breeze through February and March while we're at it too?

To quote Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day, winter in the Midwest and Northeast really will be cold, it's going be grey, and it's going to last you the rest of your life. At least... that's what it feels like when you're ass deep in it.

Then again, without the shitty Michigan winters, how can one truly enjoy the majestic pleasures of the summer and fall. You know, the nice four months, maybe five of warm weather you get to enjoy before you totally freeze your ass off for the rest of the year. Without one extreme, you really can't enjoy the other.

In any case, I've held true to my promise to myself. I sat my bony ass down in that chair and started my new project. It happened one day after work when I happened to have an hour or so to myself. No one was home, the house was quiet, I thought.. I... I might get to write right now. By golly, I'm taking advantage of this. I eagerly climbed the stairs and walked into my office that is still lined with boxes despite having moved in last May. I turned on my computer, opened the word processor, and looked at that blank white screen, that blinking cursor taunting me again. I felt a rush of fear, starting over again. Will it be any good? Will I see this one through to fruition? Will I write what I really want to write? Should I be worried if people will judge me? Piss on it, I thought, and started typing.

I'll be honest. I know this will be a book of short stories. Probably four good length ones in total. Aside from having a few quick ideas of how to start them, I really have no idea how any of the stories will turn out. I don't know the characters, I don't know the story lines, I'm really just swinging blindly in the dark. I know I want the stories to be real, to be visceral, gritty. I want to impose some sort of shock value, I want the reader to really imagine what it might feel like if the story on the page were real. Of course, don't all writers want that? Maybe... or maybe some of them just want to make boat loads of money and have their crummy stories being made into crummier movies. I won't lie, I'd love to make boat loads of money on my stories and have my best selling book made into a blockbuster movie, but I really don't think that's in the cards. I really just want to write to get people's imaginations churning.

While it will be slow going, I'm thrilled to be back at it again. It's somewhat invigorating to be at the beginning again. To go through the whole process. I'm looking forward to going through the finished project piece by piece, to edit, get the copyright information, register it, design the cover, put it out into the world. I think this one I'll work a little harder on advertising, I feel like this one might really be something. Or maybe it will be drivel, something only useful in starting your campfire. Time will tell.

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 Writer Troubles

Now that I've decided to shelve my novel for a while and start a new project of short stories, I find that I'm "totally geeked, dude." I've got ideas swirling around my head, and I really, really want to get to work.

Trouble is, my window for writing is very small. Like, fleas on your dog small. I have to work a "real" job, five days a week. I have to come home and be a "mom" from the time I get home until I go back to work, and even at work, I'm still a mom. This leaves me with the time my kid takes a nap to get something done, which usually entails housework or the like. More often than not, I can be found napping when he is. Also, there's the time he goes to bed for the night which usually occurs anywhere from 8:00pm-9:30pm. Maybe I'm just not passionate enough, but I'm so tired at the end of the day, all I really want to do is curl up in bed with a book for a few minutes before I pass the hell out.

So, hypothetically, if I didn't have a "real" job, I'd still have to you know, raise a kid, which in and of itself is a 24/7 job, y'all know that. I'm making excuses. If I were really geeked as I claim to be (liar), my ass would be in that chair after the boy went to sleep, even if it's just for 30 minutes. To hell with my desire to plop down and read the big ass book I'm entrenched in right now. Work bitch, work!

Bottom line is, sooner or later (later), there will be another book of mine out in the world. At this point in time, I'm projecting two years. That seems like an inordinate amount of time to write, edit, design, and publish a book doesn't it? Well, what can I say? I'm busy. I guess I'll always just be a part-time writer.

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.

On Blog Challenges

Over the weekend, an old friend of mine suggested that I do a "blog challenge." Write something new everyday for a month. Well, it seemed like a good idea, and inspiring as well. She has taken part in month long photo challenges of her own you see. She's quite a talented artist/photographer, check her out at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/singlecupofcoffee to view some of her work.

Well, being a supposed writer, I really ought to branch out and work on more than one project at a time. Currently, as you may know, I'm working on a second manuscript which let's be honest, I'm very much procrastinating on. I should be way farther ahead than I am now, since I do have some readers who are demanding another piece of work immediately. Which is incredibly nice and humbling, but also a bit stressful.

I'm thinking if I challenge myself to one post a day for a month, not only will be give me something new to do, but it might also give me some fresh ideas, either for a new project, or to integrate into the one I'm currently working on.

So, here's me announcing that my one month blog challenge will take place during the month of March. A post a day for 31 days.

Did you ever consider taking part in a personal challenge?

On Comparisons

I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I wrote my first short story when I was six years old, with my Crayolas. There were also some stunning illustrations... for a six year old (sarcasm.) In any case, I've written a lot of garbage throughout my years. Most of this garbage can be blamed on being a kid, and this garbage, I'm not really counting since I was in fact a child.

Of course, the teenage years came and all I could write about was unrequited love. Typical teenage girl stuff right? Well, this equated to more drivel that horrified me beyond belief. I couldn't imagine anyone ever reading that stuff, especially my intended.

About the time I was getting ready to graduate high school, I thought to myself, gosh, I really want to be writer. I want to write books, share my stories with people, entertain them, make them laugh, make them feel. So, I started writing novellas thinking they'd eventually go somewhere, maybe turn into an actual novel. Of course, being judgemental of my work (as pretty much all writers are) I trashed everything I ever wrote, casting it off as rubbish.

As I entered my early twenties I realized, I really wanted to have an actual book out there, but where was my story? I couldn't keep writing about lost love, there's a certain market for that and I didn't want to be pegged. In my mid-twenties, a story arrived, I wrote it, and published it myself.

It was hard work, but not impossible, and I learned a lot of cool things about publishing. Looking back on the story I wrote however, I realize, it's written from a more immature part of me, I can see it in my writing. It's been praised by everyone that's read it (yes, everyone I know) but also, quite a few strangers, which is especially pleasing. I've achieved my goal, I've entertained people.

Now I'm working on a second novel. I can tell already that this particular book has a more mature sense of voice about it. It's coming from an older version of me. Of course, if a writer's work didn't grow and change with the writer's life, it would become boring and calculated. No one would continue to read a particular writer if they kept writing the same thing over and over again.

I'm looking forward to completing this work as I feel it will be more entertaining than my first book. I imagine it will still be a while yet before I complete this piece because well, I let my life and my laziness get in the way too much.

On Ruts

Boy am I stuck in one. My mind is thinking, man I really want to write, I want to get that story down. But I just don't sit myself down and work on it. I mean, I did the other day, but found myself increasingly frustrated and distracted because I didn't know where I wanted the story to go at the particular point that it's at. I know when it's finished, it's going to be a great story, and hopefully memorable and entertaining, but in the back of my mind, I just want it to be done already. That won't happen unless of course I work on it.

Working on it should be become increasingly easier with the changing of the seasons. As I stay inside more, I can't help but set some time aside for writing.

The reading side of me is in full swing though. I've been burning through books like nobody's business. I just finished The Uninvited yesterday, it's supposed to be a true story regarding the Union Screaming House. Admittedly, parts of it creeped me out to the point where I couldn't sleep, but that's what I get for reading ghost stories in bed. I started Grave's End yesterday also, supposedly another true haunting story. I've been on a true haunting story kick since reading The Amityville Horror a few books back.

I love getting lost in a story, now I just need to find the desire to get lost in my own so I can finish this thing by next summer like I'm planning.

On Wracked Nerves

The endless rainy, grey days spent alone have allowed me to get a decent amount of writing done on Rogue. If I haven't mentioned it, and I'm sure I have, I'm pretty proud of what I've gotten down on the page so far.

This weather has got me thinking that spring will never arrived even though the calendar says it's been spring for over a month now. Maybe I'll have even more time to hole up and write if the weather is always going to be like this.

On a completely different note, I've got a wonderful support system of friends who are pushing like hell to get Stress Test noticed. My oldest and best friend in particular is my strongest proponent, always encouraging me along the way, buying a copy of the e-Book and paperback, advertising on Facebook, golly Rogue might have to be dedicated solely to him.

Work at the office has been mundane. Another agent quit today, another one bites the dust as I like to say. Whenever I hear someone say they quit, that song plays in my head. I just can't help it.

Well, might as well get back to work on the book.

On Faux Spring

The calendar says it's Spring, but the weather would suggest otherwise here in the Mitten. Of course, our weather has always been a little strange. A few weeks ago it was over 80 degrees, and then a few days ago, it snowed. Of course, I think there is something much bigger to these odd weather patterns. I'm taking the wait and see option on this one.

I've been working diligently on the proof for the paperback on Stress Test. I'm finding a number of mistakes. I sure am glad I'm looking it over before sending it out in the world, wouldn't want to look like a complete amateur. e-Book sales are something to be desired. I've sold eight copies which is disheartening, but there's been a decent number of "previews" downloaded, which also hurts, people will download the preview, but won't spend the $2.99 to finish it. Although, friends who've read it in its entirety, have told me it's a good story, entertaining, etc., so there's that.

In the meantime, I've also been working on Rogue, my second book. It's humming along quite nicely, I'm already proud of it and it's just a baby. It's more mature sounding, and dark, and thriller-esque, it sounds like a seasoned vet is writing it. If this one tanks, it will truly be heartbreaking. Of course, it will be another year or so I'm sure before it's seen by eyes other than mine.

On Getting Published

I finally finished writing, editing, formatting, double checking, and then checking again and declared my book finished. I decided to toss it out into the pond to see if there were any bites before trying to really sell the thing. I published it on the Kindle platform, and also on Smashwords, which will allow it to be purchased or downloaded virtually anywhere. Yes, I've sold a few copies (to loyal friends) who have told me that so far they like it, which is always great to hear. My mother, read it cover to cover in one day and then proceeded to call me and tell me how fabulous it was (but she is way biased.) It's enough to make me think, I should keep going at this writing thing, keep doing it. Maybe one day, I'll make something out of myself and I won't be stuck on cubicle square for the rest of my working life, which let's be honest, is my main goal, to get out of here and do something I truly love. Last week I started work on a second book. I'm already at the first big conflict scene, I've yet to start writing it, because I don't know exactly how I want it to go yet. I do have a good feeling about this second book though. It's going to be darker than the first, with more of a thriller feel to it. It's just rough, working all day, looking at a screen, and then coming home and working for a few more hours, staring at a screen. Hopefully one day, I can sustain on royalties, and maybe a part time job to get by, allowing me to write more, when I'm fresher. Or maybe I'd just be a slacker in the nice weather and go hang out at the park instead of working. Of course, there's no excuse for not working while at the park, there's always longhand, or a laptop, etc. Anyway, even though the sales aren't coming in at the moment, it's still exciting to have something I wrote out in the world. It's out there to reach people, if they so want to be reached by this book. I'm just hoping it's entertaining to those who read it.

On Spring Time

It's days like today that make me giddy for Spring. The mercury is hovering just above 40, it feels like heaven compared to the frigid temps we've been experiencing. Granted, it is a dark, gloomy, dreadful day, with heavy fog encompassing the area last night into this morning, which has since burned off, but it's still full of hope. Hope that better weather is merely a bit over a month away.

Daylight Savings Time is the weekend. I always feel somewhat cheated when we have to "spring forward." How can it be that we can just move the hour ahead or back and everything is supposed to be normal? How does that even make sense? Nevertheless, we are "springing ahead" this Sunday morning, so at least we'll get another hour before the sun sets.

I've been getting lost in my Six Feet Under box sets. Halfway through the last season now. It really was an epic show. Though I am thrilled that I've found Dexter, despite not being able to see it live... there's always box sets.

I've also been imagining quite a bit lately. Imagining different scenarios, thinking what great stories they'd make. While I'm just about finished with Stress Test, I'm thinking of my next project. I've already got a few great ideas down, and I just need to decide which one to run with next. I'm already looking forward to creating something new, something better than what I've finished already.

Nothing makes me happier than finally pursuing what I think I was always meant to do. I may not be any good, I may not ever be well known or read by millions, but at least I'll know that I tried my best, and that should be satisfactory enough I think.

A Writer Writes... Always!

Worked on the manuscript a bit over the weekend, not nearly enough in my opinion, but I got another ten pages down which felt like at least a little bit of an accomplishment. I'm about 6.5 pages away from hitting my one hundredth page.

I feel like there is a lot of detail missing, like there is so much more I need to add and edit. Confirmation from my husband fueled this thought process. I feel like when this thing is finally complete, it will turn out to be quite the entertaining piece.

I cannot wait for the day when this is my full time job. When I wake up in the morning, turn on the coffeepot, and sit down at my desk, in my own house to write, to write the morning away. While this first project has literally taken years, and is far from finished I feel like if I get it published and it's (hopefully) mildly popular, this will get the wheels spinning for future projects.

I'm longing for the warm days to return and stay (It's the second week of May and it's feeling like March out there.) I want to bring my notebook to the park and lean against a tree and spectate, dream of ideas for future projects, take some beautiful pictures. Hopefully soon, I'll be basking in some summer like sunlight.