Patience

I need to take some time out to take care of some submissions stuff. I still need to send out another story to be considered for a reprint – I think it will be The Art Of Exposure – and I’ve researched some websites I would like to send some things to. I think I’ve found a place to send Girl Talk. It’s an annual British anthology that looks for longer stories. The thing is I need to go over it again and really spice up the love scenes. When I was wanting to send it to that last anthology, I was more focused on making it more fiction than erotica, wanted to flex my muscles in other areas in other words, but look how that worked out, eh?

I’m itching to start on the new story but I’m trying to discipline myself to take a break between projects to refresh and start the new story with a clean slate. I think my big mistake with that last batch of submissions was that I wrote one after the other, not taking time to breathe in between. I shudder to think what I would find if I looked over those stories now after they have simmered a bit.

I received a little update about Naughty Spanking Stories From A To Z which will feature my story, Bend. It will be out in November, contributors’ copies will be sent out in early November and it will also be up at Amazon in early November. I can’t wait!

Cheers and here’s to getting one day closer to the weekend!

Work

I didn’t have much to say yesterday because I didn’t accomplish much in the writing department. Sure I could have posted about not doing the needed work on Gift To Self, but why do that when I could wait until today when I can say I’m done? That’s right, after planting myself in front of the PC last night and not moving until the words had some sort of semblance of a story, it’s finished. I got it to a point where I could just do some cleaning up and fixing this morning and I did that and sent it off to the editor about thirty minutes ago.

Whew. It was touch and go there for a minute. I really didn’t think I’d be able to turn the story into something coherent and readable, much less interesting and exciting, but I think I’ve accomplished it. I renamed the characters, gave them some substance, and changed the ending. It wound up being a whopping 4011 words and I’ll never figure out how that happened when just a few days ago I was struggling for a decent beginning. I think I let myself get intimidated when the editor told me there would only be six stories in the entire anthology so the stories would be longer, 15-25 pages each, but at least I was able to accomodate.

Gift To Self turned out to be a naughty little thing. I wrote it in the voice of a man, which I find I do quite often. The stories often end up with a little more edge than when I write in a female voice. It gives me the um, balls if you will, to really go there with the story. My female driven stories are almost always softer, sentimental and sometimes sad. I don’t know why that happens.

Writing is real work; I always need to take a breather after. But there can’t be much of a break this time because I want to finish the next story before the end of the month so that I can start NaNoWriMo fresh and concentrate on Novel 2 all of November, then start some new things in December.

Ahh, oh so tired.

Lizards, Birthday Cake And Writing… Oh My!

The weekend got off to an exciting start where I had to “dispose of” a small lizard that got into the house Friday. I’m a real girlie girl when it comes to insects, reptiles and rodents, so I called my husband and asked him what to do. He told me I would have to get it out of the house and out of fear of the thing scaring my poor kids, I decided to tackle it. Long story short, I kept him on the line while I screamed cried and whacked at the lizard with the broom. It went on for about ten minutes resulting in a broken broom, a broken phone and me hyperventilating. But, at least I got rid of the damned thing.

My children may never be invited to another birthday party, or it may just be my son who is banned. We kept telling them to push the cake back on the table so he couldn’t get to it, but someone kept bringing it back to the front and finally, my boy couldn’t take it anymore. He made a mad dash toward the table and grabbed a big handful of cake and promptly began stuffing his face with it. Ha, ha… served ‘em right. We tried to warn ‘em.

In a last minute attempt to make some progress in the writing/publishing department, I dug up an old story, Her Mama’s House, and submitted it to an online magazine. It was originally published in my chapbook, Skin, and I hadn’t touched the file since April 2003. So, I cleaned it up a bit and sent it on its way. The turn around time is 6 to 8 weeks, so we’ll see how that goes.

I also began typing up Gift To Self which I had almost completely written in longhand. I was exhausted by this time, though, so I didn’t get much down and the new words I generated were just horrible. I was just trying to get the story straight in my mind and have it semi formatted as I write it as opposed to getting it down in bits and pieces as I normally do. I have no time for that seeing as the deadline is Wednesday and I have to get it in. It’s already been accepted for publication. Oh, the pressure.

I’ve been thinking on the new story that I need to be working on next. It’s coming together rather nicely in my mind and I’m hoping it will stay there until I’m ready to start writing it all down. I could start taking down notes now, but I know it will only distract me and make me want to stop everything and just see it through.

I do believe that sums it up and I’m looking forward to a good writing week.

Hot Wax

I decided to go the extra mile for my husband’s big event and went to get my eyebrow’s waxed yesterday. I wasn’t nervous about it since I’d had it done once before and I figured maybe I would make it a regular thing, a little treat to myself.

I sat in the chair, lay back, and waited for the technician to apply the wax and strips. Um… OUCH! Yeah, that’s hot wax. I kind of forgot that part. So, I’m thinking it must be true what they say – you tend to forget the most painful memories. Tears sprang to my eyes as she pulled and plucked and shaved. She noticed and gave me a look and I said, “Oh, my eyes are just watering because I don’t have on my glasses,” which was only partly true. It hurt!

The whole thing only took about fifteen minutes during which I took the opportunity to observe the other stylists. They all had pencil-thin, barely there eyebrows. She had asked if I just wanted them cleaned up or if I wanted them shaped. I told her I wanted them shaped and boy was I paranoid that she would take everything and leave me with a few strands of hair and call them eyebrows!

In the end my eyebrows were in tact and I was satisfied with the results, but doing it again anytime soon, I don’t know.

The event turned out lovely. No one asked the big question. In fact, no one asked me much of anything. I just wandered around the room for the most part while he ran here and there doing last minute things and rewriting the speech he left at home.

I finally had some real food though and even a glass of wine, gotta love that.

We got home later than we would have liked with the wrap-up and all and I’m tired this morning, but I’m glad it’s over. The sparkly gown and satin heels are put away and I’m back to my jeans and tee. Ahhhh.

Half day at work today. I’ll finish Gift To Self -formerly known as Special Delivery– this weekend and work on another project, a story that finally formed in my head yesterday after the title had appeared over a week ago. I think I might have mentioned it here recently but I’ll give more info on it as it emerges.

That’s all for now!

So You’re A Writer?

1. writer – writes (books or stories or articles or the like) professionally (for pay)

2. writer – a person who is able to write and has written something

I never knew there were two definitions out there for the term and it’s funny that the thing that differentiates the two is money and/or recognition because lately I’ve been pondering the difference between the two.

When I sold my first story – wasn’t that long ago, I received the check in 2002, I believe- I said to my husband, “So, does this mean I’m a writer?”

To which he replied, “Yes, you’re a paid, published author.” Not, “Yes. You are constantly writing, constantly creating, you are always working to hone your craft. You are a writer.” And I’ve since wondered, does the writing not matter until someone or something validates it (be it with money, praise, etc.)?

See, it didn’t matter that I had been writing for years, filling notebooks with stories and poems, keeping files on our PC of novels to one day be. I didn’t feel that I owned the title until someone else saw me as a writer and actually thought I was worthy of being compensated.

The reason it’s weighing so heavily on my mind today is because I’m going to this thing for my husband’s job tomorrow tonight where he’ll be introducing me to people and we’ll likely be having conversations that will lead to career and such. Yes, I could talk about my day job, even my part-time job, but what if the writing does somehow come up? It’s happened before where a colleague of his has said to me, “So, you’re a writer?”

I might smile and nod and then they ask, “Have I read anything by you?”

I usually stammer for a moment thinking, “What do I say? Do I tell them about the dirty stories, about the novel that has yet to see the light of day?” But my answer is almost always the same: “Oh, I’ve been in a few anthologies here and there. You’ve probably wouldn’t have read them.”

And I spend the rest of the day/evening questioning myself. Am I writer? Am I?

I don’t mean to sound all gloomy. I really am happy where I am and feel that this is only the beginning. But as tomorrow approaches, I’m considering warning the old man not to mention the writing at all.

But onward… the dress. Oh, the dress! I finally found one yesterday and I think I’m in love. It’s long with a tight bodice (do they still call it that?) and it has a full, flowing skirt. I felt all feminine and royal trying it on. I even did a little twirl in front of the mirror.

It’ll be nice to be out mingling with adults for a change.

I scribbled a little on the Christmas story yesterday, but that’s about it. I plan to really push forward with wrapping things up on that front by the end of the week, but we shall see, won’t we?

Consequences

As I suspected, my gluttony has earned me an order for a bland diet and two months worth of medicine. It’s still uncomfortable to swallow, so I’m not all that excited about eating anyway, but when I do it’s jello, crackers, bananas… you get the picture. But hey, I’ll lose a little weight!

I was laid out on the couch from Friday to Sunday. I skipped part-time work on Saturday because I just couldn’t deal with the added stress. I attempted to shop for a dress for this awards thing at the old man’s job this week, but my head was throbbing so much I couldn’t even concentrate on pullig anything off the rack and don’t even mention trying something on. I didn’t even buy any shoes and I saw plenty I would have loved to haul home. I’m sick, I tell ya.

Needless to say, no writing, but I did watch The Bridges Of Madison County Friday night. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. I haven’t even read the book. What a love story! What I love about it is that it’s so untraditional. It’s not your “boy meets girl marries boy lives happily ever after.” It depicted real love with complications, with stumbling blocks. And I admit I was sitting there wringing my hands wishing Francesca would open the door and jump out of the truck and go away with Robert Kincaid, but I don’t thnk it would have been as satisfying. Love is not always that easy and the story stayed true to that. Man, it made me want to write a love story, or at least read a good one.

Maybe later in the week I’ll have the energy to write more or talk about something other than my caffiene withdrawals and TV watching.

Don’t Say Nothin’

I’m a little silent for now since there’s not much to report. I haven’t transferred Special Delivery (gotta change that title) to Word yet, but I did manage to start a new story that I thought I’d be able to finish for last minute attempt to make a deadline today, but it won’t happen. And thus is the story of my life and frankly I’m beginning to annoy myself with “I want to” as opposed to “I did.”

I think my GERD is acting up. I have that annoying lump in my throat that feels like I’m having an allergic reaction to something but I know that I’m not. I’m hoping I can just start eating better and stop stuffing myself with salty, greasy feed and the problem will just correct itself. It makes me want to kick myself knowing that I could have prevented this by staying on track with the healthy eating. Now as a result of my gluttony, I’ll probably have to see a doctor and get another one hundred and ten pill round of antibiotics. Seven a day I had to pop last time, if I remember correctly. Damn it!

Travel writer Susan Abrams pointed me to her new blog the other day. I’m practically salivating over the talk of all that exotic traveling that I wish I could be doing myself. Add that to the list of “things I wish I had done while I was still single.” ‘

Looking forward to a nap or two this weekend, maybe some writing. Okay, definitely some writing since I promised to have the Christmas story done by Sunday. Gotta love those holes I dig for myself.