Archive | December 2012

And now that that’s over and done…


The holidays came and went, leaving me with barely the time, breath nor energy to do much other than last minute prep around the house and for the kids.  I didn’t cook dinner, spent a little time with in-laws and had some of my family over that night for drinks and what not.

I am tired.

I get to trash my old tree this year once I take it down, but didn’t make the sales to replace it for cheap. Meh.

I got a nice wireless printer to start printing and reading these Can’t Get Enough submissions, for which I’m still soliciting, by the way.  I just love a practical gift.

Now, honestly, I’m ready to get back into the swing of things.  I’m ready to jump back into the writing.  It’s been more than a week, closer to two and I barely remember what I was working on last.  Was it hot girl on girl action?

Anyway, here’s to getting back to normal, whatever that may be.

“…and when have I ever wanted to talk about it?”

The line is one of my favorites from Samantha in the Sex and the City movie.  I know, I’m all typical, but I keep thinking about it as I’m pushing life issues as far as possible from my mind and concentrating on my writing.  After finishing up a story just this morning, that makes four fresh, new short story submissions within the last three weeks.

And I haven’t been fretting over them or checking my email every five seconds.  I’m just writing them, sending them away and then working on the next project.  How many times have I said that writing is therapeutic for me?  And I’m not even the writer who takes the real life bad guy, put him in the story and kill him off.  No, I’ve been writing happy things and these things have, in turn, been making me happy.

Somebody has to have a happy ending, it may as well be my characters, eh?

The Christmas shopping is slow going, but that’s because (thankfully) the children aren’t asking for much this year.  They’re getting older now and are more excited at the thought of spending time with family which I’m supremely thankful for because I truly hate the gifting part of the Christmas holiday.  I won’t hop on that soapbox, though.

But yes, writing, loving it, sleeping well and feeling more at peace than I have in a long, long while.

Hot Girl on Girl Action


On Friday, I had cause to celebrate as I received my contributor’s copies for Best Lesbian Erotica 2013, which features my story, Lessons for Leona.  I am thrilled not only because this is my first time featured in the collection, but because I am in the company of so many talented writers like Fiona Zedde, Andrea Dale, and a whole host of others.  It is edited by the wonderful Kathleen Warnock and the stories were selected by… hello, Jewelle Gomez!!!

It also fueled me in my current work in progress, which also happens to be a f/f story.  I am about 3/4 done and continue to be amazed at the turns this story is taking and the ease of which the words are coming (knocks on wood).

I didn’t write a word on it over the weekend, admittedly, because I basically slept the entire time.  If you’re stressed, over-tired and over-worked, your body wil let you know, believe that.

Best Lesbian Erotica 2013 is available for pre-order and is officially released tomorrow, December 11th.

Stormy Weather

As many years as we have been dealing with this, and as predictable as my daughter’s behaviors are, it still throws me for a loop when we go through our hard times.  Generally, it’s always this time of the year, with the cold weather and the holidays.  She becomes more stubborn and resistant to redirection which makes everything pretty bad for everyone all around.

My daughter is aggressive.  She’s nearly as tall as me (thanks to her bio dad) and very strong.  When she spins out of control, it’s sometimes difficult to “get herself back together.”  She’s had a few pretty major incidents at school over the past few weeks, but the one this past Monday got her not only suspended, but her days shortened until after the holidays.

Her shadow got hurt while trying to restrain her, so she’s out of work, which leads my daughter to having to suddenly adjust to a temporary, possibly new shadow.  And then there’s the guilt.  My daughter loves and is close to her shadow.  She didn’t want and didn’t mean to hurt her.  But, ironically, behaviorly she usually hurts the people she’s most close to, like her twin brother.

We understand it because we live with it everyday, but trying to constantly explain it to people who have to remain in the “safety” and “legal” state of mind is hard.

So, while I’ve stil been writing, and surprisingly able to complete and submit a lot of things, I’ve also been going back and reading these two books:

autismumbrella…because always, always, I’m looking for the fix, for the answer.  I don’t know if it’s in the pages.  I don’t know where it is, or if it even exists.  I just know that during times like this, what it always boils down to is that no one is going to advocate for my child like me.  I’m always on her side, because like last night when she was my loving and cuddly baby, even I forget that she hits, kicks and slaps when she’s upset.  To me, she’s just my little angel.

In the midst of all this, her doctor is leaving his practice for a while to go back to school.  So, I need to find her another specialist, preferrably before she goes back to school full-time.

Whew… it just never ends, does it?

A Work In Progress

That is certainly me, but it also happens to be this snippet of a story that is to follow.  I began it months ago, inspired by a close friend of mine.  It was for a literary mag, but I didn’t finish by the deadline.  It’s straight fiction, not even a hint of sex and I do plan to finish and sub it elsewhere.  Anyway, here’s a first scene teaser from Change for a Dollar:

There was something wild in Cleve’s eyes, something hungry and something familiar.  Eugenia recognized it like her ten year old housecoat, or like feeling for her glasses in the dark.

After twenty-three years, she just knew him.

It was Friday and pay day on top of that.  He was up an hour early and was on this second Red Bull.  She could almost see his heart beating through his shirt.

He burped Red Bull in the bathroom.  He hummed “The Wolfman” in the closet.

Who could be this excited for work?  Eugenia knew she wasn’t, and she actually liked her job.  She’d even go as far as to say love.

Cleve, however, drove a goddamned truck and wore shorts.  He still looked good in them, though.  Eugenia’s suits were getting tight.

It was pay day.  He was doing a little two step as he was putting on his clothes, even dabbed a little cologne on his collar bone.

Eugenia waited for the question, leaning against the door frame, arms folded.

Where the hell did he learn that from?

“You got a date?” She asked.

And she laughed, just to make the delivery lighter, she didn’t want or need any mess with him this early in the morning.

Cleve smiled and waved her off.  “Woman, please.  You know I like to smell good.”

And then he stole a kiss like he did every morning without fail.

He wasn’t coming straight home from work.  Eugenia knew that before he even said it. 

“You got any money in your pocket?” he asked without even looking at me.

“No,” Eugenia said, trying to pace the answer so it wasn’t too quick to be believable.  “Besides, you get paid today, don’t you?”

Hence the bathroom two-step.

“Yeah, but I need some cigarettes.”

Cleve never could figure the difference between a want and a need.  Eugenia thought about this as she picked up her own pack of menthols and lit the last one, quietly blowing smoke in his direction.

“Bum,” Eugena said.

“What?” said Cleve.

“Your guys smoke.  Almost all of ‘em, as a matter of fact.  Bum ‘til your check hits the bank.”

He didn’t even reply.  He just brushed past her and snatched his coat off the back of the recliner.

She wasn’t worried about his silent treatment.  He’d have to talk to her eventually, but as calm as Eugenia had taught herself to be over the years, something deep inside her wanted to take the cigarette from between her lips and stub it out on Cleve’s balding head.

Their youngest girl, Trina walked in the room, glancing curiously at her father as he walked out.  “Mama, I need lunch money,” she said.

Eugenia pointed to her purse lying open on the dresser.  If Cleve had bothered to even look that way, he would have seen it.

 “There’s a ten on the side there,” she said to Trina.  “Take that.”

And just then Cleve called from the kitchen.

“Eugenia, you ready to drop me off at work?”



I’ve been out of sorts lately, which really seems and sounds weird because I’m out of sorts most of the time.  It’s been more so, though, over the past few days because I have unresolved feelings about a home life situation. 

It’s had me thinking a lot about boundaries and respect and, really, proper protocol as it pertains to certain situation.  My husband, and apparently a handful of other people, don’t share my views on boundaries, respect and proper behavior, and lately I’ve been wondering if I’m in the minority with my opinions, or if this simply is the type of people I’ve gotten involved with, been spending my time around.

There are not many people in my life that I consider friends, therefore, there aren’t many people in my life besides family.  I have my oldest friend whom I’ve known for over twenty years, another friend I’ve known for almost as long, but who I feel closer to because we’re like minded in a lot of ways.  There is also a woman who is older than me whom I feel I can talk to about anything, who doesn’t have a judgmental bone in her body, and whom, over the years I’ve found to have had similar experiences as me, therefore she can shed light on a lot of the things I present her with in conversation or play devil’s advocate, back up what I’m saying, or whatever the situation calls for.

I’ve said all that to say, I don’t have male friends.  I’m friendly with male co-workers, but I couldn’t tick one off that I’d ask marital/man advice from, or ask for anything more than a dime to complete my fifty cents for a soda.  I used to have male friends.  Some of my closest friends were male.  This came to a halt when I got into a serious relationship.  Most of it was that it seemed inappropriate to me, being that these men weren’t friends/friendly with my significant other, and part of it was that I was involved with someone with insecurity, trust and jealously issues.

My spouse has a female friend who is friendly with me, who we invite to our home and both talk to.  However, when, if she needs something, it seems that he is her “go to” person.  And when I say “go to,” I mean she goes directly to him.  Even if she’s seen and talked to me all day.  She has borrowed money from “him” and most recently, needed to borrow a vehicle from “him.”  Forget all about the fact that it’s the family’s money and it’s the family’s vehicle.  I mean, who am I supposed to be…the barefoot housewife who cooks, cleans and doesn’t dare handle any of the household affairs?  That’s her life, not mine.

It seem(ed) all sorts of inappropriate to me, but being that we obviously have different views on this subject, he doesn’t see it that way.  The thing that bothers me is not that she needs/wants these things, but that she is married, and he is married, and she doesn’t feel it necessary to address me or at least address me first.  I joke with my spouse that he’s her other husband and she’s his other wife, when actually, I want these inappropriate behaviors to cease.

I can’t imagine any situation where I would feel the need to ask for something from another man who is not my relative, and especially a married one, even if he is a relative.  It would feel disrespectful to my marriage, and I would feel like I was disregarding my spouse.  So, there it is isn’t it?  I feel disrespected and disregarded, but more than that appauled and alarmed that she doesn’t know the protocol when asking a favor from a FAMILY.  But, I’m realizing the more I think about it, that it may be more her issue than mine.  People only do what they know to do.

But that’s just me.  And I may very well be in the minority, but it’s the way I feel.  I, of course, will be weaving this into a story somehow. Probably something BDSM-y where someone gets punished.  You know, resolution and way I can get it.