Why?

I seldom feel the need to explain myself, and I never intended to start now. But since the news of my family’s move to Atlanta has been met with the general inquisition of “why,” I’ve been feeling the need to explain myself, to tick off reasons why we’ve decided to leave this grand old place, and basically, sell the idea of Atlanta to people who are not only not coming with us, but probably won’t even visit.

Our “why” basically is this, though.

We live in a rural area, and though my husband works for the federal government, his particular placement has little room for advancement right now. Atlanta has that. We do have family here, because we were born and raised here. However, that has been a blessing and a curse. Family is there for help and support, but only when they can and want to, and family tends to overstep their bounds. Hell, I’ll say it, my mother especially.

When you have the comfort and convenience of family, it’s hard to motivate yourself to go it on your own. For instance, I almost never have issues with babysitting. On the other hand, my mother often treats me like a teen mom and coaches me (without solicitation) through whatever thing I’m dealing with concerning the children.

We have special needs children, I’ve said that before. The school district has been accommodating, but all the while letting us know that they only have so many resources available and there is only so much they can do. We are relocating to a place where there will be many more resources for the children.

And also, despite their challenges, my children are gifted, but there are no resources here to help nurture their talents besides basic school activities. If my daughter wants to dance, she has to do it in her bedroom.

Finally, we will be in a place where, at last, I can give the proper time and attention to my own career. And not law enforcement. I’ll get to really give freelancing a shot, and I’ll be in a prime place to promote my book next year.

So, there you have it. Those are just a couple of reasons why other than, damn it, it’s our party and we’ll move if we want to.

“Welcome to Atlanta where the players play…”

This is the text I got from my husband this morning, once he got to work and found out that he had been picked up as a transfer with his job to their Atlanta facility.

We decided on a whim almost a month ago to put in for it because the situation here has been at such a stand still, and really, I’ve been complaining about this place (my hometown) for oh…since I moved back here in 2006. We also tried for Houston and Butner, and I would have been fine with either, but being honest, my heart was already in Georgia.

And, truth be told, and as my history speaks for itself, I believe in fresh starts.

On one hand it’s scary. With two special needs children, transitions and the what ifs surrounding them can be paralyzing, but on the other hand we’ll be in a place where there are many more opportunities and hopefully school districts that can better suit their needs.

I will, at least for a bit, be able to be at home writing and be there and available for my family. The chances for promotion for my husband will greatly increase. And I will still have family in the area, including two beloved older aunts who I don’t see or talk to nearly enough. And there are a couple of friends who relocated there several years ago who I get to catch up with, too and writer friends I’ve met through social media who I might actually get to hang out with in real life!

But enough with the jibber jabber. I have a house to sell and another to locate and buy!

Is it true?

So, here I stand in my first role as editor. The book is turned in, the table of contents is finalized. I’m awaiting copy edits and getting things together for marketing.

And, I’m doing things I never thought I would…like asking a major author and personal idol of mine for an unbelievable and almost unthinkable favor. If this happened…if the universe would throw me just this one bone…I can’t even think about it, I’m so nervous.

But it leaves me wondering, is this where the path has taken me? Has it put me in the position where I can actually sit down and type and even send out an email like that and even feel hopeful that I’ll get a response?

I sure hope so, because I remember wanting to be a writer, wanting to be published, wanting to be published by X, wanting to be edited by X, wanting to edit my own collection after X amount of time and those things actually happened. I had a wish list. I have wish lists. And somehow, slowly over time, I’m ticking those things off my list and can’t believe where one story written on the fly over ten years ago has led me.

Man.

Life is good.

“Does anybody know George Duke?”

When my co-worker asked this question yesterday afternoon, I wanted to slap him with the Snapshot CD I keep in the door of my car…for George Duke emergencies. I had already heard the news by then and had already had my personal moment of silence for this musical great, but he was just catching up during his internet browsing session.

Yes, I know George Duke, but no, I didn’t always. I was introduced to his talents when an ex told me that he heard a song on the radio that reminded him of me. This was the nineties (yes, I’m old).

“It was on a jazz station,” he said. “The guy’s name is George Duke. The song was ‘No Rhyme, No Reason.'”

Curiosity, of course, got the best of me and I went to my local CD shop (how I miss having one of those that actually sells authentic CDs and stays open later than six o’clock but I digress). I searched the jazz section until I found it. I tore the disc open as soon as I got in the car and listened to the track.

And there I was, in love at first listen.

It so happened that a few years later I was lucky enough to score tickets to one of his concerts. Rachelle Farell and Al Jareau were there, too. I was two weeks out of a major surgery, but damn it, I threw on heels and a psychedelic summer dress and walked with three of my friends across hilly grass so that we could take our place on the ground with a blanket and it was awesome.

At the end of his set he asked for a request from the crowd. I think I was one of the loudest out there shouting “No Rhyme, No Reason…No Rhyme, No Reason.” And he sang it. And we all sang along.

I have other Duke favorites, and there have been many moments when my younger husband’s friends will be over and I have to school them on real music and I’ll pull out one of his discs and play it.

It happened not more than a week ago, actually. Yes, he was sick, but it does hurt that he’s gone. Any music lover can relate and probably would agree…we really have lost a good one.

“Stop talking, before you make it go away.”

Silence is golden. At least mine is. See, when I’m not doing a lot of communicating – be it talking, texting, tweeting, whatevs…then I’m doing something else. I’m being productive. I’m writing.

That’s not always the case. Sometimes I’m quiet because I’m simply tired of complaining about not being able to write, not being able to finish this or that, but for right now, baby, I’m burning up the keyboard.

I’ve got about five or so stories in the pending file. I’ve had one rejected over the last couple of weeks. I’ve finished one and started three more, and the momentum doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere (knock on wood).

I’m excited about some new releases, one of which you can read about below and I was just pointed to an amazing review of Smut Alfresco which includes my outdoor spanking story, Patches. You can read that review here.

Otherwise, I’m waiting on news of relocating, be it slightly south or nearly a thousand miles west. I’m wander lusting and traveling extremely light and feeling pretty damned good about it all. And that feeling for me, is like an endangered species so I’ll be, as I always am, waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Right this way…

Let me point you to a couple of nice reviews for Baby Got Back, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, which includes my story on boo-tay play, Brenda’s Booty and which isn’t even officially out yet!

There’s this one from Tumblr…

And this one from Jason Frost – love this guy.

I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy that both reviews mention my story. 🙂