Smashing the Balls of Responsibility

I’m not the kind of person who accidentally drops the ball when things get a little tense. I choose the ball that means the least to me and I throw it furiously at the wall, delighting in the sound it makes as it shatters into a million pieces.

Hahaha! SMASH! That’s what you get, ball! Stop being a distraction from more important things!

The ball I’ve already chosen, the one reduced to dust in the corner over there? That one is my interest and personal involvement in politics. I can’t keep up with what’s going on in this country any more than I can keep up with professional sports teams. If the hometown heroes win something significant, I’ll say a Yay! and high-five whoever gives a damn. If the team of Cheetos in the White House fails spectacularly in their latest evil-doing, same deal. But otherwise, I’m out.  … Except voting. I always vote.

The next ball is going to be Camp NaNoWriMo but I don’t think I’ll be celebrating that one. Still, of the many planets converging in my universe, that one is BY FAR the least consequential.

Sorry Cabinmates. I’ll miss the time we could have spent bonding.

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Camp Comes Last

I’d like to say I took a few days off and now I’m back with a vengeance but it’s probably more accurate to say I’m back with a short-lived, half-hearted grudge. I haven’t written anything other than work-related emails in several days and it’s not looking like I’m going to get much done today either.

But sometimes when you have two jobs, a toddler, are selling your house, buying another and are pregnant, you have to prioritize doctor’s appointments and three hours of signing legal paperwork over your hobbies.

The good news is that, at least in my own head, I’ve resolved the central conflict of my WIP and all I have to do now is make sure that makes it onto the page in a satisfactory way. Then maybe write an epilogue. Then start the editing process which I will inevitably half-ass (what with all the doctor’s appointments, vendor meetings, and house-related shenanigans) before throwing that sucker up on Amazon before kid number two takes over my life. Which is September. So I have until September to completely finish and let go of this story.

You know, as soon as I get three seconds between meetings and appointments to like, breath.

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Me and My MC, learning the lessons

Here’s where I’m having some trouble with Camp:  I don’t know how to set up my project.

Because I’m not starting fresh, I’m finishing up. Because reaching a particular word count isn’t my actual goal but finishing this WIP logically and satisfactorily is. Because I want to finish writing and at least start editing. There’s no, like… button for that kind of goal.

And here’s the exciting part! I may have almost sort of finished the story… in a place that seems a little lazy but might actually be perfect. I won’t know for sure until I edit but there it is. Maybe the ending really is just my MC being like, “Listen, I learned this stuff about life and changed my way of thinking so where normally, I’d be freaking out and making plans to combat the situation just revealed to me, I’m going to chill the frig out, readjust my priorities, and go make out with my boyfriend instead.”

Also, maybe I should write a epilogue. Still, not going to be the 10,000 words (or more) I originally set as my goal. So luckily, I can adjust goals. But still not to “finishing a story and editing the bajesus out of it”.

Camp and NaNo’s stats counter seems more fit to writing something new. Lesson learned.

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First Day of Camp

It’s a slow start to the camping season with just 150 words written but every one was written on my phone, in between episodes of Paw Patrol, and all using just the one finger to type. Much like this post.

Motherwriters do what they gotta do, y’all.

Pardon me while I hunt and peck my way to the end of this entry.

 

 

Real People Are Problematic

It makes me feel all warm and tingly that this tweet got a lot of likes. It’s almost like people enjoy knowing that good folk exist and horrible, spineless, greedy bastards aren’t the only ones left on the planet… even though she’s a fictional character.

But if we don’t write the characters who want to help, who will be our role models? Real people? Pfft.

 

 

Losing the Groove

Today my son napped for 2 hours and 40 minutes. Guess how many words I got written in that amount of time! Just guess!!

0.

0 words.

I ate lunch. I did the dishes. I napped. And that, friends, is a productive day for me. Being pregnant is seriously harshing my vibe, yo. It’s crushing my spirit. And my bladder. And with a minimum caffeine intake, there’s no more magic elixir to keep me up nights (or days, apparently) writing my heart out.

I’m over here like, thank God I’m not puking my heart out because that’s the best I can expect these days.

Any other pregnant writers out there losing their groove?

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But Let Me Tell You a Little More About Me

Much later than I had hoped–since I had a whole new book sale/old book promotion thing going on a month and a half ago and this was part of my marketing plan–MyBookPlace.net has finally posted my Author Interview!

It’s chock full of such pearls as…

I can appreciate Grover’s growing anxiety at discovering the monster within

and…

back in my early teen days when I would have done anything to kiss a boy–any boy, I wasn’t picky

Good quality stuff. Yeah. Actually, it was the third author interview I did and most of the questions were the same so I was scraping the bottom of the barrel of thought nuggets for this one. Sorry.

Still, you should read it because it’s Sunday and you don’t REALLY want to go check the laundry, do you?

Eda J. Vor’s Author Interview on MyBookPlace.net

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Another Adorable Self-Promotion

ltot-book-coverWhile thoroughly in awe that I sold more copies of this book than I anticipated (one each to my best lady friends+ one to my husband who would never read it = 3), nevertheless, I love this book and want more people to read it.

So I’m doing my free promotion thing and giving this little darling away.

Starting Saturday 2/18 and ending Wednesday 2/22, Like Two Opposite Things is available FOR FREE on Amazon.com.

And friends, if you like it, for the love of algorithms, please give it a rating. Amazon loves that stuff.

What’s it all about, you ask? Well, I’ll tell ya:

Helia Desiderio–nicknamed “Hell-yeah” by her friends–is just a kiss-virgin baby dork embarrassed by her 15-year kiss-free streak and her free-wheeling, light-partying parents who spend their weekends misbehaving in a mid-90s family campground while she lets her best friend Heather take care of her. But Heather’s got a plan that’ll bring the campground kids together: a friendly game of Spin the Bottle where anyone can kiss anyone, boy or girl and anyone who has a problem with that can go jump in the lake. Things get complicated when the new girl arrives and Hell-yeah discovers that her clean-cut handsome jock crush object, Patrick, isn’t all that, the grungy smoker boy with the greasy hair isn’t as bad as he seems, and the new girl, Desiree, has more than friendly feelings that Hell-yeah might just be feeling herself.

It’s fluffy and adorable with just enough social conscience to make it worth your precious time. Give it a read, friends!

This One’ll Haunt Me

It must be that time of the year where all of my energy goes into being awake and anything beyond that is just too much. I haven’t been writing more than a couple of sentences here and there and it’s making this WIP REAL hard to finish.

Here’s an excerpt just to prove that I’ve done something:

The primary reason counselors didn’t “get to know” their cases personally was because spirits generally couldn’t focus enough to chat. Instead, there was a team of researchers cataloging cases, researching histories, conducting interviews with surviving family members and writing concise yet thoroughly informative case studies for operators and counselors to review beforehand so they’d be prepared for the emotions attached to issues assumed. When counselor met spirit, it was usually in a haze of disorientation and volatility. The spirit often lashed out, confusing the counselor for the person or people most closely associated with their barrier. The very first step in spirit counseling was just calming the spirit down, sometimes just enough to listen, sometimes enough to respond to questions.

 

Mrs. Atkins was different. She took longer than usual to take form, drifting together piecemeal without the customary chaos of swirling particles and light. The atmosphere shift was different as well and not nearly as uncomfortable while still being significantly electrified. Once a cohesive form had taken shape, it hardly moved. Subtle shifts in color and brightening and fading of light were the only indications that there wasn’t, in fact, a solid form present. That, and she floated.

 

“Mrs. Atkins,” Catori had said. “Barbara Atkins?”

 

“Yes,” the form had said, clear as a bell. The form appeared to be sitting, hands folded on its lap, eyes cast downward.

 

“My name is Catori and I’m here to help you.”

 

“Are you?” it had said. The flatness of her tone had seemed to Catori a mix of dejection and disinterest.

 

“Yes. And I know I’m not the first. I may not be the last. But we’re not giving up on you, ma’am. We’re going to help you move on.”

 

“Oh,” was all it said.

 

Three quarters of an hour passed and neither had spoken. They were already beyond the point where previous counselors had given up, either after talking themselves blue or waiting impatiently for a response. But Catori had taken a different approach. She watched. She waited patiently for an opening, and after 45 minutes, Barbara Atkins sighed.

 

Spirits don’t sigh. They don’t breath. It was an affectation left over from a lifetime of habit.

 

“Hmm,” Catori hummed softly in response, not questioningly, but almost like an agreement. It was just enough to coax Mrs. Atkins to look up.

 

Catori made and held eye contact, tilting her head and speaking with genuine concern. “How ARE you?” she asked.

 

“Fine,” it answered automatically, politely, and with a little nod of the head.

 

“No, you’re not. Barbara,” Catori paused, letting it sink in that this wasn’t small talk, that she was really asking. “How ARE you?”

 

“Fine?” it responded but with less conviction.

 

“No,” she repeated. “You’re not.”

 

“How am I?” it asked, ducking its head, breaking the eye contact. And here’s where Catori needed to decide who this woman was, what she really needed, and to give it to her in a way that would be helpful.

 

“You’re dead.”

 

“Oh,” Mrs. Atkins said sadly but thoroughly unsurprised.

 

“Your spirit is stuck here.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you know why?”

 

“None but ourselves can free our minds,” it said, quoting Bob Marley.

 

“That’s true. But we can help each other.”

 

“Can I help you?”

 

“Maybe. Can I help you?”

 

“No.” The spirit sighed again.

 

“Can I try?” Catori asked.

 

They looked at each other for a long time, each appraising each other. And then finally, the spirit nodded.

 

Look for it on Amazon… someday when I’ve gotten around to finishing it.

This Goes Out to All Two Fans

ltot-book-coverAs of today, my new novel, Like Two Opposite Things, is available in ebook format on Amazon and I am pretty psyched to have a decent best selling rank for once.

Not overall, of course. Not in all time paid books because I don’t get that much love.

THIS, however, is pretty awesome for an amateur:

#184 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender eBooks > Romance > Lesbian Romance

That’s right. #184. For … today because once my preorders aren’t being counted anymore, that number will slip down, down, down into the thousandth and the ten-thousandth and the millionth place where it probably belongs.

But I’ll tell you what: it’s nice to see a number other than $0 in my royalties chart. It’s nice to see that red line in KDP sales reports go up above 1. I’ve never expected that I would make a lot of money or gain a lot of popularity by writing books and self-publishing on Amazon but when I get just a little bit of either, it feels pretty nice.