On vacation

I’m on vacation this week!

(secret confession: I haven’t done jack, either. I had lofty plans of spring cleaning and errand running but I’ve mostly sat in my jammies, playing video games and reading.)

So yeah, not a lot of bloggy goodness heading your way. Mea culpa. In the meantime, I *did* guest blog over at the fabulous Michelle Rowen‘s blog. She’s hosting 30 Days of Demons in celebration of her upcoming release, THE DEMON IN ME. I had an early opportunity to read it, and it was hilariously fun, and the plot had a totally unique, kicky little twist.

Did I mention I’m giving away a free signed copy of GENTLEMEN PREFER SUCCUBI if you comment? Go comment!

(Sidenote: My succubi aren’t *really* demons but I do have demons in my books, so I totally count. Right? Right.)

Queen of bad analogies

So I was driving home yesterday and noticed all the birds that are out this time of year. This made me smile (a lot!) because I like birds. Or rather…I like looking at birds.

(As pets, they are poopy, and crap everywhere, and smell. And require a lot of maintenance. But I like to watch them. And did I mention they crap a lot? Yeah.)

And this made me think this was a great writing analogy. My husband often says that I have too much fun writing.

Fun!?! WTF? FUN?? Half the time I’m banging my head against the keyboard, trying to find the right word, because “He was so close to her, like a really close sort of thing” just doesn’t have that ring to it. And don’t even get me started on edits. Or synopses.

So I don’t automatically think ‘fun’ when I think writing. Driven? yes. Feeling the need to create? yes. Fun? not so much.

My favorite part of the book is the daydreaming. The endless possibilities of the story spinning out in your mind. I have to write to move the story along, which just spins along more plot ideas. So that’s what I like best. I don’t like hammering away at the keyboard. I like writing 2 pages, then going to bed and being unable to turn the story off in my mind.

You know, kind of like birds. Cute to look at from afar, but when you own one, it craps all over the place. Stories in the head = cute to look at from afar. Sitting at the keyboard = crap all over the place.

And I like the finished product! But writing it? I’m not so sure.

(I told you this was a bad analogy. I should stop blogging these. People are going to start thinking I’m crazy.)

My morning so far

This morning, I woke up and my husband was not yet awake. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I crept out of the room and got ready for work as he continued to sleep. I needed to brush my teeth, though, and the toothbrush was in the bathroom in the bedroom, which meant turning on the lights. And I didn’t want to wake him up, so I thought I’d try to be sneaky.

(You see where this is going, right?)

So in the dark, I’m feeling around on the counter for my electric toothbrush. Found the toothbrush, snapped the head in. Felt around and found the toothpaste.

Now, a person that thinks ahead would have stopped here, left the room with these implements, and gone to the bathroom on the far side of the house where you can, you know, brush your teeth with the lights on.

NOPE! NOT ME!

For some reason, I decided that I could put my toothpaste on my brush in the dark. So I uncap the toothpaste, and put my finger against the side of my toothbrush bristles. I figure I can squirt, and once I feel the toothpaste on my finger, I’m good to go. Right? Right.

So I squirt. No toothpaste on the side of my finger. Hm. Well, the tube is half empty. Maybe I need to squeeze further down. So I squirt again. Still no toothpaste hitting my finger. That’s odd. Now, though, I’m starting to smell toothpaste. Something’s not adding up.

I squirt one more time and…hear a big splat.

Uh oh. At this point, I decide that being sneaky isn’t worth it, and leave the room, toothbrush in hand. When I get into the light, I see…my toothbrush, covered in toothpaste all along the brush. Huge, heaping globs of it all down the brush. Covered. I have entirely missed the bristles, though.

I laugh at this…until I remember the splat. So I go into the bedroom and have to turn on the lights anyhow…and yep. I’ve gotten toothpaste all over the floor in big, nasty globs.

It’s definitely a Monday.

Middle-aged Hypochondria

Sometimes I worry that I’m becoming a hypochondriac.

Case in point – two years ago, I threw out my back. Couldn’t sit for a week, so I pretty much laid flat on my back for a week and read Kresley Cole novels. Ever since then, if I ever get a twinge in my back, I am concerned that I’ll be laid flat again for a week. It worries me. If no one would look at me strange for wearing a protective brace over my clothing, I would! But…that would be weird.

Another story. A person in my family recently had surgery to remove part of her thyroid because of thyroid issues. I knew another lady that had thyroid problems, and hers bulged from the base of her throat. Lately, I find myself constantly stroking the base of my throat to make sure mine has remained a normal size. I haven’t asked my husband to compare thyroids…yet. But I probably will.

The other day I woke up with a crick in my neck. Again, I worried about my back (I’m very protective of my spine as I had surgery on it a long time ago). I woke up one morning with a dry knot at the back of my throat and was convinced that one of my vertebrae had slipped and was pushing on my throat and I would 1) Choke to death because my throat would be too closed or 2) be bound to a bed just as soon as my spine finished freeing itself from my body.

My husband laughed at my fears. A lot. He also pointed out it might have been my old flat pillow causing the crick in my neck.

(He was right)

The worry is not just confined to my back, though! My teeth are extremely sensitive, and I often go back to the dentist, swearing that I have a cracked tooth or need a root canal. He sends me away, because nothing’s wrong with my teeth. I think he is starting to regret taking me on as a patient.

Or my dermatologist! He thinks I’m crazy. I went to him a few months ago because I had a mole on my arm. I’ve always had this mole, but I noticed that when I accidentally scratched it…it hurt! A lot! So I went to see him. I pointed out the mole and told him I had cancer. In retrospect, maybe it’s not that big of a mole, but how do I know? Anyhow, he looked at it, and then looked at me with the My-God-She’s-Crazy look. Said I was fine. I told him it hurt when I scratched it.

He said to stop scratching it.

(Can’t argue with that.)

And I swear I’m not crazy. I’m really not. Most of these fears are temporary and easily laughed away. I think I’m just hitting that age where things are starting to show their wear and tear. I’m heading towards middle age, and it’s on my mind a lot. I think this accounts for the hypochondria more than anything else. Not to mention that in the age of google, no one ever has benign symptoms anymore. A pulled muscle in your leg could be a sign of vitamin deficiency…OR LEPROSY.

Who doesn’t know someone that has a story along the lines of, “Bob went to the doctor because his ankle was hurting…AND IT WAS CANCER.” Couple that in with shows like ‘House’ and the gloom and doom constantly on the news…I am surprised that we’re ALL not hypochondriacs nowdays.

And if you ever see me and I’m wearing some protective brace and can’t turn my neck? Well. YOU KNOW WHY.

Blah blah blah

Not the song – how I’m feeling at the moment! Kind of antsy about a few things I can’t mention (nothing to do with the Succubus books, carry on, carry on). Just a few small things here and there that I’m waiting to hear back on. I have some vacation time coming up at the beginning of April, which will either be edits on MY FAIR SUCCUBI if I get them in time…and Spring Cleaning if I do not.

Choices, choices. Oddly enough, I am rooting for the edits.

In the meantime, while I’m waiting on stuff, I’ve started a new mystery project that I might have mentioned the other day. I don’t talk about mystery projects much…mostly because half the time, they suck. But I’m 43 pages in and still going…so that’s either a good sign, or a sign I’m delusional.

I have a few projects on my hard drive that I was digging through the other day that are pretty decent little books as well. There’s three in particular (and a novella) that just need a polish before they’re ready. Ready for what, I don’t know. Still debating that too! There’s never enough time in the day to tackle everything I want to tackle, and the shiny, new projects always seem to push ahead of the old projects.

As for reading…well…I’ve done a lot of beta-reading for some friends over the past few weeks and as a result…I’m all read out! Haven’t picked up a book in the past few days. I’ve got two more to work through, so I’ve got to just dig down and suck it up, right? Right.

Thunder and Lightning

So I’ve commented before that a lot of my books don’t necessarily have a whole soundtrack, but just one song. Meljean’s made a great post about this at Odd Shots, too.

(btw, if you haven’t entered my contest, it ends Thursday. you can win free books!)

I started working on a new project the other day. Just for me. Just to ease a little bit of the creativity bulging in my brain. If I work on ‘work’ stuff for too long (and I love my Succubus and Dating Agency books, but they’ve turned from ‘secret project’ to ‘work’ now that they’re contracted), my brain starts hissing and spitting like a cornered cat. The only cure for this? More cowbell! A project just for me!

I won’t tell you what it’s about, because when it’s in the burgeoning stages, I can’t discuss it publicly. It drives me insane. Because until I write “THE END”, shit’s gonna change. I could say it’s about a panther-shifter, and then change it to a cougar-shifter on page 200 (like I did with HEAT). Names could change mid-stream. Alarming things of that nature. But I will tell you I’m in love with the phrase from a Selena Gomez song (I know, I know, I know…) — You are the thunder, and I am the lightning.

Perfect.

Oh sure, she looks 14 if she’s a day, but I’m more interested in the song than the video. Mom and Dad, you might like this one. (Also a note to Mom and Dad, avoid the new Gaga video. I like it, but I don’t think you’ll like it. Fair warning. She crazy.)

This book is also a bit of a stretch for me because it’s in alternating 3rd person POV. I joked to poor Meljean earlier today that it’s awkward switching to the hero’s head for me. It reads something like this:

Heroine: Oh my. What just happened? Where did everyone go?
Hero: YOU PRETTY.
Heroine: Um, that’s very nice I think, but I’m curious to know what is going on.
Hero: YOU MINE. ALL MINE.
Heroine: Oh dear. I think there’s a bit of a misunderstanding–
Hero: HULK SMASH.

Okay, not really. It’s actually not that bad now that I’ve slept on it and re-read! But once I get about 50 pages down, I’m probably going to have to send to my sister to see if it’s horrible or salvageable. We shall see.

Weekend round up

This time change thing has me all messed up. I slept extremely late because my body wasn’t used to losing an hour. Not that it was bad to sleep late – my dreams were cool. I dreamed that I was a woman trapped in a house located on the front lines in the Civil War. The house had a rotating cast of people that flitted in and out, and the war killed nearly everyone and left zombies in their wake (Yeah, I don’t know what zombies had to do with it). My boyfriend was a soldier that died, and I had several younger siblings that died in the war, and all of them were haunting the house afterward.

It was strange. It would make a pretty cool book. Not my book, but someone else’s book, maybe. My books aren’t quite so sad.

Other than that, it’s been an uneventful weekend. I’ve been working on writing, reading beta manuscripts for friends, and watching my husband play Mass Effect 2 (which is an amazing game). We only have one TV, so I watch him play rather than play myself. It sounds weird but it’s more entertaining than you’d think. Of course, now I’m in the mood for more space epic stuff…

I’m hoping I’ll have more exciting stuff to post about soon, but right now I’m dabbling between multiple projects and not feeling particularly ‘attached’ to any of them, so I have no exciting writing updates to share. Boring blog is boring.

More Movies Watched

We’ve been on a movie kick, the husband and I, and here’s a summary of a few more films we’ve watched:

Whiteout: Man, this was bad. I saw the reviews (that were almost universally bad) but the premise sounded really intriguing. Murder in the Antarctic! Nazi treasure! How can you go wrong? Well, apparently you can go really, really wrong. It wasn’t a bad plot, but the story itself was so stupid and the characters did such stupid things that you spent the entire movie irritated at them.

Wall-E: This was adorable. I think I would have liked it more if I had not just seen UP, but how can anything be better than UP? It can’t. So this was good, but not amazing. I loved the space scenes (spacedweeb!) and Wall-E’s love for EVE was adorable. Very cute, sweet movie. Husband pronounced it boring.

Monsters Vs. Aliens: This movie was weird to watch, for me. It started out kind of bland but became better the longer the movie went on. Kudos to Dreamworks for having a plot where the woman doesn’t need the love of the ‘right’ man to be fulfilled in her life. The weird part comes in where…well, let’s just say that a very large chunk of the plot here was pretty much IDENTICAL to the Young Adult novel that my agent has that we’re going to shop very soon. So that was bizarre to watch play out.

The Devil’s Tomb: Husband and I love horror movies, and there are certain things that are insta-rentals for us. A tomb filled with an ancient horror and people are trapped there? Pretty much hits both of our horror movie kinks. Sadly, this movie did not deliver. The plot was WAY bad and implausible, the writing terrible. The ‘tomb’ also looked more like an army bunker, so there went any hope of archaeological creepiness. Sigh. It was also gory and gross for the sake of being gross, which meant Husband liked it more than me. Blech.

I am told that tonight we are going to watch OUTLANDER (my pick). It features Vikings and Space Aliens and a monster, so it will either be awesome or totally suck.

Word count on the (new) old project

I am temporarily calling it BEAST, just because I can (and doesn’t that sound mysterious and awesome?).

Where you won’t find me

I’ve had a couple of people ask me about my Goodreads account recently. I’m there, I check it every day, and I actively participate at Goodreads – I tag my TBR list, mark books I’m excited about, review the ones I’ve read and enjoyed, etc. I chat with people about reviews I’ve left on other books. There’s a major caveat to my participation, though.

My books get reviews or ratings almost every day. As an author, I love this and find it terribly exciting. People love my stuff! (sometimes!) People are talking about my stuff! But I don’t comment on any reviews or threads. I read the comments (even the unpleasant ones) and I NEVER, EVER, EVER PARTICIPATE IN CONVERSATIONS ABOUT MY OWN BOOKS.

The same thing goes for Amazon and B&N and review forums, etc. I poke around – absolutely. I’m nosy as hell. But I don’t participate in the conversation. A couple of people have asked me why, so I thought I might explain.

If we chitchat on Twitter every now and then and you post a review of my book on your blog, I will probably pop over to thank you for reviewing it. If you comment on my journal or at Odd Shots, I do my best to answer your comment, I really do (and if I’ve missed you, I’m sorry!). But I don’t participate on the Amazon forums or on Goodreads or anywhere else that they talk about my books.

Those reviews aren’t for me. They’re for other readers. NOT ME. And I believe that me showing up and commenting or trying to explain something about my books, or why I chose to do things a certain way…it influences the conversation. It makes some readers downright uncomfortable.

If it was me and I was talking constructively about a book, and the author stopped by to comment? I’d hate that. I’d clam up. I don’t want to do that to other people. You should be free to talk about my stuff in public without fear that the Authorbeast shall descend upon you and Explain Her Book And Show You The Error Of Your Ways.

So that’s why I don’t participate in discussions on Goodreads (for those that asked). If someone point blank asks me something, I might respond, but it’s just as easy to email me (my inbox is always open). It’s something that I feel fairly strongly about — and I know other authors don’t necessarily agree with me. But that’s how I feel. Maybe this will change later, but for now, I prefer that people have an author-free zone to discuss my stuff. And if it gets to the point that there’s enough traffic to warrant a forum for fans (oh, what a glorious day that would be) I’d throw one up on the website.

But you are free of me on Goodreads and Amazon.