Yelling "Shut the Fuck Up" And Other Events

notes for the beginning

Trigger Warnings: discussions of PTSD obliquely, discussions of privilege, links to graphic articles about rape and rape culture, general swearing and rambling off subject. feminism 101

TL:DR People can be good people and still be assholes. My page, my rules. Do not fuck with my friends. Don’t be a dick. Why is this so hard?

First Note: I’ve spoken with 2 of the 3 people involved in yesterday’s kerflumph… two of them are okay with my discussing what happened yesterday. The other one defriended and blocked me, so he doesn’t get a chance to protest. Sorry, not sorry. I’m not going to name names and I want to say that I still like both of these people very much, even though I disagree with one of them on a number of topics, we’ve managed to work out our differences like adults, and I appreciate that to no end. I would have even been willing to forgive and work with Guy2, if he’d been willing to even look at what he did and why it was wrong.

Second note: I’m using Ms. Clinton and Mr. Sanders because I believe it is polite. We never called President Obama “Barak” during his campaign and I don’t like that we’re calling them Hillary and Bernie. It seems weird. I am also calling Bernie Bros just that, because it’s the name for them as a group. Sometimes Berners, too. But since they’re acting like Bros, I’m calling them Bros.

Third Note: None of this has anything to do with my writing career, but I spent a lot of time on it, and it's not going to fit in a Facebook post.

Final Note: not all men. Not all women. Not all feminists. Not all gamers. Not all. not all. not all. and YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT so don’t you even fucking say it. Just like you know when you say “I have a broken leg” and I say “I’m sorry,” that I am not taking blame for your goddamn injury, you pedantic headache causing nitwit. You’re just being an ass and it’s time for you to stop.

If the shoe fits, however, lace that fucker up and go for a walk.

I’m going to start with the obvious; I have opinions.

Here are some of them:

** I’m happy that Ms. Clinton is the presumptive nominee. Bernie Bros pushed me further and further away from Mr. Sanders, and then there was the doxing of super delegates. Once Sanders supporters started acting like GamerGaters, I was done. It was a movement I no longer wanted to be a part of. GamerGaters often say they disagree with the tactics of doxing and threatening, but they stay in the movement. That’s not me. I’m judged by the company I keep, and that’s company I don’t want. I stepped away from being a supporter to being a “I’ll vote for him if he gets the nod.” Then I moved all the way over to being in Ms. Clinton’s camp. Don’t get me wrong, as a person, I do not LIKE Hillary Clinton. And it’s not my business, really, if she chose to stay with a cheating, lying spouse. But that’s her personal concern. The rest of it, I like. She’s a fucking BRICK WALL of dealing with harassment after harassment. She took the Bengazi hearings like a motherfucking BOSS and I have all the respect in the world for that. Does she have her faults? Of course she does, she’s a human being, just like the rest of us. And, as someone who’s changed her mind about things, who’s checked her fucking privilege, and who’s grown over the years, I have to say that evolution as a person is a thing. If we don’t allow Ms. Clinton to change her mind, why would someone else ever do it? And isn’t the whole point to BRING PEOPLE OVER TO OUR SIDE? To convince people to see that LGBTQ people are people. That black people are people? That disabled / persons with disabilities are people. 

(*sidenote: I personally prefer “people with disabilities,” but as there’s been a wonderful thought-provoking piece… this is not that article, but it’s another one talking about how various people to whom the labels have been applied feel… http://themighty.com/2015/08/should-you-use-person-first-or-identity-first-language2/ If I find the other article, I’ll let you know. But the basic premise is the same; the person being labeled gets to decide what the label is.) 

(added: oh, look, here it is. My friend Barbara found it for me, so thanks to her. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sarah-blahovec/basic-myths-about-the-dis_b_9560556.html )

** Bon Jovi is a terrible band.

** James Bond is a sexist asshole who leaves a slime trail wherever he goes like a slug.

** White people. Men. The Financially-well-off. The educated. The straight. The cis-gender. ALL OF US NEED TO CHECK OUR FUCKING PRIVLEDGE. Yes, even you. This is one area where I’ll say we all have work to do. ALL OF US. Me. You. My husband. My parents. EVERYONE. No one is exempt. We live in a terrible, hate-filled culture that thrives on the idea of meritocracy without actually being one. (Yes, even me, see this blog entry from a few years ago http://paidbytheweird.blogspot.com/2013/05/my-stupid-mouth.html I was stupid and awful and the more I look at it, the more awful I realize that I was.)

** Twilight is a fun, silly book that works people up for no good reason.

** Basketball stars are not role-models. Book characters are not role-models. Nobody is a role-model. The whole idea of role-models is ridiculous. But that’s another essay entirely and I don’t have time to do it justice today.

** I don’t like arguing. It’s not fun. I don’t have a memorized list of back-up data for all my opinions. I don’t like being angry. I don’t like being outraged. I don’t get off on telling people how wrong they are. I don’t like to play intellectual games with the background radiation of my life. The devil has enough lawyers, thank you.

-My House, My Rules-

Yesterday, I posted two very controversial articles…

https://hecatedemeter.wordpress.com/2016/06/06/managing-your-feelings-is-not-my-job/

This one I posted because I’m seeing a lot of Bernie or Bust in my feed. Where people will rather have Trump as president… where people insist on acting like the 2 – party system isn’t firmly entrenched in American Politics. Should it be that way? Probably not. But here’s the thing; I don’t live in a world where rainbows are farted out of unicorn butts. I live in the real fucking world, where there will be real fucking consequences if Trump takes the Presidency.

( http://www.cracked.com/blog/what-i-learned-accidentally-managing-trumps-campaign/ ) Not even Trump took Trump seriously from the get-go.

“If you are a Bernie Sanders supporter who will not vote for Hillary Clinton--You are literally saying that you put your personal privilege and sanctimonious bullshit above my personal physical safety. You are literally saying you'd rather protest vote than see to it that my life, my safety, and my civil rights have a chance to be heard and protected. You don't have to like her. I'm not asking for that but the possibility of the rest of my life existing under a Trump controlled Supreme Court terrifies me and it should terrify you.” – Cara R.

On Safe Spaces and the Use of Facebook

Almost immediately after posting that article, I had two friends arguing over it. I cannot, honestly, remember what the particular bit was, except that Guy1 was going through Yet Another List of Why Ms. Clinton Is Terrible and Why the System is Broken. I agree that the system is broken. But it wasn’t specifically broken to spite Mr. Sanders, or because the super delegates think it’s Ms. Clinton’s “turn” like politics is a fucking slide at the playground and Mr. Sanders is breaking the line. 

( http://www.politifact.com/personalities/hillary-clinton/ )

( http://www.snopes.com/hillary-clinton-freed-child-rapist-laughed-about-it/ )

Girl1, who is upset because she’s not being allowed to be happy about Ms. Clinton without dealing with multiple feelz from slighted Bernie Bros, sends me an anxious message, telling me she’s upset and she doesn’t want to continue to engage and she’s getting herself spun up. She does that; whenever she posts to a thread of mine and the thread turns hostile, she’ll back away, but she wants me to know that I’m not the person upsetting her and that she’s moving away for her own emotional safety. I approve.

I glance at the stuff Guy1 has posted. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. (Seriously, I promise. You can’t tell me anything new about the email scandal, or the real estate scandal, or bengazi, or whatever the hell the bee is in your bonnet that I can’t find elsewhere. I promise you, darling, special snowflake, that information is out there, it’s being shoved down my throat, and I have read it.) It’s nothing that’s adding to the discussion of being happy about our candidate and it’s frankly backing up the claims that Bernie Bros need to not see Clinton Supporters Celebrating Because It’s Making Them Sad. And honestly, I don’t want to read it right now. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting 24 hours of celebration before we have to get down to the grueling work of “reaching out” to Mr. Sander’s supporters; work that is going to be ugly and time-consuming, and probably in the end, worthless. (My husband has voiced the opinion a few times that the people claiming Bernie or Bust were probably not going to vote anyway, and therefore their opinion and their vote aren’t worth trying to salvage.)

   

So, both because I love my friend and I don’t want her to be upset, and because I don’t want to be upset, and because the entire fucking purpose of this thread is to say “Today, I will be happy. Tomorrow I will get down in the mud with you again and attempt to be reasonable and rational, but today, I want to be happy. So stop fucking raining on my parade” I deleted all dissenting opinions.

( http://www.damemagazine.com/2015/04/14/i-am-voting-my-vagina-hillary-clinton-president )

( http://www.lennyletter.com/politics/a249/theres-no-such-thing-as-voting-with-your-vagina/ )

I believe that Facebook is my front porch; you’re all invited to come up, grab a rocker, have some lemonade. But this is MY front porch and there are discussions I don’t want to have. There are discussions I don’t want to have today and then there are discussions I don’t want to have, ever. And I will delete commentary. I don’t have to justify that to you. If someone put a Vote Trump sign down in my front yard, you can be damn fucking sure I’m going to rip that sucker up and toss it in the trash. I’m not leaving it there because “censorship.” You don’t get to tell me what conversations you get to have in my house, on my property. I have thrown my father out of my house because he wouldn’t stop arguing with me. I have thrown stuff at my brother – who has thrown stuff at me, too, so there – for not being able to shut up. Politics is sometimes a null-discussion in my house because believe it or not, my husband and I are not a hive mind. (on the other hand, he’s never voted in a major election for a candidate that’s won and I have a yen to try to convince him to vote for Trump to carry on that lovely tradition.)

And no, it doesn’t always matter how “polite” you are. I’ve known a goddamn rapist who was polite as a southern lady in public and a gas-lighting, sleep-depriving bastard in private.

So, I delete the thread, run off to do the shopping, and get back in my car to Guy1 complaining about me censoring him. Admittedly, when I delete people’s comments, I usually tell them why, but I had errands to run and didn’t want to engage beforehand. Oh boy, did we engage afterward, though.

Our first big difference of opinion is obviously what Facebook is: To me, it’s sitting on my porch with friends. (not inside the house with friends, mind you. There are some people who have that connection with me, and I’m usually pretty welcoming in real life – how I met Chuck and Colleen comes to mind – but I’d be a fool to allow any random person into my home. Even the front porch isn’t always safe.)

To him, I’m standing on a street corner, yelling, and having my Gestapo shoot people who disagree. (okay, I am exaggerating a BIT. He didn’t say that, specifically. But he did continue to argue with me about what My Facebook Page Is for quite a while. See above note about not liking to argue.)

And then I made the Ultimate Mistake in arguing with a man; I brought feelings into it. I said, specifically “And right now I care more about her mental health than yours. I don't want to argue about politics right now, I just want to be happy.”

He said: “As for your friend, you did what you felt was right. But, in my opinion, sheltering her incorrect of historic events isn't helping her to grow. It's just keeping her sheltered and frankly, ignorant. If she can't debate something civilly, and factually, wtf is she gonna do when someone who actually hates her comes along?”

Me: I’m sheltering her? You’re DAMN FUCKING SKIPPY, I am. She’s upset, near tears with frustration because she’s not being allowed to be HAPPY anywhere – given where she lives, being a Clinton supporter is not winning her any friends – without someone telling her she’s wrong, she’s stupid, Ms. Clinton is a terrible person. Someone who really hates her? What the FUCK do you know about how much hatred she has to deal with?

It took me a while to put my finger on exactly what upset me here, but it boils down to this; Guy1 is saying that it’s okay to upset and hurt my friend now because someone else might hurt and upset her more, later. Emotional pain’s not like physical pain, where if you get hit 100 times in the face, the 101^st blow isn’t going to sting as much.

“Unlike with physical pains, if you apply repeated or deliberate mental stress to a brain instead of toughening up, it will hardwire a response to the type of stimulus that caused the stress to the sympathetic nervous system; which will essentially mean that you cause problems for that person the rest of their life. …while exposure therapy can make me better, that requires there to be a highly controlled environment and enough safe guards so that I don't feel panicked. Random bozos hitting the trigger in uncontrolled situations rather than helping reinforce the pathways making things worse.” – Girl1

Guy1 and I talked most of yesterday, on and off… I do like him, I do value his opinions, and in this case, I still think his opinion is… unhelpful for Girl1 and me. You can do that, you know. Have an opinion that doesn’t work for someone else. That’s okay. I don’t make my bed every day. I am never going to make my bed every day. Nothing you ever say or post or do is going to change that because making my bed every day DOES NOT WORK FOR ME. I agreed to be quicker for explanations – or preemptive on my “I’m going to shut this topic down now and this is why”. He agreed that it is my right to take down any comments that I want. No information is being suppressed; any reader on my Facebook page is welcome to share the article on their page and talk about whatever they want over there.

For right now, my Facebook page is a safe place for Clinton Supporters. You don’t want to support her, that’s fine. There’s your Facebook page.

On “Not All Men” and the Stanford Rapist who can swim well

I was just getting over my mad-on about the other thing… One thing, if you don’t know me well… I’m a muddle when put on the spot. I don’t like to argue. I do, however, know how to debate. When I have time to prepare my arguments, cite my sources, do my research, I can go through and debate point for point. (as you see here) I’m very good at research. (I snopes the shit out of everything, too. I hate posting stuff and finding out later that it’s false. Sometimes I still get caught out, but I try… )

And then I posted this article

( http://www.theestablishment.co/2016/06/07/men-see-themselves-in-brock-turner-thats-why-they-dont-condemn-him/ )

This article is brutal as fuck. No holds barred, in your face, criticism of rape culture. And here’s the thing about Rape Culture. It’s culture. That means none of us is untouched. Rape culture surrounds us and binds us like some squicky sort of Force… it’s invisible and the most visible thing there is. It’s in everything from media to classroom dress code inequities ( http://www.houstonpress.com/arts/the-apparently-immoral-shoulders-of-my-five-year-old-daughter-7372634 ) It’s in nursery rhymes. Georgie Porgie kissed the girls and made them cry… Did you know that the original version of Sleeping Beauty that there’s quite a bit more than a kiss to wake her up?

(  http://www.shakesville.com/2009/10/rape-culture-101.html Side Note: this is one of the best Feminist 101 sites I’ve ever come across.)

“Everyone can agree that rape is objectively wrong, but problems crop up when we try to parse exactly what rape is and under what circumstances it occurs. I’m willing to bet that more than a few men read the victim’s letter and had a pang of recognition—not of her experiences, but his. Because most men have done at least some of what Turner did. They’ve gone to parties with the intention of hooking up with someone; they’ve zeroed in on the vulnerable girls, the drunk girls, the girls who seem like they’d be easy to take home; they’ve assumed that silence or a lack of clear refusal is the same as consent. And when these men read the account of what Brock Turner did, even if they recognize it as awful, there’s a louder voice in their heads saying something like this could have been written about me.”

I’m going to say this to be 100% clear; as a college student, I didn’t know shit about boundaries, either. Not guarding mine, not respecting other people’s. Because we’re taught that men always want it, that women always have to be convinced, I’ve done some things of which I am not proud. People were wounded in the fallout.

I would never, ever murder someone.

But I might think about it. I might viciously imagine ramming your car when you cut me off and driving you into oncoming traffic. I might spend a dinner party staring at you over the table and making nice conversation and wondering how it would look if I cut your throat with a steak knife. I would never, ever… but I did grab a baseball bat and trek across campus one time with the full intent of clunking … Christ, I can’t even remember the guy’s name now. He wasn’t in his dorm at the time, and I think that was lucky for both of us… and if I was a conceal carry type, I abso-fucking-lutely would have shot the guy that punched me in the face at the Best Buy some four years ago. Without. A fucking. Doubt. And I’m glad I don’t conceal carry, because I would have had to live with that guilt.

Of course it’s a controversial article; it’s pretty damned hostile and I think it has every right to be, because I’ve seen those men, I know those men. I know the rapists who are charming in person and wake you up every 10 minutes after you’ve worked a 16 hour shift to ask if you’re sure you don’t want to have sex until you eventually lay there and take it because you need some goddamn sleep and you’re crying while he’s hovering over you and when he rolls off, he thanks you for it and says he loves you. And he doesn’t think he’s done a damned thing wrong. And you get to the point where you never say no, because you know that no doesn’t matter and you may as well get it out of the way early rather than fight about it, because that’s what’ll happen and you don’t want to fight anymore, but you don’t want sex and you can’t ever see a time, ever again, that you will.

And if you’ve been following along… you know what comes next.

The very first fucking thing someone says is “Not all men.” (He didn’t say it using those exact words, but he did say “What about all the men who denounce…”) Not someone being obnoxious and thinking that being an annoying twit is somehow ironic and funny, but someone who honestly thinks he has to stand up for the men who don’t rape.

Honey, we’re not talking about those men, and you don’t get a goddamn gold star for being a decent human being.

“My house is on fire.”

“Not all houses catch on fire.”

“Well, that’s fucking delightful. Mind getting out of the way of the fire truck?”

(http://www.slate.com/blogs/bad_astronomy/2014/05/27/not_all_men_how_discussing_women_s_issues_gets_derailed.html )

Me: LOTS of men have spoken out... I'm glad the case has gotten such national coverage, because this is one of those really obviously who is wrong cases... this is -literally- the stranger in the alley. and still, he gets nothing. The people who are so worried about false rape accusations can suddenly see that even undeniable rape cases, the rapist gets so little punishment... it's opening a dialogue that needed to happen. 

In Conclusion

I have no conclusions. I spent yesterday wanting to be happy and being burning, furiously angry instead. I got support from some of my friends, and from my husband who spent most of the pre-dinner hour raging about the Brock Turner case because he’s so desperately affronted.  

( http://jezebel.com/brock-turner-will-spend-more-time-in-jail-than-97-perce-1781032260 )

I think it may be the first time that he’s realized, really gut-down-deep where you have those life changing moments, that rapists don’t go to jail. #notallrapists

I had decent discussions with one of the people who pissed me off (and who I pissed off as well; I’m not discounting his feelings about the thing. Yes, he has feelings. He may call them opinions and facts and rational arguments, but they’re still feelings. He has them, and I injured them, and I acknowledged his right to feel slighted without abandoning my right to act as I see fit. Thank you Steve Miller and Sharon Lee)

Update and Stuff

So... most of you know that there's been a "thing" over at Vamptasy / CHBB / Hot Ink and all my rights have been returned to me. (The Marked Man series, and the Demoniac Codex series are returned, as well as Pistols & Guns) I don't even have enough bandwidth to be upset about this... I'm not even sure I would be upset, if I had the bandwidth. I've enjoyed working with V/CHBB/HI/Alphabet soup for a while (altho I never did find a convenient way to refer to the publishing company)

For the time being, you can still get the paperback copies of both books on Amazon until the imprint is done, then there won't be anymore available, but the kindle copies are already down... if you really really need a copy -- and of course you do! -- just send me an email at lynntownsend.writer at gmail dot com and we can work out some sort of donation for the time being to get the e-reader copy...

I've sent the novels out to look into reprints with one publisher, and hopefully I will hear something back... if not, I have some other places to try... worst comes to worst, for those of you who are reading the Demoniac Codex and are sad not to finish it, I will make those available as an e-book format, self-pubbed or donation-payments or something, so that you can at least finish the series... Check back with me in March for an update, if you don't hear anything beforehand.

(On the plus side, both books for Forging of Souls are available in the public library system in New York... )

~~~~~~~

I've also been recently diagnosed with a chronic illness, because you know, stuff just has to suck. It's called Chronic Idiopathic Urticaria, which essentially means "your body is being stupid and you have hives and we don't know why, and we're not sure how to fix it." Despite sounding like doctors are dumb, they're really not and this condition affects a LOT of people.

Now, imagine all those red spots are on fire.
This is how I feel.

*** this is your only warning that I do not need or want suggestions, woo-medical advice, suggested diet changes, no, it's not my fucking laundry detergent, I have been sick for almost 7 weeks now, it if was easy or find-able, I would have found it by now, or anything like that. I am working with my doctors on relieving the symptoms and we're going to try a recently approved medical injection series that might help me a lot. Any medical advice unless given to me by a doctor will promptly be deleted. I thank you for your concern, but computer tech and medical advice seem to be two subjects where non-experts abound. I know you probably mean well, but it's annoying me, so please stop. (If you weren't going to say anything, this isn't directed at you. If you were going to make suggestions, please don't. I'm saying please, but I'm already annoyed from my real life. Please don't add to my burden by stressing me out over here, too.) ******

Because I have been ill since the 6th of October, I'm not going to be competing in NaNo this year. I was going to, and I really did try, but I had another relapse around the 4th of November and I'm on more medication than a hyperactive kangaroo, so I'm exhausted. In addition, I'm hungry, tired, thirsty, have dry skin, have been having random hives outbreaks, have blurred vision, have hot flashes, headaches, and random swelling of my hands, feet, and face. I am, in a word, miserable.

It makes writing kinda hard. I'm trying to finish off my Riverdance story, since I'm like 5k into that and I'd like to hand it in, but Hector's story, while I'm about 5.5k into it, is just going to have to take its sweet time getting written because I'm not going to try to force it while I'm dealing with this illness.

Last Chance

961 words written today. I am making slow, but steady progress along the theme of "getting my words per day count" back up to something resembling "might actually finish this fucking novel on time." -- posted to my Facebook account 

I started a few weeks back trying to get back into writing regularly, after taking some time off to be depressed and say "fuck my life, fuck my writing, I'm going to play Star Wars" and then trying desperately to pretend that I wasn't doing that. Because I always pretend that I'm not doing that, because I am crazy and stubborn and depressed, and all three of these things are a bad combination. In this particular circumstance, I am defining crazy as "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

My thing that I keep doing is pretending to be fine when I am not fine. When I am nowhere close to fine. Where fine is an 18 hour flight and lost luggage away from where I am. And I pretend to be fine because admitting that I'm not fine always seems -- from the headspace of not being fine -- to be a "quitting" scenario. If I admit to not being fine, then I'm not fine, and I give up.

Except I'm not giving up, I'm never giving up. And every once in a while, I can take a few days off, relax, get my head back on straight and keep right on doing what I'm doing. Without, and here's the kicker, feeling guilty about having taken the time off for self care.

Which I know is not the case. I know this. I even, most of the time, KNOW that I know this even when I'm doing it.

I swear to you (and to me, and honestly, right now, it's me that's important and not you, because none of you out there are judging me, and even if you were, I honestly don't care that much about random person on the internet's disapproval.) that I plan like a master these days. I write into my schedule at least two or three weeks worth of FUCK THIS SHIT time into everything I do.

Well, at least into every novel. Short stories have a higher rate of "I am not going to finish this by the deadline, so fuck it." Also, I know for a fact now that MANY editors will give you a break to get a story in, if they know you're working on it. And even sometimes when they know you're not working on it, because if they give you to the 15th and you still don't get it done, they're not out anything, and they've made you more likely to write for them again, because you're not mad at them. (This applies to me. If you have a shapeshifter story and you need extra time, just ask. I'll probably say yes. Because if you don't turn it in, I'm not out anything, and if you do, I have another story... if you don't ask, however, I can't say yes. And I won't take late stuff if you don't ask because that's just rude.)

One of the benefits of working for myself is that I can take time off when I need to. One of the drawbacks of working for myself is that I can do this. Sometimes, when I'm in the middle of a few days worth of "god this sucks, I suck, will somebody just give me a cookie and $100,000??" that it feels like 1) it's going on forever and 2) I won't stop doing this.

Every time I get depressed, I wonder... is this going to be the time where I don't come out of it... is this my last chance?

When I was 25 and got dumped by my ex boyfriend, I was concerned that I was getting TOO OLD to find a new boyfriend, get married and have a family. I say this from the point of view of a 43 year old mother of an exceptionally cool kid who wonders what the actual fuck her 25 year old self was thinking...

I thought it was my last chance then. And sometimes I think it's my last chance now. And I look forward to 60 year old me saying "God, I was an idiot then, too..."

But I'm less of an idiot now than I was then. It takes LESS LONG to come back from the depression. To the ex's defense, he broke up with me while I was in one of the longest depressions of my life, and while this doesn't always say wonderful things about him, I was pretty damn hard to deal with for someone who's several years younger and not so well-versed in therapy as I was, even at that time. And it's quite possible that he didn't even know that I had a different, non-depressed personality.

I'm not sure I knew that I had a very different, non-depressed personality.

The other thing about being depressed is that it's sometimes hard for me to recognize that I am depressed.

Sometimes I feel like my default state is FUCKING EXHAUSTED and all the coffee in the world is no help at all. I feel like I don't get enough sleep, that I'm doing too much, and at the same time, I'll feel incredibly lonely. Like I haven't spend any time with people I care about. (Side note: Doesn't help to be the only freaking extrovert in a group of fucking fucking reclusives!) And honestly, I don't get as much time with people as I need. So there's the part of my personality and energy that gets wasted away and then I don't get it back because everybody's busy or peopled out.

(I am now taking applications for a new local best friend. I miss having someone to regularly hang out with. Social media is nice, but it's still like putting a cellophane wrapper around me and my energy.)

(side side additional note: when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was also diagnosed with "situational anxiety" which sounds stupid. If there's a situation, of COURSE I'm going to be anxious about it! Isn't everyone? -- short answer, no, everyone isn't. That being said, my husband is stressed out recently about some work stuff that's stupid and long and complicated... which is fine, he's allowed to be anxious, too. But his response to being anxious is to pull back, to protect himself. This has the unfortunate side effect of making me feel even more isolated, since he's one of the few actual humans I interact with on a regular basis.)

Right... what was I talking about?

Depression. Yeah, it's easier to see looking back, than it is while I'm in it.

And sometimes I will think I'm coming out of it when I'm not, or when I'm just having a little bump on my stupid mood-o-meter.

Honestly, there are times when I wish I could take pills. I really, really do. And I've tried... a bit. (doesn't help that I pretty much distrust and hate therapists, which is also something I've tried... a bit... to work on...) But they get in the way of my being a creative person, and since most of my self-image comes from me being a creative person, pills just make me... less me.

Okay, so I'm less me who doesn't break down crying at the death of a flying ant in a movie (sorry, spoilers for Ant-Man. Suck it up, buttercup, you should have been there on opening night.) And less-me might have a cleaner house and less tasks on the "I ought to do this eventually" list....

But I am getting better. I think at this point it's part of me and my life to have these phases, and it's more a matter of how I deal with them, than it is a matter of being perfect, or putting a stop to it entirely.

So... I think I'm doing okay right now....

And I've written a little over 10k in usable material in the last 3 weeks... (not including the 3k I wrote of a story that I threw out for being awful...)

So Much Work

I've been doing so much work recently, it feels like I haven't gotten anything done.

I mean, it's almost the end of April. I'd meant to do Camp NaNoWriMo this year because I am behind on a bunch of projects, but no, I ended up with other projects and more projects, and while I've gotten a lot of writing and stuff done, I'm still behind. Sort of.

In some senses of where I wanted to be with done-ness.

I'm about somewhere between a third and halfway done with Sins of Angels, but it's the same place I was last month, because other projects and editing and outlining have gotten in the way. On the plus side, I don't actually need to have it turned in to my publisher until December, so I still have plenty of time, but I hate feeling like I might be rushed LATER, so I'm making up for it by being rushed NOW.

I just got the edits back in for Classic. And an acceptance for Cascade Failure. And marketing documents for two pieces in house. And I'm expecting a beta-read back for A Wanted Woman soon, which is due to my publisher June 1st. Which will mean I need to do those edits VERY Soon Now.

And I'm writing a novella for a series that sounds really fun. I'm most of the way done with writing that, and I expect to be done with it in the next week or so... if I can just get past the sex scene, really. (I write so much sex that sometimes it's hard--oh, so hard!--to avoid writing the same damn scene over and over again.) I mean, I love sex, I really do. And I like crazy sex. But real people have the same sex over and over again. You just do. Especially when you've been with the same person for years....

Cascade Failure, which is a continuation of the Home Improvement series (started in Home Inspection, found in Whetting the Appetite and continued in last year's Building Us in the They Do anthology), seems a bit like my life recently. When one thing goes wrong and then another, and none of the things in and of themselves are very difficult or awful, but they just sort of pile on you until you're at the bottom of a stack of shit going "can I just stop now?"

My husband broke a tooth all the way to his jaw, there were complications with that which prevented him getting into the dentist for almost three weeks... and the joy that is my husband in pain AND on pain meds. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse. And I chipped a tooth in the same week, because why not? And while my daughter is doing very well in school, we've had a ton of parent-school activities that just keep stacking together... and my cousin's husband died in a terrible car accident... and my mother came to visit for the first time in... honestly, I can't actually remember the last time we saw her at our house? Maybe when the childthing was three? (she's almost 12 now)

I've had a few issues with one of my publishers that resulted in a story I wrote potentially being off the market, after they even had Amazon pre-order dates and everything. I have a couple of other stories out in limbo and editors have not responded to emails for clarification.

I'll be opening submissions for my new anthology Soon... but not entirely sure when, altho we're aiming for a Halloween publication because that's the perfect time to release a shape shifter anthology. (keep an eye on this space for details!)

So, I've been really busy...

Breathe.... breathe...

Cascade Failure 

Teaser: Parenting never even looks easy. When a high-travel job conflicts with raising a family, will Eric and Temple be able to be there, for their kids, or even for each other?

'Blurb: The conflict between work and home life has never been greater for Eric Hopkins—trying to make a better life for his children, Eric takes a job with high travel, leaving him hundreds of miles away when his family needs him the most. For Temple Richardson, local employment and more time at home means dealing with school officials, toddler mishaps, and sick dogs, all while trying to plan the perfect birthday for his spouse.

When one mishap leads to another and the whole day comes tumbling down, can these two very different men get their lives, and their priorities, straight? Or will cascading failure finally rip them apart?

New Year's Intentions

I love the idea of New Year's Resolutions, but like most people, I kinda hate the practice.

I love blank books, blank calendars, blank paper. All that potential...

And I have lousy follow through, sometimes.

My husband, the Project Manager, likes to talk about Target Dates versus Deadlines. Targets can be moved, deadlines are missed.

I've learned a lot from him; when people ask me about how productive I am (or talk about how intimidating my productivity is, which continues to boggle me, because I don't see the same thing you see. I see my messy desk and my days of fuckit, I'm going to play Star Wars ALL DAY LONG) I really have him to thank for that...

He's taught me how to manage projects, and in truth, that's all a novel really is. A project. It has stages and goals and completion and projected output. And like all projects, it can get lost in the weeds, have unexpected delays, and consequences.

First of all, I generally know how much writing output I'm capable of. For me, that was a first critical step was determining what my regular outcome was (always build in time for "I hate this project" screw arounds, because I will hate the project, I will take time to just fuck it, I will get overly involved in reading someone else's books... and if I don't account for that, I'll just feel guilty about it. And guilt, for me, is a pretty sucky emotion. It's both useless and has a bad tendency to backfire. If guilt made me work harder, I'd be all for it, but it doesn't. When I feel bad/guilty/pathetic, I tend to hide from what's making me feel bad, rather than deal with it. Unproductive, but true.)

From there, I decide how long the project is going to be; novel length, novella, short story... (yes, I have bloat. Targets can be moved... )

And then I track backward from the expected due date  - some of which are set by publisher requirements and some are set from my head - at so many words per day, so much time to screw around, when do I have to start?

Final step is just a matter of doing what I say I'm going to do. Which can be difficult. And again, targets can be moved!!

So, this year...

Among other various "I really need to Do The Thing this year Better than Last Year," I'd like to read:

• at least 2 books per month for review
• one book per month that's been recommended to me as a "You really must read this" 
• only re-read one book per month. 

(at this time, this is not really a plea to have books recommended to me. I have a list already...)

I'd also like to remember to update my Music Page daily with a new song st least three times a week.

I want to stop forgetting to clean my house regularly. I'm tired of panic-cleaning whenever guests are expected. (and yes, I know, I have friends who are totally rolling their eyes because my house is actually much cleaner, even now, than it's ever been, but the thing about improving is that I want to get BETTER at things...)

I want to learn a new skill; last year I attempted and failed to learn to crochet. (I'd say failed miserably, but I wasn't really miserable. I enjoyed trying to learn, and was more amused by my failure and a little exasperated, than anything else) This year, I'd like to attempt to learn to play a musical instrument. I always wanted to when I was a kid, I love music, and while my voice is a NATO sanctioned Weapon of Mass Destruction, maybe playing wouldn't be so terrible?

And the Writer Goals for this year:

I have 3 novels to write:

• Sins of Angels
• All that Jazz
• Project to Be Determined Later)

three novellas to outline/write

The Terran Academy series

• Economics 101: The True Cost of Running an Empire
• Computer Science 201: How to Hack your Final Exam
• Journalism 301: Objective Reporting in the Middle of a Battlefield

four short stories that I want to work on.

• How 'bout them Apples?
• Next Thursday Night
• Cascade Failure
• A Funny Story For Someone Else.

Physics did not actually appear in this film

Today is the last day of Blissemas. Snogs in the Snow is the last stop on our whirlwind tour...

~*~*~*~

Collin laughingly pushed my hands away when I tried to reach for one of the dinner rolls, tearing it into bite sized pieces and feeding them to me like I was a baby bird. I rolled my eyes at him. Naturally, it was the pie that actually got me into trouble. I was laughing at Collin's description of his nephew's Halloween costume when he offered me a bite of pecan pie, covered in whip cream. I snarfed. And he missed. I took a noseful of whip cream, and sticky pecan down the side of my chin.

"Oh, brilliant," I snorted. "You're a terrible nursemaid." Collin scraped the fork along my chin, catching a dollop of pie filling.

"Really? I get all the way to the end of dinner, and you make me miss, and I'm the one who's terrible?" Collin ate the glop of pie himself. "Hmm. That's pretty good." He leaned in. I knew - from the instant that he'd forked a bite of turkey and offered it to me - that this moment was in the offing. A single quiver, a tightening in my belly that snaked down my thighs and coiled there, waiting, in my groin. I could have pulled back, could have turned it, and nothing would have happened. I didn't. I offered him my pie-smeared nose and cheek, and in those precious seconds, offered everything else.

Collin's tongue slid across my cheek, tasting and teasing. He nipped the end of my nose, sending crinkling tingles down my throat. Under my striped uniform shirt, my nipples peaked with sudden, almost painful intensity. I arched my back, pressing toward him. The scrape of his stubbled chin brushed over my skin, a single rasp, before his mouth came down on mine.

Kissing always seemed to me to be perfunctory, a necessary prelude to whatever sexual adventure was coming my way. Like a preview for a movie, something I didn't really mind too much if we were late to the theater and missed. Not this kiss. Instead of rudely thrusting his tongue into my mouth, prodding and probing, Collin's kiss was a sensual onslaught. He licked at my lips, teased the corner of my mouth, sending shivers along my spine. The tickle of his beard against my sensitive upper lip made me gasp. By the time he plundered the inside of my mouth, I was more than willing, more than ready, and decidedly marking the kiss on my must-see summer blockbusters.

He explored and plundered, tasting and touching. His arms came around me, fingers trailing down to the small of my back, pulling me against him. His breath was hot and heavy and he pulled the air out of my lungs in his eagerness. I surrendered, my hands going up to test the silken glide of his hair, the feel the hard muscles of his shoulders. I leaned against his long frame, feeling every inch of his body against mine.

-- From Holiday Hours, currently available in Coming Together: For the Holidays

~*~*~*~

Last night, I went to see Battle of Five Armies and the end of the ridiculously photogenic dwarves.

Physics did not actually appear in the film.

I will say I am not a purist; my enjoyment of both the 1940's Pride and Prejudice and Bridget Jones's Diary will attest to the fact that even books I love intensely do not need to be 100% in order to make a decent film. (I do not like the Kiera Knightly P&P, but that's a matter of severe dislike for their Mr. Darcy... )

I have been subjected to many a late night rant about elves at Helm's Deep and while I agree that the alterations to Boramir's character were unpleasant and didn't add to the film, I generally enjoy the Jackson editions of all the films.

This one was no exception.

But I did think the film should have been "Thorin, no. Dude! Really?"

~*~*~*~

I'm pretty impressed that I've managed a blog entry most of this month. But I'm getting kinda tired. Let's just pretend there's some interesting content here, okay?

~*~*~*~

Torquere's free reads for today (these free reads are offered from 12am  -11:59pm... US Central Time. If you miss "today's" free reads in my links, check Torquere's twitter account for the latest free reads.)

Aisling Book One: Guardian by Carole Cummings

Constable Dallin Brayden knows who he is, what he's about, and he doesn't believe in Fate. 'Wilfred Calder' has no idea who he is, what he's about, and has been running from Fate for as long as he can remember. When Wil is brought in for questioning as a witness to a brutal murder, and subsequently flees, Dallin is dragged by duty into the chaos of ancient myth, fanatical religion, and the delicate politics of a shaky truce between two perpetually warring countries, all of which seem to hinge on the slender shoulders of the man he knows is not Wilfred Calder.

The eventual capture of Dallin’s quarry only makes matters worse. Wil is prickly and full of rage, rebellious and lethal, and tells an unbelievable tale of magic and betrayal that threatens to rock the carefully cultivated foundations of Dallin's world. Leery and only half-believing, Dallin finds himself questioning not only his own conscience and his half-forgotten past, but the morality and motives of everyone around him, including those who hold the power of his own country’s fate in their hands.

GET FOR FREE

Wild Raspberries by Jane Davit

When Daniel Seaton inadvertently trespasses on Tyler Edward's land, things almost go very, very wrong. It's bad enough that Dan's a runaway, but when Tyler nearly shoots him on sight, Dan knows he's in trouble. Tyler's got a lot of years under his belt, and his past doesn't let him accept strangers easily. Dan's situation is dire enough that Tyler takes him home, at least for a little while, and that turns out to be a good decision when Dan decides to stay on and help out with the chores.

Tyler might be learning to trust, and Dan might be settling in to a new life, but things are not always what they seem. Between interfering friends, injuries, and their attraction to each other, Tyler and Dan have plenty of troubles. More trouble turns up in the form of Tyler's past, which catches up to them with a vengeance, and they decide to start a new life together, one that requires them to leave everything behind. Can they overcome what lies in the past to have a future with each other?

GET FOR FREE

Annual Review

I wrote this up last year because I was having some issues with what I was doing with my life... and it helped a lot, kept me on track, and gave me something solid to look at whenever I was feeling depressed.

So, while I'm not currently having those issues - honestly, the royalty check that I used to put a down payment on a CAR really helped with the idea that I'm wasting my time - it's about a year later and I thought it would be a good time to do an annual summary...

2014 Accomplishments

• Living Proof accepted for publication with Antimatter Press (January)
• Whetting the Appetite accepted for publication with JMS (January)
• Fair Game accepted for publication in For Love of a Soldier (February)
• Coming Together: Among the Stars anthology approved (March)
• Building Us accepted for publication in They Do (March)
• Howling Bitch accepted for publication with Vamptasy (novel) (May)
• Blues accepted for publication with Torquere (novel) (July)
• A Marked Man accepted for publication with Vamptasy (novel) (July)
• Situation Normal accepted for publication with Coming Together (August)
• Half the World Away (excerpt) for Crave, the best of Hot Ink antho (August)
• In the Closet accepted for audio publication with Stupid Fish (September)
• London Steam accepted for publication (partial reprint) with JMS (September)
• The Terran Academy Novellas contracted (not written!) (September)
• Go Down with the Ship (reprint) accepted for publication with JMS (September)
• Room for Dessert accepted (reprint) for publication with JMS (September)
• Mouse Games (reprint) accepted for publication with Beyond 50 (October)
• Holiday Hours (reprint) accepted for publication with Coming Together (October)
• On the Fly (reprint) accepted for publication with Coming Together (October)
• Classic accepted for publication with Torquere (novel) (November)

Things that aren't on my acceptance list

I have a couple of short stories that are still floating around (one with an acceptance, then the project has been delayed like three times, and I have no idea of the status of... frustrating! and one that's floating around without an answer...)

I've discovered that I really enjoy putting anthologies together - Coming Together: Among the Stars was an excellent project and I really had fun with it... it also ate up a lot of my time and brain power. It was a branching out into a new direction of the writing process. I'm still debating if I want to do it again... (oh, who am I kidding, I already have an idea for another antho...)

I have 19 projects there from this year, which is 9 more than last year, of which four are novels... admittedly, some of the things are reprints or excerpts and didn't take lots of effort on my part aside from going "Yeah, we can use those... " altho I still had to 1) make sure I had rights back 2) go through the submission process 3) edit some of them 4) added an entire new short story to London Steam.

I helped plan and then attended a writer's conference, which resulted in several of the above stuff happening. I had my first official book signing. I have gotten a lot more organized. I've been approached for a few stories and concepts from publishers (Looking at you, Antimatter Press!) which is both flattering and exciting. I've started working with some very talented writers on collaborative projects, done some incredible charity work. I've become very, very good at writing book 'blurbs in a short amount of time and also mostly stopped complaining about it.

I've continued to refine my craft; I can now write up a fairly extensive outline and even if my novel wanders off track a bit (and they do. Novels are living things and they don't always stick to the map), I can still pretty accurately predict how long things are going to take me to do. I have not yet been late with a project target date that I've committed to. I have had editors / publishers ask me for things earlier than I said I'd turn them in and sometimes that gets a blowjob face and sometimes I can actually push and get it done.

I've also done extensive beta reading for a couple of other writers - three novels for EM Lynley (Spaghetti Western: Sex, Lies, and Wedding Bells, and Dirty Dining.) one for Elizabeth Black (Full Moon Fever) and several short stories for Nickie Jamison... not to mention editing an entire anthology from soup to nuts.

I've learned to say No to projects - even very interesting projects! - when I know I haven't got the time to give them their full attention. I've learned to say Yes to projects that scare the shit out of me. I've gained a substantial backlist. I've learned to politely reject a story submission. I've gained confidence as an author and confidence in my own work. I've learned to tell the difference between a bad story and one I just happen to not like.  

So, 2014 has been a busy year....

Goals and ongoing projects

finish revisions of A Wanted Woman and submit
outline and write Sins of Angels
outline and write All that Jazz
outline Terran Academy, parts 1 - 3
write Terran Academy part 1 (I'm not really sure what the schedule looks like for this yet, since publication won't occur until 2016)
begin short stories for Connections goal to complete 4 per year.
novella length project for MEWR


Projects that may or may not get done next year

- Hailey's Comet, a YA LGBT novel
- The Wormwood Trade, a steampunk romance
- Punked Up (book 5 of Rainbow Connections)
- Ghost Magics (book 4 of Demoniac Codex)
- Pretty much anything Rose Caraway asks me to do, because AWESOME
- Coming Together shapeshifter project, Were What? for Bat Sanctuary charity

Strippers

The two best men in my life are my husband (because he's just awesome) and my brother (he's not, really, blood related. We're very close and one of the things that has made it possible for us to be as close as we are is that there's never been the slightest spark of romantic interest between us.)

Oddly enough, the two of them have some remarkable similarities; not the least of which is that I hated both of them from the get-go and it took a while to actually stop being angry with them for existing. Powerful first impressions aren't always a good thing...  later, of course, my husband became my best friend and eventually we got married. And my brother became... well, my brother. (Also, he's my Big Brother in the service fraternity that we both belonged to in college...)

While we're not blood-related, my brother and I are fairly sibling-like. We bicker, we enjoy spending time together (but not too much time!) and we're both mildly uncomfortable about the other's sexuality...

And last weekend, he got married to another good friend of mine. I introduced my brother to his lovely bride about... I want to say a year and a half ago, maybe? (Completely random side note, I've had a few really HOT woman ask me for my match-up service recently, and astonishingly enough, I've run out of single guys... how odd is that??)

My brother has been there for the worst times in my life - and astonishingly enough, he's also been there for the best times in my life. I don't know if it's just me, but I find that my more casual friends don't desert me when things are going badly, but they're damned hard to find when things are going well for me... like, they can pity and sympathize, but they can't be happy for me when I'm happy?? And I have some casual friends that I call Landing Pad friends; they show up in my life when shit is wrong with their world, and as soon as things are going well, poof, they're gone.... He did vanish on me for a while when he was married to a horrible, horrible person that I didn't like, and who didn't like me in exchange, and while yes, I think it was wretched of him to abandon me because of it, I'll get over it.

In any case, he was my best man in my wedding. And this weekend, I returned the favor and was his "Gentlemen's Master" was the term they came up with... which is good, because Gentlemen's Mistress, while an awesome title, implies some things that just are not true...

About four months ago, joking around, I said "Well, since I'm your Best Person, I'm going to be doing the Stag Party, right? We should go to a strip club."

He laughed, then looked serious. "I've never actually been."

"Well, we should fix that."

Personally, I'd never been to a strip club before either. And it was something I wanted to do; as an erotica writer, I think I should explore, find out, discover, and continue to learn about sexuality. Personally, I'd have loved to been able to talk more with the strippers; but this was a no lap dance, no touching club, and the music was really, really loud, so there wasn't much opportunity to chat.

We ended up going in a middling sized, mixed-gender group. Me and my husband, my brother and his fiancee (she wanted to go, he didn't object...), my other-other best friend and her boyfriend (who I also set up together... and they went ring shopping this weekend... so that's a 2/3 success rate for my matching services...) and the other groomsman, whose girlfriend was not yet in town for the wedding and I'm not sure she would have wanted to go anyway... she's a little high strung and kinda... well, not as sexually open as most of the rest of us. But I gotta say, my group of friends are, for the most part, pretty sexually open. It's hard for us not to be, really. My group of friends is like the Kevin Bacon game of sexual partners... I slept with K who slept with B who slept with D; D's slept with C, who slept with J, who slept with E, who slept with M, who slept with me... Yes, I really do think we go all the way around in some sort of incestual circle...  and for the most part, we're all still friends, with certain amounts of insane emotional baggage.

We hit up a fairly nice club - I was meticulous in my planning and checked reviews and locations and whatever information I could dredge up because I really didn't want to go someplace with roaches (yes, one of the reviews complained about them...) or anyplace really skeezy that our bride-to-be would be desperately uncomfortable.

The rest of the audience was a pretty good mix, too; couples and single guys. There were only two audience creepers and George, who was turned out for being too drunk...

The performers all had stage names that were different from their real names; I know this for a fact because "Anastasia" went on stage, and later introduced herself to me as "Katie." Or maybe "Kitty." It was hard to tell, the music was loud. I had a small bit of chat with one dancer who had a Horde tattoo on her shoulder. I told her I felt sort of uncomfortable tipping the Horde. Her face lit up and she said "Oh, you're Alliance! Well, good thing this isn't a PvP bar..." Another dancer had a Darth Vader in a Saint's Niche tattoo on her thigh. I felt oddly vindicated and happy to see geek chicks on the stage. Maybe it's because there's no way these ladies are pretending to be geeks "to get guys." They're STRIPPERS for fuck's sake. They can get all the guys they want without tattooing Lords of the Sith on their bodies...

(Also, people who think there are such things as "fake geek girls." Differentiate between geek girls and booth babes - fans versus hired to stand around and look pretty... and then go the FUCK away. I don't want you here, geek girls don't want you at the cons, and the rest of the men hanging around who are actually men would like you to go away, too, because you're making them look bad. Okay? Glad we got that straight!)

When they came out, two performers would be on the stage, one in the cage, and one on the bar. We stayed at the stage for our outing. Each "set" would be about three or four songs - mostly rap or hip hop. I did not find the musical choices particularly sexy, but that was all right, I suppose, as the dancers didn't actually dance in time with the music. We got a lot of gyrating and pole-play without much in the way of rhythm. One of the particularly flexible performers incorporated quite a few yoga moves into her routine. (Reminded of Vince Vaughn's interview about the "fucking yoga class")

We stayed about two hours - essentially until we all ran out of money - and then came back to my house where we played Cards Against Humanity until almost 3am.

In any case, I rather enjoyed it. I found the dancers lovely, but also not intimidating. The nice thing about a strip club is that the women can be good looking, but they can't be photo-shopped in real life. So, while they were - mostly - thin and athletic, they also have tummy rolls and skin blemishes and chipped toenail paint. These things I find much more appealing than a photo-shopped model who doesn't look quite real. (Similar that I don't like the idea of a "fake" geek girl, I also don't like the whole "real women" meme that's going around... the only women who aren't real are the ones who have been made over by a graphics artist whose job it is to manipulate pixels into submission to meet some esoteric ideal of beauty... and the person behind the picture is just as real as I am, with their own hopes, dreams, and feelings.)

Employee Reviews: Because I am psychotic!!

Conversation with the husband;

Me: So, JM has finished her NaNoWriMo project....

Him: Uh-huh....

Me: And Sommer has published something like 11 novels and short stories this year.

Him: Are we making a list of people you feel inferior to, today?

Me: Um... yeah.

Him: I thought that's what it sounded like.

I apparently have a huge gap between what I think is going on in my life and what is actually going on in my life. Also, I have like the worst time-sense in the world. God help me if I ever have to testify on my own behalf or anything. I don't remember what I did last week, much less what happened years ago.

So, I know I have had 21 stories, novels, novellas, round-robin chapters, etc, published - or accepted for publication, pending - total, in the last 30 months (give or take a day or two on either side).

But what I could not remember is when these things happened. Within the last 3 years is a pretty wide stretch of time, after all. I sort of vaguely remembered that 2011, I had three stories accepted. But that was it. So when had I done the bulk of my work?

Mostly, I guess, the problem I had was I couldn't remember if I was doing "better" this year than last year, or if 2012 had been a better year. (No, I don't know what better means. I have no real metrics to measure performance evaluations on myself.)

But I did go through and make up a little timeline. This is mostly what information I could find that was available and easy to process; when I got acceptances in my inbox. I'm not in control of when the stories actually hit shelves, and publishers all have hugely wonky different timelines. I'll get an acceptance from Cleis, for instance, and that book can not hit shelves for 6 months to 18 months later. I can get an acceptance from Hot Ink and only a month or so later, I'm looking at the sell-date. So... since I can't measure that as a predictive model... and I am apparently a lousy record-keeper as far as when I started work on a short story versus when I turned it in, and then there's a HUGE gap between turn in and acceptance (sometimes... I've had turn arounds as quick as less than 24 hours between submission and acceptance!) I decided I'd track my "accomplishments" by when I got the acceptance email.

So, here's my timeline, for your (and my) edification:

• 2011
• May, Golden Moment accepted into Steamlust
• August, Shadow of Kenfig accepted into Shifting Steam
• October, Garden Variety accepted into Lustfully Ever After
• 2012
• January, On the Fly accepted into ReadErotica Vol 3
• February, Blister Effect accepted as standalone by Torquere Press
• April, Snake Dance accepted into Duty & Desire
• July, Deep Breath accepted into Ladies of Steampunk Magazine
• August, Big Trucks accepted into Smokin' Hot Firemen
• September, Dead in the Water accepted into Coming Together: Hungry for Love
• October, W.O.L. accepted into He Loves Me For My Brainsss
• November, Holiday Hours accepted into MILF & Cookies
• 2013
• January, Return of the Kings collaborative novel
• January, Half the World Away, accepted into Cupid's Chokehold
• June, Synchronous Rotations accepted as standalone story with Torquere Press
• June, Every Second of It accepted into Couples' Erotic Romance
• August, Roll, accepted by Torquere Press
• August, Blood Cries Up, accepted for Lights Out short story line
• September, Full Frontal Neighbor, accepted for Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica
• October, Blood Sight, accepted by Vamptasy Publishing
• October, Pistols & Guns accepted as stand alone short story by Hot Ink Press
• November, Tanked (tentatively) accepted for anthology to be named later

So... That's what it looks like. I have one short story still floating around, waiting for a yay or nay, a fantasy novel still searching for a home, a collection of short stories awaiting final edits and then to be submitted (One short story written, PER WEEK for January through July) and half-completed novel...

3 acceptances in 2011 (wrote a novel, not submitted until 2013, tho)

8 acceptances in 2012

10 acceptances in 2013 (of which 2 are novel-length)

So, yes, stupid brain, I am doing better this year. Take your exceeds expectations and go away, all right? All right.

Cough, Hack

First off, there's This:

Release day for my best friend, Elizabeth L. Brooks, and her first full-length novel, Foxfur.

She's going to be guest posting with me here in a few days (Friday, I think. I've already set up the post and pre-dated it... )

The book should be up at Amazon in a few days... I'll let you know as soon as I know...

This story has hella history, which I'll let you catch up with on Friday, since Liz talked about it.

And in the meanwhile, I'll let you know that this story takes place in the same world as her older novella, Safe Harbor which remains to date one of my favorite stories. (Not my favorite Elizabeth L. Brooks' story, but it is, but one of my favorite ALL TIME stories ever.)

###

So, I took two days off to be completely, horribly ill. (Because OF COURSE I get sick during NaNoWriMo!!) On the plus side, I've been doing the front loading stuff and I'm way ahead of the technical NaNo goal... (Just over 29,000 words at present, and it's only the 13th)

Of course, now I'm "behind" in the reverse NaNo by about 4,000 words... my "plan" is to go ahead and write like I didn't miss those two days. I'm not going to push the hell out of myself and try to "make up" the words and I'm not going to skip ahead in my word goals... today should be 1,953 words, but I'm going to do Monday's word goal instead, 2,183... If I don't go over at all for the next few weeks, it'll mean that my last few days of NaNo are 364 and 231 instead of 116 and 1... Since I'm almost positive that once I start getting into the low 1,000s, I'll probably go waaay over... this shouldn't be a problem.

The only other problem I see coming up is Thanksgiving, that we're spending with my dad and stepmom and my stepmom's extended family, including my stepmom's cousin who works for one of the Big Six publishing houses as a submissions editor. I've never met this cousin, but my stepmom's been trying to introduce us for a while. I'm a little nervous; one because I've read so many articles from the Big Six sneering down at small and indie publishers. And two, because it's quite possible that she's one of those "ew, erotica" people. I dunno, haven't met her. But I am not about to let someone sneer at my publishing houses or the kind of work that I do, since I love my job and the people I work with...

On the other hand, my stepmom says that she is specifically looking for Steampunk writers, and I do have the outline for Wormwood Trade hanging about, so... yeah, like what I need to do is have a third novel to write in 2014.... sure. Good plan.

Also, I'm working with the lovely and talented Author Rue Volley for my cover-art for Pistols & Guns, which will be coming out at the end of the month, so lots of excitement there...

Row row row Wri Mo

Busy, busy weekend.

I did not manage to get my word goal on Saturday, but I made up for it by writing over 4,000 words on Sunday.

I am exhausted.

I feel like I'm not doing anything else, just writing and sleeping. Which isn't quite true; on Saturday I spent some time with friends watching movies and we had dinner.

On the plus side, the number goals are sliding down every single day. Tomorrow's word goal is only 2,872.

(Only, she says!)

Which is good because I have a ton on my docket for tomorrow.

I have to go vote, I need to make a grocery list, get the shopping done, stop at the Post Office (for those of you waiting for your rafflecoptor prizes, I'm sorry. We only have the one car and I usually only have the car for one day a week, and on that day, some idiot decided to try to rob our local post office. And when he didn't succeed, he claimed the box he brought in contained a bomb. So our post office was closed all day, and most of the surrounding roads were blocked off as the police chased the guy down and then brought in the bomb squad.) That totally happened, even if it sounds like the worst's most ridiculous excuse. We have a social engagement with the husband's friend for lunch. And of course, with the local elections being housed at our high school, the daughter has the day off. And she's got a project to assemble that's due on Thursday.

So... if I get anything done at all tomorrow, I'll be happy.

(No, no I won't.)

Anyway, I'm more than 12,000 words into the novel already, so it's moving along well, and I'm pretty happy with it, so far.

Vacating, Day Two

So, the second day of our vacation we got up fairly early - Fort Sumter is on an island, and you can't get there without a boat. Not having a boat of our own, we had to catch the ferry. There's two ferry docks; one of them is owned by the National Park Service and the other one is not. They are, however, only separated by about twelve miles. We figured we'd aim for the one in Charleston and if we got there too late, we'd go up to the dock on the other side of the bridge.

We got there in plenty of time, went through the small museum on the shore, and then went out to the dock. While out there, I saw some river dolphins sporting around in the water. I pointed urgently to the husband. "Look, dolphins!" Of course, by the time he looked, they weren't there anymore. Someone else heard me, looked, didn't see them, and started muttering to his companions about people with overactive imaginations.

So when they popped back up and the woman from the other group saw them, I had that nice surge of being validated. Eventually, my husband saw them, too. About a half dozen or so.

I'm on a mother-fucking boat!

We got on the boat and listened to one of the park service guys talk about the history of Fort Sumter. (If you're really interested, there are tons of reference materials out there for you to look it up.) My mother is a Civil War historian, so I kinda zoned out a bit; I've heard most of this before. Except that my mom calls it the War of Northern Aggression, which may tell you a little bit more about my mom than really, you wanted to know.

I suspect I could call her on the phone and ask her for the schpiel on Ft. Sumter and she could do it - accurately - without having to look anything up.

While we were on the boat, the Park Ranger gave us a bunch of safety rules and regulations, as well as some other rules.

Do not take the bricks. I wondered why anyone would do that - a brick is a brick, right? Also, what are people gonna do, pry it out of the wall? But then, yeah, people are dumb.

Second rule; do not climb on, or sit on, the cannons, brick walls, or other parts of the park. "I want you to remember what you came to this island on. The boat. Well, if you fall and hurt yourself, this is your ambulance. So, think about that for a bit; how long it's going to take us to cart you back to land once you've broken your leg, your sternum, managed to embed a piece of cannon in your leg, or gotten a concussion from rolling down the hill headfirst into the wall."

He's got a big gun!

Do Not Climb into Cannon.
Not advice I needed.

The boat took us out, let us walk around the Fort for about an hour, and then we headed back to the dock. We grabbed a couple of sandwiches out of the cooler (quick shout out to 31 consultant, Victoria, who sold me a wonderful picnic cooler; I got 8 cans of soda, 8 sandwiches, crackers, and a bag of mixed nuts in there.) and headed on to Atlanta...