My fourth novel is out now.
Welp, it snowed. I do mean snowed. Lots of snowflakes in a condensed set of days. We got winter all of a sudden. Not a teasing slight whitening of the ground that was gone in an hour as the temps shot up to fifty. Oh no. No. Inches of the stuff. Inches in the valleys, feet in the various mountains in all directions. Sorry, daughter of a farmer, the weather fascinates and controls me.
So! Did not even get an interview for this job I happened to see listed in the local paper for an English instructor. Yeah. I was a bit late turning in my packet, however. As the paper didn’t bother to check due dates, either. But hey, I turned it in, anyway and…yeah, not even an interview, just a form email. I expected this. I knew this was going to happen when I rushed it into HR, as this is the local community college and the HR person was all fake sympathy and we’ll put this on the pile but no promises it will even get looked at. Whee. Lesson? CHECK DATES. I also managed to gather everything asked for in a very short span of time. I’m going to take a victory lap on that, because even a loss is celebrated as a win these days.
Currently, I toil over a new novel. It’s called the Vampire Bride and it started off as rather cutesy-sweet and now it’s fallen into the groove of not so cutesy and not sweet at all. I’m having fun writing it. I have not had fun with writing for near a year so this feels so utterly freaking good. It’s first person unreliable narrator blah dee blah. My vampires are based off evolution and science, bwha ha ha. I won’t go into it but I at least tried to make them not so much supernatural as a distant cousin of humans. Rather like dogs and bears had a common ancestor way back when. Kinda like that. Yep. And I really like Madeline, my vampire bride. She’s sassy! I also only have a vague idea where this is headed. Fun! Of course it’s JUST the first draft yet.
Oh and to end this– my FOURTH NOVEL, The Remarkable Women of Brokenheart Lane, will be out soon. Like March or April! I go from zombies running the world– Aftermath: Boise, Idaho-– to cannibal bikers versus elderly sisters in the wastelands of Fallon, Nevada after a nuclear fuckitall world war. Sounds grim? No, it’s not! I did write some grim versions of this, but the final version is more a dark faerytale than the Road on steroids. Yay! It’s a mix of the movie Doomsday and Chekhov’s Three Sisters except my three sisters actually do get to go to Moscow, so to speak. Well, maybe they do? Mm!
Oh yeah, that not gonna matter we’re gonna vote for our king Trumpie impeachment thing. Seven GOPers did vote he was guilty. That’s a big deal, it is. No, really. Maybe next time, in criminal trials, he’ll be…And I’m out. I just am hopeless that fuckmonkey will ever face any actual consequences. Maybe he will? Maybe next time? And then that song from Cabaret goes through my head.
Liza, baby, take it away: Maybe This Time – Full Song – Cabaret 1972 – Liza Minnelli – YouTube
Happy new month. May it not seem as long as January. Holy cats, what a long damn January that was.
I am writing again! The clog in my inner writing bowels has cleared out and I am pooping out words in a steady fashion. Too gross? Eh, but that’s how it feels. Like something that was bottled up, became unbottled. I even started a new novel. The Vampire Bride. It’s set in La Grande, Oregon and the story…is, I don’t know. I have a vague idea where our faulty narrator vampire gal ends up in a cage but maybe not. I also cross the streams and added James from Bailey, in my Oregon Gothic collection. He’s also a vampire. I know. Vampires??? But. They’re not sparkly, they’re more organic creatures than supernatural ones and…uh huh. I’m having fun writing it. Isn’t that great?? Writing is fun??!! What??!!
Also, my fourth novel is on deck, with a cover chosen. The Remarkable Women of Brokenheart Lane. Cannibal bikers, elderly sisters, a lion, in a post-nuclear strikes world…in what’s left of Nevada. I’m calling it a dark faery tale. It wrote itself…Ever had that happen? When a story or poem or play or whatever just…rumbles out of you. You just type, allowing whatever story or scrap or epic essay on irrigation and modern man, to arrange itself as it wants. You’re just the conduit, the recorder. It arrives from some alien dimension inside your tricksy head. Bada binga bam. That’s what Remarkable Women was like. I just got out of its way finally. It patted me on the head, cleared its throat and threw itself onto the page. Those three sisters wanted their tale told, the bikers wished to state their case, the church ladies of the apocalypse…well.
My grandfather’s birthday was on the second of Feb. He was born 02/02/02. That would have made him around 119 if he were still around.
And my last little thing– I saw this job posting for an English instructor at the local community college. I saw this advertised in the local very small hometown paper, last Thursday. I gathered my materials and got my packet ready, then noticed the date it was due. Oh dear. However! I took my packet of stuff to the HR there and turned it in anyway. They accepted it, with the caveat I might not be considered and I said that was so much better than what I had expected. I had expected an outright refusal. So. We’ll see. I have no luck at all with this place but hey, turning my stuff in late for a job I am actually trained for, and have professional expertise in…we’ll see.
Is anyone else exhausted by the attempted coup everything from trumpie and company?
That above pic is Jake. Yes, he’s the best dog, a good boy, a furbaby and thoroughly spoiled in the best ways possible.
There was that one day of joy, when Biden got past the 270 mark, then…eighteen million months of trump throwing tantrums as the GOP and the Dems tiptoed around him. The waiting for Jan 20 so this current attempt to overthrow a legal election can be tucked under all the rugs ever and…ugh.
I can’t even. Is that still even a phrase??
I’m tired. I’m low, tired and pancake flat all the time now by all this happening in America. I just want to punch someone yet can’t lift my arm long enough, let alone make a fist, to do so. My blood pressure is heart attack high, frankly. I’m having all sorts of problems but won’t go into that because it’s boring and no one cares.
Hi, depression, yes, you widdle rascal. You here as well, gonna sit a spell and make sure I don’t make it to Christmas without some sort of chemical or actual intervention? Great! Let’s not be able to concentrate long…What was I doing?
I did manage to make homemade dinner rolls for the first time. I used my overnight bread recipe, and it works just fine for a two hour rushed roll job. They looked like rolls, they were cooked all the way through and I hate the holidays. Yeah. I’d rather do peanut butter and jelly sammiches at this point in time than cook ONE MORE GODDAMN FUCKING TURKEY WAH WAH WAH.
Speaking of holidays, have no plans on going to the relatives in freaking Idaho, COVID Central. I know, it’s freedom and liberty to totally ignore a raging pandemic so I can feel extra manly. I know! Spank me with an eagle already.
I’m trying to be lighthearted and fun with all the not-fun America is right now.
Even that thin defense mechanism seems broken as all get out. I just go numb anymore as a safeguard against whatever newest stench wafts out of the trump sewers.
I wait for Somebody Heroic to rise from these streets to put an end to all this. A cross between Wonder Woman and Captain America with a hint of RBG. Show yourself already! Enough not existing ever in the first place!
The cat woke me up at four. She also saw something outside, when it was yet dark, that made her hiss and retreat well into the house with an offended tail swish. What the what did you notice out there, Madam Jaws?? Neighbor dogs outside the fence? A coyote or several? What??
OMG, was it a BEAR?
You get wild thoughts at four in the AM. Though there have been bear sightings around where I live. We could have a bear or two nearby…not really or maybe, mmm. Or was that cougars? I can’t keep the sightings straight some days.
So should dive into a final editing or so read of my fourth novel, Remarkable Women of Brokenheart Lane. I just…I’m a deflated flower pot of useless golf bags. Woe is me, o Canada.
How many times can you watch Schitt’s Creek before it becomes necessary for people to step in? What is that number?
I skimmed an aggressively positive art-related how to blog correctly post, as you do. When you’re scrolling with a bored WTF am I doing with my life? air over on Twitter or elsewhere.
The social media sites that seem to be the wildly popular versus those who are not, with nobody-land, right there in the middle of those two extremes, being virtually uninhabited. It’s an either/or world when it comes to likes for a post across the social media global-sphere.
Whatever! Totes my goats!
So! 80 percent ‘helpful’ content for those who bother to ‘stop by’ for a visit and 20 percent SELL YOUR WARES. 80/20 which equals a hundred!
So, here’s my advice for writers.
Do not follow my example, ever. There!!
Whatever I do, writers and wannabe writers…you do the opposite. Glad I could help.
Ha ha ha, okay.
I should work up a list of writerly advice. So those that ‘stop by’ can chuckle, shake their heads or nod with wide-eyed wonder at my deep nearly unfathomable wisdom.
It’s an either-or world lately.
I must reflect that here…instead of writing a fifty page monologue with no paragraph breaks entitled, simply, “manifesto”.
Which would basically just be cuss words arranged in, hopefully, some new and startling formations, and which will end with ‘death to all enemies of unicorns’.
Because actually naming your enemy or enemies in revenge-minded cuss word-laced pages means I might have to start a GoFundMe page for a team of lawyers to get me off on the insanity plea.
All of which would make for the blog posts that the blogger who gave the rules for successful art blogging warned against!
Number one rule for writers from me? I guess it’s write. Yeah. Write stuff down. Send it off. Wait for the rejections. It’s a fun and fulfilling cycle that will turn you into a stellar human ‘bean’. Ha ha.
Always end on a happy, jokey note. Develop a heavy thick skin would be my other rule…or pretend to. You can sob in private, after all. You can pretend really hard in public.
That’s what adulting is, after all.
Oh– I have two books for sale. Two!
Oregon Gothic and House on Clark Boulevard.
I also might have Aftermath coming out soon. It’s been in editing for a while, so.
After that will probably be The Remarkable Women of Brokenheart Lane. I’m reading through that now and it’s a hoot! I’m not puking over how bad my own prose is! That’s always a plus plus plus! Cannibal bikers versus wily old ladies in Fallon, Nevada! It’s funny and a lot gross!