Monday, April 25, 2011

Dear Charlie:

First day on the new job. See? I managed to get up early and everything!

Still working on the find-a-place thing, but I'll be making some calls over lunch and hopefully some visits after work. I'm off from the old job until Wednesday, so I'll have a little time to do that sorta thing today and tomorrow.

Cross your fingers for me? I really wanna get something decent without going into the stratosphere. If rent is more than one paycheck, I can't afford it. Even if I might kinda be able to.

Less is more. Less is more. Less is more.

Anyway, it hasn't escaped my notice that I promised a book giveaway earlier in the month, but to be honest, stuff got crazy this month. I know you guys see that from the little bits I've posted, but I still feel bad.

So, I hereby make an announcement: as soon as I get settled in a new place and am out of the old job (I put in a month's notice, so about the third week in May), I will indeed hold some kind of giveaway. Not sure yet if it'll be a treasure hunt sort of giveaway or an "answer a silly question, win a print copy" sort of giveaway or even just a "draw a name from a hat" kind of giveaway, but it'll be something, and I'll feel very, very bad that it's a month after I initially planned.

*feels very, very bad*

Either way, please bear with me as life attacks, and I'll be happy to share the spoils when this particular dragon is slain. Whee!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

My Dearest Charles:

I've been wishing to have this news to post for a long time. So here goes:

I GOT A DAY JOB!!

Yay!

I feel like I've been let out of jail. I've been in SUCH a bind this past couple of years (or longer), but things just opened back up. I'll be able to get back out on my own. I'll be able to do more community theater. I'll be able to go to the movies again! Man, I've missed that!

Full time with benefits, and that ain't no cabbage in this job market. Back amongst friends, people who wanted me back enough to put in lots of good words for me, which is a different kind of awesome. And at higher pay, which is so awesome I can't even find the words for it. And I kinda do that for a side living, so you know it's big.

Things are looking up. Finally. Oh, man... I'm just so relieved.

Now, I can finally look ahead. I feel like I've been living from paycheck to paycheck for so long that I forgot what looking ahead felt like. Now, I'll actually have some wiggle room. I can think about maybe finishing up my teaching degree (in a few years, taking night classes, hoping the all the current teaching mess is cleared up by then). I can think about all the books I'll finally finish and get sent off to sink or swim in the market. Heck, maybe I can finish the two scripts I have lyin around and see about sending them off, too. I love me some movies.

I can think about things I haven't dared to think about before because I wasn't financially stable enough to even dream about better.

No one knows what the future holds. I'm not Nostradamus. I dunno if I'll love this job or not. All I know for sure is that I'll be back with some good people, it pays well, and it's an absolute answer to prayer on so many levels.

I'm trying to sit here calmly and take deep breaths. It's working, for the most part. I know I shouldn't be so excited about a simple job.

But....

Yeah. After the last year and a half, almost two years? I'm excited. Nobody can take this feeling of impending freedom away from me. I feel like I've been walking the Green Mile this whole time, only to be told just before they sit me down in Ol' Sparky that I've been fully pardoned.

The upward swing starts Monday. I'm back, baby! Woot!

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Dear Charlie:

So this is my new desktop image.



How did I not find this before?? I know it's been around forever. Have I really been in that much of a cultural hole? Yikes.

Sheer genius. That's gonna be my desktop for a long, long time. I'm even thinking about replacing the Kakarot wallpaper picture on my cell phone with it. I know, right?

Now, excuse me while I go watch 300 for the umpteenth time. Heheh.

Oh, and uh... watch your step.

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

My Dearest Charles:

That's right, folks. Today's the day.

My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute is now for sale in print.

*does a very quiet happy dance, as everyone else is asleep*

Hey, I tried to go to bed hours ago. I really did. My mind kept wanting to puke out a blog post and link it on all the social networking sites I'm on (yeah, all two of 'em). What can I say? Sometimes that blasted hamster at the wheel just won't stop running.

So, how do I plan to celebrate, you ask? Lovely question. I thought briefly of going out for a nice draft beer (or two). Haven't had one for like two years. Heck, I haven't even had a bottle of beer since moving here.

But then I remembered I have to work tomorrow (today?), so that's pretty much out. Unless I wanna be a complete lush and have a beer before going to work. Not a good plan, considering I'll probably link this on Facebook, and my boss friended me there. Heh.

So, while lying in bed and trying to shut my brain up enough to catch at least a few winks before heading over to Books-a-Million (and maybe Hastings) tomorrow to offer to sign any copies they may have gotten in (totally crossing my fingers to see my book on the shelf somewhere), I started thinking yet again at how odd it is that someone like me wrote and sold a romance novel.

Why? Well, because I don't have a romantic bone in my body.

Anyone who's read more than five posts from this blog knows I'm not exactly blessed with feminine graces. I'm more likely to talk about football and wrestling than... good God, what do girls even talk about?? And seriously, shouldn't I want to celebrate with champagne instead of beer?

Yeah.

So how on earth did I manage to fake enough romance to sell a novel? Heh, pun kinda intended there.

Well, it's like this: I didn't. That's right. This isn't your regular romance novel. I even got a comment from an editor that a particular line wasn't something they'd ever read in a romance novel before.

My characters joke about Hitler and football and Tae Bo aerobics. The heroine is really, really, really bad at dancing and minigolf and, ya know, emoting. The hero has a bit of an impulse control problem. Not terribly good fodder for hearts and flowers and sun-drenched hours.

And yet, they somehow manage to melt a few hearts here and there. Not sure how it happened. Maybe the Muse took over the controls during those scenes, because it sure wasn't me. I'm more likely to subscribe to the The Ugly Truth ideology of male/female interaction than the Harlequin one.

Mind you, I'm not knocking Harlequin. I've read more of their books than I'm really comfortable talking about. Research! It was all research! Learning the craft. Checking out the competition. Especially all the Regency romances.

But when it comes to my own personal life? Yeah. Not romantic. I'd rather have Chiefs tickets than roses and chocolates, and I'd a million times rather go see the latest horror flick than take a windy walk. Although I might submit to such indignity if it's raining. I do love the rain.

So how does the BBQ-eatin, beer-drinkin, WWE-watchin me crank out something that somehow made more than one reader puddle up if not outright sob into a pink lace hanky?

The magic of writing. That's my only explanation. I can do things when I write of which I'm otherwise completely incapable. It's my escape, my salvation, and in the case of writer's block, my curse.

That particular avenue of freedom has been hard to find this past year, and I've butted my head against a lot of mental walls trying to plow open the literary door in my mind. Some days are more successful than others. Of late, I've had more of the good kind, for which I am infinitely grateful.

And as for the bad days? The days when the words simply will not come?

Well, I think from now on, I'll just pick up my book and thumb through the pages. I'll remind myself that I am capable of pretending to be a romantic, of bringing two emotionally retarded people together despite themselves, of sticking it out through the bad until it magically turns into the good.

The proof is right here. In print. And that, my lovelies, is magic.