Did you catch the reference? No?
It's from Supernatural. You don't like that show? Go away!
I keed, I keed.
This has been a crazy/wonderful/horrible year for me so far. Entering the world of publishing is quite a learning experience, let me tell you! There is still so much I don't even understand about what I'm doing here as far as the publishing itself. I'm learning new tricks and getting tips from friends everyday. Yeah, it is crazy!
I have learned that I am not good at marketing or promoting my own books, though. Not. At. All. I worked really hard to prepare for the re-release of my short story. I made plans, posted everywhere, redid my author website, created a newsletter, did a Facebook party, etc, etc. The book came out and I was so excited! A week later: no sales. Almost a month later: no sales. Bummer.
Then I find out that the cover I worked so hard to make myself, the one I was so proud of, was not sized right for Createspace. It looked like total ass. That's when I finally broke down and cried. Holy crap, I'm a failure! How can I call myself an author if no one reads my books? Things just seemed to go downhill fast. It got pretty... dark.
Then I thought, fuck it, I might suck at authoring but I can still kick ass at writing. So I did. And I do. I have a new story from a series that I've passed around and have some beta readers going over for me. I've heard back from a few already and they have been super helpful. I plan to publish it next month. People are going to buy it or they're not.
I do have an awesome cover artist working with me this time. Julie Nicholls is an excellent artist who I have great confidence in. We've had some chats through Facebook and email and I know she will work magic to produce a beautiful cover for me! I just can't wait to see it!
I've also been working on another series (actually the one I've been working on for years) and I plan on publishing a book from that one early next year. So yeah, it has been really rough these last few months. I've been lower than I think I've ever been before in my life. I've had bouts of excitement that had me jumping around like a fan girl at ComicCon. But in the end, this is going to be my year for some kick ass writing. 2015, I'm about to make you my bitch.
And people wonder why I'm so busy?
Here is a link to Julie's website. Check out her stunning work!
Being a parent is hard work, don't ever let anyone tell you differently. If you are a parent you know exactly what I'm talking about. The experience is equal parts wonderful and horrifying. Creating life is easy, being responsible for it is another thing entirely. So, like every parent, I have got some stories.
I have four girls so suffice it to say, the estrogen floating around here is in quantities large enough to create an invisible fog that when breathed in, gives you crazy ideas about cooking, hairdressing and nail painting. But I have a serious potty mouth. Though my husband hates it and I'm constantly told what a horrible parent I am, mostly by my family, I could give a shit. This is me. So my children are pretty used to hearing mommy scream out random things like "This fucking internet!" or "Where is my god-damn shoe?" Yes, this is parenthood done right.
My oldest will be turning eleven in a couple weeks. Let me tell you a little story about the Kass-Kass.
A few months ago, (I guess. Time is a funny thing in my world. Hell, it could have been last year, I have no idea.) my daughter approached me about an "embarrassing" problem. She comes in my room with that nervous and excited look in her eye and I'm immediately thinking, "Oh, noooooo, she did not just start her period! I'm not ready for another being experiencing the red river in this household!"
Fortunately, it was another matter. "Mom, I have this weird lump in my nipple."
What is the first thing that would pop into your head? Boobs! Wait, weird lump? Cancer!
"OMG, let me see that thing!"
I was fully prepared for boobdom. Hell, I know she was too. In fourth grade, she had a friend who was almost my height and had boobs my size. I shit you not, this kid borrowed my bathing suit one time to play in the sprinkler and it fit her. So in fifth grade, at a different school, her new best friend is taller than me with boobs about my size. I'm not that fricking short, my kid just chooses to friend the Jolly Green Giant's relatives. Which only makes her look like a dwarf in comparison because she has been the shortest kid in her entire grade for a few years now.
But anyway, back to lump tit.
After some poking and prodding I come to the same conclusion she did: this lump is weird. So I take her to the pediatrician.
"It could be an infection."
Blood work says it is not an infection. They put her on meds anyway, two weeks later we are right back there, lump still there, if anything, bigger.
"It could be this or that."
It is not this or that.
"Well, maybe it is just her breasts growing in." I love how doctors say breasts. Like this is a word people really use outside of romance novels. I live in the real world and in the real world they are boobs. Or tits. Awkward looking, pain-in-the-ass-in-a-tank-top, too-big-and-your-back-hurts boobs.
"Just one?"
"It's rare but it happens. Let's send you to a specialist."
In other words, I have no fucking clue what is going on with your kid so I'll throw you on another doctor. Story of my life.
We go to said specialists and after looking at it for five seconds and touching it once, he comes to the conclusion that it's a breast growing. Right. I had to make a special appointment, drive all the way to another town, using gas I can't afford just for you to basically look at my kid in two minutes? Again, story of my life. Doctors never have the time for my kids.
So, on the way home, while I'm cursing out stupid doctors, I tell the Kass-meister just to keep an eye on it and let me know if it gets bigger or discolored or whatever.
Two weeks later it's gone. Just like that. Definitely weird.
Jump forward to a few days ago. Kass-Kass approaches me again. "Mom, the other nipple has a lump now." Instead of the embarrassed, I'm-growing-up look of pride that she had the last time she approached me, this time she has this frustrated, not-this-shit-again look on her face. I've taught her well.
So once again my kid has a one-lump wonder going on under her shirt that she is just going to have to deal with. Doctors are idiots and boobs don't just show up then disappear. At least, I don't think they are supposed to. Mine didn't but who knows with kids these days? Are boobs like groundhogs now where they pop up, look around and if they don't like the look of things, disappear again? Maybe.
Maybe.
