&&& I was like, “whatever bitches”…

Angel reruns, a banana popsicle and making tator tot casserole for dinner made my brain rumble. Actually, no, what made my brain a rumble would be me reading Gabriel’s Inferno again – for like the, 1,000th time. (So many times a friend asked if my book was still together: which it is, by the way.)

What makes a writer a writer?

I have been asking this question to myself a lot lately. Not because I doubt what and who I feel – but because – am I allowed to call myself a writer? Are you only considered a writer if you have published a book? If so, are actors who write autobiography’s writers? Are chefs who have twenty cook BOOKS, writers? But can you consider a person who is always thinking about writing, but doesn’t write daily; who stares at blank word documents and sighs because they words won’t flow out of her fingertips? Someone who can read book after book and get so many ideas for a novel, but cannot seem to get passed the first sentence to make anything happen? How about the girl who has actually written a novel, but can’t seem to finish editing out the crap parts without dousing it in gasoline and lighting it on fire?

Am I considered a writer or am I a wanna-be writer who dreams of it, but won’t let herself have it because she can’t center her brain enough to do it? But in the same sense, how can I consider myself a writer but not the girl next to me who writes poetry in her basement wearing all black with candles lit and Nightwish playing in the background? What makes me a writer and not her? Are we both considered writers?

I feel like a fraud at times. I’m probably just overthinking things – like usual – but how can I be something if I won’t allow myself to be it? I feel like a fraud because I only think about doing something. I did it, once, but now I’m stuck and afraid. I’m afraid because what if my story that I wrote is as bad as I feel? I mean, it cannot be too good if I can’t bring myself to read it to edit it – can I? &&& I don’t want to ask someone else to edit it, right now, because I know how bad it is.

I bought a indie writers book – she self-published &&& one of the authors I enjoy reading was promoting it. So I bought it, why not? It was only 1$. As I was sitting at work reading it on my Kindle all I saw were errors. Spelling errors. Sentence errors. Run ons, and paragraphs that made no sense. I even read through a part that sounded like the character in the book was a pedophile. I eventually stopped reading it because it went on && on &&& on &&&& on about absolutely nothing. At one point I couldn’t figure out what was happening. That’s what I fear. &&& I know for a fact that a part of my story is exactly that. It’s rambles. It’s nothing. It’s pure crap.

When I started writing Frost, I read how long people think romance novels should be and I went with that. So instead of going for content I wrote for numbers. Page numbers. Word numbers. I was trying to reach 100,000 words without realizing just how much garble I had. So now, when I edit it, I’m trying to take out the garble and leave the story. The content. The thing that will bring readers back. But when I sit to edit the garble I get sad because of how much there really is.

I swear I have a chapter where one of the characters is making dinner. I wrote paragraph after paragraph him making dinner and their thoughts and their crap. It LITERALLY has no place in the story. No one cares that the character likes spaghetti or that they know how to make it. I could have simply wrote “before she arrived he busied himself in the kitchen, making the only dish he really knows: spaghetti.” But no, I wrote how he put the water in the pot and salted the water, and how he boiled the noodles to perfection and made the sauce and poured the wine and she watched. The other character just watched him do it without them ever saying a single word to each other. Instead I could have wrote “he pulled out her chair and poured a glass of wine, living in a small town he doesn’t know much about fine wines, but the lady at the store recommended this one. She took a drink and smiled, showing her affection for the wine choice. She has never been a fan, but knowing that he picked and offered it, today – she loves wine.” I went on to say how he made the plates, put down the spoon and fork, sat in front of her, and then went on to talk about how they ate it. HOW THEY ATE IT! When I could have said “he was no chef, but when it came to spaghetti, he felt it. He gently sat a plate down in front of her. ‘Do you want some cheese?’ Her nerves collided with her brain, but nodded and smiled. He smiled, thinking it was cute every time she blushed, and grated some parmesan on top. Not a lot, but enough to top it right off. She looked around the table at the spread and felt like a queen. It had been a long time since she was offered so much and was allowed to sit at the table and enjoy it with someone. He is going to spoil her, was the only thing she was thinking.”

But here I am. My story isn’t written like that. Maybe I should stop complaining. Complaining doesn’t get me anywhere or do anyone any good. It doesn’t get the story edited or completed. It doesn’t help me in publishing it or allowing someone to read it. What I NEED to do is just get back to it – open the story back up and finish it.

But how do I get passed my irritation I have with the story to actually finish it? I still love the idea, the concept, but a part of me doesn’t like the characters. That’s the problem – I think – I don’t like the characters I built &&& that’s something a writer must do. When I read interviews or listen to authors talk – the one thing they all say, “I love the characters and I loved watched them grow and build into something great!” I have changed and rearranged and renamed and rebuilt my characters so many times – that I am just fed up with them and all they are about. I keep thinking about things I have to have in my story and I keep screwing it all up. I don’t NEED a gay character. I don’t NEED a suicide attempt. I don’t NEED guys being animals. I don’t NEED girls being damsels. I don’t need half of what is in it, but I Have it, because a part of me thought it had to have everything in one. If I put everything into one story then I will have nothing left for my other twenty novels I want people to read.

&&&& who said I had to have 300 pages? If I don’t make it to 300 pages, that’s fine – that just means it’s a shorter book. But of course, I wanted words and length so I wrote and wrote until I had such and such amount of crap and garble that now I have to… you know.

&&& now I’m sorry for the rambling but I think I’m just mad at myself. In 2012, when I began this story, I really believed all of this. Now, the 2019 me is trying to fix the crap that 2012 me wrote. It’s aggravating…

I have the munchies.

Lately, I have been doing well with overcoming my “munchie” dilemma. However, tonight, as I sit here fiddling on the laptop watching The Boyfriend play PUBg I can’t get passed the urge to munch on something. Now you’re probably thinking, go get something. While I applaud the thought, I stopped buying “munchie food” and bringing it into the house. Mostly, because if it’s not here, I don’t usually want it. Tonight, though, I really want a bag of chips.

I never want chips.

Why am I rambling about having the munchies? I told myself at the beginning of this year that I was going to post more on here. But I am failing at it miserably. I started off well – I was on a writing steam engine headed on a fast track. I guess I fell off and now I am laying in a pile of trash on the side of the road.

I think it’s because in the last couple of years I haven’t read much. I am told a lot “to write you need to read”. I’ve been in a huge reading slump, which is a sad slump to be in, but I am trying to fix that. While fiddling on Facebook the other day I downloaded fifteen books onto my Kindle and began reading them. I finished two books I had started earlier last year: “Twister Tales” by Steve Lenore &&& “On Writing” by Stephen King. Then I began reading the first three books of a 10 book series called “Brie’s Submission”, by Red Pheonix: the first three are “Teach Me”, “Love Me”, && “Catch Me”. I’ve already finished the first and I’m beginning the second. At first, I didn’t think I was going to like the story, it seemed…. silly. But I kept reading thinking I need to read more this year – so I can finally finish editing my book. So I kept going and the more I read, the more I actually liked it. Will I like it enough to make it through book ten? That will be a toss up.

The “Twister Tales” was written by a local meteorologist here and I found it very fascinating. I mean, come on! It was a book about tornadoes! Who doesn’t find those fascinating? I was hesitant when it came to reading the one by Stephen King – I didn’t want to purchase a book if I wasn’t going to be able to read it. When it comes to him, he’s a good writer, I know this – however, just like most books written by men, I get bored quickly. This one, though, everyone kept saying needs to be read if you’re a writer. So, I bought it and I’m really glad I did. Some of my major issues when it comes to writing he addressed and spoke about them in length. Afterward, I realized that I wasn’t writing wrong, I was just being told wrong. I marked that book up along with sticky notes, highlighters, and notes. I’m getting on the bandwagon, if you’re a writer, you NEED to read that book.

Now I feel as if I need to read one of his actual books.

***Also, while writing this I went to the store and got potato chips, cheese dip, a Slim Jim &&& a Sunkist. Munchie emergency averted!

Maybe…

…I’m not well read enough.

The one thing all authors tell you when you ask about writing books is to read. &&& read often. Other than of course writing. &&& writing often.

I find myself jotting down sentences to paragraphs all the time. I have a notebook that I keep in my bag (work bag) that has writing all over it. A sentence, or paragraph, words or names, or even ideas for a story. Some of it is something I read in books, or something I thought of while sleeping. I keep notebooks beside my bed, and in my purse. There are some in my car, and in my dresser. &&&& to make sure I write at least once a month I am still contributing to a work newsletter where I put a few pages and write on a story for months. I just finished on, The Cure (which the last part will be uploaded here soon.) I’m about to start another once I figure out what I want to happen in it.

But what I have been lacking a lot of lately is reading. I got into a slump a while back and just never finished books that I started or even series. I told myself this year, 2018, I want to read at least 50 books. That’s approximately four-ish books a month. I’m sadly not on part with that, but I’ll get there. I hope. I am keeping up with my totals on Goodreads so I know how many I read and how many more I have to go.

As of today, February 8, 2018, I have read two and never finished another. It tally’s the book I never finished because I left a review for it so according to it I have read three. I have been wanting to read a series that has been out for about a year, I am reading the first one right now, but I don’t have the other two and cannot find reason to purchase them when I have at least fifty books at home, right now, that I Haven’t read.

But that’s my goal. That’s my thing this year. I plan to read this year and hopefully it can help me with my writing. I also plan to continue wiring for the work thing and hopefully soon I can pick back up Frost (which I think I’ve decided to rewrite it, yes, again.)

So I’ll keep that up and keep this updated on how my progress is going. But one thing is for sure – I need to get to reading. Because I still have 48 books to go which is approximately 4 books a month (still) leaving me with 8 more to go. Yup! I’m behind. I sadly don’t want to finish “The Raven” by Sylvain Reynard because I have read all of the other books I own by him and I don’t have “The Shadow” or “The Roman”.

But that’s okay. I have a few others laying around on book shelves that I need to finish. The Crossfire Series by Sylvia Day and a few by Christina Lauren.

I’m rambling now.
Closing now.
Have a good evening.
I’ll talk soon.

Last minute thought. I am also putting in a goal to write in this more often. If I cannot seem to write stories I can at least write in this blog daily. Most days. Maybe not everyday. I don’t have that much going on in my life. But a couple times a week. More than once every three months.

Gabriel’s Inferno/Rapture!!

I have trouble finding things to write about. Not because I am completely boring and I do absolutely nothing. Oh wait. Never mind. My biggest problem is that I spend most of my free time writing. When I’m not writing I’m nose deep in a book. So since I decided that I do not want to post anymore of my writing, mostly because there is no point and I will just keep in my back pocket safe, that I will write book ‘reviews’. Since no one really reads my blog anyway, I might as well just get the thoughts that clutter my mind out and maybe I can write a little better. (Yes! My writing sucks.) Is using “!” a bad idea? So I figure if I cannot think of something to talk about then I’ll just write a book review.

My first pick will be Gabriel’s Inferno and Gabriel’s Rapture by Sylvain Reynard. Yes, I’m cheating by starting out by two. You’ll notice if there is more than one connected to each other, I’m just going to put them in one post. *waves hands around in air* Otherwise, it’s too much clutter. I’m trying to kill the clutter.

First I must say that I am obsessed with these books and partially with the author.
Obsessed [uh b-sest] : adjective;
1. Having an obsession (usually followed by with or by).
2. Having or displaying signs of an obsession.

Obsess [uh n-ses] : verb;
to dominate or preoccupy the thoughts, feelings, or desires of; beset, trouble, or haunt persistently or abnormally.

I want to point out, really quick, that I am not the weird obsessed person. I’m not the type of person who becomes obsessed with something and then when the object of my obsession walks out of their house I’m sitting in the tree in their front yard. Or in the bush by their bedroom window. Or even in the mail box. That’s not me. I just tend to talk about that particular subject a lot. For an example, I’ve been obsessed with Johnny Depp for many, many years. I don’t stalk him. *thumbs up* So no worries!

I have never in my life read a book with such intensity as I did with these two books. I was completely and utterly captivated by these books. *shakes head* ‘Captivated’ isn’t a strong enough word. Taking ideas for a stronger word.

I must admit that I am a late bloomer when it comes to books. I don’t know of authors and books before everyone else. I cannot tell anybody that “I read that before you did.” Because that’s a lie. And lying is bad. I had no idea who or what all of this was four weeks ago. No idea. I found Gabriel’s Inferno by accident. I was looking for a new book and found a big shelf of 50 Shades of Grey, on the very bottom by the floor sat one copy of Gabriel’s Inferno. I hadn’t heard of it so I glanced through it and the back cover. It seemed interesting. I purchased it along with Bared to You by Sylvia Day. It took me a week to read this book.

When I first began the book I honestly didn’t think I’d even finish it. It was written a lot more intelligently than I think. *sighs* I got to a point that I had to look up a word. Then look up the words it gave to mean the same thing. Until I finally found a dictionary that was made for “dummies” and it dumbed it down enough and I was like “oh, well why didn’t he just say that?” I like to flaunt my intelligence (which really isn’t all that much). That book, even from the first page, made me feel like the stupidest person on the planet. So in the first chapter I didn’t think I’d ever finish it. But all of this isn’t bad. It’s a very good thing.

The start of the second chapter I was hooked. I couldn’t put it down. I found myself staying up on the nights I worked to read. Doesn’t seem that big of a deal? I only get six hours of sleep before each of my twelve hour shifts. So losing two hours because I cannot stop reading… hurts.

By the fifth chapter – I was obsessed.

Everything I read about these two books kept saying that it was just like 50 Shades of Grey. I just want to point out that everything I read lied. And lying is bad! This book was NOTHING like 50 Shades of Grey. Nothing.

50 Shades of Grey was a good set of books, don’t get me wrong. But they are nothing compared to Gabriel’s Inferno/Rapture. Am I being harsh? I apologize. Mostly.

The intelligence spewing out of Gabriel’s Inferno/Rapture was intriguing and a complete breath of fresh air. I’ve read a lot, and none of which just made me stop and think “wow!”

I have read and reread these books. The “sex” that everyone talks about isn’t “sex”. It leaves to your imagination and makes you think instead of knowing. Too much detail ruins the story line of the book, the way Sylvain Reynard wrote left it there. Intact. Perfectly. Jaw dropping.

I found myself following Sylvain Reynard on Twitter. I never follow people – well, besides Gabriel Iglesias, but who doesn’t follow him? Oh and of course Chelsea Handler – getting off topic. I found myself following Sylvain Reynard. Getting on Twitter a lot more than I normally do. *covers face with hands* I told you! I’m obsessed. My personality isn’t the type to get hooked very easily. Mostly because usually what I get used to having leaves and that is getting old. But I find myself logging into Twitter just to see if he’s tweeted. *pouts* I’m hopeless.

I’ll be even more hopeless if it turns out not to be a guy. Or an old guy. Or gay.

Why am I obsessed with the author? I live in a small southern Oklahoma town. I am by far one of the most intelligent ones that live here. And I’m stupid! Intelligence is something that you don’t turn away quickly. Especially when one finds it to be the most attractive thing about people. In general. Male or female. Intelligence is just a jaw dropping experience. When you live in the South, you don’t find that often. Knowing there are still people out there who can talk in complete sentences & be able to spell “you”, gives me hope.

But then again. He’s Canadian. *purses lips* So that makes a bit of a difference. You know the old saying “Americans butchered the English language.” Well, the South butchered the butchered English language.

Yeah. I’m roaming around in all directions of the topic. *smiles* I do that!

So basically if I was to give these books a rating between 1 and 5. It would be 102. I plan on reading these books until the binding doesn’t hold. Until the pages start falling out and landing on my bedroom floor. Until the words are smeared off from my fingertips running across the words. But then – I’ll just rebuy them.

Sylvain Reynard is a mystery. And from what I can gather from it – that’s how he wants it. Bravo to him! The only thing that is killing me to know is his age & if he is for real, 100 percent male. Because if it gets out that he is a female. I’m going to be extremely agitated. I won’t think any worse of the books, though. But knowing that a girl writes like a guy – I’ll be sad.

Yes. I just seriously said that the books are written like a guy. I have read a lot of books written by women. These books were written by a man. And I will eat my shoe if I’m wrong. *holds shoe up* See! Not very tasty looking. But if it comes down to that, I’d like some hot sauce.

Having Withdraws.

Every now & again I’ll find books that I cannot for the life of me put down. I’ll read it like it’s part of my life. Then when I finally finish it I’m sad. Like extremely sad. Sad.

Back in 2008 I read the Twilight Saga. I had actually attempted to read “Twilight” by Stephenie Meyer once before & couldn’t get into it. Stuff exploded in my life. Made a big mess. & I saw “Twilight” sitting on my dresser so I read it. I was down. Completely out. I wasn’t happy & books seemed to help sometimes. I picked it up & began reading. This time around I couldn’t put it down.

I ended up reading all four books within a month. Sort of. I would have been able to had it not taken me four weeks to get the 4th book from the library. Now, might I add that I HATE to wait.

After I finished the books I felt empty. As if I had something missing from my life that I couldn’t piece together. I ended up having an emotional break down & left state. Was that from the books? No. But I did enjoy the books. A lot.

I was not able to get into another series again. I read books off & on after I left state. I basically lived at the library where I went. I read a few books that I now couldn’t tell you the names of except a book I read that had a cupcake on the front. I remember nothing else.

This year I was watching Ellen DeGeneres & she spoke about some books. She explained that she was on an air plane & the woman next to her was reading a book she had heard about, never read, & kept fidgeting in her seat. Watching that woman made her want to buy & read the books. Ellen talking about them made me buy the first book. Yes. I am talking about “50 Shades of Grey”. I had never previously read a book like that before so I was a little curious. I bought the first book on my sister-in-law’s Nook & began reading. I was hooked. HOOKED!

I read these books at work. Every now & then I’d laugh. Never squirmed like women say they did. Never found a reason to need to find a guy. Like women said. I did, though, love the books. Not even finished with the first book, I purchased “Fifty Shades Darker” & “Fifty Shades Freed”.

After I finished these books once again I felt empty. Like something was missing. Then I started dreaming about my own personal Christian Grey. Now, let me explain that I never once had a raunchy dream. I just dreamed about my Christian Grey. The stuff she wrote about in that book got my attention. I don’t want to say “I’m into things like that”, because for anybody who has read these might think I’m weird. I am weird. Sexually… I am curious. & we will leave it at that.

I began looking for some more books like these. Or even like the “Twilight Saga”. But after thinking about it, though, I decided against trying to find another vampire story. Mostly because I have attempted to reread “Twilight” & I can’t. I cannot get into the saga anymore. I’ve tried. I’m guessing that it’s just one of those things – I can read it once but not again. “Fifty Shades”, however, I could read over & over, & I am actually thinking about reading them again.

Two weeks ago I walked into Hasting’s with nothing on my mind except walking out with a couple of books to read. When you first walk into that store, or at least the one I have here, all you see is “Fifty Shades”. On the bottom of the rack sat a book I grabbed & glanced over. I ended up buying that book. Mostly because it refers to being like Fifty Shades.

The cover is so simple. But yet the book is unbelievable. In my opinion, of course. But, it is so similar to “Fifty Shades” that I never doubted that I would like it. I am sad, though, of how similar it is to “Fifty Shades”. Is that how it’s going to be? Cannot read anything else unless it is so much like “Fifty Shades” that I threaten to throw it away without finishing it because of it? Eh. Probably not. But what a thought. Now I’m waiting for them to release the second book. It will be out October 23rd. Have I ever mentioned that I hate to wait? Then I have to wait until December to get the 3rd book. If I had honestly known it was a three book deal & I had to wait for number 2 & 3. I probably wouldn’t have read the first one. That is how much I hate to wait.

I kept walking through Hasting’s & found another shelf that held “Fifty Shades”. Who would have ever thought there would be that many shelves of “Fifty Shades”. (serious face) On the bottom shelf of that particular display – it was a display, many shelves, I don’t know what I am saying half the time – sat another book. I had actually heard of this book before. I found it once on Barnes & Noble, but it didn’t seem my taste at the time. Or I didn’t really read what it was about the first time. I don’t really recall, to tell you the truth. All I know is that the front cover made my eyebrow raise in curiosity.

The cover of this book actually makes it look more… sexual. I was in awe of this book. “Gabriel’s Inferno” was not what I expected when I bought it. When I saw this book on the bottom shelf of “Fifty Shades” I expected raunchy. Especially since a guy wrote it. Oh, how I was wrong. I enjoyed this book more than I enjoyed the “Twilight Saga”, & almost as much as I enjoyed “Fifty Shades.” This book goes into more depth of information. Backgrounds.

I may be the only person who does this but when I am reading a book I sometimes think “If I had wrote this book, I would have put this in it….” This book. Actually put in it what I would have. But when I bought it I only bought the first one. I was worried that I wouldn’t like it since it was written by a man. (I’ve never gotten into books written by men.) Oh how wrong I was. Now I’m waiting until payday to buy the second book. Have I mentioned that I really, really hate to wait?

I don’t have a book to read right at this moment. & I am having with draws. Yes. Seriously. Like my crack was flushed down the toilet & I cannot get anymore. I really need a book. Everyone around me keeps telling me to breathe & calm down. If I breathe anymore, I’m going to end up passing out. So I have decided this time around I am going to get “Gabriel’s Rapture” & hunt for another book. I just don’t know what to read this time, since I’m still waiting for the 2nd & 3rd book of the Crossfire Series.