Bitch Fest 2012

So, I’ve been kicking myself the past few days to get a blog in (and to clean the cat box).  I keep getting email notifications from blogs I subscribe to.  These overachievers are churning out, like, three blogs a week.  What the hey?  How do they have time to do other writing?  Or shit-box cleaning?  Or basic self-hygiene tasks?

[Grumble, spit, bleepin’ making me look bad]

Well, the cat box got cleaned today (and let me tell ya, that was a doozy) and here I am blogging about not wanting to blog.  Who doesn’t want to read this crap-laced blog post?

Have you seen this cat? She has been missing since last fall. Other cats have since been pooping in her box. I miss her.

Actually, I’ve been quite busy writing the past two weeks.  Submitted a 13,000 word story under my dirty pen name and cranked out 20,000 words in the past three weeks or so (again, dirty pen) and now the guilt of not spiffing up a dormant horror story and trying to find a home for it, and not working on that zombie long pork story I started weeks ago (200 words or so–if you can call that starting), and not editing and sending to betas the other two novels sitting in my C drive, well, it’s really getting me down.

Damn, that was a long sentence.  My apologies.

Tack on to that the fact that I write a newsletter for my daylily society which I try to get out in spring and fall.  But spring sprang and now I am feeling the pressure and a lack of initiative.  Add to that the fact that I keep getting these frackin’ back spasms and have been popping Flexeril like candy.  Not only does my back still kill me, but I feel like the walking dead.  Muscle relaxers suck-it big time.  I’m so tired, and gazing at a computer screen with a warm pack on my back inspires me only to sleep, unfortunately.  And oh the dry mouth.  I shake my fist at you, Flexeril.  And to my back, the bird.

In more exciting news, “Childhood Nightmares: Under the Bed” from Sirens Call Press is now out both digitally and in paperback.  Super cool.  I’m looking forward to holding a real copy in my hands, but for now, I content myself with reading my Kindle version.

Awesomesauce.

Anyway, I’ll get off my gripe horse and take my little human beans to bed (yes, we’ve been reading “The BFG” by Roald Dahl–I enjoy scaring the crap out of reading to my children).

Now I can check “blog” off of my to do list.  Yeehaw!

See you next week or so.  Same time, same bad jokes, and same stinky cat box.

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Break out the plunger.

Kimber Vale

1.     Go to bed.  I find this to be the easiest way to get ideas.  Drift off to that purgatory between sleep and wakefulness.  Think about your characters, your plot, or your problem that can’t be solved during the daylight hours no matter how hard you try (or don’t try, I think that is my problem). 

Inevitably, ideas will start to come to you just when you want to fall asleep.  This is where the little notebook and pen on your bedside stand come in mighty handy.  You will probably be wide awake after you get your good idea.  You may even have to go fire up your computer again.

2.     People watch.  It’s a great way to work on you characterization.  Is that male lead just not fleshing out believably? 

Go to Walmart and take in the sights.  If you’re looking for some character flaws, the mom whose…

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Kid Fears: What’s in Your Closet?

My dad was talking about his brother Gary at dinner the other evening.  We went to visit my parents on Saturday and stayed for Easter brunch (complete with copious mimosas) on Sunday.  The topic came up of things that scared us when we were kids.  He brought up “the lady in the closet” that his older brother used to frighten him with when he was little.  First he called her the witch in the closet and then recanted and said that Gary called her the lady in the closet.

My sisters and I decided that “the lady” was far more sinister sounding than “the witch” anyway.  The lady, for me, brings up flashback’s from The Shining and the woman in the bathtub.  A witch is pretty cookie-cutter as far as your visualization.  A lady could be anything, including a witch, but not crammed into just that tiny box.  She could be a zombie.  Or Joan Crawford with her wire hangers.  Or the other mother from Coraline.

Or Cruella  de Vil.  Or the witch from Hansel and Gretelwith her bad eyesight and hot oven, asking you to stick a finger out so she can feel how plump you are.  Or even Lady Gaga (added after she kept popping up in my pictures and I couldn’t figure out why, but, yeah, that would be a nightmare).

Gary died when he was in his twenties.  I think he and my father had only recently gotten to an age where they could be friends instead of an older brother who tormented his annoying, significantly younger sibling.  And then a wayward blast from a fire hose caught my dad’s brother and slammed him into a wall.

“I wish he was still here so I could yell at him for scaring the shit out of me with the lady in the closet,” my dad said the other night.  How awesome would that be?  I’d love to ask him how he pictured her and where he got the idea.  I’d love just to know him.

How about everyone else?  What monsters, clowns, or ladies skulked in your closets when you were young?  Me, I always thought there was some sinister robot out in the hallway because of the ticking of my clock.  Somehow, the noise always got incrementally louder to me, like the robot was getting closer, and closer, and infinitely closer, but never quite there until I was ready to pee myself.  He never showed up at my door, though.  Thank God.  Every time I had to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night I always half-expected to see his sharp metal teeth smiling at me when I opened the door.

Anyway, Childhood Nightmares: Under the Bed is due out in ten days.  I, for one, cannot wait to see what horrors  lurk between those pages.  I’m sure I’ll be up late into the night, reading to the sound of my ticking clock and trying to “hold it in” until the sun comes up.