Long time no post.

Kate and I have three projects in the works, one possibility and I think two we've put on the back burner. How is it that an idea can start off great, but then just fizzle? We're stuck on two books, started talks on one that I'm not exactly in love with, but our brain storming tonight kind of got me perked up for it. 

I just want to get one book finished, find an agent and get it out there. I have faith, I have optimism, I just think that we're a little afraid of the what if's. What if we write something great? What if we succeed? What if we were able to sell a manuscript for some real money? Honestly? I think the positive what if's are scaring us into a sort of writers hibernation. I know we got the goods, and we can deliver, we're not afraid to fail.

Why the hell are we so afraid to succeed? 

On another note, two weeks on weight watchers and I'm down 7 pounds. Thank you, God.

Begone Discouragement!

We can do this, we can do this, we can do this, this is not a waste of our time, we can do this.

I need to start chanting this. Kate and I got about 1,000 words written tonight before I crapped out with overwhelmed feelings of lost hope. I can't help but to feel the size of a pinhead when I see the work of other budding authors. I read their work and wonder "Why in the world aren't they published yet? They're amazing!" They have professional voices, they've been to college, got a degree in English and everything else they reached out for.

I wasn't able to get that. I can't speak for Kate, but what I write comes from the seat of my pants. I look up to these people, and I still can't get over the fact that they're waiting to be published. If they aren't, then it makes me feel as if I have no chance at all.

I don't want to give up, but am I good enough?

Billy Holmes

This is one of the main characters in Midnight. His name is Billy (Wilem) Holmes and he's a grouchy, sometimes irate sumbitch. But, he has his good points too. He has such a hard time trying to be nice, but once you reach through those walls he has built up, he begrudgingly accepts you into his fold. 

He's incredibly tall, standing at six foot seven inches, he's never had a haircut and he is fiercely protective of his home and those who he allows to be close to him.

Irons in the fire.

I've got so many projects in the fire, it's ridiculous. I guess it's a good thing that Kate and I are working, but it would be nice to have one or two manuscripts finished and polished. I know she's just as eager as I am to start that agent hunt. I think one of our biggest worries is that big "What now?" that comes when we are finished. We know how to write, we know how to edit, she knows how to pick scabs, so I think we've just got to get out of our comfort zone and plunge ahead.

Besides, this isn't brain surgery, though it sure does feel like it. 

To get done list as of now:

Your side of Midnight: Rogue's curse. Our first finished book until we seriously overshot the word count. We're trimming it up and have enough to make two books out of. I'm starting to think that that's a bad idea, if we dedicate ourselves to that course, it could hurt the story. 

Sacha, our delightful illustrator, is getting art ready for the books as well. She's working on character sheets when she has the time and giving me back some very good things. I'm lucky to have found her, the woman is self taught and is just amazing. Her lines are uniquely hers and I really want to see her shine.

This is Nicolas Desmardais, or Nix as he's commonly known.

I'm excited to see what else she has in store for us, and when she digs out another main character or two for Midnight, I'll pop them up here too.

Sad Birthday was Sad.

I tried so hard not to hurt my mom's feelings, but all I could do was just lay in bed and cry for most of the day. I was so overwhelmed with hurt. I guess part of it was, this is one day where Momma makes me feel special, but I couldn't bare the thought of being nothing for another 364 days, so I couldn't allow it today.

My cousin couldn't even be arsed to wish me a happy birthday, but then again, I don't matter to her unless she feels guilty or needs something. Harsh, true, but it's the truth. I closed the doors on her today, I'm tired of her hurting me. I don't need that in my life. I don't need her excuses, they're nothing but her lazy way of telling me she doesn't like me. She doesn't seem to make the same excuses to her friends. Well, at least the ones she likes. I'm never letting her back in. In fact, I'm getting rid of a lot of people who do nothing but use me for what they can get out of me. The last person I slammed the door on isn't even worth mentioning, I just hope the next person they get a hold of, they appreciate, rather than have their arm stuck out and their fingers opening and closing in a silent demand of "More. Give me more."

I didn't get any work done. Kate's net was busy masturbating itself into a coma or something. *Sighs*

I hate depression.

It's my Birthday.

And I can cry if I want to.

I need to learn to query.

Kate and I have four books in the works, and like thoroughbreds rounding the last turn on Church hill downs, we're heading for the finish with all of them. 

Thank God for the Query shark. I have mad respect for an agent who will go out of their way to not only teach how to do a query, but take that extra time to 'grade the paper' so to speak. Janet Reid really seems to want people to succeed and that just blows my mind. Kate and I are new to this whole process, we're publishing virgins, and I have to say, the Shark can really boost ones confidence.

On another note, it's one in the morning (I know blogger gives a different post time after I post) and I am officially 36. Depression, I has it. :(

The Great Kate

I've known her for going on three years, and I keep telling her, she's GOT to be kin to me. I wonder if I really had a twin, and maybe my parents could only afford one, so they kept me and adopted her out. I am serious, that thought has crossed my mind more than once. The only reason I don't want it to be true, however, is because it would make me nine months older than I already am. My youth! I grasp it!

Anyway, we're just too much alike, it's scary, except when it comes to a few things. Beliefs are one, and typing is another. I noticed today (And Krunchy, you know I'll pick at you until time ends) that she has a certain word she always misspells the same way, which tells me that she is absolutely dyslexic. She always spells "nerves" as "neavers". You might wonder why I would be making a post about that. Sure, she misspells some words, but I am damn proud to have her as a writing partner. She has the most brilliant ideas, never gets mad, I've never seen her flustered or frustrated and anything she comes to the table to me with, it's done with 100%, infallible honesty. Kate is a work horse and knows how to put her shoulder to the harness and that girl will pull.

If I had to choose anyone in the world to work with, anyone, I would dare say I wouldn't give up working with Kate for anything in the world. I can honestly say she's never gotten on my neavers.

Love ya, Sister!

Meet my writing partner.

Kate. She's great. I call her Krunchy for reasons forgotten.

Tonight I informed her that I had very itchy ankles. She insisted I put lotion on them. That's a good idea, but however, my ankles are itchy because I have mosquito bites. Oh how I hate them, I hate them so much! As soon as I informed her that it wasn't dry skin, it was because a few nasty little critters had decided that I was best suited to be the walking buffet (I guess my Dad and neighbor didn't look so tasty), she said to put toothpaste on them.

Toothpaste. Fine, that's well and good, but I have the foaming kind of tooth paste, that iso... whatever that as soon as the toothbrush even enters the warm moist recesses of my mouth, it literally explodes. I start brushing my teeth with this stuff and I look like Cujo with bad hair. I mean, it's dripping down my chin, leaking out of a random nostril, hell, I think I caught it coming out of my ear once.

Long story short, I should NEVER have to form the thought to tell her that I don't need foamy ankles.

Whoa...

It's currently 46.7 degrees right now, at 6:22 a.m. Is that normal for the fifth of September?

Brutal.

Hello blog world.

Granted, this isn't my first time around the ole blog block. 

I think it's time to settle down and get on doing what people who have the need to let other people they've never met face to face before, in on what's going on in my world. Honestly, that isn't nearly as bad as it sounds.

How about a little about me, just to keep things casual without that awkward pause of silence that bad first impressions make, yes? My name is Kim, and I am going to be 36 years old the 9th of September. Thirty six years old. Man. It feels like yesterday that I was just turning eleven and was looking forward to my Thundercat action figure that I just knew I was going to get for my birthday. I wasn't disappointed that year. Wow. Why does thirty seven sound younger than thirty six? Maybe because it's a whole year away. Let's put that behind me, Lord knows there's enough behind me to hide a small country.

I'm a big girl with an even bigger heart. I have room for many people in there, but it gets hurt really easily. So, if you make your way in, and there's a good chance you just might, please don't hurt it. It's very tender. I am a Christian, and I take refuge in the Lord. Why do people have such a hard time when people admit their faith? I guess there's some crazy Christian's out there. I'm crazy, but in the fun way, not the scary way. I'm the kind of fun crazy that when people walk by my car in a parking lot, I'll click the little button and beep the horn. Man, it's fun to watch them jump!

I mentioned that I was a big girl. To look at me, you'd think, "Dayum." But actually, I'm not really fat, I just bend light differently from everyone else. I can't help that. Don't worry about what you see on the outside. On the inside, I'm a size five.

I work with horses and have the ability to make a twelve hundred pound animal mind. Sometimes I even get to ride, but only when I get the courage up. (My old mare, God bless her, decided to grate my Grandparents driveway with my elbows soon after I got her. Did a pretty darn good job, but she didn't split the commission with me, the cheapskate) So, I'm looking for a good steady eddy to have to ride. That old mare is thirty and she won't be with me forever. Expect to hear a lot about my horses and the crazy things my animals do. I think they took out a life insurance policy on me as well as a pool. I don't like the way they look at me.

Welp, that was long and rambling, but the good thing is, when you meet me, you'll at least be warned that I can be long and rambly when in conversation. I also have the attention span of mustard, but that's not so bad, right? I don't think I like this font, maybe it should be bold. I need to see how this is going to look on the layout. Thank God for the preview button!