I think I'm far too excited about this to be healthy. The dogs are staring at me like I'm some sort of alien creature, but I'm pretty sure they take it for granted that I'm an alien creature and am only useful for petting them and cleaning up their messes.
So yeah, first post jitters and an awkward silence to boost. I have no idea what I'm doing.
I'm supposed to go to the mall today to fix my evil Mac computer because apparently Macs hate me and break on purpose when I need them to work. And since I work from my computer (working = writing romance novels from the couch and hoping no one notices), having no computer makes life super difficult. I have to borrow the communal Mac and fight for my time on it.
I also managed to injure my shoulder yesterday, probably because I fell asleep on the recliner again and twisted myself into a pretzel, so typing is painful. It makes me prone to howling at the slowness of this computer and scaring the dogs into hiding.
I'm rambling about nonsense and probably boring the hell out of readers.
I don't think this post showcases my amazing talents as a writer. I don't think I can do much about that.
I have two short stories that are part of a series up on Amazon Kindle right now. I write The Adventures of Kitty Malone, which is sort of an experiment, I guess, if you want to call it that. I call it more of a brainchild, or maybe it's a problem child that needs to be sent to summer camp. Kitty Malone can be very temperamental, let me tell you. Some days are good for writing and some days are just plain bad.
The stories are somewhere in the middle ground of long and short. Single Lady of New York, which is the first one, is about 21 pages long in Google Documents and Flight of Fantasy, the second one, is about 27 pages. So far I've sold two units copies of Single Lady of New York, and I consider that a success because there were no refunds and I made a whole .70 cents. I can buy some gum now.
I guess I should put in a link to the stories. (SHAMELESS PRODUCT PLACEMENT)
Single Lady of New York
Flight of Fantasy
I sell them for .99 cents on the Kindle, and yes, they're erotica. Why? I have no idea. I blame the media for saturating everything with sex.
I don't remember much about writing Single Lady of New York, other than it took five attempts to get it right and I actually had a lot of fun muddling my way through it. I wrote that one back in April, or maybe I started it in March, I really don't remember. I think I was eating a scone at some point and decided that I should be a romance novelist. But since I can't finish a novel no matter how hard I try, I turned into a romance author. We'll see what this becomes.
Flight of Fantasy took a lot longer to write, almost two full months to get it together. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I wonder if I spent too much time getting into Kitty's head and not enough time writing actual fact. The whole showing vs. telling argument. It's been up for a few days now, no sales though yet.
I'm writing the third story, tentatively titled Bobbing for Boyfriends a.k.a Flapper Fashion is Secretly Complex and Terrifying. I love the 1920s, but I know next to nothing about it. I shouldn't attempt these things without doing research. To Wikipedia I go! I've got about five pages done of this story out of who knows how many. Maybe we'll hit thirty pages this time. Let's do it.
I try to keep the stories somewhat short so that people can enjoy them during lunch breaks and coffee breaks and commutes. A good read always makes a commute better. I remember busing around Manhattan with a computer and Shutter Island so that I wouldn't have to kill the kids behind me out of frustration and righteous indignation. Fun times, fun times. Do people even like reading erotica during lunch breaks? Or would it be awkward, reading about sex and then having to go to a meeting right after? The mysteries of the universe...
I don't want to edit all this. Editing is such a trip, I swear.
One of the dogs is up on the couch with me, and I don't know how she did it. She's on my legs and keeping me warm, but she really shouldn't be up here. She kind of smells. I should bathe her, but she'd hate it and scratch me all up like nothing else. I'm afraid she might drown herself out of spite. She already spites me by biting people when they try to be friendly. There's something wrong with her.
Ah well, I should sign off and go back to writing about Flapper fashion and bobbed haircuts. Wish me luck!