We're Breaking Up

2012. You and I, well, it’s just not working out. I think it’s best if we just let each other go. I think we can both agree that things started off great, but then you couldn’t hide your true colors any longer and it just fell apart.

That’s how I feel; like I’m trying to recover from a bad relationship. I can’t put 2012 into a category. It wasn’t good, damn sure wasn’t good, but I can’t exactly say it was bad either.

It was the first year since 2009 that I haven’t published a book, but I did finish one and am now sending queries, so…

We lost our house, but moved into a nicer house for less money and I have an office so…

I didn’t get any promotions at work, but I did get placed on a task force and introduce a program that now the entire North American Marketing department is going to use so… yeah.

See what I mean? Not good, not bad.

I am older and starting to not like that. Even when I turned 30 I was like, ‘Ehh, whateva.’ But now, 33 is making me unhappy. My heart…is a mixed up place. Always has been and always will be. I maintain that I’m ‘more’ than most people. I’m not normal, well, to those who have to be around me every day. I’m a very normal, even somewhat tame, writer, but I don’t have any other writers in my family so they all think I’m crazy. Really. I’m surprised someone hasn’t tried to have me committed yet. I feel like they all give me sideways glances when I’m buried in a notebook, taking notes on the thoughts that come pouring into my head, or have to refrain from asking me if I’m okay when I start mumbling to myself and shuffle off to my laptop, my story, my soul.

I’m trying to keep my expectations for 2013 pretty low. In fact, I don’t have any at all. All I can do is wake up each day and view it as a new chance to get something right, which at this point, would be a damn miracle.

Advice from me to you:

• Save more money than you spend. Really. You don’t need that Coach purse.
• Keep your focus on who cooks your meals and pays your bills, the rest is just background noise.
• Try something new, go somewhere new, listen to something new…life’s too short for the continuation of the mundane.
• And finally, my personal favorite: It is never too late to become what you might have been.

Happy 2013, everyone!

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Five Words

Please send the full manuscript.


Thanks.


Best Five words I’ve seen in a long time…well, six if you count the 'Thanks' and shouldn’t manners always count? Back in 2009, when I saw those words for Emmy’s Song it was the same feeling. This crazy euphoric high that doesn’t compare to anything you’ve ever felt before. As writers we get a lot of rejection, which, you’d think I would be used to by now but I’ll be honest and say it still hurts every time. When that one YES comes in, it’s like someone gave me a life jacket as I sit in a sinking boat and I hang on, for the next ship, the next vest, the next…whatever.

We all need validation at one point or other. I’ve published 5 books and you’d think that would be validation enough but it’s not. Why? Because everyone I need to feel validated from doesn’t consider an eBook as being published. I’m from a dirt road in Bryceville…it is what it is. I’ve accepted it. Perhaps once I’m finally in print and can hand them all something tangible and say, “Here! Does this count? Can you say it now? I’m an author! Say it!” (Ohh, very Twilightish just then) I’ll feel whatever it is my soul still needs to feel and not worry with it any longer.

Who knows. Either way, I’m happy to have received those five words. Now, I just need one: Accepted!

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The Good with The Bad

I can’t watch the news. All they’re talking about is the shooting. I mean…it’s news. Why wouldn’t they talk about it? But my Lord and Baby Jesus it’s sad. How does one get to that point? Kill your parents, I get it. They did…whatever. But innocent folks? Innocent KIDS? I’m sure we’ll find out more about him as time goes on (Perhaps you already know. As I said, I’m not watching the news.) but I can’t fathom what would put someone there, in that spot. Maybe he felt like he was protecting them from the world? All I know is a mom, a mom who may very well have fought with her kid about going to school since it was the last day before Christmas break, dropped her kid off and will never get to pick them up. MY GOD, I cannot even imagine…I mean, just typing this makes my throat close up and tears are coming to fill my eyes. I want to do something, but I don’t know what. Is there a fund or something? For the parents who didn’t have insurance and can’t afford a funeral? I don’t know. I just know it’s awful.

We moved into the new house and I love it. Mostly, I love my office. I’m in it now with the windows open. The cats are sitting in the windowsills and we’re listening to the crickets and 3^rd & Union. Myron framed my book covers, got me brand new everything and hung lights, just like the picture I showed him on Pinterest. Probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I’m trying to be a better wife, or at least do things that I know make him happy…like color coordinate the clothes in my closet and cook dinner and be more welcoming to guests. LOL He’s a simple man. I’m happy. Happy to the point that I’m waiting for something to come along and take it away. Honestly, only one thing could mess this up and it’s so gone I don’t even remember what it sounds like.

See below for pics of my awesome office where I WILL write the book that lets me stay in it all day and write. Amen.

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Where Are You Christmas?

So, I guess I’m kind of skipping Christmas this year. Well, my idea of Christmas anyway. Normally it looks like the North Pole has moved its headquarters (thereby negating the whole ‘North Pole’ thing, but whatever) to my living room I have so much Christmas cheer up in my crib. But alas, this year I only have a tree. I’m in-between houses right now. Friday I’ll be officially living in one house, though I still have to clean the old house…and the mess the movers made at the new house. Fun. Needless to say, I’m not feeling the Christmas love this year. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. Which, I wasn’t, but now I am.



Side Note: I went to a psychic earlier this year and he told me my housing situation would be decided by the end of the year and I’d be happy about it. O.O Spooky.


I’m just not feeling too cheery. The best Christmas I ever had, and I do mean ever, was three years ago. Myron, Cam and I went to Universal Studios and stayed in the Nick hotel the entire week before Christmas. We had the ‘Let it Snow’ package and got free hot chocolate and ‘smores at the pool area every night and they blew in fake snow and it was COLD. Like, super cold for Florida. That was my first trip to Harry Potter land *SQUEE* and Grinchmas; I was impressed to say the least. Then we came home and I made cookies for everyone in my family and just had a happy time in general. That was the best Christmas. This year has been consumed with moving. I don’t recommend moving during the holiday. Not fun. Nope. Not fun at all.


I did, however, get my very own office in the new house. I feel bad, like I shouldn’t have an office all to myself. I think it’ll guilt me into finishing the entire Fire Series though. I mean, I can’t let all that awesome space go to waste. I have a black desk and furniture, black and white comfy chair, nice silver desk accessories, monitor, the whole bit. It’s nice. I still don’t think I deserve it.


The end of the year is here already. HOLY POOP! Can you guys believe that? They say that time behaves differently as you age and it really does. I remember when December 1 – December 25 took seven months at least, or it seemed that way. I remember when summer break was forever and being in your 30s seemed like another lifetime. But here I am. I’m a Christian, but lately, I’ve really been pulling for reincarnation. I’d like another go at this whole ‘life’ thing. My mom deserves another shot at happiness, poor gal, but me…well, I’d just like another round in the fight.

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Incurable

For all of the drama and the hullabaloo, I must say, it’s worth it. Love I mean. Feeling the joy and the happiness that comes along with loving someone. I’ve said it before and I'll say it again. Any story that’s worth being told usually has something to do with love. Love of Country, love between a parent and a child, that all-consuming love between a man and a woman. It really can be an amazing thing.

I played matchmaker today and set up two folks who really hit it off (Like, duh, I knew they would) and to watch them watch each other was truly a privilege. I would see him sneaking glances at her, or her peering over her tea glass at him with a genuine smile. It was heartwarming.

Those of us who have been in relationships for a long time (10 year club – what-what) can forget that. How amazing it was when we found each other. The excitement we felt when we knew we would get to see each other. Myron and I were both coming out of relationships where we lived with the person so were both living at home when we met. We used to get a hotel, just to be able to sleep together. And I don’t mean have booty (though, yeah, we did that too!) I mean, just to be near each other.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Christy Trujillo, the happily incurable romantic. <3>

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Twice

I was born with congestive heart failure, did you know that? The fourth chamber of my heart wasn’t formed and I almost died. They kept me in the hospital waiting until I was strong enough for surgery and people were praying for me around the clock, so I’ve been told. Then, one day, yep…you guessed it…a miracle. My heart healed on its own. The fourth chamber is weaker than the others. I had to have tests done every six months until I was five, and wear an ID bracelet until I was 19. If you catch my mom in the right mood, she’ll still cry telling the story. I also gave it the old college try myself when I was seventeen, but alas, I never could cut a straight line.

My point? That’s twice. Twice that I cheated death, twice that I was allowed to stay here instead of move on to wherever it is we go. As grateful as you’re currently thinking I should be, what you’re ignoring is the pressure that can put on a girl. You know, to do something great, be something great. I thought I was on the right track for a while there, but here we are and surprise, surprise, I’m not and I haven’t.

What a waste.

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Changes

Got bad news today. We are in fact losing the house. I’m pretty upset. I mean, it’s not like it’s surprise you didn’t pay your mortgage for a few months so we’re taking our house back, no I get that. I’m mad at the whole situation, which shockingly, has nothing to do with me. My husband lost his job. My husband had to pay his child support. My husband hired a quack attorney. We’ve fought about it, so there’s no point in beating a dead horse. But I’m still not over it and now I feel like all those feelings are fresh and I’m really mad all over again. We have to move ASAP so NANO? Done. Who has time to write a novel when they have to pack and move a 4 bedroom house? No one. The most I can hope for is to finish up PwF edits and stare at it while it collects dust waiting to be queried.

We’re also crazy busy at work and I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a deadline driven situation but it’s freaking stressful. It’s like a weight that settles over you and there’s nothing you can do to get out from underneath it. Does something need to change? Probably. But it won’t.

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Lipo Update, Pumpkins and a Snowman

First week of lipo shots over. Pounds lost – 1.4


I suppose I’m feeling slightly less murderous, but still rather unstable if you want to know the truth of the matter. This is most likely due to my current state of never ending revisions for PwF though. Honestly, this is new to me. Typically I finish a novel, go through it a time or two, then start edits with my publisher. This time, it’s all on me. Well, um, hello! If it’s up to me, it will never be ready. Ever. Never. Ever. I change 8983749093847 things every time I read it. I really don’t know what this ‘polished’ nonsense is all about. Do any of us ever think anything is polished? I think this will be the last time I pour through it, then I shall hand it over to my friend/editor/guardian angel and see what she comes back with. I’m not a perfectionist, oh no. Not by any stretch of the imagination could I be called a perfectionist, but damn, there’s always a better way to say something, or phrase something.

Anywho –

Yesterday was a teacher’s planning day here so I stayed home with my son and we went shopping, out to lunch and decorated pumpkins. I say decorated because we painted them. Mine, oh my poor pumpkin. It looks like someone spilt some paint all over it. It’s very sad. Cam’s is pretty good. He’s artsy. Me? Well, I can’t draw a straight line. No, I really can’t because I shake too much. I could never cut a straight line either and would always get in trouble for it, which I hope we can all agree now, was a stupid thing to get in trouble for. I’ve inserted pics below. I’m sure you can guess which one’s mine. -_-

 

I did, however, get some shampoo for my makeup brushes…you would have thrown up if you saw what came out of them…a new outfit, hair color, and some random other stuff from Target. I’m not much on shopping so that’s a big deal for me. They had allll of their Christmas stuff out and I saw this guy:


Sadly I didn’t get him. But, now you have that song stuck in your head too. Bwahhahhahhha *evil laugh*

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Lipo Shots and Cookies

Well, folks, I’ve decided to keep a little record of my weight loss adventures. Mainly for evidence so when they either A) find my body or B) find the body I hid, I’ll have something to point back to and say see – I was already crazy.

First, let’s point out that for the last four months or so I’ve been taking this combination medicine Phen-something. I’m not really sure what it was, but it was awesome. I mean, it stopped working for weight loss after the second month but my lord it made everything else better. I could see more clearly, I was awake, in a good mood. Yes. It was awesome. But you can’t take it forever. So I’ve stopped taking that and have started a series of Lipo injections, along with 1300 calories a day (kill me now) and 30 min of exercise a day. That’s where we are.

I.Feel.Like.Shit. I mean, like I just want everyone to go away and I want to crawl under the covers in my bed and stay there. If I hadn’t told Mr. Tom I would do something for him today, I swear to the Lord I would get up and go home. But it’s not his fault I’m a fat, useless cow who can’t just eat right and exercise on her own. So I stay and wait for him to call me back. I did read that the injections can cause you to be lethargic, (CHECK) have random tummy issues (CHECK) and phantom pain in your neck and back (CHECK CHECK). I paid for a four pack of these things and I just had my first shot last Friday (it’s now Monday) so I’ll be riding this out for another month or so. Have I lost weight? No. But it’s only been three days…two of which I ate way more than 1300 calories, I can tell you that right now. Whatever. I like food. I like yummy food. I really like sweets and therein lies my downfall. Though, I must agree with:

I can’t tell if this behavior is from coming off the other meds or getting on the shots, so I’ll just wait a week and see what happens. If I’m still alive/out of jail, that is. This is also havoc on my writing because I just want to print all 66K words out, rip them up one by one and then just go SAIUDHFIAWUEHFISUDHFI all over my word doc. But that is wrong. And I would be sad. Someday. Probably not today. It’s good though, right? It’s originalish and funnyish and entertainingish. But the question remains, is it will written enough NO ISH? Probably not, because I’m not really a writer. I’m a psychopath, masquerading as a storyteller, trying to pass for a writer, working to become a full-time author. It’s a lie. It’s all just a lie. I’m eating a cookie. I hate my life.

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Olde City New Blood CON!

I registered for my very first book conference today. I’m so excited because A) it’s super close, like 20 minutes away so I don’t have to pay for hotel, B) there will be a ton of authors I like there as well as Entangled Publishing, and C) I’m finally doing what the psyshic told me to do, which is go to conferences.

I’m not sure what happens at these things, I assume there will be some Q&A with the authors, perhaps with Entangled as well. I hope to gather some advice and network with other folks like myself; it’s nice to know I’m not alone.

Here is the link if it’s something you’re interested in: http://oldecitynewblood.wordpress.com/

As for the rest of my life, things are slowly getting back to normal without Pops. My husband still isn’t the same. Sadly, I think this kick-started his mid-life crisis. Joy. We’ve weathered worse, though, so I’m sure we’ll push our way through this as well.
I’m finished with PwF and am now revising, which could go on forever with me. Nothing is ever good enough. I know what it needs to be. I know what it has to have in its most basic form to be coupled with a marketing plan and equal a wildly successful book. Does it have that? I think it does. Now, I just need a publisher with a marketing plan. ;) And an editor. A brutal, intelligent, loves my voice and won’t try to change it, editor. Does one such as this exist? I can but hope.

I think I’m going to just keep right on going with PwF 2, you know, while it’s all still with me. LLL and FireFlys will just have to wait, along with Dreams, Gemini and Nightlights in Heaven. Yes, I admit to having Literary Schizophrenia.

I also entered a little contest over at NA Alley, so perhaps something will come of that. I’ll let you know.

Until then, my friends.

 

 

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Death & Taxes

It’s Sunday morning after Pops’ wake/viewing/service/whatever-the-hell-that-was. You know how some people have weddings that last a full weekend? Well, these people are having a funeral that lasts even longer than that. This is the first time that someone I’ll actually miss has passed away. You know, someone who touched my life in such a way that his absence will be felt. It sucks. It also sucks that they didn’t have anything planned. I spoke to my dad yesterday and told him they needed to get their shit together, make a will, call a lawyer, something. Because trust me when I say to you, I will NOT be able to do all that and make all of those decisions when he passes, especially if he goes before my mother who lives in her own little world. There’s the advice for the day, folks. If anyone you love is over the age of 60, talk about it now. Death and taxes, people. It's going to happen.


I took off work Friday and went to my mom-in-law’s house when she wasn’t there and cleaned it from top to bottom. It made me feel useful since other than writing, cleaning is pretty much the only thing I’m good at. While my mom-in-law was at the funeral home a stray dog wandered up to them, a collie, which just happens to be the kind of dog Pops used to have. Needless to say, my mom-in-law has a new dog. She’s really sweet but something’s wrong with her back for sure and maybe she’s sick too? I don’t know. I hope that all works out though; I’ve always wanted a Lassie Dog.

The service was Saturday and it was just awful. You walked into the place and to the left was a little copy of a church and to the right were a few rooms. Pops was laid out in one of them and in the other they had a slide show of pics of him and all of us accompanied by sad, war-hero type country songs…you know, just in case someone wasn’t already crying. For whatever reason, we had to be there right at 1 and sit there until 3 while people came in and out to look at him. (I didn’t go in the room. Couldn’t do it. That’s a whole other post.) My husband, he’s just not good with that stuff. He ended up in the other room alone, fighting tears the entire time. He kept saying things like, “I never really appreciated him” or “I don’t know what to do now.” Broke my heart.

The service was given by my mom-in-law’s pastor who is black. I only mention this because he was the only black person in the room. I’m sure he felt odd. But he pulled through like a trooper. Nice things were said, but not nice enough. I’m mad at myself for not getting up to say something about him. I wanted to, like how Myron told me he learned how to treat a woman from him or how he always made me feel welcome and truly did make the best BBQ sauce I’ve ever had in my life, but I stayed seated. I guess he knows.

After, there was a reception at the American Legion where Pops hung out. By that time I had a headache from crying and ten minutes into standing in the smoke filled room, I thought I was going to puke so Myron took me outside. He’d already said he didn’t want to go in there, so I think he was glad for the excuse. You’d think this would be the end of my tale, but no! There’s more! We still have to go to this veteran’s cemetery thing on Monday and actually bury the man. Like I said a weekend, plus some, of a funeral.

Death does weird shit to people. My husband was acting like a crazy person for two days. Didn’t shower, hitting himself in the head, yelling at me…it was insane. My bro-in-law was a hot mess too. People handle their grief in their own ways, though. I’m writing to you. That’s how I deal. I write. I don’t want all that when I die. I want all of my parts donated to whoever can use them, to be cremated and then for someone to drive my ashes to the highest place they can get to in the Tennessee mountains and let my ashes scatter with the wind. I don’t want some sad music playing and me that doesn’t look like me laid out in the box they're going to put me in the ground in for all to see. If anything, maybe a few people get together to read something I’ve written or eat really good food and be happy. The ones who really gave a shit too, not random people who suddenly want to act like we were close. Like I said, death does weird shit to people, but I guess when I’m dead, I won’t really care.

Just FYI – I think there’s a really good country song hidden in those words up there.

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What an Awful, Horrible, Seriously F'ed up Day

You know those days when you wake up and the sky is ominous and you have this sense of dread, like you should just get your butt right back under the covers and stay there? Well, today was not one of those days. It started out as a fine day. Truth be told, the sky was a little gray but I'm a fan of gray so it was fine by me.

Once at work I find out that this fella I work with's little dog was attacked and murdered by a larger dog. He was there, saw the whole thing, tried to fight the other dog off...it was bad. And he is truly the nicest male I've ever met. Like, consistently nice, kind, respectful, just a class act all the way, you know.

About an hour into that, I get a call from my husband and his step-dad, my father-in-law has passed away. This is sad news in and of itself. Phil, but we called him Pops, was also a class act. Would give you the shirt off his back and not think a thing of it, always made me feel welcome, just good 'ole people. Add to this, my hysterical sister (she's my sisiter-in-law but I call her my sister because she's more my sister than any of theirs) and you've got yourself some pretty messed up shit. She's 18, I mean, I've heard her be dramatic. This.Was.Not.That. Have you ever heard someone's heart break? Like, heard it rip in two and fall from their mouth in choking sobs? Well, trust me. You don't want to. Ever.

My husband and I just got back home from going over to his mom's house. It's pretty bad over there. Just memories of Pops everywhere you look; his jacket draped over the chair, the eagles and military memorabilia he collected still on prominent display, little pieces of him reminding you that he's not there. My sister, I just don't know. She looked like a zombie. She'd been crying all day, but still. Just staring into space, nodding when spoken to. It's not like her. It's not good. So now I'm here, writing all of this on my iPad because I just don't feel like getting my laptop out but want to get these words out of me before they swell up like wedding rice inside a bird and make me burst:

It's not fair. Why does bad shit happen to good people? Why does just the most vile, despicable stuff happen to people (and baby puppies) who didn't do one damn thing to deserve it? Do you hear me, God? We're all about transparency now, right? All about everyone having to know the reason for every freaking thing, so I want a reason for that. Anytime now would be great. I'll wait.

September 25, 2012
In Memory of Cookie Davis and Phillip Bosland

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Just FYI:

That is all.

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6:00 am

I wake up every day at 6:00 am thanks to a kid who was up by 5:00 for six years. Now he sleeps until 10:00 and I’m still up. Whatever! *rolls eyes* My point. I wake up every day in time to catch the news, which just makes me sad. People killing people, mad at people because of who they choose to love or the color of the skin that God gave them. Really, people? I try to put myself in their shoes, to understand where such hate can come from. I feel that way about folks who abuse kids and animals, and while society says that is acceptable, it’s really not. Malice isn’t acceptable, no matter what. If I were in the room with someone who sexually abused a kid, I would truly try to kill them. So, I guess I’m just as bad as the idiots who actually carry out their plans.

I’ll try to work on that. I think sometimes people think I’m cheesy, but this is really the way I am! My heart swells with emotion at least five zillion times a day. When I believe in something, by God, I believe in it. When I say something (unless I’m clearly joking) by God, I mean it. Am I the only one? Wouldn’t be the first time.

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Want in one hand...

Sometimes, when I would tell my dad about some outrageous thing I wanted when I was a kid he would say, "Well, want in one hand and pee in the other and see which one gets filled first." Yeah, I know, but still. He had a point. Wanting something wasn't going to get me any closer to actually getting it. I should have said, "So, here's what I want and this is what I'm willing to do to make it happen." But what nine year old uses reason? Anyway - my point. I want something. I want it with all my heart and soul but I'm not really doing anything to make it happen. I just keep saying that I want it. I need to do some serious thinking and be honest with myself about what I am and am not willing to do to make it happen. Being honest with yourself is really hard. Really. I can talk myself out of, or into anything so I can always reason one way or the other depending on the direction of the wind. I'm really going to try this time though. I want to write a story that will make people feel they are better off for having read it. One that will have someone laughing and someone crying simultaneously on different ends of the country. And God help me, I feel like that story is in here, caught somewhere between FireFlys, LLL, and, PwF. So, now the only question is, what am I willing to do to make it happen?

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Just a little something

I found these over at youknowyoureawriter.tumblr.com. They make me happy.

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Miss me?

My goodness, here we are at the end of May and I’m just now posting again. Well, I have been busy. I have another book coming out under a different name due to the fact that it’s a VERY adult romance. It is not, and I repeat NOT, for anyone under the age of eighteen. It is rather good though, if I do say so myself. It started as something different (how many times do we say that as writers? LoL) than it ended up being. It originated as a love story, following the emotional growth of a woman who put her career before everything as so many do these days.

I see it all the time. Women put everything into becoming this independent being, only to wake up and realize that’s not at all what they really crave deep down. Okay, I’m sure I’ll get berated for this, but God made us all a certain way. That whole ‘biological clock’ thing, isn’t just a saying. We were made to love, made to nurture. I feel that when they look back at our society in a thousand years and ponder why we fell, just as we do the Romans and the Egyptians, it will be because women had to start working. Now hold on, before you go all women’s lib on me. I didn’t say that we shouldn’t have the right to work, of course we should. But that’s not what happened. Somewhere down the road women fought for the right to vote, the right to work, and boy, did we get it…along with everything else we had the ‘right’ to do, like raise the kids and clean the house and cook the food and…um hum, you get the point. It’s not like there was some legal fair contract between the genders stating – “and now whereas the female gender shall enter the workforce, the male gender shall agree to absorb fifty (50) percent of all original tasks deemed the responsibility of the female…” or something like that. Nope, we got it all, baby. So anywho-

The story follows a woman who put everything on hold for her career and it had consumed her until her life seemed to be one never-ending day of wake, work, and repeat. Then, one day, something happens and she gets the chance to learn what it means to love and to give yourself to someone completely. (And maybe there is a whole bunch of booty along the way, not that that’s neither here nor there.) I like the way it ends. It’s just one story, no more than 35K words, so I’m sure most of you could read it in a day or two. It comes out 6/1 from my publisher’s sister company, eXtasy Books, which has actually been getting a lot of press lately (http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2012/05/21/digital-media-brings-womens-erotica-out-of-the-closet/ ) so I hope to have some success with this whole alter ego bit. We shall see. Anywho – if you’re interested and OVER 18, you can head on over to eXtasy’s site and pick up your copy 6/1. http://www.extasybooks.com/index.php?route=product/product&author_id=955&product_id=3588

Needless to say, that’s kept me pretty busy. I know I said I was going to work on LL&L but well, something came up. Her name is Lea and she won’t hush so she comes first. Her voice is enough to drown out all the others so she deserves to have her story told first. I have no idea what kind of book this is, I know that’s awful, but there are so many elements involved, I just can’t nail down a specific genera. She’s over 18 so it’s not YA, she’s still young and there isn’t enough booty so it’s not erotica, there are too many fantastical elements to be chick lit and too many chick lit elements to be fantasy…I don’t know. I just know that for once, I actually know how everything will end up (duh, because she told me) and take it from me = it is a much faster process if you start a story knowing where it will end up. Now, that’s not to say my path won’t veer because it already has, but the destination will be the same. Want a hint? Well, here you go. But shhhhhhhhhhh, for the love of all that is holy, let’s just keep this between us, shall we?

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New Clothes and a New Attitude

Yesterday I got some new clothes to go with my new job at work. Actually, I just stood in the dressing room while my very fashion-forward husband brought me various items. He bought me; one pair of pants, one pair of short pants, a skirt, five shirts, three necklaces, one belt and one pair of shoes. I hate shopping. Always have. My mom (AKA Super Shopper) would beg me to go with her when I was a kid and I’d refuse because she had to look at everything, touch everything, drag me from one end of town to the other - no thanks. I’d rather stay home and read. I’m not good at shopping, either. I never know what goes together or what will look good. My husband can bring me something that I would have passed by because of the way it looks on the hanger and it looks amazing on me.

Armed with these new clothes, I intend to reinvent myself at work. I want to put as much space between ‘Admin Christy’ and ‘Proposal Writer Christy’ as I can. I’ve got a new desk, new title, new clothes and a new attitude. I’m a Jumper, which is a term I’m familiar with coming from a route-based industry. I go where the need is. Currently I’m working on 13 healthcare (school therapy) staffing proposals, two IT staffing proposals and one document for a current client regarding my company’s services and ways to add value while saving money. Yes, that is high volume. I like to be busy and I like to feel like I’m contributing. Things have changed so much and I’m so happy there. I’m all in and ready for the long haul with our current management team. Now…let’s just all pray I don’t screw up. I’m waiting on the edits for my new big girl book. June 1 2012 is my release date. I’m excited to get through the edits and start something else which is going to be *DRUM ROLL PLEASE* The Lady, The Lake and The Locket (herein referred to as LLL). I’m 30K in and will take a good look at everything I have, outline again and start with fresh eyes.

So, in a nutshell, life couldn’t be better. Hope she’s being kind to you as well.
Love, Christy

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Proud of Me

After eight years, four bosses, two buildings and one merger, I’m finally a fully fledged proposal writer at my day job. I started as a coordinator to a group of six proposal writers, running an MS Access project database, filing content in humongous word documents. Now we use web-based software to track projects and content, have process and work with so many branches I can’t even count them all. Most of us are assigned to a specific brand but I’m a jumper. What that means is I’m the most tenured person on the team and know more about our core brands than most so I work on all of them. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t disappointed that I wasn’t assigned to our healthcare brand, I feel like my writing style fits best with them, but I like the stimulation that comes from working outside the monotony. I am a Gemini after all.

It was never announced, this HUGE accomplishment and milestone in my life. I’m still not quite sure why, no one wants to fess up to making the decision not to. I almost gave up on the whole thing but thankfully my friend, Alissa stepped in to make sure I was acknowledged. She’s that friend. You know, the one who always looks out for you, remembers you on your birthday, changes your life with her kind words and compassionate blue eyes. I’m lucky to have her in my life. Anyway – my new boss, who I love, love, love, is finally going to announce this in our meeting on Monday morning. I just don’t think they get it, you know. They all have degrees and came in as proposal writers and well, most of them aren’t really ‘writers’ per se, or that is, they don’t aspire to write for a living. I do. And now I am. And well, that’s a big deal for me. Huge. You can understand why it hurt my feelings that no one felt the need to acknowledge that. In fact, I was told on February 21st that HR changed my title and there was no need to announce anything by my old boss. I’ve been picking up the pieces of my broken heart/pride since that day. They’re together but could fall at any moment. I’m pretty sure that the announcement on Monday will be the glue to hold them into place. It would be nice to tell our entire Marketing department but I guess just our department will do.

Aside from all of that, I’m waiting on the edits for Timeless Love, which for those of you keeping track, will be my 5th published novel. Between that and my new title at work, I’m going to take a moment and be proud of myself. No matter how others react, no matter if my mother refuses to acknowledge writing as a career, or colleagues at work still look at me as an admin, or my husband has never even read one of my novels, I am proud of myself. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

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Once Upon a Twilight!: Book Review: True North by Christy Trujillo + Give...

Once Upon a Twilight!: Book Review: True North by Christy Trujillo + Give...: True North Author: Christy Trujillo Reading Level: YA Genre: Paranormal Romance Released: October 1st 2011 Review Source: Author Availa...

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Running with Abandon

I’m usually a planner. I like to know what’s going on, when, where, how… you get the point. I tend to think about something before I do it. ‘If I do X, then Y may happen, and if so, Z…but what if I do Z and Y happens? Then I’ll say X’ and so forth and so on. It is rare that I charge into a situation without a plan.

It’s happened twice in my life. Once was the night that two dogs attacked my cat, Gracie. I was sitting in the front room of our old house and heard some commotion. Knowing my kitty was outside, I glanced out the window and saw them fighting. I flew out the door, through the yard, across the street, and into the neighbor’s yard in nothing but a t-shirt and some undies. Looking back that was pretty stupid for a plethora of reasons. I could have cut my feet on something in the road or hidden in the grass. The dogs could have turned on me, or worst of all, some people could have seen just what Victoria’s secret was all about. But I didn’t think about any of that at the time. I just thought about my kitty who needed me. I’m sorry to say that she died two days later from her injuries. But I tried.

The next time that I literally went charging in was just a few days ago. The alligator that lives in our pond was heading right for the ducks that live in our pond and well, I wasn’t interested in hosting some National Geographic episode in my backyard. I ran toward all of them, totally prepared to throw myself into the water if the ducks didn’t fly away, which fortunately, they did. I don’t think I even need to point out all of the reasons why that was a bad idea.

Now while I am in agreement that these were both really careless ways to behave, I can’t help but yearn for that feeling of complete and total abandon. Looking only ahead, plowing forward at full-steam, tunnel vision for your goal and your goal alone. To be free of society’s expectations, life’s worries and heartaches would take away the fear that holds all of us back. While I can’t live like that, I can sure as hell write like that. And I will. Using adverbs as I please, starting and ending sentences with prepositions, and going crazy with the dialogue because that’s what’s really in my heart.

In memory of Gracie Trujillo2008-2009

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Expendable

My friend Monique went to a psychic, the same one who told me my books would be published as a matter of fact, and she was told that she ‘wasn’t from here.’ As in, this was her first time on this earth. Sometimes, I feel like that. Like, I don’t belong here. There are days when I feel like my soul is the pocket of a comfy coat with a hole in it. Nice and together on the outside, incomplete and inherently flawed on the inside. I daydream about being stopped on the street by a psychic and them saying, ‘Hey, this dream you have…don’t give up. This writing thing, it’s for real.” But who knows, maybe that’s not the case and maybe I have nothing to say that’s worth being said.

If you hold your hands in a tight fist in front of your body you will see the mind and soul of the majority of the population. Safe, secure, generally together. And the best part is that this is fine for them. They don’t need and/or want anything more. Now, untangle your hands and pull them back into a large circle, stretching your fingers as wide as they’ll go. That’s me. I’m…more. Everything is more for me. I feel more, see more, love more, hate more, hurt more, and want more. I want enough hours in the day to write proposals, be a mom and a wife, and still have time to be me. As it is, one of those will have to go. Guess who the only expendable one on that list is? Yep. Me.

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Blogfest Contest with Agent Ammi-Joan Paquette!

Title: FireFlys
Genre: YA Paranormal
Word Count: 65,000


Pitch: I knew that losing my dad and moving to MiddleOfNowhere, GA would change my life. What I didn't know was how much it would change my heart.


I often think of that summer. When the sun hits the trees just right or the sound of a whippoorwill floats to me on an evening breeze, the memories come flooding back like the Saint Mary’s river after a hard rain. Even after all these years, now that I have children of my own, my memories of those long, hot days are more vivid and clear than they should be. I think they’ll always be with me, reverberating in every movement I make and for that, I am glad.

It’s time to share my story, that’s why I’m writing it down now. Maybe I’ll read it to my girls; maybe I’ll just save it for my own eyes on nights when I can’t sleep. Either way, I’ve started. And there’s no turning back now. Is this a true story? I’ll leave that for you to decide but I can tell you this; it is, without doubt, the story of the summer that I lost my dad and somehow, managed to find myself.

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2011 - Year in Review

On the whole, I would say 2011 was…ehh. The mixture of bad
and good blended together like my Granny’s sauce and meatballs so they became an interchangeable dish of…ehh. I’ll break it down like this. Low point – husband losing his job and the threat of losing our house (which is still very real). High point – tie between getting promoted to a writer position at my day job and publishing my fourth novel, True North. There were lots of bumps and bruises along the way. A few fits of joy and moments of bliss, but they were always peppered with…ehh.

I’m looking forward to 2012. I’m releasing a book under a pen name. It’s an adult book and I don’t want my YA readers to search for me and get a little surprise so I thought it best to separate myself from it a bit. It will be out it March(ish). I’m also really moving forward at work, which is honestly more than I’d hoped for. I’m currently working on some content for our IT staffing brand and hope to present it soon. You know me; it’s a little…different. If they like it and start to use it in the proposal responses, I think that could be the last push I need to do away with the ‘Jr.’ in front of my title. I keep telling them, “I will write, so you might as well let me write your shit.” ;) I’ve got three YA projects in progress. FireFlys, True North #2, and The Lady, The Lake, and The Locket. By April I’ll make a decision on which one I’ll finish this year. I’m still undecided. Who knows if any of them will ever be published?

My main goal is still to be in print (though I did have an article published in a local paper here) and I won’t give up on that. All I can do is my best. Polish my MS to a pristine manner (i.e. have Courtney edit it! LoL) and hope someone sees the potential in the never-ending array of fictional characters that fight for attention in my head. No, I’m not crazy. That is very normal for a writer.

To all of you I say:

1) Thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for encouraging, thank you for being my friends. My Twitter family: I love you all. Book Bloggers, what can I say? What little success I’ve had is because of all of you. When I’m all famous and stuff, I’m soooo taking all of you with me. Might I add, I hope everyone knows that I love honesty. I love to hear if you think my stuff sucks, because that’s one of the ways I move forward in my writing; hearing your opinions and suggestions. In short, to me, there is no such thing as a bad review.

2) Please don’t give up on me. I’m getting better every day. I’m working hard to master my craft so that one day you’ll read something I’ve written and feel that twinge in your heart that you feel when you’ve read something that has truly touched you. And finally,

3) Don’t forget to believe. Believe in yourself, believe in your dreams. Believe in your family, your friends. Whatever it is that you’re doing, do it 100% because if you don’t, then what the hell is the point of doing it at all? I wish you all a healthy, happy, and prosperous new year.

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