Tag: erotica

Plan Changes

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I need to change my publishing plan.

I have the books written, I’m trying to edit them, but it’s not going so well. Hera will be done in time, but the Grim trilogy is barely started and I don’t want to rush on through it. So. That’s got to change so I can relax a little.

Work, school, writing, cover design.

I’ve got a lot on my plate.

The plan was ambitious, it was meant to give me a lofty goal and it was something I desperately wanted. But it’s not something I can do right now.

So I’m going to finish the edit of Hera. I think on the side as a breather, I will take chapters of The Others and rewrite them. If I don’t go exclusive, I can publish on Amazon and all the rest. There will, of course, be additions to the book. I’m hoping to do about double the word count. It’ll include expanding on the smut, of course, and possibly adding a few chapters.

It’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and doing this is kind of like a me thing I can do.

This means the publication dates of all books have been pushed forward except Hera.

In the real world something came up. It was the thing that, going into school I said if it ever happened I would quit school and do that instead. So, when it came up, I ventured forward.

Only to be told it was never going to be an option. Not because I wouldn’t qualify or could be trained for this opportunity but because that, while, yes, this thing had happened, the opportunity no longer exists.

Changes happen everywhere, all the time. Supposedly it’s a sign of progress. My guy… suppose I should name him. Uh, let’s call him Flynn. Obviously not his real name, anyhow. When the opportunity came up, I needed someone… or four… to talk to. It’s kind of a big deal, even if I had made the decision back before school started.

When it fell through Flynn said something like, “okay, so, your plans just stay the same.”

I went through my day, got home, and started crying in the shower.

Okay, so I guess I wanted to go through that opportunity more than I had expressed. It would mean leaving school, which would mean a significantly shorter week for me. More time for editing, art, doing what I want to do. I wouldn’t be stretched so thin.

I wouldn’t be tired all the time.

All.

The.

Time.

And the thing is, yeah, I considered not writing because it’s extra work. But the writing is filling in gaps. A break here, two hours between work and school there. It gives me something to strive for and something that is a me thing. It’s a reminder that I’m doing all this for something just like the opportunity.

Something that, once I’m in it and there, I can focus less on editing, formatting, cover design, because I could finally afford to hire out. Then instead of being all stressed out about getting a cover done, or getting it positioned just right, I can relax more.

Quality would improve, time would be found. I could do so much more.

That’s why I’m doing all this.

Checking sales each morning and keeping track of them helps keep me sane. It’s a regular structure that never changes.

Unless I have no sales.

Editing over coffee gives me something besides the next year of exhaustion to focus on.

New fountain pens is weirdly getting me through this heart wrenching time. Heart wrenching isn’t a term a normal person would use, but I’m super not normal. So, there’s that.

There is a slight possibility that I will be obtaining a fountain pen that was a special edition a couple of years ago and is Mr. Wrightworth purple.

I’m going to be getting two more fountain pens so I can have three colours on the go. Then I can take my notes and do world creation and start the writing journal I want to make. The pens/markers I have now are very narrow and it’s hurting my hand to do writing.

When I got the fountain pen it was like a freaking revelation. Suddenly I enjoyed writing things out by hand. I haven’t enjoyed that in years. I’ve looked at it with distaste because of the ache.

The co-worker who gave me the pen suggested those little triangular foam bits that children use as grips on their pens and pencils to teach them to grip it properly. It’s a fantastic idea and I’ll look into it but I don’t want to attach them to the markers I use at school because they won’t fit into my binder cover. The other option is to swap them out from marker to marker and suddenly I’m tugging on markers constantly when I’m already getting looks because whenever I have to open a marker I look like a crazy person who has never seen a pen before.

Basically, I have to wrap my hands around the cap and then the end but not while making a fist with my right hand, just kind of using half my hand and then tug and wiggle until it comes off.

Except I’ve got this thing about sudden changes and such so when it pops off I always look super surprised. Like I just discovered that these stick things open and there’s stuff inside them.

So, to go along with the Mr. Wrightworth purple, I’m going to be getting an apple green pen. It’s an odd choice for me, but of all the colours offered that’s the one I like best. Which is weird. You’d think I’d go for black or blue. Maybe even a nice white to pair with the black one I already have.

Mr. Wrightworth purple and witchy green.

See, that cheers me up and there’s no way to explain the why.

For inks I’m getting a sample of true turquoise, which is just luscious, Moss Green, and … I don’t recall the exact name, but I think it’s Dragon Rage orange.

There’s also a chance the purple pen will come with a Mr. Wrightworth purple ink.

Little things.

I’m already trying to buy all the inks. When the co-worker talked to me about inks and we reached three he said, “and…”

And I said, “No, that’s it. I do not need to hoard ink. I want all the ink, but I don’t need the ink so three will work for now.”

Week Four (Day Five)

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Wrote almost 5000 words yesterday on Mr. Wrightworth’s novella.

I went looking through available movies this morning and there are actually a couple I’d want to watch so that’s what I’m doing Sunday.

Movies, writing, bath, and wine. Not all four at the same time, but a combination of them throughout the day.

Yesterday during work I ached again. It’s this weird all over tenderness. Like I got super drunk, that’s what the feeling is.

Like I drank way too much and now my whole body is protesting. Haven’t had wine in weeks.

… Haven’t had stronger alcohol in months.

This morning my throat is scratchy again, but it has been for two weeks. I’ve been fighting off this cold and fighting off this cold. Maybe that’s why my body aches.

I assume it’s stress and fighting off a cold that’s making me ache. Growing up I was told emotions are just in my head. Like we should all strive to be Vulcan or something, but let’s admit that they do alter our body chemistry. I’m almost certain I’ve seen studies on it.

So my body is in permanent hang over mode. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on making it worse this weekend. A couple of glasses of wine and then early to bed.

Unless I’m almost finished the novella. We all know I can’t sleep with a project almost finished.

Forgot to eat this morning, ishk. Except not eating in time makes me sick, but eating too much also makes me sick. The school has a little cafe, but the only things my diet allows is fruit (ish) except they only had apples.

Because everyone loves apples, right?

They make me physically ill unless I’m in the mood for an apple. Way too sweet too.

So I had a ‘fuck it’ moment and grabbed a jumbo double chocolate muffin. I’m severely going to regret that about… oh… five  tonight, you know, when I clock in. But that’s kind of what happens when you toss your hands up in the air and just do something stupid.

Suppose it’s about time for the weekly review.

Writing (class) is about on par. I seem to struggle with the odd spellings, but I knew that before. There’s these lovely things called word check and Google. I use them, though I only normally need them for the first three uses of the word. Then I get frustrated with the ‘waste of time’ and commit the spelling to memory. I don’t use the words she wants us spelling so …. there’s that.

Math, we had a test on Tuesday. The second class is today. It didn’t take me long at all.

Keyboarding there’s two tests or something of that sort next week. We’ve not really covered the one, for proofreading marks. I think I got it down, though, so long as she doesn’t expect me to draw them out. If she just gives them to us and is like “what do you use this for?” I’ll be good. I know we’ll be using those going forth (in class) so I know I’ll get it down within a couple of weeks.

Computer skills has still been file organization. It’s all pretty standard (for me) and I keep chastising myself into paying attention, as I drift off in a daydream.

Pay attention, stupid.

Accounting I had about a third of the classes? Half? Think it’s half. Technically we have six classes a week. I missed one on Tuesday because of the road test and two yesterday afternoon because she had an appointment. With no place else to go, I settled in the classroom, determined to get some of the book read for Interpersonal Communication.

And then I remembered the new assignment for Accounting was up. The assignments are online like so many are, and the software is simple, but it doesn’t let you bring up the numbers and information you need along with the answer slot at the same time, this is a frustration. Also, if you make a mistake, you have to go through the entire question before you can try again.

But it takes the highest score so you can just keep redoing it until you get 100.

Well… it was a long question and I was tired, I couldn’t keep my information straight. I did it three times, got grumpy, and printed off the numbers from the secondary window and everything went swimmingly. But it took two hours to do.

I was also frustrated when I was done, because I wasn’t making mistakes because I didn’t get it. I made them because the date or the cost of a transaction slipped from my mind after a second. So, I switched over to Mr. Wrightworth’s novella and finished up the chapter just to relieve some stress.

Except he’s a little stress ball because he’s not allowed to beat on his slave, which I kind of wanted to watch given my recent mood, but that wasn’t what we agreed to write.

Once that was done, I went to work and was asked to start right away. By 6pm I was done, shuffling around and having to lean on things when I came to a stop because my back and legs are aching that much. I don’t even know why, they just are.

Last is Interpersonal Communication. There was a quote assignment due today which I’ll submit on lunch. We had to choose an inspirational quote and write up a blurb on why we chose it, how it’s personal. There’s an informal sharing in class today.

I dun wanna share. I just wanna sit in the back corner under the desk and sleep.

Just today and tomorrow, then I have two days off. I’m almost through, but my body was done a couple weeks ago and has just basically been limping on through.

Heaven help anything that wakes me Sunday morning if the house isn’t on fire.

I’m, of course, referencing cats who turn into wanks whenever they want something. Darius, the youngest, keeps body checking me in my sleep and I don’t know why. Not on my body, no, he body checks my face and neck, and he weighs about five pounds now. He didn’t do it last night, but that’s because I wound up curled around the oldest, who actually got up and smacked Darius away.

Just two more days.

Oh, and I can sleep in tomorrow since I don’t work until 1pm… 1:30? Ah crap, now I can’t remember my own schedule.

 

Week Four (Day Four)

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

This morning, I finished writing up the plot for Mr. Wrightworth’s novella. It’s the first one from his point of view and could end up ten chapters long. I’ve decided to spend my Sunday curled up on the couch with his story, watching movies and drinking wine. Not all day, obviously I’m going to wait for the afternoon at least for the wine, but I suspect I won’t have more than a glass or two.

Which reminds me, I have to drink more water…

I’m hoping (that’s a big hope) to get the novella done Sunday or Monday. It’s only supposed to be about 23k words, which I can definitely do in a day without breaking my brain. Especially when I’m involved in a story, but writing smut has always taken me longer than regular stuff.

I’m also hoping that keyboarding will help me with that. Because dang it, I’d love to be able to type 78wpm on a story.

My calculator claims I could write the novel in five hours if I wrote at that speed. I think it’s lying. It must be. Bad calculator.

That would be fantastic. Imagine the possibilities!

I’m trying to figure out what movies to watch on Sunday. Normally I  put on Netflix and go, which reminds me, I have to cancel my Netflix subscription. They aren’t getting in movies or shows I want to watch besides some original content but I don’t want to pay that amount for one show every two months. I might as well just buy the show when it comes out on DVD, same price and I don’t have to worry about being connected to the internet.

I could marathon through the Riddick Chronicles but… not sure I want to. My biggest trouble over the next couple of days might just be deciding what to watch.

The boss is back in town, she arrived in time to walk with the president guy. The other managers were also there. He didn’t say hello or anything to me, which normally he does, makes an effort to greet everyone. Maybe he was having an off day.

We talked very briefly about the weekend of doom. I said I was still upset because she dismissed what I was saying based on the fact that I was tired. And that I never want to do that again. Like. Ever. But I didn’t get into detail, since she’s still on vacation until Friday or Saturday. I can talk to her then and explain the garbled mess and how, apparently, I had someone from the store on my friends list on Facebook, she violated my consent, and the co-worker appeared to take that as my threatening her but bee-tee-dubs, here’s the post in question because while it’s locked, I have nothing to hide.

I have my personal Facebook under friends-only lock because I know sometimes I’m a wank. I say stupid things etc, welcome to being human. But I also have it locked because back in high school I had a stalker and she… appeared at one point to be haunting my Facebook and doing things. So… I locked her out.

I worry about that, but I also know that I was pushed to my end/extreme. I am good at a lot of things. Heck, I might even be considered great at a lot of things. Working constantly of thirty-seven days straight while dealing with stress is not one of those things. That doesn’t put me in the wrong, it just shows a limit that no one has tested before.

The schedule was also posted, I obviously have Sunday and Monday off. Thank goodness.

Just three more days.

Except… issues. I was called back from break yesterday because the doors were broken. When I got up front, there were six or so customers standing in our vestibule, about to push the doors off the tracks. It is an escape method, but the issue is, unless you have the strength and know-how, they’re almost impossible to put back on the track. One person needs both of those things because you kind of need to feel it out and you can’t lock up for the night unless it is back in place.

My body is not doing that. It’s barely upright. The other person I normally rely on for that sort of thing bruised her rib a few days ago and there’s no way I’d ask that of her just because my body isn’t doing that. Her body shouldn’t do that, even if it can.

So, I might have shouted a little.

“No!”

One customer was pushing on the door, a man was reaching up to the knobs, touching all the things. I told him to shut the doors off and he said that didn’t work. I repeated it and then made a motion away, like do it or get the fuck out the way and I’ll do it. So he scowled at me, but shut off the power to the doors and said it wouldn’t do anything.

I grabbed the doors and pushed them open. Because once the power is off, the doors move just fine which is how I know it’s not a problem with the tracks of the doors like we keep getting told. It’s the motor or has to do with problem number two.

The ceiling was dripping water about every ten seconds.

The cashier told the customers waiting that I was on my way up, but could they please move to the side, because the ceiling appears to be leaking (we had a heavy rain) she then watched the people under the leak, look up and stare.

As the water fell on their faces.

The leak has been there there a while. I think it’s three times now, it was supposed to have been fixed. It winds around electrical stuff, a motion detector and what kind of looks like an air conditioner. This store is the only one which seems to air condition their vestibule which I always thought odd until I actually looked up. So… we’ve got water leaking around electrical stuff.

Each time the ceiling leaks, I realized, we have issues with the door.

Tada, water is leaking into the wires of the door, creating hazards. Our doors will snap shut on customers, but also not open. Let’s not forget our basic math water + electricity = bad.

We put a bucket under the drip with a wet floor sign. You could hear it dripping into the bucket.

Customers dropped garbage into the bucket.

Thanks, guys.

After we closed up, the cashier related the story once more about customers looking up, so I looked up. It’s a weird, weird thing. But it’s a good thing I did because the leak has spread, so we put another bucket out there. The new one is directly over the path of the customer. Yay.

All I can do is call them in again, except I’m tired of them sending people who don’t know what’s going on, so I linked it all back into the comments and suggested the two might be connected.

Oh, right. Passed the driving test. I got the one the driving instructor refers to as the strict one. She’s quite a happy person, I never would have suspected she was strict at all. She kept saying good and I kept thinking she has to say that. At the end she said she had nothing else to say and I passed.

Just need to wait to be on insurance for someone before I can take a car out. If I had a car I could go home on days like today, where I have the afternoon off due to an instructor being out, and nap before work. Nap, like a person with time or something.

I’m now trying to figure out how to save up enough for a car. The fact that I can’t go to Mexico again for two years because of school means I’ll have a little from that, but it’ll take something like six trips to pay for a car and that means I’d have to save for six years to get a car and I don’t have that kind of time.

So, I’m basically batting around ideas on finances and trying not to feel overwhelmed over the fact that I can’t afford it right now. I can’t afford to buy a new car, because I can’t afford the monthly payments, not on what I’m currently being paid. Maybe once I graduate and have a job. Even if I had to keep the retail job for a little while to help things out. It’d drive me crazy, but at least then I’d have a car.

Why can’t money grow on trees?

Ah well. One thing down. A couple more to go.

Week Three (Day Three)

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Writing first: I’m now considering/dabbling in smutty short stories or novellas from Coffee and Blood. I mean, come on. They’re vampires who sometimes have sex to pass the time.

It’s just that the sex doesn’t fit in with the actual stories they’re telling. Sex happens between stories, or after stories, or the tales of debauchery are kind of shared in an offhand manner, like they’re relating changing a tire or something.

Contract Taken received a five-star review on Goodreads and I’m so flipping happy. I’ve been seeing a lot of unhappy readers leaving ratings and reviews. Other authors say it’s because I put Contract Taken up for free so I’ve drawn a lot of people to me for the price, but those people don’t necessarily like my style. They just read everything that’s free and then leave bad ratings.

I mean, a rating is personal, so I get that. I just wish I could get more people who like the books to leave reviews.

On the plus side: you can tell I don’t pay for reviews. I don’t have five hundred five-star reviews all vaguely glowing about ‘this author’s book.’ Nope, you can tell they read the whole thing. Or didn’t, but come right out and say they didn’t finish.

Everything else:

2iratx.jpg

I actually think in memes when I get uncomfortable. They’re like little comics which can offset my mood and get me thinking about other things. Sometimes they make me giggle a little and completely remove the mood. So, I use them inside my head when and where possible.

I guess I like memes, is what I should say.

The above is in reference to my desire to call in sick to work. As soon as it popped into my head, I realized it probably was high anxiety riddling my system and my body protesting that enough is enough. I get it, I do.

Every little thing this morning started that pre-attack twitter in my chest. From refilling the cat’s water dish to random thoughts.

I did sleep last night, woke in the middle of tensing up, almost-charlie horse in my freaking leg again. Ugh.

Saw that work posted schedule for me and then looked up the full schedule. We’re not really supposed to do that, but there was a weird thing where I’m the closing manager but I’m not scheduled to close… and my hours were ever so slightly shorter than they usually are.

The person who did the schedule, once I looked at the expanded one, put an extra body with me every night. So, yeah, that’s fun.

I see the person who violated my Facebook privacy on Saturday. I have no intention of bringing it up, but I also know that I can’t talk about personal items with this person. She’s proven to be untrustworthy and it’d just be best if I left off and just focused on work with her.

I don’t work with the person who I had the blow up with, I do see the assistant manager. I don’t actually know where she stands on the person in question. However, that’s her doing her job. It’s no one’s business who she supports, but I do not need another strip taken off me.

I suspect that the extra body is either mandated by the boss (who kind of got involved at 3am in her timezone. I thought it was 9am because I reversed the change) because we all know I’m stressed out and tired and my feet are dragging. I’m like a regular manager.

If I could insert that drum and cymbal sound that goes at the end of a bad joke, I’d do so now.

But it’s true, I’ve been told so often in the past that I work faster than others, I make others feel bad, blah, blah, blah. And then when I hurt or I’m sick, or I’m just having a bad day, their response is:

“Now you know how other people feel.”

Yeah, it’s really shitty of your to bring up.

Instead, I normally inform the person once more that I’m hurt/sick/off and that I am not feeling well in any form of the word. That for me, this isn’t normal, this is very abnormal, this is very wrong.

And, uh, school…

I missed an assignment for keyboarding. It will barely lower my mark but I’m really broken up about it. That’s not like me. It’s really not like me. Especially since I do the assignment and I print it off before I leave the class for the day. How?

How do you mess up that system, brain?

How?

The only time I didn’t do it was this past Friday because we had timed typings and it ran late, so I don’t think I even finished the section until that afternoon. But, I printed it off on Monday and handed it in. I’d say I hope, but she’s already posted my mark for that area.

It was small, very, very, small, but I’m upset because let’s say that was an email I missed.

I’d be in super trouble. No, not really, it’s mainly just a sign of how stressed I’ve been, how out of it and overwhelmed. My brain is skipping about and not focusing on what I need it to focus on. So. I need to pay more attention, actually super figure this out.

Which is super annoying.

Yesterday, I started the reading for Interpersonal Communication. We’re reading a selected self-help book, which I loathe by the way. I hate self-help books. I don’t want some wank millionaire preaching to me about how he became a wank millionaire. Because that’s basically what they do: you’re doing this wrong and this wrong and this wrong.

Bitch, please, I knew that before. Stop telling me how to do it wrong, strip all that nonsense out and tell me how to do it right.

I’m reading How to Win Friends and Influence People. So far, it’s the training my company has given us. Good company, have a treat. But only a little one, because your head is bigger than your bank account already.

Except they don’t tell team members that’s what they’re doing. They’ve just been passing this stuff down.

“Use a person’s name. Introduce yourself.”

“WHY WOULD I DO THAT?”

“Because we said so.”

Ugh. Names are the sticky point for me at the moment. I respond to a lot of different names, including ones that don’t belong to me at all, aren’t even similar to my name. No one ever gets my name.

I once had a regular customer for six years and she called me Rachel every time she came in. I wore a name tag, I corrected her the first two years and then just gave up and started responding to Rachel.

I don’t use other peoples’ names because it sounds insincere and weird. How often do you hear your name in a conversation? Like, really? When the book was written, I can very well see it, but I feel like we’ve swapped over from using actual names to non-verbal communication surrounding the act. We don’t use someone’s name, we now turn to them, or hesitate and make eye contact.

But the book says to use names, so I’ll try to use names.

I will probably cry the first couple of times. Because that’s my reaction to everything for some silly reason. Overwhelmed? Cry. Upset? Cry. Angry? Cry. Happy? Cry.

Sad? Laugh.

Scared? Laugh.

Sympathetic concern? Laugh.

WTF?

Anyhow, started reading that, listening to music at the same time. Now I’m overwhelmed by sound. I need quiet, not even white noise, I just feel like I need to find a sound proofed room and stay there for an hour or so because sound is starting to frustrate me.

Heaven help the poor soul who chews loudly.

Oh, oh, there’s a term for that. I’m in sensory overload.

Yayyyyyy….

I say sarcastically.

This is the first time I’ve noticed entering sensory overload before I basically have an angry temper tantrum inside my head because someone is chewing too loudly or breathing in my direction but two tables away. I guess that’s a plus, but I don’t have the option of secluding myself somewhere and taking a breather.

I was a bit secluded last night, did some writing and watched a show. My unwind time, basically. Wrapped up in a blanket, cat on either side and just doing what I wanted quietly.

That didn’t help.

I feel like I’m constantly blanking. If it weren’t for that internal personal aide, I’d be so pooched. Even with accounting, they wanted us to write up an income statement. My response?

“A what?”

“An… income statement.”

“What goes on that?”

“What goes on a P+L report?”

“I don’t know! How would I know?”

To which I basically facepalm because I do know. Let me tell you, if that voice was an actual person, they’d lose their patience with me a lot.

Whoa. There’s something called Sensory Processing Disorder? And it sounds like it might be linked to OCD (which hypergraphia is also linked to).

Oh, boy, I just went looking for ways to calm down the sensory overload so I don’t end up in a pouting meltdown, because for some reason it’s one of those things I don’t cry over. Nope, kind of pout like a child. I don’t like that reaction either.

Sullen silence, I think my father used to call it. Because, you know, not allowed to throw an actual tantrum.

Anyhow, school is about to start and I need to focus on not throwing up on the person who sits beside me, who is super quiet all the time.

 

Week Three (Day Two

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Writing First:

… just drew a total blank.

Uh, right, I finished reading Contract Claimed last night. When I started reading it, I thought it was complete. That is not the case. As I hit that area, I had this flash of a promise I had made to Mr. Wrightworth to go back and expand. The book was originally written for NaNoWriMo 2018, it was the start of my 12-in-12 challenge. Halfway through, I realized my issue, but also that if I didn’t get something down, I’d lose the thread.

So, I’ve got a nice flow and then all of a sudden something like two books got mushed into the later half of Contract Claimed. The plan is now to fix that.

Nate’s story will be the second trilogy out of Contracted, still slated for editing next June or so. Then, once it’s scheduled for editing, I will do additions and the like for Will’s story. I’ll revisit Contract Gifted at some point and expand on that as I had originally planned. Once all that is written and done, Mr. Wrightworth might consider a one-off to wrap up the series (or at least those characters) where his name is finally revealed on the last page of the book.

Because I’m evil, or he is, your choice.

My beta is about a hundred pages into Harvest  and asked if there’s actual sex in the books at all.

Uh oh. We realized I added it during the edits. But, admittedly, Coffee and Blood tends to have less sex than most of my other books.

Possibly because I’m on a bit of a theme, after her comment, a sadist from the old Devil faction appeared and offered to seduce half the Eastern shore of the North American continent.

I should be putting edits into Crop, but my mental health is in the way again. This isn’t even a part I could hire out for. I need to take each edit out of context, judge it, perform the edit, do a check, then decide if the new way even looks good.

Then do a scanned spot check of the surrounding area to see if anything else jumps out at me.

Other stuff:

I spent the trip to school fantasizing about going onto stress leave from work. It’s my understanding doing so qualifies me for Unemployment Insurance. Or maybe it’s employment. I don’t recall, because I’ve never used it before.

What I’ve heard is that if I go on stress leave, tell them I chose to go back to school because I knew work was stressing me out, they might even help pay for the schooling. There’s a special name for it, but they basically help you get the training you need to get a job and get off of their services.

Except, for that to work, I would need to explain to them the situation with my co-worker. She’s the reason I chose to go back to school. She’s also the reason I applied for my manager position, because I had to get as far away from her as possible, even though I knew I would be going back to school.

There’s a, uh, a worksafe program, that might actually be their name. When you report that kind of thing, they do a full on investigation. The company can be fined, the boss could get in trouble.

It’s not her fault. She’s been trying to correct the behaviour. And I don’t really want the company to be fined. Their handbook covers the topic quite well. It could mean termination for the one involved.

I’m not the type to derive any sort of joy from that. I want this person to change and to stop hurting people. If that all happened? She would be bitter and angry and nothing good would come of it.

I’d much rather the ability to go on stress leave and for her to put her nose into the air like she does and say, “I knew it. She was never cut out to be a manager.”

Nine and a half years experience managing for this company in like six different positions.

It’s those little details that really explain my reaction. I don’t just have so much experience with this company. I have moved between different stores and learned different management styles. Different customer bases. Different ways to approach things. I learned that my way does not necessarily always work. I’ve learned the company’s way… typically works.

I’d just like them to stop cutting hours and to add more back in.

It’s… I’m tired of fighting her.

I had trouble talking myself into bed last night. Anxiety hit me like crazy hard and I don’t understand why. I don’t work with her today. I don’t even work. I don’t see her until Thursday and even that is in passing, is my understanding.

This morning, despite dragging my protesting self to bed at nine, I’m more tired than I was last night. I hurt more, probably because I woke tense. I keep giving myself these weird charlie horses in my sleep because I’m so tense during sleep.

My stomach is still on lock down. I never want to eat, having difficulty downing my coffee or talking myself into water. I’ve got this feeling a physical beating is coming and I just want to get it over with already.

Which, admittedly, is probably why I’m a little more focused on Mr. Wrightworth than I should be.

I don’t know. Maybe I should take the time to write that Master-child scene between Kaz and Balor that started playing through my head. It’s only about a chapter long though, so what do I… How do I handle it when it’s done?

Can’t just slap that into the box set, when it comes out, people would expect an extra bit to be Ashley and Kaz.

Admittedly, I could write that as well, but Kaz is super gentle and sweet with Ashley. He’s always had a soft spot for women. Always nicer with them than the men.

So, let’s say I wrote the Kaz and Balor chapter(s) for the sake of my sanity. Then what?

Then what… start an erotica anthology and just talk about these stories I’m writing but never publishing? I think Amazon allows 10k + words. I think. But would that dilute the world? Would those who like the vampires feel like I was pushing the issue, even though Kaz has had Balor tied to that bed on and off for a year?

I don’t know what to do.

Week Two (Day Two)

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

It took until I reached school for me to recognize that weird heaviness all over. My joints are aching, on top of more pain, and I’m already sick. Yesterday my nose started running after lunch so I could very well be sick and tired, and in more pain now.

I should have suspected when I had an internal argument with myself this morning over shoes and my backpack. I wore the backpack as I put on my shoes, normally I take the backpack off and kneel to put on my shoes, you know, like a normal person. The idea of kneeling made me whiny and the idea of taking off the backpack only to put it back on again made me call the inner voice who argued with me a very nasty name.

Normal people don’t have full on conversations with themselves, I realize, but I do. Especially when stressed or annoyed. Heck, the voice even helps me remember things, it’s like my personal Siri or Cortana.

Anyhow, I’m supposed to be imputing edits for Crop this morning but I think I need to do some self-care to get through this day. Then, when I get home, I need to medicate with a couple different things and go to bed early, hoping I’ll sleep the night through. At this point, it’s the only help I’ll have.

In a month, though, another option becomes legal. I wouldn’t have to take ibuprofen for the swelling, Valerian to keep me in a deep sleep, and St. John’s Wort to take away the brittle edge that pain puts me in. I can stop at a dispensary, buy a little something, have a puff (quite literally one puff) and then sleep the whole night away.

It’d even have the added benefit of replacing anything I take for anxiety or insomnia for about three days. Replacing such side effects as agitation (how exactly does an anti-anxiety helper cause agitation?), insomnia, and all sorts of medication conflicts with dry mouth, the munchies, and sleepiness.

All without breaking my brain, writing, or mood, so I’m super excited about that.

So, obviously, not working on Crop today. Instead, I ended up reading The Last Prophet on the trip to school. I think I want to expand on this a bit. I think the wrap up doesn’t have to end like a movie does, I think we can do wrap up in the book and not write a separate novella about Sweetheart. Well, not about her outcome. I think I need to add more about P.P. Marky.

A prophet who became a rapper and exists in the modern day, obviously conflicting with the title of the book. I kind of want to hug Marky, as his songs make it onto the radio and later on Abby recalls one and uses his prophecy to save them. Prophets aren’t supposed to be able to cross the thresholds of other prophets, so that could maybe be where her title comes in? I dunno.

I’m looking forward to expanding on this.

The cover artist contacted me a few days ago and I responded. She had been on vacation and then sick. Woops. I checked for a blog or news page, I must have missed it. Completely my fault that I didn’t give it another week, but it’s ingrained in me to follow up. A cover will eventually be in the works, when she is recovered and goes through her messages and puts me on the schedule.

The Last Prophet has distracted me from my pain today, and my frustration and emotions over the past couple of days. I’ve found myself opening the file between classes to read more. This is a good thing, especially for me.

The only trouble being, I requested a wrap with the cover artist. The e-book cover is free, I would pay for the wrap. But the poor woman needs to know about how many pages the book would be, and I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it and I might be able to add another 80k words to The Last Prophet. It’s going to be a beastie, but there are other things I want to add and explore and delve into. Everything is just a flash, and partway through I asked myself: why? Why is it a flash? Why can’t there be a couple of chapters extra? Why can’t David take lunch with Sweetheart so we learn about her, but also to show their relationship instead of having him just tell Richard? Why don’t we learn about Abby and her parents? Why does she just casually mention her father is dead, when there’s a magical force behind that?

Why doesn’t she call her mother when she awakens?

There are so many other things that need to go into this. And you know what? If it winds up being so freaking long, I can always break it into books like I do all the others. Let’s face it, if I took my trilogies, I could probably work them into one book quite cleanly, besides maybe Contracted because of the time jumps and changes between books.

I feel like I have the bones of The Last Prophet, basically. They’re good bones, they’ll work very well, but they don’t have as much flesh on them as I’d like. So, I’m going to take my time and do what I will with the book. I’m going to turn it into my vision instead of pushing the first copy out in the world.

I seem to be moving away from erotica and romance more, but my bio does say “whatever takes her fancy” and “when she finds a world she loves, she dabbles endlessly.”

Sure, The Last Prophet could go under its own pen name for high fantasy or something, but … no. This is me, this is how I write. I know there are people who insist an author must write only one genre, but that’s just not how I can work. It’s not how most of us work, and few seem to realize that. They hear about Stephen King switching from horror to the dark fantasy genre and they were scandalized and thought he was an exception to the rule.

I like to think of it as authors switch genres as much as readers do. Just because I love Robin Hobb, doesn’t mean I read her exclusively. Nor do I stick to her genre for reading. I also love Anne Bishop, Anne McCaffery, Anne Rice, and Stephen King when I’m in the mood. I’ve picked up single books from some weird scifi/fantasy hard boiled detective something before. I enjoyed it and put it down and never picked up another.

My writing is the same way. So, despite a four day debate about switching The Last Prophet to another pen name, I’ve decided to keep it under Aya DeAniege. And, yeah, it’s the same pen name that published erotica and plans to again. The same pen name that dabbles in vampires, witches, werewolves, and angels. Both in sexual and non-sexual context.

I suppose, with my love of the book, I should save up royalties and pay for an actual editor for this one. But at the length I’m looking at it would be $3-5000 to edit it.

If my writing paid that kind of money, I wouldn’t need a student loan, heck, I wouldn’t need a job. When I felt like this, I could take a long, hot bath with a glass of wine and a good book, then sleep the day away.

I have a vision for The Last Prophet, and it’s keeping me sane and just a little stable.

Now it’s just a matter of how to get what I want.

Week One

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Keyboarding properly might just kill me. The goal they set out is simple: 30wpm, no more than two errors.

I can do 55 or so a minute as shown with Hera (doing 10k words in three hours, my calculator tells me that’s only 55 a minute. Seriously?) But the errors, oh, the errors!

The instructor said in the past she has disabled the backspace key (oh… gods) but this year didn’t. To which my mind went YES! And then that little voice in the back of my head went, “how much faster can you write a book if you actually typed accurately?” To which I, being the proud writer that I am, threw them off a cliff.

And began taking the tests and doing the exercises without the use of the backspace.

The instructor has a point. When something is there, we rely on it to help us out, but we need to learn to do things when it’s not there. At the same time, the voice at the back of my mind has a point. My old laptop has one broken key. The backspace key. Yeah, I used it way too much.

The thing is. My fingers go, “we can be so much faster,” and I don’t have music to drown things out. The woman who sits next to me keyboards properly, learned it in high school and a lot more recently than I have. Her wpm are something like 35 and I can hear her typing and it’s like a drug or something.

Mm, give me some of that clickety-clack.

Then there’s a couple of issues. Stories on the go for writing? None… editing is Crop and Harvest, but I always have something writing. I’m still planning out the new Coffee and Blood trilogy. That should be enough. But it’s like I hear the clacking of keys and all my characters start jumping up and down and going, “me, me, me!”

And Shade, who I’m supposed to be using to practice good keyboarding? Well, he rolled over and went back to sleep in his cell. Thanks, Shade. I no longer feel bad about what I’m about to do to you. How do you become an immortal, feared monster hunter if you’re a lazy bum?

The issue I’m having seems to be that all my stories want some help, they want my attention thinking that I’m in between projects, and I’m not. The other issue is that every time a story pops up, the voice at the back of my mind immediately dismisses it because I don’t want to devote that kind of attention to the plot. I don’t think I could manage to pay so much attention. So there is Savage Shores, all… five? Of the D.o.t.A books I have planned out, two for Coffee and Blood planned out, even Shade.

But the only one that has stuck around and maybe I could work on is mainly erotica, working title Bound by Blood, a book I started working on three years ago and never finished because it wound up more novella length and I didn’t like that.

I need to figure this out because the stories have to stop bothering me. Without being able to write, which would distract me, I’ve been flickering between webpages and OneNote. I’m almost certain the person beside me has caught on and watches but all we’re learning this semester are things I have a basic understanding of. By doing the back and forth, I’m stopping myself from becoming frustrated or winding up in circles. If that happens, I’m going to start writing and that’s not great for me.

Besides keyboarding, the other thing I might have trouble with is Interpersonal Communication. Yeah, soft skills. Boo.

Work has also taught me this over the years. It basically amounts to customer service and not being a dick. Easy, right? Sort of…

I have training in interpersonal communication, in difficult conversations, training and retraining and all sorts. That doesn’t mean I’ve ever been comfortable with the level of talking I give others, if that makes sense. So, I could very much learn from this course but it’s main time is Friday afternoons. Day three of three long days and at two-thirty on Friday my brain completely checked out. I lost about twenty minutes of the lecture and only really came to as I was leaving and the instructor said goodbye and wished me a good weekend. She’s such a cheery woman that it stuck out.

I basically went to work and proceeded to beat my head on the wall because that is not how interpersonal communication works.

Do you want a good job, Aya? Because this is not how you get a good job.

Math, accounting, and writing round out the semester. Math I can do, it’s only covering twelve years of math in one semester, how hard could it be? It goes so far as fractions and long division, maybe some algebra I think he said. I can do that. I do that while at work to fill the time. Figure out total new income from raises, percentages on sales, and hours, etc.

I like math, I suppose is what I mean.

Accounting, work has also had me do. Not quite the way they’re teaching us, but I kind of have a basic understanding. I’ve also been doing this for my writing but it seems not quite correctly. Everything’s recorded, it’d just be hell to go through for any poor soul who has to audit me. So I’m going to start doing that properly which is great practice for accounting.

Oh, and computer skills. I apparently skimmed over what the first chapter said. Stupid. Once I hit the questions, I knew I had a problem so I need to review it again.

For homework, I’ve done most of it on breaks or between school and work. But those periods were actually reserved for self-review last week. I went over extra information. Going through chapters and writing up notes on it, reading old notes, doing exercises. Whatever I can do to stay on top.

They told us several times that in the end your grades don’t matter and I fully understand and believe that. I could probably pass on what I know already, but then why even bother taking the semester? If I can refine skills I already have, I would be very happy. And for some reason I can’t just leave off at what the instructor gives us. I need to know I have an understanding of the information before me. It’s been that way for years.

Maybe because work has, for years, thrown new information at me and had me train others. After so long it’s almost impossible to just leave off. So I’m making more work for myself now, but I also feel a little more confident in my skills which means less nerves and the ability to pay attention more because I’m not concerned with that failing grade. I’ve only ever received below 60% on one course so… I mean, statistically it’s almost impossible for me to fail.

That doesn’t mean I’m just going to lean back and laze through the semester though.

My notes are going through OneNote, which has been fabulous so far. I access it on my phone, on my computers, and all the rest. Because I do most of the notes on my laptop, I don’t have to worry about a connection to the internet to access them when I’m out and about. Typically I am accessing them on the  laptop.

The only issue I have is writing. She wants us to hand write/print it all. No computers. Me and my arthritis are not pleased but I get that we do need practice hand writing things because we will have to write notes. With those, I simply take pictures at the end of class and upload them to OneNote.

Tada. All my things on one place and organized by subject, then by date/chapter. Gone are the days of flipping through things searching for something specific and I love it to bits. I’m sure there are other programs that do the same, it’s the concept I love, I’ve wanted that inter-connectivity since being in high school and losing my first usb drive. I still have to back up onto drives because clouds could vanish or be hacked. I’m just not worth the effort of trying to get in there, so… so far I’ll be fine.

The only issue I really have is wanting to quit work. I want my work and income to be purely from writing but it definitely does not offer enough to do that.

Suppose this is where I put on the weepy author eyes and say, “please buy my books and leave a nice review when you’re done.” but I’m sure it will come with due time. For now, I have to accept the situation I’m in.

Unless I can buy the winning lottery ticket, but I’m not spending money on that without some kind of incentive.

Lethargy

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

My get up and go got up and shot itself in the face: is how I describe how I’m feeling right now. I think it’s been a couple of weeks since I did any real work. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that all my motivation is gone. Not the external motivation, the internal fire that keeps me going and keeps me warm at night.

Not depressed… which is usually a cause of this behaviour. A little stressed but in the process of fixing that. A few life changes, what with school and driving courses and applying for a student loan.

Could be the student loan. Since I’m dragging my feet about applying.

I have this weird relationship with spending money I need to improve my situation but not wanting to because of how large the dollar amount is.

Or it could be because my birthday is coming up. Normally I get whiny and … well, wine-y.

So the “Alphas Book 1” hasn’t been written. I do have to start over and write from the beginning of the book but it’s a loss of a couple of pages and I like the new plot better.

Wherein there is no plot really. But it’s a nice show of how Alphas can and do act. So far I’ve just had them startled. Like a cat finding a cucumber laying behind it. And the Alphas shown have been bickering over land. Land, like that’s going to get them a gold star.

I mean, it could, there’s a new world order they’re working out. But typically owners of land rule for a decade or so then get eaten and forgotten about.

Actual Alphas, who are settled in stable land, don’t worry about the land or who owns it. Unless that person interferes with their studies or inventions, then the owner of the land dies horribly when the Alpha unleashes his companions on the Dom’s settlement and just sits back with a cold drink, watching the bloody chaos that follows.

I don’t know why I want to write about the companions going all stabby but it’s been a recurring fantasy of mine since I created the world and it hasn’t been linked to any real world problem. It’s probably a phenomenon in the world that I just want to explore, as I am a world builder.

Anyhow. Real alphas are a bit more like Blane when Alex was still alive. Alex (or a companion) would run their land, estate, raise the children right. The Alpha would take an active role but their mania would mean sometimes they are absentee fathers, which is where the companion comes in, stepping in to fill the role of father while the actual father is off and away.

So in Alphas Book 1 we come across Darien who is constantly checking his email. I really had to pry it out of him as to why it was important. He told me to take a flying leap, I threatened to have him broken for Rebecca’s (the only Mother so far) entertainment and that didn’t work. Then I threatened to sell his companions on the black market for dirty, unpleasant things and finally he relented.

He checks his email and phone throughout basically thinking things like, “nope, still a broke Alpha,” because he’s recently done a thing for his line of work, which I won’t spoil because it kind of ties in to the big ending. Darien isn’t necessarily young for an Alpha to break out into the world, twenty-seven or so. Which means he’s late to the party so to speak. He wasn’t in school all that time. He graduated at twenty with a doctorate (which is not unusual for an Alpha) and promptly and accidentally took on an underage companion.

With how Alphas break companions and create lifelong, unbreakable bonds with their new… ‘friends’ this is a very real problem in the world. Darien went to a party, Cody said he was of age and had a fake identification (obviously Darien couldn’t tell the difference) then found out the problem the next day.

Okay, so that’s a little world building for me because without that I might lose interest. Cody would be the first companion broken while underage who is acknowledged in the books but when you have jerks like Owen about, it’s likely happened in the past and I hope they were slaughtered slowly by their own companions.

Oh… that happened too. Wonder what the story was behind that.

Darien and the new kid Al are in talks with one another about how this will go. It seems they want a bunch of smut with the old companions in the first book, a bunch of smut with Al in the second book, and then maybe a third to wrap up the whole story with a bunch of smut all around and maybe with Blane.

Who probably walks in pissed off because this would be the sixth book, I think, that I have him called.

Why?

Oh, he knows why.

Which is also why he’s not protesting too loudly to me about it.

Of course, these would be novella lengths, not books. Or novellettes.

Obviously my words aren’t backed up, so I’m not burnt out. The ideas are still there and flowing like ever before.

No idea what’s wrong. But I have to head out for a course now, so I’ll have to try to solve this problem later.

Contract Delivered Week 4

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Two more chapters to go. Still shy of 60k, but all the Contracted books have been short upon the first draft except for Contract Claimed and even that could end up getting longer. Or shorter, I might remove some of Will’s damned ramblings.

The next two chapters, for me, are doozies. Super annoying for me. It’s also the ending of the trilogy so that will probably be a kick to my head. Vodka, I think, got me through the last trilogy’s end and then, upon finishing it, I back tracked to Contract Taken and added an entire chapter.

Because I know they’re going to be doozies, I’m going to try to get both done tomorrow. So, in theory, Contract Delivered will be done tomorrow.

I opened Contract Taken today to at least look at the edits. I gave it to my little program and it spat it back out with a low score. I’m not sure the first trilogy had anything more than my eye looking at it.

I said as I shuddered.

Hey, if I were making spare money above what I needed to survive, I’d be hiring an editor. Can’t do that, so I’ll use the resources at hand. It’s not like I’m standing about talking about how I’m so much better than everyone else and pouting because no one reads my books. I know I’m stupid, I know I’m mucking it up.

Come join me.

I kid, of course. I have been trying to do better with my editing. Grammatical rules written out just never made any damned sense to me. I’ve had people hold my hand and lead me through and I just sit there like they’re trying to tell me them in German. Some of it gets through, but not enough.

I’m getting better, so I’m going to go back and do re-edits of previous books rather than just leave them as is.

Except His Grace and His Wings. I’m not interested in touching them again and I guess readers can feel that I was super bored with them.

So what have I been doing around the one chapter a day? Well, I spent about a week doing an intensive jump around edit of Seed. I found a few mistakes that my program didn’t pick up on and fixed those. There were a few continuity errors. Yeah. I’ve read this thing like three times. Didn’t catch them.

Surprisingly easy to fix with Kaz being present for every error. Not his power, no, but he’s one of those people who nods and lets you tell the same story again and again to see if you tell it differently the second time.

People repeat stories all the time, especially when they’re stressed out and not thinking right. I think he’s told three different times that Helen has been turned. Maybe four… and each time, because he shuts up about it, he learns a little more about what happened.

Admittedly, one of those times he bitches about it with something like “If I didn’t engage with him, even though he had told me just that earlier in the night, he’d whine about it for the next century or more.”

Once my two chapters are done, I’m not sure what will be on my plate. Not until May 1st and I think I have an idea what I’m doing for May.

Six books down, six to go.

April: Contract Delivered

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Three days in and I’m already having issues. This sucks because I’m pretty certain this isn’t the same issue that I had with His Wings.

My pain returned yesterday, but no anxiety accompanying it. By the time I got home, because I worked through it all, the knuckles on my right hand were bright red against my pale skin. The index and middle finger of the left were the same thing. It utterly drained me.

Today the pain seems manageable. As in not really existing. My knuckles are stuffy but I feel exhausted to the point that I can’t focus on my writing.

The plus side of that all is that the last time my knuckles looked like that, I had to call into work because the pain made me physically ill. This time around it just sapped my energy.

To complicate my project schedule, I have a social event to go to tonight. I don’t regret going at all, but that means I probably won’t get work done until Thursday, which is my next day off. There’s a part of me that’s about ready to stomp her feet and throw a little tantrum over that, which is how I know this isn’t the same as His Grace.

I knew April would be challenging because my move happens during it. I knew that would interfere, that the anxiety would be high and I’d have a lot to do. That was one of the reasons I chose Contract Delivered.

After working with him for… what is, three years now? Mr. Wrightworth is practically a comfort when I’m sick or unwell in some way. Yeah, I’m team Mr. Wrightworth, but I’ve never had a proper, healthy relationship and have been known to be a masochist both emotionally and physically.

Contract Delivered is meant to be the end of the second year of Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth’s contract with Albert. In the original introduction, Nathaniel promised it would cover some of his time with Isabella. So the original plan was to have Contract Signed cover the year of servitude, Contract Sealed to be the years in between, and then Contract Delivered to cover the time where Isabella and Nathaniel were apart. Then four chapters into Contract Signed, Nathaniel changed it all.

He was all, “No, this should all be about Him.”

And I just sighed and shook my head but gave in and let him go with it.

In the meantime, I’m doing a read-edit of Contract Gifted, a novella that is like as not going to be expanded at some point in the future into a novel. That’s fine by me. I’ve got the cover done for it and have to work on the description. Once I’m done the read-edit, I can write up the description.

Both the edit and the description would be done on my phone. Since the read-edit actually involves reading it and making notes, then making changes on a computer.

See, for the next week, I can’t take my netbook to work. I’m worried I will forget it. Or be mugged… I’ve lived in this city for like four years and I’ve never been concerned that someone will notice what’s in my bag until now. Because that’s just my freaking luck. So, rather than risk the netbook being stolen, I’m leaving it at home. That also, of course, bites into my writing time.

So be it.

Four more work days, nine days until my move. Oh, which I probably won’t be able to write Contract Delivered during. I suspect typing on a computer would be super distracting to a driver so instead I’m going to have my phone with all the background stuff shut down, a traveling battery thing (I can’t seem to recall the word, so it’s probably best that I’m not writing this morning), and an MP3 player separate. I’ll work on Harvest instead.

For like… fifteen hours or so. Three hours is usually one chapter for that, so I could be about a quarter of the way done by the time I arrive.

Plans, etc.

If only my head was able to focus on writing a story today.