Crystal Jordan :: Blog

So, I’m totally jazzed about the Super Fat Girl (that came out so wrong) story and I have all these ideas and I want to write them down, but I’m afraid if I do I’ll just never finish my witch romance. Should I really work on two different stories as a spankin’ new writer? Is this me just avoiding my first book? I’m still typing and all, but it’s pretty tedious right now. Am I subconsciously getting bored with the manuscript? Or am I like the ADD of romance?

(If you’re just tuning in, the Fat Girl Saves the World idea is on on Wednesday Sept. 28th, called “Shower Power.”)

Oh joy! I loved Firefly when it was on Fox and I was totally bummed/ heinously outraged when they cancelled it. I now own the whole shebang on DVD and I’m SO excited they made a movie. I even heard if it does well in the box office they might make –dare I say it and jinx the whole thing?–THREE movies. Yeay!!!

Serenity is all about cute men and kick-a$$ women. What more could a girl ask for?

So, go see it!!! Right now, this weekend, hurry, hurry!!! I want my three movies!!!

(Here’s how the Aussie’s do it)

Hit the 15,000 word mark last night at around 1am. God, insomnia blows. And I’m tired enough today not to care that I just said “blows” in a forum my grams could read. That tells you something.

I did some research on superheroes for my Fat Girl story and stumbled across some quizzes that were fun. Apparently, I am both Superwoman and Mr. Fantastic. All at the same time. Not bad, they’re both pretty cool. I was kinda hoping for Beast or Iceman or Psylocke, but c’est la vie. (Yes, I did a brief stint in my adolescnece as a comic book junky) Check out the quizzes. What superhero(es) are you?

Which Superhero are you? (I = Superwoman)

What Marvel Superhero are you? (I = Mr. Fantastic)

P.S. Then I thought about other forms of superpower and I found some quizzes on ancient gods and goddess:

Which Greek Goddess are you? (I = Athena)

Which God are you? (I= Apollo)

I’m currently transferring my romance into the computer from my trusty yellow legal pads. This is a long, dull process and I’m not exactly the world’s fastest typer. Damnit.

It’s going well though, I just hit the 12,000 word mark, which leaves me , what? Like 90,000 more to type in? Crap. That hurts my feelings just to say out loud.

So, another new idea came to me in the shower. Strangely, all my epiphanies happen in the shower, and I mean this in the least perverted way. (Gutter minds!)

Fat Girl Saves the World

16-year-old Mindy lives in the lowest class of high school social order — she’s a fat girl who isn’t super-smart, super-outgoing, super-artistic, or really super-anything. Until one morning she wakes up hovering over her bed and finds out she’s a superhero. Her usually emotionally unavailable dad sits her down for a heart-to-heart about her long-dead mother — a superhero who died defending whatever superheroes defend.

Mindy’s new superskills force her to take an after school class from hell, where she finds the least-likely kids from her classes are superheroes, too. If this group is the world’s greatest hope against evil, we should all start writing our wills now. Worse, the supervillian who killed her supermom has come back to make sure Mindy doesn’t live long enough to use her powers. Can Fat Girl Mindy really save the world?

I have a new idea for my next story! Yeay! I think this is the best part of writing. Right now, this idea is just percolating and it’s fun and exciting. Right now, the story is still perfect and I haven’t yet messed it up with my verbal incontinence and poor grammar.

Anyway, on to my main attraction.

It’s kinda action adventure lad-lit/chick-lit, but I don’t know where it will go after that. It might even be a Young Adult novel. Who knows? I’m thinking it’ll be first person narrative for both of the main characters and I’ll switch back and forth between them maybe every other chapter or so. Its working title is “Sidekicked.”

Las Vegas, NV– 2047 CE. In the 100 years since aliens crashed in Roswell, only one line of defense against the alien hordes has been discovered — immunes. Through a genetic anomoly, immunes cannot serve as an alien host; they are highly sought after by counter-alien organizations and the aliens themselves. Immunes become both the hunter and the hunted.

Two immunes belong to an elite agency called five-one: a super-hotty alien huntress and her sidekick, a computer-genius. He loves her (who wouldn’t?) and she loves him (smart guys are so sexy), but can they get their act together long enough to admit how they feel and maybe stop a major alien invasion along the way?

Other details are TBA.

I had a fantastic weekend in Gatlinburg and North Carolina and Georgia. Lots of driving, though. Tonya, I bask in her hair goddess glory, (I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!) cut my ‘fro, gave me some phemon highlights, and ironed out my wild-a** curls. I’m gonna try and get a pic of it up on the blog later this week. No promises though!

I’m having trouble with the direction of my book. It started out comedy, but it keeps wanting to go action-adventure suspense. **sigh** Not sure what to do. I’ll keep writing what comes to me, but I’m not sure what I’ll actually have in the end.

I just bought my ticket to go home while my university is on winter holiday. I’m so excited I could just pop! Grandma’s excitement, if you can believe it, is even greater than mine. She must really, really want someone to reorganize her pantry. Apparently, in Grandma-speak “someone” roughly translates into my name; crazy what you learn everyday, huh?

Seriously, I’m very happy to get to see my family. I miss them and I miss California. A lot. Also, my best friend’s parents will be importing her from Washington for my Christmas present. At least, that’s how I see it. Somehow, I just don’t think they really grasp the whole “best friend=mine” thing. Ah, well. Parents are so hard to train.

P.S. This is your official reminder:

SERENITY OPENS ON FRIDAY. GO TO THE THEATRE!!!

Or really just the one Tonya and her loverly husband, Steve, and their adorable son, Steven. My good friend (and stylist/hair goddess) is flying into Tennessee this weekend. Steve has family in Georgia and they’re all coming up to Gatlinburg. So, I’m going out there to visit them. Yeay!!!

I haven’t seen any of my old friends or family since I moved to Tennessee from California. I miss them like CRAZY! So again, I say thee YEAY!!!

Bonus: I get a haircut. Double yeay!

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming: I finished my final chapter on my rough draft. Woo-hoo! I am the pimp!

In other news: I’ve still got nothing on my action chapter. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Noth. ing. It’s just not coming, dag-nabbit! So, I shall begin typing the rough draft into the computer. Maybe that will jar something loose.

That’s all, folks! See you Monday!

When my brother was in the Marines, he brought back some pictures of Iraq. Some were disturbing and some were just plain funny. I guess you do what you have to to stay sane in a war zone. But I digress…some of the pictures were of nude or bathing suit model posters and calendars. These he simply labelled “motivation.”

So, what’s my motivation for completing this book? Here is how I picture my hero and secondary male character. Who wouldn’t want to contemplate this to “the end”? And in my mind, I’ve had them both, repeatedly (Slutty me!). For the sake of artistic creation , of course. Now, that’s what I call “motivation.”

Is it totally normal to be almost done with the rough draft and go “this is the dumbest thing that’s ever been written, what were you thinking, no one in their right mind would even use this as toilet tissue, let alone actually READ it?” And that includes my family and friends who love me enough to read anything I write. Because that’s where I’m at today. I want to stop.

This sucks.

Then I called my grandma, queen of all romance novels, who introduced me to the joy of contemporary romance (mom is strictly historical). I returned the favor by showing her paranormal romance. We have a very fine relationship, grams and me.

But, this is beside the point. I called and told her that I was not going to finish my story and I wasn’t having fun anymore. She gave me the hairy eyeball and told me to get my a** back to it. We were on the phone and I may be in Tennessee and she may be in California, but I felt the hairy eyeball upon me.

The hairy eyeball is only one step below the death-ray glare. Grams’ hairy eyeball puts the fear of God into some people, but the death-ray glare has made grown men cry. Really. Grams is a sweet and soft-hearted woman, but you don’t mess with her. She will kill you and make it look like an accident.

So, I will continue to write and deny all knowledge of this incident in the future.

I don’t want to be cosmically b*tch-slapped by the death-ray glare.