Crystal Jordan :: Blog

I’d find a way to kill your obnoxious ass.

Is it a bad sign that I was to kill my hero? I mean, I am the one with the computer, I could totally do it. Just poof! like that. A few clickety-clicks on my keyboard and all gone. Dead hero-fictional-character-man.

However, then I think my heroine would kick the snot out of me because she luuuurrrrves him. Hmmph. There’s just no accounting for taste.

I sent out the rough drafts of In Ice and got feedback from a few marvelous ladies, including Shawn, Shelli Stevens, and Dayna Hart. Y’all rock!

The consequences of asking for feedback is that you get it, in spades. I had a list of things I wanted to fix on the manuscript before I even heard back form any of them and now I have about a dozen more things. Urgh!

Write, write, write. And maybe kill off my stubborn, he-man, Conan the barbarian hero.

I was talking to Dixie Chick the other day and we mentioned a mutual friend who has the ten ton stones to wear a sweatshirt with a quote on it–a quote that he came up with. Mind you it’s a good quote but it’s the most public and glaring form of self-love I’ve ever seen in my life. It really goes a step beyond narcissism. It’s not just loving yourself, it’s like public masturbation it’s so much love.

It’d be like me reviewing my own book and saying it’s the best thing I’ve ever read and then QUOTING myself on my book cover. I almost wish I had that much moxie, but then I realize I’d be a little too in love with myself to be fun for anyone else. And really, public sex (ie-being fun for someone else) is way more entertaining than public masturbation. At least you’re not the only one arrested when it’s all over with.

Yesterday I spent the day at a resturant out by a nearby lake with Dixie Chick and another friend. Good times were had by all, I think. Anyway, I have no idea how that actually introduces today’s quiz, except that I live in redneck central and as you can see, I ain’t from around here. Happy Sunday!

You Are 35% Redneck

The wheels still turning, but the hamster’s dead. You’re just fakin’ bein’ a redneck.

I didn’t send In Ice off because it’s just not done yet. I’m not typing as fast as I should because of these stupid braces. I’ll get it out today, I hope. Ugh.

In better news, I’m going to hang out with my down home compatriot, Dixie Chick. We’re going out to an early dinner today and then I think I’m gonna go see the Pirates of the Caribbean. Because it looks good, I liked the first one, and Johnny Depp manages to be funny, hot, and good-looking in eyeliner. How many men can say that? Not many, lemme tell ya.

So, today is the day. I’m having a few people look at my rough draft of In Ice. It’s not done yet. It still needs a lot of work, but it is, for the most part, complete. I hope it’s worth the pain in my hands and my ass for sitting and typing this flat out for two weeks, but it’s possible. This is my first try at science fiction and shape shifters, so I’m nervous about it. Reeeeeeally nervous.

I mean, I want it to be great, but it’s so hard to really talk yourself up. I don’t ever wanna be that chick who thinks her writing is so pimp-shit that anyone who doesn’t agree is just an idiot. It’s a fine line and I think I lean a bit too far to the “what the hell am I doing?” side of things.

So, in the end, as with all of my stories, I did my best with the meager tools I had at my disposal. I can only cross my fingers at this point and hope like hell.

Wish me luck!

Okay, so I was working on In Ice and something just wasn’t gelling. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly. I read the whole thing through and still just wasn’t getting it. The mysterious something was off.

Then I finally hit on it.

The sex was wrong. The scenes were good and *ahem* sexy, but just not right for these characters because they changed on me half-way through. What worked at the beginning didn’t work at the end. So I had to sit these characters down and figure out what their real issues were. They decided they wanted their sex hotter to help work out some of their conflicts.

Urgh.

Is it bad that I blushed my way through their first scene? You’ll never know which one it is because I don’t write in order, but dang. These two are diiiiirty.

My hands are killing me. I’ve been typing and typing for days upon end and now my hands are both wrapped up in these sad little braces which are the equivalent of an 80 year old in orthopedic shoes. I get to play hunt and peck on my keyboard because my finger don’t work so well while wrapped up. People think I’ve been involved in a freaking car accident or something.

Then there are the fun folks who want to pull me aside and quietly ask if I’m being abused by my non-existent significant other. If I were truly evil I’d point a finger at the ever-lovable Stealth Dater Boy. Alas, I’m far too honest for that. Dammit.

Why do my hands hurt so much? Well, I’ve had reoccuring cysts in both wrists for years. They come and go and I’ve had every procedure known to man on them and the basic advice from the medical intelligential is to take it easy. Um, these are my wrists people! Am I supposed to go through life with my hands folded in my lap? Please. Let’s not even get into the logistical issues of wiping my ass while “taking it easy.” So, I get to be in pain, espicially during a flare up when these suckers get the size of ping-pong balls on my wrists.

Alrighty, I’m done. Whine over.

We interrupt our regular broadcasting to bring you a special Independence Day quiz. So, today’s quiz: How American Are You?

I got 59% American. Higher than I expected because my granparents are immigrants and proud of their home countries. So, there you go. A little piece of info about me.

You Are 59% American

Most times you are proud to be an American. Though sometimes the good ole US of A makes you cringe Still, you know there’s no place better suited to be your home. You love your freedom and no one’s going to take it away from you!

I made my writing goals for the weekend. Look over in my side bar, I’m at like 84% of my word count for In Ice. How sweet is that? I think I pulled off over 6,000 this weekend. I’m happy with that. My hands are killing me though, so I’m taking a break to do edits by hand and read over what I’ve got. I hope to be totally finished and ready to submit it by the end of this week. This Sunday at the latest.

Wish me luck!

Also, Shawn and I have started edits on our Samba, Finding Paradise (mostly Shawn). It’s supposed to be released later this month. I’ll let you know when I have an actual release date.

Tune in tomorrow, same Bat time, same Bat station.

This week’s quiz is about how OCD you are. Everybody has little quirks and freakish tendencies that we hide from everyone but our closests and most trust friends (because by then they already love you and can take your weirdness because you’ve sucked them into your wonky orbit).

I had a lower OCD score than I expected, but I KNOW mine will be way lower than the Mad Madam M’s and probably lower than Shawn’s (unless they cheat to prove me wrong).

You Are 32% Obsessive

You tend to have a few obsessive thoughts, but you generally have them under control. Sometimes your worries keep you up at night, though they usually don’t interfere with your life.