Author: anlynhansell

I got this one nailed.

I pay for this site every year and I keep saying that I’m going to buckle down and write something in it to justify it’s existence.

I notice my last post was 2 and a half years ago. How’s that working out for me?

I started writing this post yesterday at 6 am. During the timespan between then and now, I cleaned out the bunny’s cage, made a couple dozen pierogies, reorganized 3 closets, watched football, gave myself a pedicure and went to bed, completely forgetting to type anything.

This morning, I figured out what my problem is. I’ve got a bit of writer’s block coupled with an identity crisis.

Usually, I have a rough outline of my next novel while I’m writing my current novel and just as soon as I finish one, I start right into the next one. I have ideas, I just don’t know which direction I should go and it’s affecting my ability to open up a new Word Doc and start typing.

Do I want to be a Contemporary author? Paranormal? Suspense? My last Contemporary was a complete flop. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but it took me a year and a half to finish and when I threw it out there for public consumption, I knew I made a mistake. It’s been a year and I haven’t heard a peep about it. I figure if they don’t have anything good to say, perhaps readers aren’t saying it.

So, on to the next novel – a paranormal that I loved so much, I decided to try for traditional publishing. This was my baby. My brilliant creation. I poured my heart and soul into this sucker and I thought for sure, I had something this time.

Maybe not. During the six months I’ve been waiting for a response, I wrote something else. Another paranormal with a fairy tale twist and to be honest, I don’t know if I can top this one. I love everything about this novel – the plot, the characters, the world building. I self-pubbed again because I really wanted to get this book out there. The response has been quick and very favorable, prompting me to wonder if maybe I should have submitted this one to a publisher. Of course, it’s too late.

And now, I’m at an impasse. I have a Contemporary in mind, called ‘The Simpleton’ centering around the relationship between a career college student, a lumberjack and a case of intentional mistaken identity. (Say what? Yeah, I know, sounds weird, but I think it could work). Or, do I go the dark route of the OCD, sociopathic, female med student with a God complex working as a cleaner for a crime boss?

I keep switching my genres around, I’m starting to get literary whiplash.

Hopefully, I’ll figure this out soon. For now, I have some sock drawers that need my attention…

I just finished writing a three paragraph blog, complaining about what a struggle it is to write anything at this point in my life and somehow, some way, I must have hit the right combination of buttons on my keyboard and all the words disappeared. I just spent the last three minutes staring dumbfounded at my computer screen and now I am laughing maniacally – inside my head of course.

AS I WAS SAYING…

I write on average about 5 sentences per day on this novel and I consider that a win. I designed an awesome cover which I cannot wait to reveal, I’ve changed the title of the novel four times and I am still on the fence with it. So, I have an awesome cover, so-so title and a half-written novel. At the rate I’m going, I’ll probably publish this thing in 2018 sometime.

I decided to start attaching some of the novel – maybe get your opinion on it. (I was being clever – I’ve always wanted to start a novel this way.)

The Truth About Boys and Girls (Title subject to change eight more times…)

Prologue

“How’s that?” he asked loudly over the screeching and squeaking that had taken on a certain rhythm.

“Hang on!” she shouted almost breathlessly as her hand fumbled for something next to her, her eyes loathe to leave the object that had her practically mesmerized.

“More lube,” she breathed out as her thumb flipped the cap. “It’s burning, just…hold it,” she stated as she gave a small squirt.

The screeching backed off until it completely stopped. “Did I say back off? Keep going,” she ordered without looking at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I ‘m sure. Give it a little more ass,” she commanded, her hand still wrapped around the small bottle, ready to squirt again if the need arose.

“All right, here goes. You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Do it. We’re close,” she said, her eyes flicking to the side and back; watching, waiting impatiently as the sound increased and the vibration shook her body with an almost numbing sensation.

A new sound, more like knocking could be heard, so faint but it was there. She wondered vaguely if anyone else would hear it, suddenly embarrassed. “Back off!” she yelled as loudly as she could as the sound increased in volume, causing her to wince.

“Back off!” she yelled louder, the sound becoming even more alarming.

“More ass? Come on, baby!” he roared almost gleefully over the symphony of screeching and knocking.

“STOP!” she practically screamed as the vibration took on a whole new feel. “You -”

She jerked her head back from the onslaught of hot liquid; turning her torso to the side as the spray hit her full on. Her arms immediately covered her face as she tried to twist away.

“Holy shit!” she could hear him yell as all other sound ceased.

“You Ok?” she heard a second later, his voice was much closer now.

“NO!” she forced out as her arms dropped and she shook the hot, sticky liquid from them to no real avail.

“I’m so sorry, Andie. I didn’t think…I thought you wanted more ass?” he added sheepishly as her eyes finally met his. “That thing spewed like crazy,” he stated in wonder as he looked at it and then at her with apologetic eyes.

It wasn’t working.

She was drenched. John was dead meat.

And the engine they just dyno’d was probably toast.

 

A couple of Friday’s ago, I was flipping through the channels on my TV and I saw this movie pop up and I thought, “Hmmm…I wonder if that’s Outlander?” A quick hit on the info button and I confirmed it. I don’t have Starz but apparently they were showing the first season on Encore – which I have.

I started watching it. I actually attempted to read the book a while ago, but for some reason, the writing – which is actually very good, by the way – is just not my style. Too descriptive for me. Some readers love that. I’m not one of them.

At any rate, I got sucked in to this story line, and OK, let’s face it – the guy they cast to play Jamie was pretty darn hot so I committed myself to watching 2 hours of this show for eight days straight.  It was good. It kept my attention for the first 5 or 6 episodes until it started pissing me off.

I love a well-developed bad guy. In some cases, I like the bad guy more than the hero. In this case? Not so much. I hated this bad guy so much that my husband would come in to the bedroom to find out what I was yelling at.

Yep. I was yelling at the screen. This must be good if it was riling me up that much.

Here’s my problem…

I’m trying really hard to write my OWN novel. One that I put a release of Summer 2016 on. Instead? I’m rewriting THIS story in my head. I can’t stop thinking about it – it just has me so ANGRY. It’s been off the air for a week and I still can’t believe how it ended. I am a member of a local RWA chapter and I put a goal of 5000 words written for the month of April.

I have written – to this day – 173 words on my novel.  I blame Outlander.

I am in awe of this writer. I am in awe that someone could write something that could irk me so much that she hijacked my brain. She did. She’s a hijacker.

The point of this blog is – I have no idea. See? She hijacked my blog too…

I’m working on one novel. I’m really into said novel and then out of the blue, this other idea pops into my brain. It has nothing to do with the current book I’m writing. In fact, it is the polar opposite of that novel.

The little idea starts to nag at me, firing up the synapses in my brain, taking over and burying the other plot I am 2 chapters into. Suddenly all I can think about is this other novel.

This started yesterday. In fact, it was entertaining me in the background while I slogged my way through hydraulic schematics and torque charts (my real job). By the end of the work day, I had already formed my main characters, their quirks, some scenes, the plot and even some of the dialogue. I drove home intent on starting an outline of sorts just so I didn’t forget what I had so far. Of course, that never happened. Real life takes over, other household priorities pop up and that task is completely forgotten.

I woke up this morning determined to refocus on the current novel. I wrote 50 words. Wow. Now I’m blogging, still thinking about that other book. Focus much?

This isn’t to say I don’t love my current project. It’s an ambitious novel. Four romances, 12 distinct characters, some mystery, some suspense, a bit of humor. The entire book was born of one scene that I had in my head. I envisioned a police line-up with four inebriated women and all the fun I could have with that. Now I’m building the story around it. I even have the cover worked out. It’s called ‘Village Idiots’ for a good reason.

This other novel – the ‘intruder’, so to speak, isn’t even a romance. Not right now, at least. I envision a straightjacket clad torso on the cover. Maybe a title like “The Crazies” or something like that. (I have this thing for mental institutions at the moment. I find them fascinating. Why? No idea.) I was thinking about a scenario where the people in these institutions – the ones that spew stuff that makes no sense to the rest of the so-called normal population – what if they were right? What if that crazy stuff is truth and they know something we don’t? What if they purposely stay in those institutions, hidden and forgotten until they rise up for a greater purpose, saving us all without anyone in the so-called sane population even knowing? I could have such fun with this. It would be satirical, humorous, maybe a bit thought-provoking. Maybe this has been written before – probably has. I know I’ve never read anything like it, but then again, I’ve only read a miniscule amount of the books available out there.

Now the question is: Work on the current novel? Work on the other one?  Maybe play around with the new graphics software I just bought?  Totally focused…

I did something today that I have never done and for some reason, it scares the ever-loving crap out of me.

I published a book.

Big whoop, I’ve published before. So what’s the deal?

I published a book without my normal amount of feedback. I usually get at least two readers that read through the entire manuscript and critique it. I didn’t do that this time…

I read through it yesterday and I loved it. This morning I woke up and I doubted it. Now I just previewed it on a Kindle reader before publishing and I’m back to loving it again.

This whirlwind of self-doubt and mental anguish needs to stop. I pressed the Publish button and I leave it in your capable hands. I trust that if it is the quintessential stink-fest, you would let me know. I really don’t think it is, but then again – everyone has an opinion, right?

This story – kind of a departure from my normal writing. A little darker, still snarky, but definitely a more mature book, I would say. I gave my sex scenes a bit more depth – no pun intended – based on some reviewers feedback. Nothing too filthy, just a bit more descriptive. I focused more on the romance this time and kept most of the action to the last few chapters.

So, there it is. It will be available sometime tonight or tomorrow. I truly hope you enjoy it. If you don’t – you know where to find me…

I hate grocery shopping.

It takes a nice Saturday and ruins it for me every weekend. If I can get there before eight am, I’m thrilled but more often than not, I seem to go when everyone and their brother decide to pop in.

It’s not that I don’t love food. Food and I are great friends. I love food, I love to cook, I love to eat the stuff I cook, I just hate going to get the food.

Maybe you’ve noticed, maybe you’re lucky enough to have someone else grocery shop for you, but grocery stores aren’t just a bunch of racks anymore. Nope. We still have racks, but NOW we’ve got these things peppered throughout every aisle – and not just one, mind you. I counted eight, EIGHT! in one aisle alone. I’m talking about the cardboard display case. The obstacles that I’m pretty sure are put there for the average shopper to run into, thus inspiring them to buy out of guilt or embarrassment.

I should know. I beaned three of them last week. I bought marshmellows I didn’t even know I wanted because I turned into an aisle and smacked right into them. Clever bastards…

It’s so smart and yet stupid at the same time. If they keep adding these dumb things, they’ll have to reduce the width of shopping carts just to maneuver through the maze, however that would reduce the amount of food one could stuff in their cart, right? When does it end? It’s crazy and it seems to be getting worse. I personally love it when someone parks their cart on the opposite side of the aisle from the display case and stands for two minutes staring at whatever while I wait impatiently, my route now completely blocked. Sometimes I just want to take my cart, push it up against the display and nudge it down the aisle. Maybe flip off the other shopper for good measure. But I don’t. I think about it, but I would never do it. Besides, they usually look just about as miserable as I do.  I hate grocery shopping. That’s enough of my rant.

On a side note – my mood did improve drastically when I made it to the checkout counter last weekend. I was watching the cashier, who by the way, had to be the fastest cashier I have ever seen and I told her so. I don’t know why, but it just sort of came out of my mouth. She was lightening quick. As soon as I said it, she looked up and just beamed at me.  Then, she told the bagger that I was getting the “special” discount. The what? I watched her grab a paper and scan a barcode on it. I am not making this up. I got the special discount for being nice. How often does that happen? Now I’m actually intrigued to go back and see if she recognizes me. It’s the only reason I have for looking forward to my most distasteful task of the weekend…