blogging – CHRISTINA CHANNELLE

Habits: Breaking Old and Creating New

They say it takes 21 days to form a new habit.

I have no idea who they are but it must be true, right? Because every time I try to create a new habit, I seem to self-sabotage myself way before the three weeks is due and BOOM, habit never quite reaches its full fruition.

I’ll give you a few examples:

Quit coffee. I think I lasted a week before I realized coffee makes me way too happy to deprive myself of it, and that I will continue to drip my cuppa (or two) to bring a little bit of joy into my life. The withdrawal symptoms also didn’t help.

Exercise daily. This lasted maybe four days before I told myself that Monday, the first work day of the week, should always be a day of rest; Friday should not include any exercise because it’s well, Friday; and errands occur on Saturday so that clearly counts as exercising.

Get rid of 5 items daily. Weird, right? But in my journey of minimalism, I have this strong urge to discard of any and all things. And it worked, for a while, a long while actually. I was easily picking 5 items out of my collection of things I own and either tossed, gave to family and friends, or donated. But now it’s been a couple of months since I’ve actually thrown out an item that wasn’t a cardboard box courtesy of Amazon, and I realize that I’m starting to… collect things again.

Ugh.

I have the best intention to improve my life and well-being but it’s almost like I’m afraid. Of what? I don’t know. There’s obviously something blocking me, something I haven’t quite tapped into, that makes me want to run away and hide at the notion of change. Like change is a bad thing.

But not all change is bad. Some change is good… great even! And it’s not to say that I’m failing at all of the new habits I’m trying to form. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, I promise.

I’m drinking water. Lemon water, but water, nonetheless. Yes, I was one of those annoying people that would say they hated water. What kind of blasphemy is that? you’re thinking. Well, in my mindset, water tasted like nothing so what was the point? This mindset lasted the majority of my life until a minor case of strep throat put me in check to the point that it’s now mandatory for me to have a water bottle at arm’s length at all times.

Water: 1 | Christina: 0

Water’s not the only habit I’m succeeding with. I now get up at 5AM daily. Okay, I lie. Sometimes it’s 5AM, sometimes it’s 6AM, sometimes a little something in between. This is a huge improvement from rolling out of bed at 7:30AM and rushing to make it to work. Or sleeping in until 9AM or 10AM on the weekends. I now love being the first person to wake up. I relish in the moment when the house is silent except for those odd house-sounding sounds. Where I can just sit and contemplate life, drink my coffee, and just be.

So yeah, I may never quit coffee. I will eat a chocolate bar here and there. Sushi is life.

But I also enjoy being a minimalist newbie and learning about what minimalism means to me. I love not having so much excess in my life. I love making life simple. I enjoy getting rid of things that no longer serve a purpose or bring joy in my life, and it is a habit that I will continue to work on.

I do enjoy exercising. When I’m in the moment of sweating my butt off on the treadmill listening to 50 Cent or Justin Timberlake, I feel invincible! I might not be doing it daily, but I try as much as I can, and that’s all I can really do.

I have learned not to stress when implementing a new habit in my life. How? Well, below are a list of a few things I tell myself, or do, whenever trying to break those nasty habits or start new ones:

Guided meditation. Meditating is new for me and I find that guided meditation is a great way of introducing me to it. After a session, I feel great! Content and relaxed, I feel that I can take on the world and it leaves me in a better mindset to tackle my goals.

Write it down. I’m a post-it note, agenda-writing individual, and I find that writing things down hits the spot. It makes it more real. By not attaining the goals that I have written down, it only makes me disappointed in myself. And that’s the last thing I want to do! As a result, habits are created and formed.

Take one day at a time. Remember to breathe. It’s okay if I have that piece of chocolate (it’s dark!) or decide to ditch the exercise routine for a movie… with popcorn. Tomorrow is a new day and a new day equals RESTART!

Healthy habits will bring me nothing but joy. It might seem like work at first, but the more I do, the more it’ll feel like second nature. Look at my love of drinking water now!

I drink water effortlessly to nourish my body.

I exercise and move my body freely.

I only eat what brings me joy, and feel no regrets.

I remove things in my life that no longer serve a purpose.

I write everyday, whether my blog, a story, scripting, a to-do list. I write.

I write the above in the present because I am affirming it all. These are my habits, and a part of my daily living that I will continually work on.

When I find my self-sabotaging creeping in, I reset by applying my list of guided meditation, writing it down, and taking one day at a time, and it pushes me to try and do better. But like I said, I will no longer feel bad about my so-called “failures” because to me, they’re not failures. It’s called life. Enjoy it. Feeling bad about not eating a certain amount of calories a day, or not hitting the gym on the daily defeats the entire process. This is a journey, not a race. This is my journey, and the only person I’m competing with is myself.

Because in the end, isn’t that all that really matters?

Manifesting Miracles: Cheltenham Badlands

It started off like any other Saturday.

I woke up in the comfort of my warm, cozy bed, my mind instantly on the frequency of gratitude. I was grateful for seeing another day. I was grateful for the coffee that would be coming my way. I was also grateful to be able to see the Cheltenham Badlands later on with a friend.

It was only days before that I had even heard of this place. A coworker of mine had been sitting next to me during lunch as we chatted about the current news playing in the background, the latest movie we saw, and things to do around town before the storm of 2018 hits the city.

“Have you ever heard of the Cheltenham Badlands?” She instantly shoved her phone in my face, showing me her Instagram. I took the phone from her hand and stared at the image on my screen.

It was beautiful. People were standing on, what looked like, Mars. Like chocolate marshmallow, it was a natural phenomenon. In reality, it was a geological formation that developed over a course of the past 450 million years.

All the people in the photos looked like they were having a blast and I also wanted to experience that. Without a second thought, I immediately texted my friend, Sidney, one of the photos.

ME: Can we go here?

SID: I’ve always wanted to go there. Sure!

And like that, it was a done deal. I knew the following weekend, I would be visiting the Cheltenham Badlands. I was happy that I would have the opportunity to experience some of the beauty my province had to offer.

Plus I was really stoked on the idea that it was called the badlands because I legitimately felt like I was going Into the Badlands.

Only I wasn’t. As I laid in my cozy bed, and Google mapped the address that Saturday, I got the following words float across my phone screen:

CLOSED PERMANENTLY.

Excuse me?

I went to the website link and my heart sank the more I read about not being able to gain access to the badlands due to “massive overuse” and “failure to follow the rules”.

I understood the need to preserve nature and not have outsiders, humans, ruin it all, but it sucked. Like that, my day was over before it even started. There would be no me standing atop the badlands feeling badass, like The Widow defeating all the other barons. Nope, not in the cards.

And if you are bent out of sorts about not understanding my context, please, go watch the first episode of Into the Badlands on Netflix. It’s there.

At least, on the Canadian Netflix.

(Disclaimer: Please don’t watch if blood and violence make you squeamish.)

So the idea of going to the Cheltenham Badlands evaporated from my mind. This left Sid and I in a pickle. What were we going to do this fall morning instead?

ME: So where else can we go that isn’t a million miles away?

SID: There’s a Hop and Harvest festival going on at Kelso Conservation.

I was okay with that but it seemed more of a food spending expenditure, something I wasn’t particularly in the mood for. I started doing my own search for things to do in the area and I saw there was something similar called Terra Cotta’s Fall Festival. Seemed more up my alley.

Sid agreed and the day was reset. No Cheltenham Badlands but Terra Cotta here we come!

So I drove us the half hour it took to get there and I even conquered my fear of heights on the way. The roads were so up and down. I felt as if I were literally on a roller coaster!

Not my scene.

Anyway, we finally reached, successfully parked, and made out way to the festival. Forgot to capture pics of the festival but check out this awesome fall view below.

Terra Cotta Conservation Area, Terra Cotta ON

There was a little store that sold items like maple syrup and pastries but that’s not what caught Sid’s attention. She turned to me.

“You want to go on the wagon ride?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

So we quickly paid for our tickets and found ourselves on a wagon, exploring the area and learning the type of wildlife that lived in the conservation area. It was fun, a simple ride where I got to experience the beautiful fall day. One of the tour guides toward the end of the wagon ride mentioned a free bus that would take us from Terra Cotta to the badlands, and back to Terra Cotta.

Sid and I looked at each other, instantly on the same wavelength. That would be our next item for the day.

I was excited. I may not be able to see the Cheltenham Badlands like we had planned, but I got to see another badlands to make up for being cheated with the former.

So we got off the wagon and made our way to the info booth.

“Which way to the bus that will take us to the badlands?”

The poor guy had no clue so we walked back into the little store. One of the girls stationed there showed us a map. All I heard was Parking 3 and 45 degree angle but I knew we’d figure it out.

And we did, as we made our way to this yellow school bus in the parking lot, like it was waiting for us and only us.

I forgot to mention I had brought my camera. However, said camera was not auto-focusing and I was disappointed that all my photos for the day would be a midst of out of focus, blurry shots.

Blah.

The bus driver was pleasant to speak to but as he turned on the ignition, the bus decided it was not in the mood to cooperate. So as our new friend, the bus driver, tried to get the bus up and running, I felt it was the perfect time to attempt at getting my camera working.

Good news: After some time, I did manage to get my camera working.

Bad news: The bus wouldn’t start, no badlands 2.0.

On the broken bus in Terra Cotta as I capture a shot of Sid.

So we went home after that.

I’m lying. Our great bus driver radioed another bus driver and like that, we were on another functioning bus. I took in the beautiful scenery as we past by, this magical bus taking us to God knows where.

But as we inched closer and closer to the badlands, I had a revelation once we reached our destination.

I was at THE Cheltenham Badlands.

It was one and the same. And I felt like a complete fool for not realizing until it was staring me right in the face that I was at the one place I wanted to be this entire day.

Isn’t that amazing?

And no I didn’t get to jump on the mountain of brown marshmallow.

But I got a lot of perks out of this day.

Perk 1: I didn’t have to pay the $10 parking fee to get to the badlands, take a few pictures, only to turn around and go back home.

Perk 2: I got to experience the beauty of Terra Cotta and go on my first wagon ride.

Perk 3: A free magic school bus drove me straight to the badlands where I got to relish in my surroundings.

What’s the whole point of this rambling story, you ask?

Sometimes all you have to say is yes in order to experience all that life has to offer.

And sometimes, life has a way of giving you exactly what you want, even when you least expect it.

My Happiness Equation

I used to think happiness was something you strived to become, like a profession.

When I was in grade school and my teacher would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer wasn’t the standard, doctor, teacher, engineer. No, my answer was to be happy. I think I may have even written a blog post a few years ago about my goal in life being that of happiness.

Now, even at that young age, I knew happiness was the key to living a great life. But by stating I wanted to be happy, that must have meant that I currently wasn’t.

On the outside, my family, peers, and friends may have perceived me as happy. On the inside, I was anything but. I was already battling self-acceptance, faced with the notion that you had to be X, Y, and Z to be “accepted” in today’s standards of beauty.

Qualities I thought I had none of.

I grew up in a time where there was no body acceptance or embrace your natural hair communities. At least, none I could recall. I vividly remember my mom relaxing my hair as I sat in front of her, crying my eyes out because my head felt like it was on fire, being burned by the chemicals that would solve all my hairstyling problems by making it bone straight. But I had to sit still to make sure she got all the kinks out. It wasn’t like I could blame my mother. Her own mother did the same. That was just the way things were.

Same shit, different decade.

I remember going for jogs with my older cousin, might have been ten or so, wondering why she was so thin and yet I was so fat. I mean, we generally did and ate the exact same things. Why did life have to be so unfair?

My daily internal thought was that I was not acceptable. I went through life with the whole woe is me mentality. Yet I told no one. To everyone else, I was the girl with the resting bitch face but if you got to know, was actually quite nice (and shy).

My defence mechanism was to show that I didn’t need anyone. That everything was fine, and life was something that you just had to suck up and do. That it was difficult for everyone, and we all needed to get over it.

Work your butt off at either school or your job (or both), pay your bills, and enjoy the weekends. Two blessed days just relaxing at home, unless you were working your second job, of course.

Then someone close to me died and life blew up like a bomb detonating inside my head. I don’t know what it’s like with other families but in mine, the solution to the loss of a loved one is to “stay strong”. In my family, crying is something you do not do.

So I didn’t. Unless I was in the privacy of my own space, of course.

I began to go through the motions of life again. I got up, went to work, came home, slept. Got up, went to work, came home, slept. Got up, went to work, came home, slept.

You get my drift.

I was on autopilot, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I knew I could drown in my sorrows if I wasn’t careful. I stopped going out–not a difficult thing to do when you’re inherently an introvert. I stopped writing. How could I when the stories I love to write so much were pretty much a grief-fest of tragedy? Instead of writing, I transferred all my anxiety and heartache by focusing on the art of decluttering my life.

Oh, and I decluttered. Threw out, donated, gave away items like nobody’s business. It felt good to just let go of everything, like having less stuff translated to less stress and less things to worry about.

So I released it all.

And I relished in my introvertness. I mean, now I had a legitimate excuse to not see anyone. I started to feel okay about saying “no”. But then weeks past, months past, and more months past, and I remember talking to one of my friends on the phone. I recall her saying something and being 31 years old, and in her trail of thought–

I froze.

Because the age she was saying she was didn’t make any sense to me. I was that age, and I’m a year older than her, so how could we possibly both be 31 years old?

While she continued to ramble, I took out my iPhone and calculated my age as I stared dumbfounded at the screen.

I was 32 and didn’t even know it.

Almost an entire year went by and I remained stagnant, just going through the motions of so-called life. Not actually living at all.

This was then followed by a mini mental breakdown in front of my mother.

I feel like all this had to happen, though. All these emotions had to come up in order for me to realize that I was in charge of my life. I was responsible for how I felt. And that I couldn’t continue to feel like I was this victim in this tragic story of my life, like all the characters I like to create so much.

It was okay to grieve but I had to move on. I had to take ownership.

So enter the world of YouTube and the art of self-help books.

I started binge watching videos about motivation, positive affirmations, meditation, and the law of attraction.

I re-read The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Read The Four Agreements. Put a crap-load of self-help books in my to-read pile.

And I slowly started to practice what I was learning. I meditate. I get up at the crack of dawn to relish in me time. I sip on a cup of coffee and think of all the things I’m grateful for in my life. My family. My friends. My cozy bed. My future dog. Instead of just rolling out of bed as the alarm sounds and rushing to get ready for work.

I belt out to awesome music while driving to work instead of complaining of the traffic, or the asshole that just cut me off. I walk outside, appreciating the beauty of nature. I give myself a break and try not to be so hard on myself. Like damn, we’re our own worst critics. We all need to get over that because if we don’t love ourselves, who the hell else will?

I smile more, I hug more. I show my appreciation for the people in my life more. It’s more about seeing things as a glass half-full mentality as opposed to the dreaded near-empty glass. It’s about living in the moment and appreciating the things I have in my life, and doing all the things that bring me joy.

If I want to have bubble tea, I’ll have bubble tea.

If I want to rock out to Black Velvet or lip sync to Imagine Dragons or Drake songs, I’m all about that life.

If I want to go on a hike to see all the nature’s wonders, damn hell I will. I will pant my way up any trail, name the time and place.

And through it all, I started to feel good. Dare I say, happy? And I started to realize that you attract the things you focus on, and that happiness is something you choose to be. You either are or you aren’t, that’s up to you.

I choose to be happy.

That statement is huge for me, and the years that have gone by have only made me that much stronger and appreciative of this precious thing we call life.

So this space is a fresh start. A place to script out my life, a place to share my stories, both fiction and real, and a place to just ramble about whatever comes to my head. Because it’s what makes me happy, and I hope you enjoy being along for the ride.

Life As An Indie Author

I have this tendency of checking Goodreads on a regular basis. I may not post and interact as much as I’d like to, but I do check my author profile.

So as I sift through the many happenings on Goodreads, I notice my overall rating is down. Upon further investigation, I realize it’s from a recent rating of Those Four Letter Words.

Damn, my first one star.

Okay, it’s not my first one star. Been there, done that. But it is my first one star rating for Those Four Letter Words.

Sigh.

Okay, yes, I feel a momentary sting of pain in my chest. I’m only human and that’s a natural reaction to disappointment. I guess I’m not as tough as I portray myself to be around my family and friends. But my writing is that part of me which is vulnerable, and yes I do keep it close to my heart–it took years to actually admit to my friends that I even write books!

I’m over that momentary sting. Of course not everyone is going to like my books, that’s a given. Everyone is and should be entitled to their own opinions. And it’s not like I’ve never given a one star review or hated a book or character for this reason or that. Hate is such a strong word, isn’t it? But differences of opinion is what makes the world go round.

C’est la vie.

But the one star review gave me food for thought, some raw truths. The life of an author has its peaks and its lows.

Peak: self-published my first book.

Low: said book gets pirated on multiple sites.

Peak: people are actually buying my books. Me? This Canadian chick that no one knows.

Low: barely any ebook sales to buy a coffee. Let’s not even talk about print sales.

Peak: cover reveal for Jaded Little Lies happens and people love the cover!

Low: Those Four Letter Words gets its first one star.

That’s just naming a few.

Besides being my birthday next month, December is the anniversary of my first book, Dahlia, being published. That’s three years ago. I’ve come to learn more about myself as a writer and as a person over these past three years.

I’m trying to figure out what I want to do as opposed to do what I’m expected to do with my life. I’ve been going through some life changes and that isn’t stopping anytime soon at this rate. Mind you, it’s not like this one star rating gave me a revelation (although it did give me something to write about).

Starting out, I had this dream of being this amazing writer and everyone would buy my books. That if I worked hard at it (I took a year off to focus on writing and publishing) I could have that dream of being a full-time writer, doing what I love to do. That one thing that makes me feel happy. A wish that many writers have.

A wish that might actually never come true.

I forgot to mention a peak in that makeshift list above.

Peak: meeting other writers and bloggers (well, one blogger in particular who shares my passion for the Walking Dead) that I can seriously say I’ve connected with. These are people that I’ve never even met yet I consider my friends because they totally understand me and relate to me without even meeting me. I just want to say thank you for being a part of my life as an indie writer as it can definitely be tricky.

So in conclusion (I hope I’m not giving you an essay vibe here but I’m paying tribute to the lovely Jade in Those Four Letters Words who has a way with words), I do wonder what the future has in store for me. Writing isn’t something that’s going to disappear from my life. It’s just how the writing will be implemented. As a full-time writer? I don’t know. It’s a nice dream and I’ll keep dreaming.

So how will I deal with my one star rating? Well, the rest of the night will be of me working on Jaded Little Lies and watching Supernatural to dull the slight pain I still have.

Just kidding.

The pain part, not the Supernatural part. I do love me some Dean Winchester. And Sam did just give a shout out to Canada. He referenced a Canadian trucker, but still.

Let’s Talk Four Letters

Let’s talk Four Letters. A series that was first viewed on Wattpad when it wasn’t a series at all, but a rant. Jade Reamer was created when I was in a pissy mood, let’s be honest. Writing was a way to direct all my energy towards and it worked: Those Four Letter Words was created. Now as I’ve said numerous times before, this was nothing more than a rant that developed into me posting weekly chapters online when I realized I had a story. It was a short and sweet novella and I loved it because I enjoy writing short stories since I have a tendency for my mind to wander.

That was it. Those Four Letters Words was over and done.

But apparently Jade’s story wasn’t over. Apparently people liked my little novella and wanted more. And I guess I had more to write.

Enter Jaded Little Lies. My attempt of writing my longest book ever, about 70,000 words. You might be laughing at this moment: 70,000 words? Really, that’s it? Well, like I said, I write short stories: DWI, Reap, Fallen Tears, and Those Four Letter Words are all short stories/novellas. It’s kind of my thing. Dahlia and Rowan are my longest at about 50,000 and 60,000 roughly. So I had it in my head that I had to go long or go home for my next book, and that fell on Jaded Little Lies, my current WIP.

It’s my NaNoWriMo book. I figured it be the perfect time to get back to a story that yes, capped at 30,000. I don’t know if this is with other writers, but I don’t write linearly. I’ve written the beginning and I know exactly what’s going to happen in the end that I thought, why wait, and wrote that as well. It’s the middle that I’m working on. I’m probably the most disorganized writer but I guess that’s what works for me. So I may not be on the NaNoWriMo schedule, but I’m doing my best, and hoping that my goal of finishing this story by the end of the year is a success.

After Jaded Little Lies, I’m planning to write more stories in the series, one featuring Bryn and the other, Connor. Who knows what will come after that.

I’ll leave you with a excerpt from JLL.

Disclaimer: it’s unedited.

I swear I cried for two weeks straight when my best friend moved away when I was five. Allison was her name. She was this petite half Korean, half Jewish girl with the prettiest hair ever and the softest voice that almost sounded lyrical. I remembered the first time I met her. I actually stepped on her hair as she sat on the front steps of the school, waiting for her mom to pick her up.

The moment I realized the tips of my runners were planted on long, luscious black hair, I squawked, backing up.

“Sorry,” I exclaimed.

She turned her face toward me and by the trembling of her lips, I knew I’d be in trouble unless I did something.

“Don’t cry! Please don’t cry. I already made Tyler Price cry this week and mom will be super mad with me if it was two in a week.” I sat down next to her and wiped the potential dirt off the ends of her hair.

“What’s your name, anyway?” I asked, staring into dark eyes which, thankfully, were no longer tearful.

“Allison Ma.”

“Hi, Allison. I’m Jade Reamer, please to meet you.” I raised my hand for her to shake.

She looked at my hand hesitantly before taking my hand in hers.

“Hi.”

I grinned at her. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s okay. I can do enough talking for the both of us.”

We were inseparable for that short year, doing everything together. But Allison’s family moved a lot and their time was up in my little old town, her dad getting a position in his company overseas.

Perhaps if she’d have left now, we’d still be in touch with all the social networks out there and texting. But it wasn’t and I cried myself to sleep because my bestie was halfway around the world and even at that young age, I knew she’d eventually forget me.

“Jade, keep your chin up.”

I had been sitting on one of the chairs in the backyard, staring at all the kids that were currently in our swimming pool. Ten-year-old Bryn had decided to invite the entire neighborhood, including Reed, his best friend since forever and was like another brother to me. He wasn’t as yucky as Bryn’s other friends.

Reed was the one talking about my chin.

“It is up,” I said with a frown.

He laughed, taking a seat next to me. He shook his long hair out of his face. “It’s a figure of speech my dad likes to say. ‘Keep your chin up, Reed.’ He says that to me whenever I’m sad or disappointed, like when I miss a shot in baseball. To not be sad.”

“But I can’t help being sad.” I bit my inner lip to prevent tears from falling.

“You’ll make other friends.”

“I don’t want any other friends. I was good with just Allison and Bryn. What am I gonna do now?”

“Well you have me, Jade, you know that. Just call me your Allison.”

I cracked a smile as I stared up into his face. “You don’t look like an Allison.”

“Good. How about I just be your Reed then?” He offered a hand my way.

It was the same thing I had done with Allison but there was no hesitation when I took his hand.

He pulled me forward and picked me up, bringing me toward the other kids. Bryn looked our way, hazel eyes dancing in mischief.

“Throw her in, Reed! Let’s see if Jade sinks or swims.”

Before I could even scream in protest, Reed did as he was told. And as Reed threw me in amongst all the cheers, I wasn’t scared at all. For a moment, I knew what it felt like to fly.

And it was because of Reed.

…………………

Excerpt from Jaded Little Lies by Christina Channelle, release date Spring 2015

Ramblings of a New Author

Writing. Editing. Writing. Editing. It doesn’t really end now, does it?

I feel like screaming right now. Out of happiness, mind you. I have to admit, this blogging thing is a bit new to me. But, I’m trying it out. We’ll see how it goes.

You’re supposed to write what comes to you in the moment, so that’s the path I’ll follow. I don’t believe my blog will be crazy serious: I’ll comment about my books; any movies I decide to see on cheap-day Tuesdays; books I fall in love with, etc. You’ll definitely be feeling my mood with how I write. What can I say? I show my emotions in my words.

I’m happy that Dahlia is finally published with another story on the way. Despite it being a brand new book by an unknown author, I’m selling! That, in itself, makes me happy. If I can get one reader to buy my book, read it, and think to themselves, “I really liked that,” then I think I’ve done my job.

Now with my second book, which will soon be released, I want my readers to be, “Holy s**t! I can’t wait for more! This just keeps on getting better and better!” That’s my goal.

Hopefully.

Yes, I’m currently editing a novella, which connects to the Blood Crave Series. While Dahlia is book #1, I’d call this book, #1.5. Originally a part of #2, I thought it’d fit better as a standalone. Let me tell you, I enjoyed writing this. It wasn’t even a part of my series, but one day it just came to mind and I began writing. And writing. AND writing.

Now, I wrote this so long ago and thought it was PERFECT. I printed it out; made a few corrections; re-read it again; made MORE corrections; made a teacher friend of mine be by ‘beta-reader’ (I like that word); and made even MORE changes myself.

It doesn’t really end, does it?

Oh, well. I’m just going to have to breathe and let it go. Ignore my OCD-like tendencies and present it to the world.

It’s okay, Christina.

So … when will it be out?

I don’t know. Perhaps by the end of next week, if my formatting works out. The life of an indie author, eh?