I'm sorry....say what??

You know, some things can make a bad day good. Like writing. It turned my Monday blues around and I was feeling peppy and zippy.

And some things can...

So I go to get my nails done. In a touch of irony just as I sit down at the table of the nail salon (I had never been there before) they are running a story on the news about how a nail salon in California charges a 5 dollar surcharge for anyone over 200 lbs.

I'm sorry...what? I must have missed the part in anatomy class where they tell you that fat people have bigger nails than everyone else. Or that there is a significant difference in the acreage of pudgy pods versus slender tiny Cinderella steppers. Therefore, it must take longer to do a pedicure. Or a manicure. Now granted, your feet ARE bigger when you are overweight. But that changes your shoe size. Not your nail size.

So they proceed to have a debate as to whether or not this is discrimination or does the salon have the right to do this.

YOU HAVE TO DEBATE THIS??? WHY is this even a question?? Of course it's discrimination! Jim Crow is dancing in his grave! What if it was a five dollar surcharge for being black? Would we be having this debate? No! We'd be fining those people, arresting them...whatever! The fact is, the woman was being charged for the way she looked. Period.

So the guy taking my polish off turns around to the girl behind him, laughs out loud and says, "That's a great idea! We should do that!" (Charge 5 bux for fat people).

Well. Now. I jerked my hands out of his and said, "That's not even funny! Don't even joke like that." Although, I think he was kinda serious. "I used to weigh 365lbs and I don't find that funny at all!"

He gives me that look that most people give me. Shock. You? 365lbs? Oh come on. You're kidding, right?

"365 pounds," I reiterate. He takes my hand and says, "Sorry, I didn't know what they were talking about. I made a mistake."
His mistake was taking a look around and seeing only slender people in the shop and thinking everyone would laugh with him...or agree with him. He knew exactly what they were talking about. He meant every word.

I took my hands back, got up and walked out.

Now I'm trying to keep it from ruining all the rest of my day.

All Aboard!

Well, for those of you who don't follow me on Facebook, life has been...interesting. Who was it that said something like 'May you live in interesting times...' While a less educated person may perceive this as a blessing, it is in fact meant to be a curse. If someone says that to you, they are wishing you a life full of upheaval and chaos. Well, it's safe to say someone slapped me upside the head with the 'interesting times' curse. There was the whole bit with my daughter (I'm sorry, blood or no blood, hurt or no hurt, this child is now and will always be my daughter.) I won't rehash that except to say she's been home for two weeks and the only reason I know she made it off the plane alive is because I saw pictures of her at the fair two days later on Facebook. (I had to go looking...it wasn't as though they were shared with me directly or even indirectly.)

Around about this time I realized that my luggage had been robbed on the way home from Hawaii. ALL of my shoes (cept my flip flops and a pair that had been zipped up in hiding), my Adidas Sneakers, all my Sephora makeup, and my prescription Versace glasses. All my skin care products (ladies, do I have to tell you how much that can add up to? I think not.) I wrote to U. S. AIRWAYs ( did you get that all right? U S AIRWAYS. Let me say it again...U S AIRWAYS) the moment I realized it had happened. Do let me share with you their response: (Since they were ever so polite about it.)


Ms. XXXX,

Thank you for contacting the Central Baggage Resolution Office at US
Airways.

Regrettably, when a customer receives his/her property and does not
report the occurrence of this type of baggage irregularity within 24
hours, we cannot honor any subsequent claim.

We appreciate this opportunity to address your email.

Respectfully,

Clay Hues
Central Baggage Resolution Office
US Airways

That unexplained smoke you saw on the horizon yesterday? That was coming out of my ears. I wrote back. *smirk* I was ever. so. polite. I swear. No, really. But I did sign the response: One Very Pissed Off Woman Who Spends A Lot Of Her Time In The Public Eye. *smirk* Let's see how polite they are this time around. I do hate to throw my weight around (since there's so little of it anymore) but sometimes, man, you just gotta show them that they don't have all the power in this world. I mean I had to PAY to have the luggage on the flight in the first damn place, and then they let it get ROBBED??? The least my money can do is protect what's in the thing! I mean, UPS does it. Why can't they??

Then I stood up and broke my damn foot. (Only I could possibly manage this.) I had been writing for about an hour an a half (good on me!! I'd been having trouble finding the muse for months, but boy was it flowing that day! Deadlines can be very inspiring!) and apparently my foot fell asleep. I say apparently because there was no tingle or pins or needles. It just clocked out. I didn't even realize it was numb. So I stood up (kay, so I more likely flung myself up out of my chair. I never do things slowly anymore! Getting skinny gives you bounce!) One foot worked and the other folded and I unknowingly put all my weight on it (all what, 147 lbs of me? I mean c'mon! How did this not happen 175 lbs ago??) and heard a loud snap. I didn't fall or collapse or feel pain or anything (I was numb remember.) So I sat down on the coffee table and started repeating the same phrase over and over again. "Oh shit. Oh shit! OH SHIT!" (So sue me, even a writer can't be eloquent in a moment like that!) The worst part about that moment was realizing that I was alone. I mean really alone. If not for my dear friend and neighbor next door, I had no one to call for help outside of 911. And I loathed calling my neighbor because she had ben sick all day. Even when I did call her I said, "Donna, I'm so sorry to bother you...but i think I broke my foot."

I'm one of those people who hates to leaves a large needy footprint on others. Yet, somehow, I always manage to do so. Poor Donna's been working overtime taking care of me since I can't bend over or reach up or stay upright (nothing to do with the foot, actually. I'm a friggin' klutz with or without crutches. Just ask anyone who came to last year's Author's After Dark)...or the EMTs that carried me off that Saturday afternoon as I apparently skipped like a broken record and asked over and over again 'Where's Bianca?" So, in under a year that's a concussion, several broken toes, a broken foot...anyone remember anything else? Do complications from surgery count?

Then I found out the hard way that Mac's PAGES (their version of WORD) does not have an autosave feature. WTF?!?!?!? What the hell kind of a word processing program or any kind of program that deals with data management these days does not have an autosave feature???? PAGES, that's what kind. All this time all my corrections, all my work, if the battery ran down on my computer it was completely lost. I never realized it...not until I lost three thousand words. That's three thousand words of Nightwalker nirvana you all will never get to read because...let's face it, I can't remember what I had for breakfast this morning. I don't remember what is in my own books!

Sigh.

So, this is my interesting life. I don't know if my professional life can top that. Do let's hope not!! I'll be happy and content with reasonably successful. :)

I am about to release three successive books.
NOCTURNAL

DRINK OF ME and

THE BID


Okay if you aren't up on all thinks Jacki....that last book, yeah, that's me. JAX. It's me...sexified. Hey, is too a word! Imagine what I could write that's too hot for my regular books... (Yikes! After the short story in NOCTURNAL, I'm not sure they drew that line soon enough!!) Well, the JAX name is all my uber sexified work. Okay, I'll call it erotica if I must. ;) It's the only one scheduled for the moment. We'll see how it does. :) So that's September, October and November releases. Save your pennies, chicks. Oh and I really would love any and all feedback you have about these latest works. Just submit and email through the website or directly to jackifrankwrites@gmail.com.

I'll write again soon. With AAD coming up there should be a lot to talk about. Thanks for listening to my interesting life. ;)

Oh and don't forget, if you are in the NY NJ CT area, Authors After Dark is opening their signing to ALL COMERS so you can get all your books signed! Go to my site to check on details. The author list is dated though. Let me try and get it fixed for you. You can even buy NOCTURNAL right there and have it signed by both me and JESS HAINES...and we have signed bookplates from Kate Douglas since she tried but couldn't make it. Next year's author line up is looking really hot if everyone who says they are going to come comes! And we have some super cool surprises planned.

Night everyone!
Hugs and Kitties
Jacki

The Day After

There was an apocalyptic movie named The Day After, and somehow that feels apropos. I want everyone to know I am okay. Relatively. Auntie Depression has come for a visit. I am overwhelmingly sad every time I see the littlest thing that reminds me of B. I pull in the garage, her bike is there, I open the pantry, that stupid ramen noodle soup she thinks is more than adequate nutrition for a growing girl is there. A sentence you never thought you'd utter: Ramen noodle soup made me cry.

And then I brought Snickers, the kitten I rescued three weeks ago, to Brother Wolf so she could be properly fostered and then adopted. So that was a heart ache on top of what I am already feeling. I keep wandering the house aimlessly, as if my body knows it's supposed to be doing something: Making dinner, playing Connect Four, riding her ass to take a bath...but there's no B here and no longer a need to do all of that.

I don't even know if she made it home. I have to assume she did. No one called me and there's no way of calling there. I took B's phone away because if she can Skype with her mother while she's here then she can damn well Skype with me while she's there. I'm not going to pay for a phone for all of them to use. Like I said, this gravy train has come to a full and complete stop.

I sent a letter home with B, suggesting to her mom the things I felt were urgently needed in order to see B was cared for, and explaining why I sent her home and wouldn't be bringing her back any time soon. I've not gotten a response and I won't be surprised if I don't get one. Why should she let me talk to her kid if she's not going to get anything out of it any more? I guess I feel like I'm never going to see B again.

I'm catching a little flack for 'oversharing' my personal life on the internet. That it's somehow going to hurt my career. Well. Gee. Okay. And welcome to the land of I don't give a flying fuck. I write. I write pretty damn good too. You should buy me based on that. If you don't want to know what I'm like as a person, don't follow my blogs. Don't trail my personal account on Facebook. It's your finger doing the clicking on that mouse, not mine.

For those who do follow me, you know I'm usually a pretty happy, ebullient person. I share the good and the bad, the professional and the personal. I share it all because clearly you want to hear it. And I share it because on days like yesterday, your support rolls in and surrounds me, comforts me like a great big hug, buoys me up when I think I am going to shatter into pieces. I wish I could return the favor to all of you. It's special. It's precious. It means the world to me.

Thanks guys.

Hugs and Kitties
Jacki

A glimpse...

You have had a glimpse of me and I of you. The previous post has been taken down...for many reasons. I am not afraid to over share, and my readers have treated me like a friend or family, so naturally I do the same. Time and again you all have expressed to me how much you appreciate how 'real' I am and how connected you feel to me. When I wrote that post I was upset, my mind reeling, my spirit torn to pieces. Perhaps that is a bad time to try and compose clear thoughts and express oneself, perhaps it is the best time.

I am human. I'm just a girl who writes. Writing is now and always will be how I express what is inside of me. Sometimes that is painful and glaring, and as I said, I am not afraid of that. Moreover, I will treasure the responses I got from you. They meant the world to me.

However, in the interests of protecting the child involved...

I'm sure you get my point.

Hugs and Kitties
Jacki

I Hate My House I Love My House

Soo...if any of you have been following me on Facebook or know me as a friend, you know I have been struggling with my writing. The truth is I haven't written anything of consequence in a dog's age. (Don't worry, I have enough backlog in books to keep you in fresh material for a long time to come.) Now, it might be professional suicide to share this with you, but I have committed suicide before and am still here to tell the tale, and I have always shared everything with you all and I am not about to start pulling my punches.

Truth is, all writers go through writer's block...or periods of feeling drained of their creativity. What I speak of is not new phenomenon. Some of the most famous authors you know were plagued by the writer's block beast. But for me it's not so much a block as it is...my inner child wants to play not work not ever so nah!

I am 170lbs lighter than I was. I can wear gorgeous clothes and shoes. I can get on planes and fit in the seats. I can travel everywhere. I can do just about anything! Why oh why would I want to sit here, in front of the computer, in this seat that I was trapped in under fat and infirmity for DECADES in this dark spot in my house?? I existed in that spot, unmoving, unliving, uneverything. Now...I loathe it. I loathe sitting in one spot. I loathe being in my house. I loathe this computer screen I have stared at for every single day for so damn long.

I want to PLAY! I want to shop! I want to go out and go dancing and run on a beach and do things people do to have fun. I want to conquer my fears and do some crazy ass shit while I'm still young enough to do so. Because, you see, it snuk up on me so fast last time. One day I was young and healthy (albeit overweight. Have been since I was 15) and then the next...(so it seemed) I couldn't even climb a set of three stairs. I couldn't walk through a store. I had to go to Wal Mart or Target only because they were the only ones who had electric carts. I had to buy a one story house (I have a 'bonus' room though which is up over the garage. I lived in this house for almost 2 years before I was able to even see it!)

The point is, I feel like I've wasted so much time and, despite the weight loss, I am still not all that healthy. (People marvel at how much meds I am on. Granted it's a few less now than before...) What if I spend all this great time sitting on my ass and suddenly...bam! It's all gone again?

But like I said in my title...I hate my house....but I love my house. I want to keep it. I want to keep my car. I want all those little things that come with a paycheck. So...this girl's got to work. It's not as though I want to be irresponsible. It's not that I want to quit and never write again. I love to write. I love to make up stories. I like to create unique worlds that blow your socks off. :) (My agent and my editors and publishers are going to be very glad to hear this part) So here's the thing. How do I write and stay focused when my inner child is whining that it wants to go out and play?

On top of all of this, I'm stuck in my own head. Or maybe even my own ego. I sit here thinking whatever I do next has to be UTTERLY SPECTACULAR!! It has to outshine everything I have ever done before AND it has to be strides ahead of the tremendous talent that is out there in my genre. (And those who aren't tremendously talented but somehow popular just the same). I have to write a NYT Bestseller that outdoes myself...and can do battle with everyone else. And then once I do that..OMG I have to do it again! And again!

And crap, I gotta pay taxes, too.

Not too much pressure, eh? This is the essence of writer's block. A writer who gets stuck in the pressures and minutiae in their own minds. All of the above mentioned crap AND the daily list of things in their personal and business lives that they swim in.

But I think I found a solution. For me anyway. I'm taking it Old School. I'm leaving the laptop at home, leaving home at home, and with nothing but a wire bound journal and a favorite pen, (well, ok so i do take my cell) I am going out and finding quiet nooks and crannies where I can sit, enjoying the OUT THERE out there, and yet focusing completely on writing. This is how I did it when I was a kid. Back when teachers thought I was the most diligent notetaker in class? That was me writing reams and reams of stories, perfecting what would one day become a craft. The spiral notebook was my original laptop. I had forgotten how much I love the feel of pen drawing over paper. There's sometimes a few moments that it takes to write a word vs. typing a word that allows your brain to jump to the next thought.

Now, the downside..no delete key, no backup files (save me if I drop today's gel inks--my favorites--in a puddle), and I have to retype the whole thing over again eventually anyway. So this is strictly for creative purposes only. Perhaps just to get me started. I am considering an IPad...strictly for the purposes of being able to carry it in my purse everywhere at all times without having to lug a laptop hither and yon. The laptop isn't big, just...inconvenient. But I don't know if an IPad is easy to type on. Still, it can't be any slower than using a pen, right?

Maybe I'll stick with the low tech solution. For now it feels good. I can't tell you how many words I've written...for some reason the damn journal refuses to tell me!

Hugs and Kitties

Jacki

PS: So far Barnes and Noble and the Library have been tried out. B and N is nice, but there's a lot of pressure in those bookshelves. The library has no pressure because they don't have a single damn book in my genre from what I can see, but it was really freaking noisy after 2pm. Any other suggestions? I need a chair that's comfy that I can cross my legs in and prop the journal on my knee. Oh, hey! My therapist's waiting room was nice. Wonder if they'll let me haunt it. :P