Friday, May 4, 2012

When One Catastrophe is Not Enough

So I know this is a ménage blog and I should be talking about the pleasures of two or more hot guys, but it’s also about writing and writing, it turns out, is so deeply dependent on life cooperating with easy, sweet, and peaceful days. When life decides to smile and be subservient to my writing needs, the words tend to flow. Most days I can get three to four thousand great words down. On a brilliant day, I can do six to seven.

But this is 2012 and I’m lucky to get fucking fifty on a page.

Seriously. I think the Mayans were right, but that calendar was addressed to one Sophie Oak. The rest of you are safe because this is my year of crap.

It started off with my vagina attacking me. A bacterial infection led to antibiotics which led to a yeast infection. Yeah, that’s like two weeks of my life I won’t get back. My dog needed surgery. And my husband lost his job. And the fence blew down.

So April rolls around and I’m feeling good. I go to sleep one perfect night and wake up to….a flood. Seriously. I woke up, swung my feet off the bed and planted them in an inch of water. My husband and I waded around, trying to figure out where our flood started and stopped. It quickly became apparent that it started at an overflowing toilet and ended out in our yard. The wood floors I put down a year ago made a lovely squishing sound under my feet.

And I had a sudden vision of myself. It would be so easy. I could be just like the chick with the kids in Titanic. I could go upstairs and  gather my babies and we could cry and cuddle and wait for the water to take us away.

But it’s 2012 and my Titanic is full of toilet water and not even I am that lazy. I decide to be like another character from a James Cameron film. I go and get my little steam cleaner vac and go all Ripley from Aliens on that water’s ass. Oh, yeah. By the time the flood team from Blackmon Mooring arrived, I had that shit up. And my back was dead. But mostly I kicked its ass.

Thus began a fun several days with six people in two small hotel rooms and a whole lot of overpriced vodka. The vodka was for me.

None of this was conducive to writing, but I managed to get through a bit. And that’s when the seventeen year old decided it would be fun to scratch his cornea. So I had to take him to a GP and then an ER and then an ophthalmologist. And have you ever listened to a seventeen year old whine?

So I’m trying to look on the bright side. It’s been a week and I’ve done very little work. Is there a bright side to any of this?

Well, my dog’s surgery proved she doesn’t have cancer.

My husband lost his job and we decided not to find a new one. He’s been Mr. Mom and he’s amazing. I understand the awesome responsibility of being financially responsible for a family. And he’s figured out what it means to be multi-tasking-I-need-four-arms mom. We understand each other on a far deeper level than we ever have before. It’s led to a deeper intimacy, a broader respect—a happier marriage.

And I get new floors. Which is kind of awesome.

So there is a silver lining. And the writing will come back, too.

But the vagina thing just sucked. Here’s to a happier rest of 2012!


And to prove I’m still dedicated – here’s the brand new blurb for Beauty: A Faery Story 3. Coming out June 15th from Siren Publishing.

In one horrifying night, Bronwyn Finn lost her family, her kingdom, and the princes who had haunted her dreams for years. Left alone, years pass as she fights for survival and craves revenge against the uncle who took everything from her. But she’s never forgotten her Dark Ones.

A tragedy marred Lach and Shim McIver’s future. The future kings of the Unseelie Fae are obsessed with finding their promised wife—Bronwyn. Lach and Shim have never stopped believing that Bronwyn is their mate. She is the bond that connects the halves of their shared soul.

With the blessing of the renegade kings, Beck and Cian Finn, Lach and Shim begin a dangerous quest to find their bride before Torin and his hags take her life.

Across two planes, a war will rage. Lives will be lost. Love will be found. And the Seelie Fae will welcome their true kings home.


Her latest, 
Siren in Bloom (Texas Sirens 6), is available now at


SusieJ said...

Oh my...what a year you're having..and yet, you can still see silver linings - good for you. Sorry, but I had to laugh when you mentioned the whining of a 17 year old..yes, been there, done that, got the t-shirt, drunk the vodka!
I really hope that things improve for you.
I'm looking forward to "Beauty" and am so enjoying "Siren in Bloom"...heavenly Julian.....I need a Julian in my!
Hugs xx

Maggie Mae S. said...

Beauty looks like it will be another winner! Thanks for sharing. *big hugs for all the trouble you've faced this year* Hoping it settles down now!!! I'm really looking forward to downloading the new Sirens when I get home from work tonight!

Mrs. Missive said...

Just think of how awesome next year will be by comparison!!! You will appreciate every toilet-water-floor free day.

On a completely selfish note....OMGICANTWAITFORBEAUTY!!!!!

Anyway, keep your head up. Awesome oozes out of you.

Sophie said...

Thanks for the well wishes, guys. I love to write Julian Lodge. He's one of my fave characters ever because he's such a shark.

Sophie said...

Maggie and Missive - I hope you like Beauty, but I have to warn you - it's 120K right now. So much to polish off. It's a big book. I know - that scares you. :)

Sophie said...

Maggie and Missive - I hope you like Beauty, but I have to warn you - it's 120K right now. So much to polish off. It's a big book. I know - that scares you. :)

RoseRaven said...

Sophie, I'm sorry but the 17 yo whining child just made me laugh. Did that twice and have lived through it. Although there was a great deal of Jack Daniels involved during the process.

Am reading Siren in Bloom and loving it today. Want to finish it soon but have to stop to cook. Why do people get hungry every day????

Sophie said...

Rose, I'm a vodka girl myself. I don't know how anyone makes it through their child's teen years without an enormous amount of alcohol.