Sunday, July 10, 2016

The Ugly Truth Behind Writing

It should go without saying...I've been to Hell and back in a matter of a few short years.

While this post will make a few cheer, I hope it will be a sober lesson for newcomers, and even season veterans.

I began writing as a way to use my imagination and help my family. At first, tales came to me. I was giddy stupid with all the excitement that comes along with the first acceptance. My hopes were high, my self-esteem bursting with endless possibilities, a creative future seemed to lay in store for me.

Being a newbie in 2012, I wasn't aware of all the pitfalls, potholes, or vipers. I didn't know the Ugly Truth. I didn't know that my path to riches was paved with daggers, joy and pain, or destroyers. I didn't know that my naive plan would cost me more than I'd ever make. I didn't know that my dreams would be smashed into a million pieces. I didn't know that the joy I got from writing would bring me the worst kind of pain imaginable. I had no idea that the world is truly as evil as it seems. And I damn sure never thought that my imagination would ever sour, or that I would find any reason in the world NOT to write. But that's what I've been doing for months. I've found every project imaginable in order to avoid writing. Even the thought of writing has curled my stomach, because nothing is there. My activities, by the way, have all been centered around my family and the farm. Rewarding? Hell yeah. I have found that I'm more at peace without the dog eat dog world I threw myself into. With each day, I'm beginning to remember all of things I once loved to do, all the things I tossed to the side, while I spent hours of my time writing, dreaming, hoping to make it.

I only took up writing as a way to use my crazy imagination with high hopes of helping my family. That's me above, overjoyed with my first acceptance.

To date, I've spent countless hours of my time promoting my books and writing new ones. All I have managed to accomplish is a lot of wasted hours. If I were to take my earnings based on hours labored, I dare to guess, but I suspect I'm working for mere pennies. No joke.

Maybe I can blame an evil scientist. A rouge bitch. The death of my mother. Maybe its a combination of a variety of variables. Who knows? But somewhere, at some time, I lost my love for writing. When I say writing, I mean writing as Hennessee, and all that comes with her. And I really hate it, because she is everything I can't be in my normal, and very mundane life.

The new, dog eat dog system, has opened the doors to oodles of writers that may have never had the chance to become published, get published, and a combination of this new world has flooded the market with thousands of books for readers to sift through. I love that it is possible, but I'm not willing, nor do I want to compete in the genre any longer.

I am not an asset to my family. I am a liability.

Let's face it. We are a dime a dozen. I can't, and won't, pump out a book every month in order to compete to make a few dollars. I really have other responsibilities. I refuse to write a bunch of junk monthly, shove it out, and hope to make money. I can't do that. I won't do that.

Maybe my muse is sluggish. Probably. I just can't keep up the pace, and to be honest, I've run out of sex scenes, and the desire to write more.

I truly want to be different. I want to write tales that are not only imaginative, but ones that truly help readers escape. I'm just tired of drama. I'm tired of the same worn out tales. I'm tired damsels in distress that need saving. I'm just plain tired of competing in a world full of the same ol' books. You know the type, the ones that are the same thing, re-told, re-imagined, with the same cover, different title. I'm sick of doms, shapeshifters, biker boyfriends, billionaires...add your own here. It's like breasts. If you've seen one pair, you've seen them all.

Many months of non-writing, of grieving, of suffering has brought me to this point. I've spent years trying to keep up, trying to to write a better love story, hoping that maybe one day my writing could be an asset to my family...all I received in return was debt (Vipers and all), depression, a feeling of hopelessness, one of loneliness, of despair, a loss of imagination, the will to write, and overall, the loss of me.

I've spent thousands standing up for myself, publishing my works, and hundreds of hours of my time competing in this world. My will and desire to compete are just gone. Poof! I'm tired of all of it. I just can't spend anymore of my time in the particular market I assigned myself to. And don't think for one minute that because I'm tired of seeing or writing certain genres, that readers are not. Write your tales, no matter the content, because there is an audience. Just be ready to compete.

The sad truth is this. Unless you can be the red tulip above, you won't pay the bills. It's really that simple. I've explored different genres in romance, and maybe I can't write, LOL. Sadly, many others cannot either, but managed to step into golden piles of shit. I'm used to avoiding piles of shit here on the farm, so maybe I stepped over the ONE. Who knows.

Four years. Sad to say, but overall, writing has brought me nothing but heartache to this point. I've met a lot of wonderful people. I've written some amazing tales, but in the end, I'm empty. Real fucking empty.

Not once in my life have I ever had to say, "I failed." But on this momentous occasion, I'm big enough to admit, that yes indeed, I failed. The worst part...all the hours of my life I can't get back. They're gone! All the wasted time and effort I could have used elsewhere. It's really pathetic.

And the saying, "Write because you love to write." Nope. Doesn't help. If you just love to write and DON'T care if you make money, give the tales to friends to enjoy. Writing a book, paying for publishing and editing, isn't a FUN hobby, or even a lucrative one. It's stupid.

Although I may have failed as Hennessee, I haven't failed at life or in love. Behind the scenes, I'm truly blessed with a fantastic husband, and two wonderful children. The last few months of non-writing has made me realize where my depression has been coming from, and its Hennessee. All in all, my life is really great. Writing, competing, and dealing with the ugliness that comes with writing is where my pain began and will end. It ends today...

I have a garden to tend to. A greenhouse to finally put up. A farm to tend to. And most of all, I have a family to tend to.

I may have failed, but I'm not a loser. I have more than many could ever hope for, and I'm not talking about money, I'm talking about the stuff that really counts, family.

And here it is, the lineup of books that didn't pay the bills. Thousands of hours went into creating this lineup as Hennessee. RIP Hennessee.

Eight Seconds

Damon: Texas Senator's Sons 1

Drew: Texas Senator's Sons 2

Drake: Texas Senator's Sons 3

A Hard Bargain

Safety in Handcuffs

Leather and Steel

Just Vamps

Tattoos and Cupcakes

Walking into Darkness

Reunion Blues

Macon's Story: Rough in the Saddle 1

Zander's Story: Rough in the Saddle 2

Warren's Story: Rough in the Saddle 3

Joe Ray's Story: Rough in the Saddle 4

Everett's Story: Rough in the Saddle 5

Austin's Story: Rough in the Saddle 6

Trevor's Story: Rough in the Saddle 7

A New World Order

Born Loser


Redneck Tale

Cougar Tale

Monday, May 9, 2016

On bullies....

Well, there's a bully among us, and he won't be the first, and he won't be the last. I am choosing not to identify the model, because he is really irrelevant. He is just another bully that needs to be dropped into shark infested waters.

What I find most disturbing about bullies are the tactics they use and the overwhelming sense of entitlement they believe they have to step on others. The saying, "Don't bite the hand that feeds you.", seems appropriate right now.

Beauty is really SKIN DEEP. My mother always said, "Pretty is as pretty does." There is so much truth in that statement. She is gone now, but I never stop reminding my children. This is they type of human I don't want my children to become....the type of narcissistic waste of flesh that idolizes his appearance and the appearance of others.

The most beautiful people I know range in every color and shape. True beauty IS inside of us. For anyone out there that believes otherwise, you are wrong. You can be the most beautiful person on the outside, but ugly as hell on the inside, and it makes you ugly all over.

Be good to each other! Damn, how hard is it to just be nice?

Remember, karma is a never ending circle. What you reap is what you sow. Sow good seeds and good will come back to you. Sow bad ones, and well, they'll all come back. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, but they all come back.

Get Amazing E-books for 99 cents!

99 cents! Yep, Lori King brought together over 50 authors for the this Mother's Day special! Stock up and read to your heart's content!

Thursday, March 17, 2016

FREE EBOOK ALERT! Hennessee Andrews

To celebrate spring and all the awesomeness of the season, I'm offering two of my books for free for a limited time!

If you're a sci-fi lover, be sure to check out Mindsweep! This tale is highly erotic, so don't say I didn't warn you.

Now, for you romance lovers who love to root for the underdog. Check out Born Loser.

Okay, two free books out there. Enjoy and be sure to leave a review if you have time!

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Saying Good-bye

My mother and me. She was proud of my writing, no matter the genre, and encouraged me to do what I loved to do.

I can't believe March is almost here...

    I haven't written a word since well before Thanksgiving. As most of you know, my mother had been in failing health for some time, and I expressed how deeply the fact bothered me. Alzheimer's is a cruel disease, much like all others, but the deterioration of the mind is so terrible that it is hard to put it into words. My mother was my best friend, my everything. Watching her slowly drift away before my eyes has been devastating. I knew all along that she wouldn't have wanted to be like that or end up that way, because she was such an independent person, a person full of life who could brighten a day with a smile.

    I've been mourning for well over two years now. Watching my mother forget how to do the most simple of tasks has been awful. Worry and grief took over my day to day existence. Being separated by miles only furthered my pain. Memories constantly plagued me daily and without regard. If I dropped my kids off at school and was driving home, I'd think, once upon a time I'd be calling my mom to say good morning. Then it would remind me of the state she was in, only randomly with the knowledge of who she was, having momentary,and often fleeting memories of her family.

    With every trip home to see her I could see an enormous change and decline in her. Each visit became harder than the previous. I was helpless to help her and I think that's what hurt the most. To know a soul that was once full of life become helpless is a pain that I can't even describe. Toss out dignity and pride, the two most important traits she had, and I was swimming in a miserable soup of depression.

    I can't lie, it consumed me, consumed me to the point I was just living. I wasn't trying hard at anything. I just continued on, did what I had to do, what I needed to do, and nothing more. My imagination took a vacation, my desire to write or accomplish anything just sort of got put on pause. I truly hate feeling helpless. Worse, I hate not being able to help those I love.

    Like I said, my day to day life became routine, overshadowed by an overwhelming amount of sadness. I have been in the middle of a never-ending chapter and haven't been able to continue on until that chapter was complete.

    To be honest, it took seeing my mother in a state that I would never wish on anyone. It took me putting aside my selfishness to say good-bye. I wasn't ready, none of us are, but I wanted peace for her. I wanted her to be free from it all, because I know she wanted to be free from the pain and misery of it. Watching her decline to nothing more than a shell of a person hurt, but not as much as knowing she was enduring it, and without the ability to change it. I've had to put aside my anger, an anger that has simmered for nearly three years. The injustice of Alzheimer's is horrible, despicable! I couldn't put that torch down, but it was useless.

    When I was able to make amends and accept that this was her time and her burden to carry, I was able to say good-bye, and hope that the end was peaceful and without pain. My mother said so long this cruel world February 21st. Although painful for me, I know she was more than ready to go. She is now free of the disease, of her worn out body, and of all the other misery that came with it.

    I'm sad, because I'm a selfish bitch and I just want my mother here, but I couldn't ever have her back the way she was, the way I needed and wanted her to be. She was done with this world and all that it had to offer. My tears are only selfish, but the relief, and finality of it all has brought some peace. She is not here to endure one more day of the hell she was given. No more indignity. See, the worst part of it all for me was wondering if during her coherent moments she suffered because she realized the terrible shape she was in. When your mother tells you many years previous, "If I get to where I can't do or take care of myself, do me a favor, push my wheelchair down the on-ramp of a freeway.", you sort of know she doesn't want to live that way. My mother did not.

    Now that I've said my good-bye, I'm coping, knowing I'm selfish because I miss her, but I'm ready to begin anew, because I can almost hear her saying, "Don't cry for me." She would want me to. She would want me to continue to reach for the stars, no matter how distant they seemed.

And here it is, my first piece of writing in months. The days are getting longer and the sun is shining bright. I'm turning the page of one hell of a chapter, and beginning a new one.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays, everyone! All is well here. I simply needed an extended break, and since I know my boss really well (wink, wink), she gave me the time off. I hope to be back in the saddle real soon.