Hello everyone,
If you've been visiting the blog lately, you know I've been completely silent the past year and a half. I'm sorry about that, but it's been a hell of a ride. I've been moonlighting as my super sexy alter ego, Rachell Nichole on the Divas of Desire erotic romance blog with two other fabulous erotic romance authors, Nona Raines, and Danica St. Como.
But soon, I will be relaunching my Jo Crosier blog and site, so stick around for more details. In the meantime, be sure to check out my naughtier side at www.DivasofDesire.blogspot.com & www.RachellNichole.com.
You can also find me on Twitter @RachellNichole
More info coming soon.
Thanks,
Jo
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Writing, Writing, Wrote!
Hello to all of my followers who are on here less sporadically than I!
I have been seriously remiss in my authorial duties of keeping my blog and website updated, and for that I apologize. :-)
Just a few updates to share with everyone.
I am now working on my fourth novel. The first has been approved as my thesis and "passed" for my Master's degree. The second is off being read and critiqued by a crit partner and the third is being actively polished, and will be submitted to an editor in 25 days... not that I'm counting or anything :-) Number four is the sequel to the first book and is about half-way plotted and I'm only 25 pages into it. Lots of work to do on that one, but so far so good!
Will be moving back to the states in just under two months, and where life will go from there, I'm not yet sure. But I know it will include writing and probably teaching in some capacity. Done with my quick notes now, some other writerly stuff coming soon.
But here's a picture of a wonderful notebook that I bought in Belfast at a market. Hand-crafted, rather expensive, but totally worth it!
Isn't it pretty?????? I can't wait to fill it with notes and musings and "kindling" for my writing. I promise to type up and post anything that's fabulous. :-)
I have been seriously remiss in my authorial duties of keeping my blog and website updated, and for that I apologize. :-)
Just a few updates to share with everyone.
I am now working on my fourth novel. The first has been approved as my thesis and "passed" for my Master's degree. The second is off being read and critiqued by a crit partner and the third is being actively polished, and will be submitted to an editor in 25 days... not that I'm counting or anything :-) Number four is the sequel to the first book and is about half-way plotted and I'm only 25 pages into it. Lots of work to do on that one, but so far so good!
Will be moving back to the states in just under two months, and where life will go from there, I'm not yet sure. But I know it will include writing and probably teaching in some capacity. Done with my quick notes now, some other writerly stuff coming soon.
But here's a picture of a wonderful notebook that I bought in Belfast at a market. Hand-crafted, rather expensive, but totally worth it!
Isn't it pretty?????? I can't wait to fill it with notes and musings and "kindling" for my writing. I promise to type up and post anything that's fabulous. :-)
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
You're not Creepy Enough to Write That...
I've met a whole new family while working in France - other English assistants who I love! The other day (er, um okay like 2 weeks ago) we were having our weekly Bachnalian Society Wine Night (complete with mayhem and foolishness) and one of the girls started asking me about my Creepy Troublemakers shirt (The Troublemakers are a group of people in my MFA program) and so I was explaining the origin of Creepy Bill and why he wasn't creepy enough to write horror. And she said I had nothing to say on the matter because I was clearly not creepy enough to be writing the things that I write. :-)
It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She was referring specifically to a flash fiction I wrote for a school assignment several years ago that was published in the local University's press. (http://web.cortland.edu/writers/lastrun.html). Yes, the story is creepy, scary and all of those other icky emotions we don't want to look to closely at. And while I don't feel the need to justify it, because art doesn't need justification, I will kind of explain the process behind the story, because she asked, and I felt the need to share it all with you.
The parameters of the assignment were to write a story in the second person, which isn't a POV used very often in literature, and to use this POV to make the reader feel ashamed. And in my opinion, the story does just that. I picked the subject matter because it's always been one that horrified and intrigued me. It's like the same morbid fascination some people have with death. We live in a rape culture because the idea of it is so abhorrent to us. So creepy enough or not, I wrote it. (Personally, I find myself to be very creepy - but that's because I live inside my own head, a place that would scare the hell out of anyone else who got a glimpse into it).
At any rate, I feel as if I did my job. When you write something that gives someone else chills, or makes them feel weird, or happy or scared or evokes any other kind of emotion, you've done a good job.
To everyone out in the Bloggerverse - what emotional reactions have you gotten from your readers?
It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She was referring specifically to a flash fiction I wrote for a school assignment several years ago that was published in the local University's press. (http://web.cortland.edu/writers/lastrun.html). Yes, the story is creepy, scary and all of those other icky emotions we don't want to look to closely at. And while I don't feel the need to justify it, because art doesn't need justification, I will kind of explain the process behind the story, because she asked, and I felt the need to share it all with you.
The parameters of the assignment were to write a story in the second person, which isn't a POV used very often in literature, and to use this POV to make the reader feel ashamed. And in my opinion, the story does just that. I picked the subject matter because it's always been one that horrified and intrigued me. It's like the same morbid fascination some people have with death. We live in a rape culture because the idea of it is so abhorrent to us. So creepy enough or not, I wrote it. (Personally, I find myself to be very creepy - but that's because I live inside my own head, a place that would scare the hell out of anyone else who got a glimpse into it).
At any rate, I feel as if I did my job. When you write something that gives someone else chills, or makes them feel weird, or happy or scared or evokes any other kind of emotion, you've done a good job.
To everyone out in the Bloggerverse - what emotional reactions have you gotten from your readers?
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Oh, Nanowrimo, the places you'll go with Jo
I began Nanowrimo a few short days ago, and here is what's happening so far. (For those who don't know, Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month and is held every November when a bunch of absolutely crazy people [writers] sign up to write a semi-coherent glob of 50,000 words in 30 days).
I started the Nano book about two months ago, and had written exactly 2/3 of a page... WOOHOO ME! ;-0
So I decided this year I was going to tackle Nano, in the midst of working, going to school, traveling Europe, and working some more to pay for traveling in Europe, and that I would use this book that I have been thinking about for months and haven't done anything with (and yes, I can actually end a sentence with a preposition - see I just did it). And so far, I've got 8,000 words!
I've written in an airport, on a bus, on a train, in a hotel room, and in my apartment. This book has now seen two different countries, seven hotel rooms, three trains, a plane, and an airport. Oh the places we will go!
Off to do today's 2,000 words!
I started the Nano book about two months ago, and had written exactly 2/3 of a page... WOOHOO ME! ;-0
So I decided this year I was going to tackle Nano, in the midst of working, going to school, traveling Europe, and working some more to pay for traveling in Europe, and that I would use this book that I have been thinking about for months and haven't done anything with (and yes, I can actually end a sentence with a preposition - see I just did it). And so far, I've got 8,000 words!
I've written in an airport, on a bus, on a train, in a hotel room, and in my apartment. This book has now seen two different countries, seven hotel rooms, three trains, a plane, and an airport. Oh the places we will go!
Off to do today's 2,000 words!
Friday, September 16, 2011
Flash Fiction
This is a short flash fiction I wrote about a year ago and just found in a notebook.
Rick carried his plate of meatloaf and pasta toward his table. The silverware clenched in his right hand beneath the plate made clinking sounds as he walked. Rick put his glass of chocolate milk down on the table first and then his plate and silverware.
"Hey," Rick said as he sat down.
"What's up?" Jason said.
"Nothing man, just glad this week's almost over. It's been a bear. You comin out with us tonight?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean it - SHIT!" Jason's eyebrows lifted higher than Rick thought they ever could.
"What the hell, man?" he said.
"I think I just saw a bear outside the window." Rick's voice was serious.
"You saw a what, where?" Rick flipped around in his seat. This was going to be one of those stupid, "made you look" sort of things, he could tell. But Jason had sounded so shocked that maybe just maybe - Rick felt his own eyes widen. The hinge of his jaw opened just enough for the bottom of his face to hang. It really was a live, freaking bear!
Rick leapt out of his seat and cringed at the sudden shrieking in the room. Other people had seen it, too. At least that meant he wasn't crazy. But it also meant he could become bear chow any second. Suddenly, Rick was being jabbed with elbows and assaulted by the screaming.
Somebody shoved him into the table until his solar plexus met with wood and he slammed his face into the plate of meatloaf. Someone grabbed his shoulder and used the leverage to climb on top of his back. Rick screamed as three of his ribs cracked. He could hear neither his own scream nor that snapping pop ribs made upon breaking.
Rick coughed, trying to pull some air into his lungs. He looked down. He didn't remember putting ketchup on his meatloaf. The thought was torn away as someone drove a spiked heel in between the tiny bones in his wrist. Rick could no longer feel his legs. The table began moving, pitching sideways. Rick tried to blink and focus on the dark cherry wood. He could no longer hear any screaming or see anything other than a small knot in the top of the table. His eyes blinked closed and refused to be reopened.
Rick carried his plate of meatloaf and pasta toward his table. The silverware clenched in his right hand beneath the plate made clinking sounds as he walked. Rick put his glass of chocolate milk down on the table first and then his plate and silverware.
"Hey," Rick said as he sat down.
"What's up?" Jason said.
"Nothing man, just glad this week's almost over. It's been a bear. You comin out with us tonight?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean it - SHIT!" Jason's eyebrows lifted higher than Rick thought they ever could.
"What the hell, man?" he said.
"I think I just saw a bear outside the window." Rick's voice was serious.
"You saw a what, where?" Rick flipped around in his seat. This was going to be one of those stupid, "made you look" sort of things, he could tell. But Jason had sounded so shocked that maybe just maybe - Rick felt his own eyes widen. The hinge of his jaw opened just enough for the bottom of his face to hang. It really was a live, freaking bear!
Rick leapt out of his seat and cringed at the sudden shrieking in the room. Other people had seen it, too. At least that meant he wasn't crazy. But it also meant he could become bear chow any second. Suddenly, Rick was being jabbed with elbows and assaulted by the screaming.
Somebody shoved him into the table until his solar plexus met with wood and he slammed his face into the plate of meatloaf. Someone grabbed his shoulder and used the leverage to climb on top of his back. Rick screamed as three of his ribs cracked. He could hear neither his own scream nor that snapping pop ribs made upon breaking.
Rick coughed, trying to pull some air into his lungs. He looked down. He didn't remember putting ketchup on his meatloaf. The thought was torn away as someone drove a spiked heel in between the tiny bones in his wrist. Rick could no longer feel his legs. The table began moving, pitching sideways. Rick tried to blink and focus on the dark cherry wood. He could no longer hear any screaming or see anything other than a small knot in the top of the table. His eyes blinked closed and refused to be reopened.
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