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About CrissyMoss

I've been writing as long as I can remember.

Grorg Club

I’d like to take a moment to talk about Grorg club. I know, I know, I’m not a member of Grorg club so I really don’t know anything about Grorg club, and I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut and just listen to people in Grorg club talk. I know that’s the way it’s supposed to work.

But…I was also told that the reason people who aren’t in Grorg club are so afraid of Grorgists is because we don’t discuss Grorgology. I mean, I’d like to understand what it is to be a Grorgist, and why it’s different than being a non-Grorgist, but I’m not supposed to talk, or ask questions.

Then yesterday I saw a textbook from a kids elementary school. It was the teachers version that just showed what the teacher is supposed to know that the students don’t generally know, but is there to influence the teacher in how they teach the class. It said anyone who isn’t a Grorgist, and part of the club, must be an anti-Grorgist. That means they hate them, even if they don’t think they do. I mean…I’ve never been part of Grorg club, but I’ve met a lot of Grorgists. Some have been my bosses at work, or people I talk to at stores, or grocery store clerks. They all seem very nice, and I’ve never felt anything but kindness to them. But…this says I must be anti-Grorgist and hate them even though I don’t. And that I benefit from everyone who isn’t a Grorg club member being anti-Grorgist.

But my boss is a Grorgist, and they are one of my favorite people. How did they suffer for being Grorgist? In fact I would even say they had some advantages because they decided that they wanted something and they went out and got it, regardless of what others would say about it. They are kind of inspirational, and a wonderful part of the community. Almost everyone thinks so, those who are part of the Grorg club, and those who aren’t, just because they are so absolutely wonderful in general.

But…serious talk for a moment. I’ve never understood the mentality that if you aren’t part of my group you must be against me, or if you’re not part of my group you can’t have an opinion on my group. It’s like telling a person who has no kids that they can’t spot a naughty child. Sorry, that child is jumping up and down in the middle of a restaurant and the parents are ignoring it, that’s a naughty child and EVERYONE can see it. You don’t always have to be a parent to see bad behavior.

Now you can insert whatever group you want with Grorg. In fact my direct supervisor at work belongs to at least four of those groups. And you know why they got the job? Because they worked their ass off, and did everything they could to show they were a good candidate. And they do a fantastic job of inspiring the team every day, even when things are falling apart around us and we have to work with broken tools. Their group affiliation didn’t matter, the club they belong to didn’t matter. When it came down to it they put in the work and they did a great job. And they are succeeding.

I belong to a few of those groups myself. But I don’t care about any of that. I care about getting up in the morning, going to work, feeding my family, and making good art. My group affiliations don’t help me. In fact they hurt me. Why? Not because of anti-whatever people. On the contrary, my group affiliations hurt me because people who are obsessed with the group tend to try and make me a victim of innumerable things. If I started letting myself feel like a victim again…well what was the point of getting out of the abusive relationship? Seriously…

I know a lot of people who go through traumatic experiences need to heal, or time to adjust. But pushing the group narrative of victimhood is a disservice.

When I finally came out of the closet about my rape I had a lot of things to figure out. There were moments when my boyfriend, the kindest and most loving person in the world, would try to touch me in a gentle way and I would jump. I wasn’t in danger, and I wanted his touch, but my body was expecting something worse. My body, and my mind, had to relearn how to be in a healthy relationship because I had been trained to expect pain, and abuse, from people who said they loved me.

Being around people who reinforce that idea of victimhood, who keep telling you it’s okay…this is a normal way to act…they HURT me more than helped me. I was trying to learn to act normal to a touch from someone who did love me, and I loved. A touch I was consenting too. And they were reinforcing the idea that flinching was a normal reaction.

IT’S NOT NORMAL!!! Nothing about it is normal. Yes, it’s a natural response, but just like you were trained to flinch you can be trained to stop flinching. You’re supposed to flinch when danger is there, not when someone is being kind to you.

Once I realized my physical and emotional responses were totally fucked up from being in an abusive relationship I was able to say “no, this is wrong” and start relearning proper responses. Had I stayed around people who encouraged me to stay a victim I never would have relearned how to have a real relationship.

I don’t flinch when my boyfriend touches me anymore. I don’t get scared when a man walks behind me on the sidewalk. I don’t respond with negativity when someone gives me a compliment. Because I am no longer a victim.

So, even though I could be part of some of the Grorgist clubs, I don’t feel part of them. I wouldn’t want to be part of the club. I don’t want to be a victim again. But should I be able to talk about them? Should I be able to discuss them? I think so. Just like when I woke up to what was happening to me, I NEEDED to talk about it. I needed to find the truth, and share my experience with others. I needed to know what I was feeling wasn’t in my imagination.

But there comes a point where you have to stop talking and start moving on. I will talk to anyone about my past that wants to talk about it, especially if they were also a victim and need to move from that twisted reality to something healthy. But it isn’t the focus of my life, and it never should be.

Anyway, that’s my two cents for the day. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I just needed to share it. Telling people who were victims that they can learn to stop being victims isn’t the most popular idea out there, but I feel it’s necessary to say. Honestly, the people who want you to stay a victim are the ones who have no respect for you, and think you’re too weak to move on. Not the ones that want to see you get better.

All the arts everywhere!

Just a quick update,

Small Bites and The Ring are both free this weekend. And Dragon’s Flame, the first novel in my new series, is finally out. It’s currently 99 cents, but it will go up to 2.99 in a week. If you want to grab it before the price goes up make sure to order it now.

If you read any of these books I would love to hear your thoughts. Write a review, or send me an email at crissymoss AT hotmail DOT com. I love getting reader feedback.

I’d also like to let you know that I’ll be streaming once a week (most weeks) on my twitch. I’ll be drawing, doing small projects, writing sometimes, or just chatting. Depends on what happens. I’d love to have people stop in and say hi, or shout me out on twitter. Schedule at the moment is Wednesdays, 3pm to 5pm PST.

On my first stream I took an old sketch and redid it into something completely cute. My first cosplay! You can watch the time-lapse version HERE, or the full VOD over here.

 

How did you get that scar?

I have many scars on my body. After 40 years of life it isn’t unusual. I have a scar from a motorcycle burn when I wore shorts and didn’t pay attention to where I was putting my leg. I have a thin scar on a knuckle from where I cut myself as a child. I have a big dent in my forehead from chickenpox, and a scar on my elbow from running into a door frame.

But there are two scars that are unusual. One; a large scar on the back of my hand that is sharp at the tip, and blunt at the bottom. The perfect shape of a knife blade. Two; a cigarette burn on my neck.

When I was fifteen I had to ride the bus to school. It was an hour long bus trip each way with a lot of kids, most of which really didn’t care about me. We lived far from town because land was cheaper out there, and there were no cops to but into anyone’s business. And many of the families took advantage of that. Not all of them, mind you, but there were a few.

Not long before summer we were on our way home. The day was hot, and all the windows were down letting in a constant blast of wind and noise. I was sitting with my hand on the seat in front of me, leaning forward to see something.

I did not notice the boy behind me lean over the back of my seat, I just felt my hand erupt into searing pain. I screamed, yanking my hand away, and saw him jerk a knife back over the seat.

On the back of my hand was a burn the exact same of a knife tip. The skin had been burned away. Third degree burns, and I still carry the scar. I suspect he was lighting the tip with a lighter. It didn’t really matter. My hand was already damaged.

Worse, I didn’t say a thing. The bus driver assumed it was just normal teenage shenanigans, and I didn’t want to get someone else in trouble so I didn’t say anything. It took me a long time to learn to stand up for myself.

My hand healed, but it’s a reminder to me. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Don’t sit back and just let people hurt you if you have a way of fighting back. One of the more painful lessons I’ve had.

And the other scar? I guess that’s a story for another time.

Getting Ready 

We have just a few weeks till we leave for LA and I have a lot to do. I’m not even competing, but I do want to dress up. I do want to have stickers, and other little things to give away. And I have to do everything I can to help Bjorn with his armor build. He hasn’t needed much help this year, the occasional extra hand to hold something in place, or another set of eyes to see if something is off. Mostly  I provide a lot of food, water, and cuddles at the end of the day. 

It’s been amazing to watch his build though. He’s done so much with it, learned so many new things, pushed through a lot of struggles.

And watching him I see “what excuse do  you have?” for my own creativity.

He sets a great example. Maybe he’s an over achiever just a little bit, but that’s what makes him awesome. Most people wouldn’t do what he’s set out to do. It’s a lot of work, a lot of sweat equity, and most people just don’t have the fortitude to do it. I think it’s amazing. 

So this weekend, and next weekend, I’ll be starting to get things together for the trip. Costumes, extra clothes, traveling stuff. Since we’re driving I’ll need to go clean my car, and get a wash for it….So much to do!

And at the end of the long drive we’ll have lots of friends to meet up with. Can’t wait!

Twitchcon is a go! 

It’s just about time for Twitchcon. If you’ve been following me on twitter you might have seen pictures of my boyfriend, Bjornsworkshop, and his giant suit of leather armor! It’s amazing. I love it! I can’t wait to see him on stage at the cosplay competition!

We are driving down in October, staying for a few days, and then driving back home to Seattle. It’s going to be a long, exhausting, wonderful trip. 

And the best part about it is that he was voted in. All you wonderful people, and the people in his stream, and family and friends, voted for him so he got the first spot in the armor category! So much love and support, it’s been amazing to watch.

We will, of course, be sending out some vids for the trip. We have to share our journey with everyone. Maybe I’ll start vlogging a bit more this evening. Of course his whole build is on twitch right now, too. 

What’s that?

The last couple of days I have been busy working away on a few things. Today has been the most important. I got the edits back for Dragon’s Flame, put up the pre-order, and started working on the revisions. It is up for pre-order for 99 cents right now, and will be released on the 29th.

The edits are going well, and there are only some minor reworking to do, but over all I’m pretty happy about this novel. Then back to working on Dragon’s Blood.

I’ve also been finishing Costume Shop, my first children’s story. It will be a chapter book, with an R.L. Stine feel to it. And it will be out in time for Halloween.

I’ve also been updating a lot of my covers. A few months ago I did a complete over-hall of my Illicit Gains series, I thought it was about time to redo the text on my Small Bites short stories series. The text just looked so boring next to all the other ones. With the new text I think I’m happier with the covers.

Smashing the Cookies 

There is only so much room in a cookie jar. Oh sure, you bought macadamia, chocolate chip, peanut butter, oreo, and about fifty other varieties… But there is only so many that you can actually fit inside that cookie jar. The rest will have to wait their turn. Or you end up smooshing all the cookies to crumbly messes as you shove more and more inside.

Just the same, there are only so many hours in the day, and so many things you can focus on at once. The more you cram in, the more you split your thoughts, the worse things become.

And different things will have different weight for each person. Work, children, money stress, people, etc…. We each deal with them differently so we have to weigh them for ourselves and figure out how many we can fit in our lives before we smash the cookies.

For me, people are draining. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, but the more people I talk to in a day the more I want to go home and shut off my brain for a while and not think. This is not good for my writing. I work in a call center, I talk to literally hundreds of people a day, helping with their tech issues, listening to their personal lives, and getting a small glimpse into each person’s world for half an hour at a time.

It’s draining.

So I have had to cut down on contract with people in every other aspect of my life. I don’t go out as much. I don’t listen to as many podcasts, or go to social media as much. I try to guard what energy I have left so that I can keep my creativity.

Balancing a life isn’t easy. But I’d rather not have smashed cookies.

5min – Smoke

There are a lot of forest fires going on in the USA right now. And a lot of flooding in the other half of the country. Water or fire and smoke, either way, it’s a miserable way to live right now.

I feel guilty complaining about my problem with the smoke, after all there are hundreds of fire fighters out there trying to get it under control, and waiting for the rain just like we are. Only they are in the middle of it.

But I also have friends that are equally effected by the smoke. One friend who has a little boy with asthma, and a pregnant wife struggling to just breath. And I’m right there with them.

I saw a thing on twitter a few weeks ago when we had the first round of fires saying “Why are you complaining about the smoke, there are people out there risking their lives,” and I have to say it’s a bit of a false equivalency. Yes, they are out there risking their lives, and I’m grateful that they are trying. I don’t think they’re going to be able to stop the fires, but maybe they can slow them down. Maybe they can put out a few of them until the rain comes. If the rain ever comes.

But there are people who really are effected by the smoke too. Children, elderly, pregnant women, and people who have to work out in this stuff day in and day out. People who have legitimate reasons to share their hope that the fires will pass. Their frustration with the smoke. And their struggle to just live a normal life.

Just because someone lost a whole home doesn’t mean the person who just lost their garage isn’t also hurting….We each have our struggles.

And that’s my five.

I did zero writing today. And I’m not going to make excuses. I actually set it up, got ready to maybe write, walked away to help Gregg with something,  then chose not to come back. 

Choices. We have a lot of them. Sometimes they are as simple as which jelly do you want,  grape or strawberry (the answer is Apple butter, of course) and sometimes they are life or death. Writing is somewhere in-between. 

What causes a person to sit down and write? What motivates them? I’d like to know. Sometimes I think I have it, then I’ll take a few days off and it’s gone. 

But right now I’m exhausted. It’s 5am and I’ve stayed up far too long. 

To be fair, I did get a few things done. I put more items up on redbubble, and ordered a dress. So that will be fun. 

Anyway, that’s my five. Good night. 

5min – Branching Out

With novels and short stories I’ve been writing a lot, but it isn’t all I do. I’ve been an artist just as long as I’ve been an author. I have a deviant art from way back when, and I’ve sold things on etsy and other places before.

Lately I’ve been drawing a bit more because it’s easier to doddle during work while I’m on a call than it is to write. You really can’t write anything while you’re talking to someone. But doodling? Easy. And I have TONS of these pictures sitting on my hard drive, cluttering up my house in sketch books and other areas. So I finally decided to do something with them.

I started a RedBubble account, and started listing some things. I’m even going to start ordering some of them so I can test the quality and see what they look like in person. So far I have a half dozen pictures up with various ways to buy them. Stickers, posters, cups, and even a few dresses with nice patterns. I am definitely ordering myself a dress once I get the right pattern.

I’ve also been doing more with leather, and a few other projects in between books, so I’ll probably be reviving my etsy store soon.

Here’s the thing, diversifying income streams is important. Most authors that are making it work aren’t just making money from their books, they are also talking at conventions, selling merch for their books, or writing courses to sell on one of the teaching websites. I’m not very good at teaching, I’m much more comfortable just writing, and doing things rather than showing people how I do them. But I can draw. I can make little things. I can create in other mediums, not just words. So I think that’s where I’ll be diversifying.

And that’s my five.