April Plummer

So Much More to Give

2012-02-27T08:39:00.000-05:00

I'm late to the game, but Friday I started reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. And I didn't stop. Thankfully, I already owned the next book, and I bought the third at Target yesterday.

It wasn't until I wasn't until I was about halfway through the book that I flipped to the beginning and read these words:

Stieg Larsson...died in 2004, shortly after delivering the manuscripts for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.

This news, obviously not new, broke my heart. There I was in my bed, reading an extraordinary book - a book that somehow gives appropriate details into a life I know nothing about without losing my interest, a book that seamlessly weaves together intrigue, thrills, and a little bit of love, a book so well written - and its author has been dead for years. Not only is he gone, but he never saw his masterpiece trilogy go to print. He never knew that the books have become films in multiple countries. He never knew of his success.

It may be 7 years too late, but I thought that Stieg Larsson deserves a post dedicated to his life and talent. I'm sure this isn't the only such post. But I feel obliged to recognize someone who contributed so much to the world of writing, the world of my passion.

All my information comes from Wikipedia.

Steig was born in 1954 and lived with his grandparents in a small wooden house out in the country. Apparently, he much preferred this over the more urban area to which his parents moved him when his grandfather died, even though he had to use cross-country skiis to get to and from school every day.

Early Writing

His first fiction writing efforts were actually in science fiction. He attended conventions and wrote around 30 "fanzine" issues. (Fanzines are amateur or semi-professional magazines published by members of science fiction fandom, from the 1930s to the present day). He was active in the Scandinavian SF Society, published a handful of short stories, was co-editor or editor of several fanzines, and in 1978, he was president of the largest Swedish science fiction fan club - Skandinavisk Forening for Science Fiction - for a year.

In June 2010 two of Steig's SciFi manuscripts as well as a few of his fanzines were noted in the Swedish National Library and caused considerable publicity as "unknown" works.

Political Activist and Journalist

Steig was very political and involved with the Communist Workers League while working as a photographer. He was editor of several political journals and wrote regularly for the weekly political journal.

In 1977, he trained a squad of female Eritrean People's Liberation Front guerrillas in Eritrea in the use of grenade launchers but was forced to move on due to a kidney disease. Once back in Sweden, he worked as a graphic designer at the largest Swedish news agency.

Stieg's political convictions and journalistic experiences led him to found the Swedish Expo Foundation, established to "counteract the growth of the extreme right and the white power-culture in schools and among young people." When he wasn't working, he was researching right-wing extremism in Sweden which led to his first book Extreme Right. He quickly became instrumental in documenting and exposing Swedish extreme right and racist organizations and lived for yeras under death threats from political enemies. The Sweden Democrats were a major subject of his research.

Novels

He wrote the Millennium series for fun and in his spare time. He never made an attempt to publish them until shortly before he died. About three quarters of a fourth novel were left on his computer. Apparently, he intended to write another 7 novels in the series. His partner, Eva Gabrielsson, wrote a book "There Are Things I Want You To Know" About Stieg Larsson and Me in which she claims she can finish the fourth book.

Apparently, he never married Eva because, under Swedish law, couples entering into marriage are required to make their addresses (at the time) publicly available; marrying would have been a security risk. Owing to his reporting on extremist groups and the death threats he had received, the couple had sought and been granted masking of their addresses, personal data and identity numbers from public records, to make it harder for others to trace them; this kind of "identity cover" was integral to his work as a journalist and would have been difficult to bypass if the two had married or become registered partners.

His Death

How did he die? At the young age of 50 from a heart attack after climbing 7 flights of stairs to his office. The lift wasn't working.

Eva received nothing of his estate. It all went to his father and brother, and of course, there was a dispute, well covered in Swedish press.

Influences

One of his strongest influences was Pippi Longstocking, a Swedish children's book by Astrid Lindgren. Which explains his reference to the book in the Millenium series. It was actually one of my favorite books and movies as a child!

When Stieg was 15 years old, he witnessed the gang rape of a girl. He never forgave himself for failing to help, and this incident obviously inspired the themes of sexual violence against women in his books. He fought his entire life against the violence and abuse of women, and Eva describes him as a feminist.

According to Eva, the Millennium trilogy allowed Stieg to express a worldview he was never able to elucidate as a journalist. She described, with a great deal of specificity, how the fundamental narratives of his three books were essentially fictionalized portraits of the Sweden few people knew, a place where latent white supremacy found expression in all aspects of contemporary life, and antiextremists lived in persistent fear of attack. “Everything of this nature described in the Millennium trilogy has happened at one time or another to a Swedish citizen, journalist, politician, public prosecutor, unionist or policeman,” she writes. “Nothing was made up.”

Stieg planned another 7 novels. What a loss to our world his early death was. I know I'm not the only one who would have loved to read anything else authored by this man. Not only did the world lose an incredible man with a passion to make a change in this world, but the literary world lost a genius, a genius who had so much more to give.

Refreshing Your Roots

2012-02-26T09:12:00.001-05:00

The first time I dyed my hair, I was a sophomore in high school. I haven't seen my natural color since. I don't want to know when I get my first grey hair, and the only reason I'm pretty sure I don't have any yet is because my husband recently searched my dark roots and came back empty.

Though I've experimented with all different shades of color, I think I've settled upon the one that works - a sort of golden blonde base with blonde highlights. I love it!

Anyone who regularly dyes his or her hair every 6-8 weeks will understand what I'm going to say.

For the first week after a root refresh, you feel like a Goddess (or a God if you're a man). Your hair looks great which just makes you feel great. Having it all fresh and colorful somehow makes your hair more manageable, gives it more body...having the fresh color somehow makes your hair better all over. Every day is a good hair day. Which means you wake up with a better chance of having a good overall day.

The second and third weeks turn into a sort of normal feeling. You get used to the slightly different reflection of yourself, and the goodness isn't as exciting. But it's all good.

By the end of the fourth week, however, your hair is starting to look flat again. Or oily. Drab. The roots are starting to appear a bit too dark, and that gives you a 50/50 chance of a bad hair day.

Boosauce.

By the end of that sixth week, you can't wait to have your roots refreshed again. And if you waited to schedule your appointment for 8 weeks, well, those last two weeks are almost guaranteed to depress you when you look in the mirror and try to make magic out of the mess on top of your head.

Then you get your hair done again, and the cycle starts all over. I just got my hair done yesterday, so I'm feeling great!

Got me thinking, though. In terms of writing, how do we refresh our roots when our writing starts to get flat? Because it does. Either you get tired from a marathon weekend of edits or you get discouraged after reading an amazing book by an incredible author whose talents you fear you can never reach. Maybe life is overwhelming between the bills and daily chores and activities, the children and husband demanding your attention and the 9-5 job you wish you didn't have to work.

Whatever the reason, the fact remains - at one time or another, we lose the zest for writing, just as we lose that morning boost from our reflection once our roots begin to show.

So, what do you do when this happens? How do you refresh your writing roots?

I simply have to take a break from it all. Shift my focus. Concentrate on my family and forget about the characters in my head. This isn't hard to do because there's always so much happening. Right now, for instance - my husband's birthday (and mine) is right around the corner. Kylie's isn't far behind, not to mention all the nieces and nephews. Spring's coming which means weekends fishing at the creek. Horseback riding, a women's retreat with my stepmom and her church, both of my sisters are pregnant, my brother graduates from college in May...I could go on and on.

It's actually very easy to lose myself in life for awhile so that when I finally sit back down and let the voices in my head take over my fingertips, the writing comes out better than it has in awhile. Better than it's ever been, in fact. Yes, each time I refresh my roots, my writing improves.

Tell me, what's your secret to great hair...er...writing?

In A Single Moment, Words Change Everything

2012-02-24T08:57:00.001-05:00

I grew up in a very loving home. Both my parents said "I love you" all the time, and they encouraged us to be our best. They didn't shy from showing their pride in a job well-done, and they made us feel good about ourselves - without crossing that line and making us little Princes and Princesses because they knew to discipline us as well. Hugs and kisses were given randomly throughout the day - and in fact, my dad and I still hug and kiss hello and goodbye, no matter how often we see each other. Never once did I doubt their love for me.

My husband's home was far different. His parents never said "I love you," and they didn't hand out hugs and kisses. Never did either parent say "I'm proud of you." This isn't to say his parents don't love him and his siblings. They do, very much, and it shows in their actions. But words and physical displays of affection are beyond their scope.

This being the case, it was difficult for my husband to learn to say "I love you" to his daughter. He said it felt weird and strange, at first. And even though he says it, he generally only says it at bedtime or when he drops her off at school in the morning.

It's still strange for him to hear it from me, and he says it still feels strange to say it to me. Yet he does. The words have so much more meaning, I think, coming from someone who never learned how to say them.

Kylie is like a cat - she cuddles only when she wants to (which isn't often). Though I started telling her "I love you" early on in our relationship, it took a few months for her to return those words.

But when she did, I knew she meant it. Hearing those words in her sweet voice filled my heart to overflowing and melted it down through my body. I was so filled with happiness, it was hard to breathe. I was giddy on those three words for a week! Never had those three words meant more to me. I think that's the moment I became a real mother.

Yesterday morning, before I left for work, I gave Mike a kiss and told him I love him and moved onto Kylie. Normally not a hugger, she reached her little arms up to me, wrapped them around my neck and said those magic words of love. I left for work with a melted heart and shaky knees.

Just a moment in my life I wanted to share.

What moments from this week will bring you into this weekend with a smile?

Because Sometimes, You Have To Know

2012-02-23T08:27:00.001-05:00

Food is important in our household. I'm not sure if it's because we both grew up on cheap food (think fish sticks, cheese sandwiches, frozen vegetables and roman noodles) or simply because my husband and I both love to eat. Whatever the reason, we don't scrimp and save when it comes to nutrition. (Sadly, my mother wasn't as creative as the mother who made the fish sticks and star-carrots in the picture below).

This means different things for each of us. For Mike, it means an occasional nice rack of ribs, whole turkeys and chickens for our rotisserie, stuffing and mashed potatoes to go with those turkeys and chickens, and lots of fish. Granted, I love the fish and the chickens and turkeys, but for me, not scrimping means I spend a ton of money on every fresh fruits and veggies, Boca Burgers, my $6 jars of Better 'n Peanut Butter, egg whites, chicken and turkey sausage, sweet potatoes and healthy snacks. (Sadly, our food never comes out looking as pretty as whatever that is below. But I promise you, it tastes even better because my husband is an incredible cook!)

One of my favorite vegetables is asparagus.

Unfortunately, I am the only one in my family that really enjoys it. Or maybe that's a good thing - more for me! I usually saute it with a bit of garlic salt and oregano or maybe a little soy sauce. I also like to bake it with lemon pepper.

The only thing I do NOT like about asparagus is the...shall we say...peculiar odor of my urine after eating it. If you eat asparagus, you must know what I'm talking about. It's pretty nasty. I read once that asparagus is a great vegetable to eat to prevent hang-overs because it helps flush out your system, so I've chalked the odor up to that.

Until today.

I had to Google it. Yes, if you must know, this fresh wave of curiosity was prompted by eating some asparagus last night with dinner.

What I found was this fantastic, hilarious article by Hannah Holmes, a regular contributor to the Discover Channel Online. If you have the time, I suggest you read the entire article, because it's funny, yet informative.

The simple answer is this:

In 1891 a scientist named "Nencki" had so very little to do that he convinced four guys to eat seven kilograms of asparagus (that's about three and a half pounds each). He collected the pertinent pee, worked some medieval magic on it, and concluded that the smell was due to a metabolite called methanethiol.

What is this methanethiol metabolite made of that produces such a smell? Mostly sulfur, with a splash of hydrogen and carbon, a brew famous for its effect in rotten eggs, cabbages and paper mills.

Ah...that totally makes sense now.

I admit I really wanted a more interesting answer than that. I wanted to find out that asparagus is a magic vegetable so powerful, it cleans all your organs and makes them shiny and new like a baby's. Or maybe, if you saved your urine after eating asparagus, you could sprinkle it around you in a circle, close your eyes, spin three times, and make all your dreams come true.

But alas, that is not to be.

What crazy-ass things have you just had to Google? Please do share what you've learned because, what's better on a Thursday morning than a good dose of useless information?

Lyrical Wednesdays

2012-02-22T06:52:00.000-05:00

Music has always been important to me, or rather, lyrics - words put to music. I've always been an emotionally driven person, but I was especially so as a teenager. I spent hours in my room, belting away to anything that touched my heart, believing the lyrics were meant for me. My crush sang"When a Man Loves a Woman" to me (yes, I kinda liked Michael Bolton. What of it?). I serenaded my crush with "I Will Always Love You." I thought I knew what I was saying when I sang with the Beatles and the Doors, Smashing Pumpkins and Kurt Cobain - of whom I had a poster on the ceiling above my bed - I fell asleep with his soulful blue eyes watching over me...oooh...found it:

I think, had the term been around when I was between the ages of 12 and 18, I may have qualified as an Emo. That is the right word, right? I grew mellow in the lyrics and lived them in my heart and soul. I thought I was deep and meaningful, and I thought that certain artists just got me.

The truth is, I still love music and lyrics. I still take them to heart, but not quite in the same way. The world isn't out to get me. My heart isn't full of unrequited love. It's more the opposite. I like fun songs and laughter, songs that make me smile and think of my family or friends or memories from the past. I like songs that inspire and songs that make me think. Songs that make me step back and look at my life and realize how grateful I am for all that I have.

When I met Mike, he showed me a memory album he started the day Kylie was born. Thick, vanilla parchment papers bound in a beautiful, hand-sewn leather book. He hasn't put much in there, and honestly, I'm not sure he'll finish. But on the first pages, he printed as neatly as he could, the lyrics to "Forever Young."

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

He said he's always loved that song, and whenever he hears it or thinks of the words, he thinks of his daughter and wishes those words for her. This confession from a very unemotional man just about broke my heart in half. He told me he'd never told anyone else about the memory album, and he was even a little embarrassed by it. Mike comes from a family that doesn't show much emotion, so for him, this was beyond huge.

Since then, the song has meant so much to me. It makes me think of Kylie and my wishes for her as well as Mike's. It makes me feel my husband's heart and how full and wonderful it is with love for Kylie, and now for me. It breaks my heart to think of the love he has for his daughter, and it breaks it again to think how difficult it was for him to share it with me - yet he did. That's a powerful thing, and that somehow reassembles the pieces of my heart into something stronger and more beautiful than it ever was before. That he shared this with me demonstrates the power of his love for me and knocks me to my knees.

So I leave you with this song today. This is my favorite version, though there are many. I stumbled across it watching Sons of Anarchy on Netflix.

What words have touched your heart, torn it apart and put the pieces back together to make it stronger, yet softer, than its ever been?

Is This Old Dog (Meaning Me) TOO Old to Learn?

2012-02-21T09:28:00.000-05:00

Walking to the car when I pick her up from school, Kylie walks so slowly. More often than not, it drives me nuts. "Come on, girl!" I tell her. "We've got things to do, people to see!" I bite my lip as I practically drag her, all the time thinking of all the things to do when we get home. They sort of run through my head in one, long, run-on sentence. Like this:

I have to swing by the grocery store for more lettuce. The dishes are piled in the sink, there are three loads of laundry I need to fold, I need a workout for health and stress, Kylie has homework and a quiz to study for, I need to make sure Kylie does her chores, I have no idea what to do for dinner, the house is a mess, I need to read to Kylie during her bath because I didn't yesterday, I'd love some time to catch-up with my husband, I can't believe all I have at work that I didn't finish today, and maybe, just maybe, I'll have time at the end of it all to sit with my laptop or my book and get some writing or reading done. Maybe, but probably not.

Meanwhile, Kylie's exclaiming over everything.

"Oh my goodness, I just saw a squirrel run up that tree! Look!" She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, heedless of the other students and parents around her, and points at a tree. She will not move again until I look at the tree also and acknowledge the squirrel.

Or, she'll shuffle through the grass, head down, in search of a 4-leaf clover or a flower that stands out above the rest.

If there's snow on the ground, she'll stop to pick up chunks of ice. Then she stands still as she crushes it in her bare palm and exclaims, "Look at this ice! And it doesn't even make me cold."

This, is our life. Kylie moves through life in slow motion, not because her brain is slow but because it's busy cataloguing everything. Every joy in life, every beauty. From the taste of her food (that she takes 2 hours to eat) to an ant on the sidewalk.

She's like my husband. He's the exact same way. He'll stop the car and turn around if he sees a turtle in the road. He walks slowly and keeps his eyes out for nature's wonders, everything from a bug to a deer. He does eat very quickly, however. His meal is gone in several bites, even though his plate is piled three times as high as anyone else's.

My point is, Kylie and my husband both take their time. They don't rush through life. Mike doesn't rush us out the door if we're visiting someone. He doesn't anxiously look at the clock while getting ready to go out. He focuses on the now. Everything else can wait. There's nothing THAT important that needs to be rushed. As he always says, "I've got a wife I love, I've got a great kid, I've got work, and we can pay our bills. Why stress over anything else?"

Kylie and Mike take the time to enjoy the smaller details, the ones that get lost amidst the bustle, hustle and distraction of life.

I am their polar opposite.

I rush everything. I'm constantly worried about what needs to be done and what I'd like to do. I'm constantly keeping tabs on my schedule, rearranging things if necessary, but keeping it all in my head. I walk with a mission, and it is only my daughter's innocent shouts of joy that once in awhile bring me out of my modern world and into the world God created.

Sometimes, I wonder if it's too late for me to learn to slow down.

Is it because I have a Type A personality?

What do you guys think? And which is it for you - do you move through life focused and content in the moment, or do you always look ahead? Or maybe, you're somewhere in the middle. Any advice for someone who needs to slow down? I'm learning from my family, but I think I have a long way to go.

When It's Your Own Damn Fault

2012-02-17T09:25:00.000-05:00

Don't you hate it when you feel miserable...and it's your own damn fault?

I wish I could blame someone. Anyone. I'm really in the mood to hate on someone. But I can't because I've got no one to blame but myself.

The wine went down too easily as I turned the pages of an awesome book. I kept drinking, and I kept reading, and before I knew it, my husband was waking me up. For the second time. Somehow, I have no memory of yelling at him the first time he woke me up.

I have a slight headache, but my tummy's okay. The worst part is the exhaustion and the stuffy nose. I mean, why a stuffy nose? Why does too much wine do that to you? I guess it's better than a rebellious stomach.

Everyone at work is annoying the hell out of me.

I mean, I can only take so much. A recent conversation went like this:

Co-worker: Are you okay?
Me: Yup. Just drank a bit too much last night.
Oh, yeah. Your eyes (and she demonstrates by running her finger under her own eye) are all red and puffy.
Thank you.
(In a "joking" manner): We're all friends! We should be able to tell each other these kinds of things!
Me: I'd rather not hear that I look like shit when I feel like shit, thank you.

Okay, that's probably not true. But I'm certainly not drinking TONIGHT.

This afternoon, after I pick up my daughter and get her home, as long as my husband's there, I'm going straight to bed. I will not pass go. I will not collect dinner or attempt a workout. I will go straight to bed.

This last picture is just because I found it by accident and think it's beautiful and wish I could use it as cover art and that it was mine.

I'm really not in a horrible mood. Seriously. I'm just so tired, I don't give a shit. But even though you can't see me, I promise I'm laughing as I write this post.

So, what consequences have you suffered lately because it's your own damn fault?

Here's to the weekend!

Reading Through the Clouds; Symbolism in Writing

2012-02-16T08:46:00.000-05:00

This morning, while browsing the Yahoo headlines, I saw this article:

A Boeing 787 jet took corporate loyalty to new heights when it "drew" the letters "787" followed by the company's logo across several thousand miles of North American skies. The etching of the letters and logo, while not visible from the ground, can be seen in the flight path plans.

*snip*

"This wasn't a joy ride," wrote Boeing's vice president of marketing Randy Tinseth on the company's blog. "It was an 18 hour Maximum ETOPS (Extended Operations) Duration flight test for a 787-8 with GE engines. Our team coordinated with the many air traffic control centers, choosing the routing to avoid restricted airspace. In the end, the flight covered over 9,000 nautical miles." The path stretched between Iowa and Washington State.

My first thought, before I read the article, was wow! What a smart pilot...but how was he able to just fly all over the place like that? Then, I read the article and realized it was all coordinated. That's a good thing, even if it does take a bit of the magic out of it.

My second thought was, We're reading the pilot's message through the clouds. Do I leave messages for my readers between the lines?

Short answer: I think I do, but I don't think about it. If that makes sense. I can think of a few things in my second and third books that I consciously wrote into the story for the purpose of creating depth and symbolism, but...it's not something I plan. Make sense?

I just finished reading the latest in the House of Night series, Destined. I love this YA paranormal series. Part of the reason I love it so much is because PC and Kristen Cast weave together religious symbolism, real teenage characters, and fantasy very well. Their message of the power of love, human free will, and the choices we make come across clearly to the reader. These are the same messages one might hear sitting in the congregation of a church on Sunday morning. In fact, there are remarkable similarities between Nyx, the Vampyre Goddess, and God. Enough that it makes me wonder whether the mother/daughter team practice Christianity. However, they don't preach. Their messages are clear, but they don't teach you with words, exactly.

It's all there between the clouds.

I'm not sure I do this. I'm not even sure I think about a deeper message, and I'm not sure that's a good thing.

There's a great blog, The Bookshelf Muse. This blog takes everything in the world you can think of from hurricanes to a solar eclipse, mist in the night, rainbows, grass, and character traits, and gives examples of how a writer might use these things in his/her stories. It's overwhelming to read these blogs, yet very helpful if you want to concentrate more on symbolism.

What do you guys think? Do you guys consider symbolism and how to use certain aspects of your story to tell the reader more than just what's on the surface? Or do you, like me, allow it to sort of develop on its own?

Girls with Curls, Sisters with Twisters: UNITE!

2012-02-15T07:06:00.000-05:00

I am the only child out of 5 with curly hair. My mother's hair is straight as a book spine, so needless to say, she had no idea what to do with my hair. Out of desperation each morning, she brushed my hair.

If you have curly hair, you're probably familiar with what happens if you try to take a brush to a head-full of blow-dried hair.

To avoid as much humiliation as possible, I ended up pulling my hair back into a ponytail every single day until I turned about 13 and read my first issue of Cosmopolitan. My first fashion magazine led to another and another, and every woman out there knows that every issue has lists of beauty solutions for every fashion ailment.

I tried gobs of cheap hair gel, which made my hair more like this:

and less like this:

Which is, of course, what I really wanted.

I tried potions and lotions of all sorts. Olive oil to make it soft, lemon juice to make it blonder, hair creams and lotions and serums, gels and mouses. I tried blow-drying and air-drying and towel-drying. I even spent a good 6 months getting up every single morning and taking a curling iron to my hair. I ended up with beautiful, perfect curls that I had to spray with enough hairspray to light a football stadium on fire. I told everyone they were my natural curls. What a joke. No wonder I was unpopular!

After years of experimenting, I'd like to think that, for the most part, I've figured it out. Summer's humidity still makes it difficult, and by the end of June, I'm ready to shave it all off and start new. But...I've learned to blow-dry with a diffuser, and until recently, I was still in search of the perfect hair product.

Meet Redken Aerate 08.

This stuff rocks! I've never seen anything like it before. It's very light mouse. You can see the air pockets in it. It looks shimmery, but it's not. You only need a little bit, and it doesn't make your hair crunchy or leave white flakes in it. My hair ends up soft, full, and naturally curly.

What do you think?

Any girls with curls out there? Any sisters with twisters? If so, what products to you use? How do you dry your hair? Have you figured out the mystery of crazy curls?

If your hair isn't curly, feel free to share as well. I'm a girl, and I like this kind of stuff. If you're a guy who cares more than my husband does about his hair...do tell! My husband doesn't do a thing with his hair and gets it trimmed every six months or so. No joke.

Maybe I should start a Hipster Hump Day where we explore the fashion world...not that I know a damn thing about fashion...

A Valentine Surprise

2012-02-14T09:03:00.000-05:00

I am a hopeless romatnic.

My husband is not romantic.

I can count exactly one time he did anything romantic. We'd been dating about a month. Maybe two. But we already knew marriage was around the corner and had exchanged "I love yous." I went on a week-long business trip, and the day of my return, Mike told me he had a surprise for me. He'd given me a house key before I left, and he told me to just go straight to the house and let myself in, even if he wasn't there.

Add caption

He wasn't there, but on the kitchen table was a card, and a dozen long-stemmed roses surrounded by loose petals, bottles of red wine, and an assortment of chocolates.

Yes, cue the, "Awwwwwws...."

Now, however, his idea of romance is making sure I get the appropriate card on the appropriate holiday. You'd think this is an easy task, but last year, I didn't get my birthday card until about a month after the actual day.

I don't mind, really. Mike puts me first and foremost every second of the day and shows his love through his words and actions. I don't need romance. I'm not saying I wouldn't mind it once in awhile, but I love my husband. Part of loving him is accepting him for who he is and not trying to change him. So I don't.

We don't do flowers on V-day. They're way too overpriced, and Mike surprises me randomly with flowers throughout the year. He doesn't buy me chocolate now because he knows I won't eat it. We don't go out because everyone tries to go out on V-day. Last year, we went out for a nice dinner prior to V-day, but tonight, we're actually going to my dad's for our bi-weekly dinner.

But cards, we do. And this morning, when I opened the card from my husband, I regretted the predictably silly Hoops and Yo-yo card I gave him.

I wanted to scan it and post the pictures here, but I can't figure out how to convert the PDF to a JPEG. So I made it myself really quickly in Paintshop or whatever, so it's poor quality.

But I think you can read it and see how lucky I am. My husband pleasantly surprised me, and I love him for it. Among many, many other things.

I hope that you and yours have a wonderful Valentine's Day, but I also hope that it's not the only day of the year you express your love for those in your life. Love should be shared every day, show in our actions and echoed in our words.

May love fill your life to overflowing!

Once Upon a Pen and Paper - Origins Blogfest

2012-02-13T07:38:00.000-05:00

DL Hammons (link), Alex (link), Katie (link), and Mr. Q3E (link) are hosting today's "Origins" blogfest.

I don't know how they come up with all these ideas, but they always seem to bring the blogging and writing communities together in creativity.

Today, we share how we started writing and/or blogging.

I have to admit I don't remember when I started writing, exactly. I feel as though I just always have. I've always loved a fresh, clean sheet of lined paper. As long as there is a sheet of paper in my hands, I'm happy. If you have an unused notebook, beware. I may claim it as my own. I have a collection of them stacked on a shelf in my closet. Some have story ideas filling the first few pages, some have character sketches or setting details, and some have sporadic journal or diary entries. All of them have something; but most pages are blank.

My motto should be: Have paper, will write.

In elementary school, I wrote what I considered to be very long stories. I'd write them out on blank sheets of paper and staple them together to form my own book. I wonder if my mother still has any of them because I don't. I wish I did, though. I see my daughter doing the same thing with blank sheets of paper, and I can't help but smile. Those, I keep.

I used to tell anyone who would listen that I was going to grow up and publish my own books. I remember specifically telling my grandparents for some reason. My mother's father and stepmother. I was probably about 10 years old.

My stories gradually got longer. I went through a ghost phase long before the paranormal became so popular. I was obsessed with ghosts, attics, and old diaries. Unfortunately, I don't have any of those stories either. None of them had an ending. I always quit somewhere between the fifth and tenth chapters. I'm not sure if my idea just fizzled out or if it was just an awful story altogether, but I probably had 100 false starts before I graduated high school.

But, being a writer, I couldn't stop. Which is a good thing because I've finally been able to write an entire story. Several of them, actually.

My first women's fiction novel, Coming Home is now available for Kindle on Amazon here! Check it out!

Left Brained by Day; Write Brained - All the Time: I'm Back . . . With ARCs!

2012-02-08T08:49:00.000-05:00

Holy Cow! Check out this incredible ARC giveaway! I'm positively drooling!!!

Thanks, Alison!

Left Brained by Day; Write Brained - All the Time: I'm Back . . . With ARCs!: Miss me? Wait. Don't answer that. So, thanks for being patient with me while I took a month off for revising (er...rewriting). I'm ...

Guest Blogger: Liv Rancourt - The King of Staves

2012-02-08T07:28:00.001-05:00

I love hosting fellow authors on my blog, and today, I have a very special guest indeed. I met Liv in our Blogging for Brand class with Kristen Lamb, and we've very quickly become friends.

Liv Rancourt is a writer of speculative fiction and romance. She lives in Seattle with her husband, two teenagers, two cats and one wayward puppy. Writing stories that have happy endings is a good way to balance her work in the neonatal intensive care unit, and she can be found on-line at her website (www.livrancourt.com), her blog (www.liv-rancourt.blogspot.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/liv.rancourt), or on Twitter (www.twitter.com/LivRancourt).

Liv, I leave it to you! Take it away, my dear!

Thanks, April, for the chance to appear on your blog. It’s such a pretty place!

The Goddess Tarot by Kris Waldherr

(http://www.artandwords.com/decks/gt/index.html)

My current WIP is moving pretty slow. Partly that’s because I keep getting caught up in writing short stories - whenever I see an interesting call for submissions, I just can’t resist. Short stories are fun to write because you have to keep a tight focus, with no wasted words. They’re also, well, short, which means I get a sense of completion after only a couple week’s work.

The other reason my WIP is moving slowly is that I’m learning as I go. Early on I knew that my main character kept a deck of Tarot cards at hand, and she’d interpret what was going on around her by using the cards. The thing is, when I started the piece I didn’t know anything about the Tarot. I’m learning about it, more or less letting the cards tell me where I need to go next.

As an example, before writing this post, I went to my Goddess Tarot deck. It’s an app on my smart phone, and before you all start laughing, know that it can be uncannily accurate. Take today, for instance. Before I wrote a word, I asked the question, “Will the subject of Tarot work for a blog post?” With the One-Card Oracle, you ask a question, turn one card over (or, in my case, tap the cell phone screen so that the card turns over) and then think about how the card you turned relates to the question you asked.

So does it work? Well, the card I turned was the King of Staves, and the brief description of that card states the following, “The King of Staves suggests that you or someone you know has the ability to inspire growth. He represents supportive friendships, dynamic encouragement, and passionate enthusiasm that strengthens wavering confidence.” (From The Goddess Tarot, a set designed by Kris Waldherr). If that doesn’t describe what we’re doing here with our WANA112 team, I don’t know what does.

I’m seriously considering using the app to help me write my WIP. I’m starting out with a basic roadmap, but I want to let the character turn cards, and then use those cards to influence the short-term action. It’s that random element that could be really cool…or else I could end up with a weirdly plotted mess. I’ll just have to see how it goes. In the meantime, I’m familiarizing myself with the cards and with the basic principles of reading Tarot, so that when I’m ready to really buckle down and write the piece it’ll be an organic part of the process.

In case you’re curious, you can check out some images that are inspiring this WIP on my Pinterest storyboard (http://pinterest.com/livrancourt/storyboard/). You might think that all of this research might be interfering with my writing time, and okay, that’s a valid point. Calling PintKerest “research” is a pretty liberal use of the term – but it’s so cool. And it is all feeding me on some level. Any day now I’m going to start writing.

Peace,

Liv

If Liv words inspire you the way they've inspired me, please check out her blog. I promise you won't regret it!

What about you guys? Ever let short stories side track your progress? I've never thought of using Tarot cards as inspiration, but the way Liv wants to use them sounds like so much fun. I already want to read her book, and she's still writing it! Have any of you used any...unconventional props for inspiration for your stories? Do those props ever keep you from actually, well, writing?

PS - I'm guest blogging over at USA Today bestselling author Julie Kenner's blog!!! Check it out!

PPS - Julie's an awesome writer and blogger. I know you'll love it!

If My First Novel Was This Good...

2012-02-07T07:28:00.002-05:00

...I'd be in love with myself. I'd be head-over-heels, in love with the pen in my hand and the way the words splashed across the page in front of me.

I just read Laurie Frankel's first novel, and I am now in love with her.

I don't often do book reviews on my blog. I try to do some sort of review for every book I read on Goodreads and Amazon, and I wish I had time to do them all justice.

Before this book, I found two new favorites: This Glittering World by T. Greenwood and The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman. Though very, very different, both books were so beautiful that I had to download the e-version just so I could have them with me always. That sounds silly, I know. But it's true. I'm sure that, sooner rather than later, I'll be rereading them. There are several other favorites of mine I'll probably download as well. I am a lover of beautiful things, and when authors find a way to touch my heart with the beauty of their words and the way they put those words together, I must have it with me.

The Atlas of Love is another one of those books, only this one surpasses the other two by far. Again, it's a very different story. But Laurie Frankel is the most gifted writer I've encountered in a long time. Often hilarious, always beautiful, very real and raw...I've fallen in love with Janey, the heroine.

From Amazon:

First-novelist Frankel mashes together a number of themes familiar to readers of women’s fiction—though not quite in the way they’re combined here—sprinkling the whole with liberal doses of low-key humor. Canadian Janey, Mormon Katie, and vegetarian Jill all become good friends while attending graduate school in Seattle. Although they share a love of literature—they’re English-lit students—they are quite different in their approaches to life and love. Then Jill becomes pregnant by her much younger boyfriend, who decides he cannot handle the burdens of parenthood. Both Janey and Katie immediately volunteer to move in with her and help her raise her child. Janey, especially, falls in love with the baby they name Atlas, and they begin the herculean task of juggling their schedules between teaching, studying, and child care. A medical emergency involving Atlas, though, soon tests their idealistic arrangement in unforeseen ways. Frankel proves insightful on the topic of friendship, incorporates a foodie’s love of cooking, and overly idealizes a few of the characters; but this is a feel-good novel, after all, and ultimately a celebration of modern family life and the myriad forms it can take.

Aside from the beauty of the story - the themes being love and family, two things for which I'm a huge sucker - Frankel's humor and literary genius shine through and stole me away from the first page. I have never, NEVER, laughed out loud quite so often as I have with this book, and part of the reason is because the characters are so damn real. Everything they do and say, the way they act and think, could be any one of us at some point in our lives.

Take this conversation, in the hospital right after Atlas is born: (page 89)

"I have a grandson," said Diane, as if this clearly followed, starting to look a little freaked out herself. "What are we going to do with a boy?"

"That's exactly what I said." I nodded.

"Don't know nothin' about boys," mused Diane.

"Oh, they're just the same," said Katie, who had four brothers as well as three sisters and so should have been a good source of information on this point, but Diane and I were skeptical.

"What if he's one of those unenlightened ones who can't think of anything but breasts?" Diane wondered.

"What if he takes full advantage of the hegemony," I said, "and screws us."

"What if he thinks he's better just because he has a penis?" added Diane.

"What if he just thinks with his penis?" I countered.

"How do you even clean a penis?" wondered Diane to the amusement of everyone in the crowded hallway. "What if you all raise the girliest boy there ever was?" said Diane, and we were quiet, thinking about that one, wondering what sort of boy we'd raise and how he'd get along in the world having grown up with three crazy academic moms.

I was cracking up out loud, but I could imagine having this conversation if I hadn't had little brothers of my own - couldn't you?

The other thing I loved, well, one of the other things I loved, was Frankel's touch of literary. Since Janey and her friends are all English majors and in grad school, Janey often compares life to different forms of literature. As a writer, I naturally appreciate the depth of her metaphors. I have to share at least one of them with you.

During Week Two of the summer classes, Janey's makeshift family is experiencing a lot of drama. She's also teaching her students short stories.

From page 191-192:

Short stories scare students because with poems they know there's more than they're getting at first, and they're game for finding it. It's like a scavenger hunt. With short stories, there may be more or there may not. And if there is, you have to find it like a reflection in one of those fun house mirrors - it's there but in pieces and odd angles, and reconstructing it involves as much seeing as looking, as much imagination as observation.

Talking about layers of meanings, digging them out, thinking about how stories can mean one thing and also their opposite, thinking about how details can mean everything or not much at all, it was hard to talk about these things in class all morning and think they applied only to short stories and not to my life. Once you start doing literary analysis, you see it everywhere. You can't turn it off.

A few more gems I can't help but share:

Page 295:

Things don't exist on their own. They don't exist at all without being owned. And in being owned, they have a story. Some are remarkable of course....but other things, endlessly everyday and mundane, have stories worth telling in them too.

Page 154:

I had to remember about open, blind, knowing, unreserved, unambiguous, unconditional love - naked love - before any of it could make sense again.

And one more laugh from page 112:

Jill and I share a distrust of history and people who study it. It wasn't like dating a Republican, but it was still good to be alert.

Okay. That's enough. You're just going to have to buy the book yourself. It helps you to understand your own life in relation to the stories we tell - whether fiction or non. It gives you hope for love and peace, strength and the beauty of family.

Parts will bring you tears, parts will force outbursts of random laughter, and many parts will entice you to pick up a pen and write something yourself. Your own story. Your own love. Your own life. And I don't mean your life as in a memoir, but I mean your life as reflected through characters living in your own heart.

I hope that makes sense to you too. Otherwise, I'm insane and should stop listening to the voices in my head.

I cannot wait for the release of her next novel Goodbye for Now.

I am angry that I have to wait until August!

Damn, even new loves can let you down.

I Don't Know. I'll Google It.

2012-02-06T08:10:00.002-05:00

Kylie has always been a very inquisitive child, but lately, her curiosity has reached a whole new level. She's asking questions about everything.

A sample from this weekend:

While watching Top 20 TV Blunders - "What's blunders?"
When told not to fidget - "What's fidget?"
While watching the Superbowl - "What's the pre game? What's the halftime show? What's a performance? Why do they have numbers on their shirts? So, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…like that? What's a quarterback? What's the defense? What if we went to a game? Why are they called the Patriots? Why are they called the Giants? They aren't bigger than anybody else."
When I took her to get her hair cut - "What's layered?"
When Toby our cat yawned and stretched his claws out to her - "Why does Toby stretch like that?"
When asked by her Granny if she'd cantered yet during her horse riding lessons - "What's canter?"
At dinner when Mike mentioned he used to have a lot of fish in a big fish tank - "How big was the fish tank? How much water did it hold? What kind of fish did you have? (When Mike mentioned one fish was aggressive) What's aggressive? What does that kind of fish look like?"

At first, I wanted to throttle her. I mean, come on! Let me breathe without asking me why!

But then I realized what an awesome thing this is! Kylie asking all these questions means she's listening. She's paying attention, and she wants to learn.

As we get older, I think our curiosity wanes a little bit. How often have you come across a word you don't know when reading a book or news article? Did you fetch a dictionary to look up its meaning? I'm guessing you didn't. I'm guessing that, unless you were reading on an eReader and could just touch the word to see the definition, you used your awesome powers of elimination help you decide what the word meant. And if you still didn't know, you shrugged and moved on.

How often do you hold in questions during a business meeting because you're afraid of how you may look if you asked?

How often to you learn something you don't understand? Do you just wrinkle your eyebrows, consider possible answers for a second, and move on? Or do you dig deeper until you're satisfied with the answer?

I think the internet has helped make answers much easier to find. "I'll Google it" is such a common sentence that five-year old children use it and know what it means...and actually follow through. Wikipedia and Google have made our job as writers so much easier because really, writers are researchers. I've Googled everything from types of poison to child custody in Maryland to what type of grass typical grows in Montana. I Google more than my readers will ever know.

Curiosity is so important. It's how we stay informed as the world spins around us. It's how we grow and progress as a species - technologically, medically, psychologically.

It's how writers come up with ideas for their next story. We wonder why people do what they do. What makes someone some way? Why do they think like that? What would happen if he saw that a bus was about to hit a child? Would he risk his life to safe the child? Would he freeze? Would he only shout for the child to move? Why would he choose that option, and how would he feel once it was all over? What if the child's mom comes out, and they fall in love despite whatever happened to the child?

I'm curious - What's the strangest thing you've Googled? Have you learned a new word lately? What question drove your latest story idea? Your latest blog post? Do you ask questions when you don't know something?

Better yet - are you able to retain that information?

I think that's probably the hardest part, especially as we get older, and our lives get more hectic. I know I have to write it down if I want to remember. Even if I just write it once, for some reason, the fact or thought or whatever stays in my head. It at least lingers for awhile.

How do you retain the information you learn?

For the Love of Grapes - I Surrender!

2012-02-03T08:40:00.000-05:00

Ahhh, grapes, how I love thee. On the vine, in a bowl, by the handful, or crushed into the wine in my glass. I especially love you in that glass.

My love for you does not denote the fact that you nearly killed me yesterday. Yes, you did. I swear. Okay, maybe I should have washed all of you off in cold water before eating you. And okay...maybe, just maybe I shouldn't have eaten two pounds of you. That might be a little too much. But I think your main problem is that you really dislike being digested with a shower first.

See, my husband is very diligent about washing fruits and vegetables. I'm not sure why, but I've never caught onto the habit.

I think I've learned my lesson.

Yesterday, I filled a Tupperware container full of sweet, red seedless grapes. It was one of those Gladware containers that lunch meat comes in? The kind that you save and then, when you have a stack of fifty falling over in your cabinet finally decide enough's enough and through them all out and start collecting them all over again?

Anyway, I ate every single grape in the container as my morning snack yesterday. Every single, unwashed grape. Even though my husband had warned me. "Those grapes are from Chile, April. Think about all the hands they've passed through and all blood, sweat and tears shed under the hot Chilean sun so that you could eat those grapes. Do you really want to eat those without washing all that off first?"

Why should I let those words of wisdom change my eating habits? I've been just fine for the past 30 years, thank you very much.

Well, let me tell you what happens when you don't wash off your grapes.

Your stomach revolts.

Not necessarily the way you'd think. I didn't have to spend a lot of time in the bathroom. However, it felt like there were a million balls bouncing around inside my stomach. And, let's just say a lot of air was released every time I went to the bathroom. It's good that we have 4 of them in our house.

So this morning, finally feeling, well, almost normal, after a rough night, I wondered:

What writing lessons have I learned the hard way?

For me, there are many things about writing I only learned from doing them the wrong way first. I remember my very first full-length novel, the one no one will ever read. The one I cringe just thinking about. At the time I finished it, however, I thought it was amazing. I thought it was well-written, and I loved the characters and their stories and I really, truly thought I'd land an agent.

Then, I posted a section of it in the Share Your Work forum on Absolute Write.

Oh, my goodness.

Through my tears, I raised that white flag high.

The critiques were kind-hearted, but I was devastated. Here's a list off the top of my head of all the things wrong with that manuscript:

I head-hopped several times throughout a scene.
I used dialogue tags with every piece of dialogue.
I used way too many adverbs and adjectives.
I didn't use any contractions (I'm not quite sure why)
I told the reader everything rather than showed.
Info dumps galore.

So basically, every single thing a writer should NOT do or at least do only sparingly, I did consistently throughout the manuscript.

The book Plot and Structure by James Scott Bell was suggested to me. I bought it, devoured it, learned a ton and wondered why the hell I had never read a book on writing and thought my AP Lit class my senior year of high school was enough to make me a good writer.

Then, I rewrote that first book and still thought it was way better than it ever really will be. I mean, the whole thing sucks, and I'm never looking at it again. But at the time, I was so excited, I made cover art and printed it on Lulu.com. Sold a few copies to family members and kept a few for myself. I still have them. Somewhere. Collecting dust.

But I'm thinking of burning them before Kylie comes across them one day because honestly, that book is so awful, it's embarrassing. It's beyond embarrassing. It's mortifying to imagine her reading it. I've grown and learned so much as a writer - and as a woman - since.

What about you guys? Did you learn how to be a writer the hard way? What about other life lessons? I'm curious to know - what have you learned through silly mistakes that could have been avoided?

My First Author Interview!!! - Insecure Writer's Support Group

2012-02-02T11:40:00.001-05:00

Okay, I'm not trying to spam you guys. I promise. But this is pretty exciting. And I know...it's not exactly an insecure thought on this insecure, first Wednesday of the month. But...still. I had to share.

Of course, I'm sure not everyone will be as excited as I am. Some people will not be as thrilled by the interview as I am. Some will not enjoy the blurb of my book. Some will not care at all.

And that sucks a lot.

But, here goes.

Marianne Hansen is a fantastic, hilarious writer. We met in Kristen Lamb's Blogging for Brand class, and she has taken it upon herself to interview me on her blog!

Even if you don't care about the interview, please do check out her blog. Just make sure you don't have anything in your mouth as you read unless you want your computer screen covered in coffee (or milk or peanut butter).

http://comedyoferrers.com/about/

Squee!!!!!!!!

Could we do more living without the weight of wireless??

2012-02-01T08:02:00.001-05:00

Not only did Jake Reilly go 90 days without Twitter, Facebook, or blogging (assuming he ever had a blog), he also went those 90 days without texting or using his cell phone. The kid actually went to a hospital to use a pay phone when he needed to make a call...until his mom decided to put a landline in at home.

Read the story here.

It's a great idea, and it sounds like he learned a lot. Some of the people he thought were his closest friends turned out to be not so good friends after all when he broke off that wireless connection. I guess if your friend can only be your friend through email or texting, he or she isn't such a good friend. That makes sense. I'm pretty confident that my best friends and I would remain so without the invention of the cell phone.

I love what Jake says in the little Youtube clip and encourage you to watch it. Unfortunately, I can't find the video to embed, but it's on that link. Even if you don't read the entire interview, watch the clip. It gives you something to think about.

Could we do more living without the weight of wireless?

I'm sure we could. But as a soon-to-be self-publisher, would I want to? Would the opportunity of self-publishing even be available to me? Not really. At least, not with the way it is today. I'd have to have money for print publishing, and that isn't cheap. Not without the print-on-demand and e-publishing options readily accessible now...for free.

It's tempting, I'll admit. I watched the video and saw Jake Reilly doing all these things he supposedly didn't have time for before he gave it all up - biking through fields, hiking mountains, putting together thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles with his friends - and I asked myself, am I so preoccupied with my next Tweet that I'm missing out on life?

My response?

No.

The world of social networking has opened up, well, a whole new world for me. I've made some invaluable friendships. In fact, I met my best friend online, and she lived right around the corner from me! Right down the street! Yet, I never would have met her without the internet.

And come on! My husband I met on eHarmony! I give that website credit every chance I get because it brought us together. Within a week of our first date, we'd already fallen into a pattern because we just fit together. I lived 20 miles from Mike, I'm 7 years younger, and I know for a fact if it weren't for eHarmony, we never would have met.

And I'm publishing because of Amazon and Smashwords.

I see the value in Jake's experiment. I do. But I think social networking and media has brought me closer to a world I wouldn't otherwise see. Does that make sense? That includes news headlines. And I like reading blogs. They show me different opinions and open my mind to a different way of looking at something. I learn so much from other people's thoughts and ideas. About myself and the world around me.

This doesn't mean I can't take Jake's message and apply it to my life.

What is that lesson?

Live your life. Get out there and experience it! For me, this might mean taking a horse riding trail ride with my daughter. Or giving up comfort for a day on my husband's boat where I'll sit with a fishing pole (and a book) in my hand, hoping for a catch. Or dropping everything to comfort my best friend with a shoulder to cry on and a bottle of wine. Mostly, for me, this means putting away my books and my laptop, my iPad and my cell phone, and enjoying the time with my family. Whether we're hosting my father and stepmom for dinner as we are tonight, staying with Mike's Aunts down by the Chesapeake, hanging out together in our living room playing a board game or taking a hike through the woods in search of bugs and insects for Kylie to try to keep alive in a jar.

I really think that Jake wouldn't have done those things had he NEVER had the use of his cell phone. I think it's because of the experiement that he gave himself the opportunity to get out and experience life. In other words, in my opinion, had the opportunity always been there, I'm not convinced he'd have taken it. In a way, I think social networking, for me at least, had made me appreciate the moments I'm not wired more than I would have if I just wasn't ever wired at all. We can't appreciate the good if we didn't understand the bad, right? Same thing.

It's obvious that as authors, we have a much better chance of success with the current popularity of the internet and social media and networks.

But what about the rest of our lives? What do you guys think? Could you, would you, live a deeper, more meaningful life without the weight of wireless?

What's the Deal With Christian Fiction?

2012-01-31T07:47:00.000-05:00

Today's guest is the talented Christian Fiction author Diana Lesire Brandmeyer. She writes historical and contemporary romances.

She’s also written We’re Not Blended-We’re Pureed, A Survivor’s Guide to Blended Families, a book I'm thinking I may need to buy and read myself! Once widowed and now remarried she writes with humor and experience on the difficulty of joining two families.

Her first historical A Bride’s Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee releases May 2012.

Check out her blog: 26 letters into words, and her website: DianaBrandmeyer.com.

I hope you find her post as enlightening as I have. Enjoy!

What is Christian Fiction, Anyway?

Christian Fiction stars heroes and heroines who are experiencing a time in their lives when their faith isn't strong. They must overcome obstacles like the characters in books published by the ABA (American Bookseller Association). In the CBA (The Association for Christian Retail) the faith--not the religion--is part of the character's journey.

Christians do write for both CBA and ABA and some make a choice to write for only the CBA. That's what I've chosen. It feels right for me and where my voice comes out the strongest. I cannot and do not wish to separate myself from my faith. Some can write amazing stories that I love, like Dean Koontz. Is he a Christian? I don't know and don't care, but his books are good vs. evil and good always wins.

Just like the ABA publishing houses, the CBA also has requirements about what they will publish. Some houses like Barbour request the characters not engage in dancing, gambling, or drinking and have a personal commitment to Jesus.

Other houses, like Revell are a bit more lenient guidelines. A few of my favorite authors that write edgier Christian fiction are Julie Lessman and Lynette Eason.

Wondering what edgier means? Those authors are able to tackle the problems that are present in our culture. People make mistakes, big ones and yet they are able to recover because of their faith.

Do I read anything besides Christian fiction? Yes, but I find I read more Christian fiction because it's my market. There just aren't enough hours in my week to read to many others. Some that I read are Dean Koontz, as I mentioned before, as well as James Paterson, and Johnathan Keller.

I choose to write in this genre because the characters that pop into my mind are Christians, probably because my own faith has a very strong presence in my life. I'm not sure I could write a full blown character that wasn't a Christian.

Are you thinking that Christian fiction is nothing but a big Sunday morning sermon? Not even close. Christian fiction writers take on solving murder, fighting demons, dealing with rape, and sometimes written for light entertainment. That's where I fit in my writing journey.

For now please look for Diana Lesire Brandmeyer’s book Hearts on the Road snuggled in the middle of Wyoming Weddings.

Diana, I thank you for your insight into the world of Christian Fiction. It's been a pleasure, and I look forward to your next release!

Step-Parents are Parents Too

2012-01-30T08:56:00.000-05:00

I love this movie. It never fails to make me cry, even the first time I saw it when I totally related with the stubborn little girl who hated her new stepmom. I used to hate mine. Now, as a stepmom myself, I relate to this movie in a totally different way.

I know some of you are step-parents. It wouldn't surprise me if most of you have step-parents of your own. I don't know what the statistics are, but it wouldn't surprise me to find that most families you see are, in fact, mixed. My parents are divorced.

When my parents remarried, I admit I resented my step-parents at first. But I was 13 when Dad remarried and 15 when Mom remarried - an angry, confused teen who thought somehow she knew it all.

I was lucky when I married my second husband. Kylie had just turned 5. The perfect age. Too young to resent me yet old enough to understand, to some extent, who I was. I didn't meet her until Mike and I were positive we would married (a whole two weeks after we met), but as soon as I did, I can honestly say we both fell in love. That evening, in fact, while watching Kylie and me together, Mike shook his head, smiled, and said, "You just fit."

My luck extends even further in that Mike and I not only discuss everything in regards to Kylie, but in that he trusts me. If I need to discipline her, he expects that I will and trusts whatever method I choose of doing so. If she asks me for permission to do something, Mike knows I'm going to say the same thing he would. He fully expects, and has from the beginning, Kylie to obey me the same way he expects her to obey him. And she does (or not :) )

The first time Kylie said "I love you," my heart melted straight down through my toes. I'd been saying it already for some time, but she didn't grow up in the same kind of home I did. I heard "I love you" all the time, even randomly throughout the day. And I reflect that love now with my own family. Mike grew up in a family that didn't say it at all or show any outward signs of affection, so it's been difficult for him to change. But he knew when Kylie was born he didn't want her to grow up like that. Still, he mostly says it only at bedtime or when he drops her off at school in the mornings.

My point is that when Kylie said it, I knew she meant it. My heart still melts every time I hear those words come from her lips. I love that girl as though she were my own. I truly do.

I know some bio-mothers have a hard time believing this is possible. And I know some don't believe that a stepmother is any kind of mother at all. I know some believe we should have no say whatsoever in the raising of the child or children.

This makes me appreciate my husband even more. Many husbands wouldn't want their second wives to have a say in decisions, at least big ones, relating to the children. But Mike and I discuss everything, and he'd never agree to anything that I completely disagree with or anything that might harm us as a family. Because we're a family. A real, live, living, breathing family. This doesn't mean the final decisions don't come down to Mike and his ex-wife. They do. Ultimately, what they decide together goes. But Mike understands that everything they decide does, in fact, affect me as well, and he knows without doubt that the basis for my thoughts on these decisions is Kylie, first and foremost. Her safety, her happiness and security, her good. Not necessarily mine.

I'm on the PTA, and I'm co-chair of the PTA Directory. We list, under each child's name, all the points-of contact that are provided to us by the parents. Many families, as I mentioned before, are mixed. Many step-parents are listed. Myself included.

This year, a parent complained that some of the people listed under the childrens' names were not parents at all. She wanted a statement saying individuals listed in the directories were not necessarily the parents. So, that's what we're going to do next year. My name, and probably hundreds of others, will have an asterisk next to it with a disclaimer underneath. My husband joked it should be the other way around - "whole" families should have the disclaimer stating that they are the original parents and haven't yet divorced. He said the school would save money on ink that way because there are probably less families like that than mixed.

This isn't the first time Mike and I have encountered something along these lines. There have been several times when my authenticity is questioned. And I'm sure there will be more.

Fortunately, those that matter to me will state emphatically that I am, indeed, a parent.

I try not to allow let it upset me, but it does. I'm offended, frankly, that the school has to make such a silly statement. Kylie's a lucky girl because she has three parents. I'm not just some little ditz her daddy married. Kylie's lucky that I do love her so deeply because many step-parents don't accept their new responsibilities. Many shrug them off and don't care because they aren't their kids. Or they treat them differently with different, stricter rules and guidelines and punishments. Or they're plain mean.

When we first got married, Kylie asked if she could call me Mommy too. Mike and I had already discussed it and agreed that she could call me whatever she feels comfortable calling me. We wouldn't force her to call me anything. It eventually wore off, and she just calls me April, and that's fine too.

I know I'm not her mother. I have never and will never try to take her mother's place either in life or in her heart.

But I am a parent. The fact that I didn't carry Kylie in my womb for 9 months does not alter that fact.

I am a parent, and I'm a damn good one.

Are you a step-parent? Or are you one of the bio-parents whose child or children have a step-parent? I'd like to hear your thoughts on this as well. I understand how hard it must be to see your children loving another adult. I understand there may be some fear that perhaps your position in your child's life will shift. But I hope that most of you understand how wonderful it is and how blessed you are that your child has a step-parent who loves them so deeply.

Content Warning!!!! You May Spit Out Your Coffee

2012-01-28T09:39:00.000-05:00

First, a warning. This post isn't exactly clean. I know a few of you may not appreciate this post, but I haven't stopped laughing and had to share. It's not awful. You don't have to click on a "I'm at least 18" button to get into the website, but still. I just want the warning out there first.

Still want a good laugh?

Better put down that mug of hot coffee. No? Okay! Don't say I didn't warn you!

My bestie mentioned on FB a website called DamnYouAutoCorrect.com There, they have screen shots of texts where the smartphone has decided for the texter what he or she really wanted to say. The results are hilarious.

Judge for yourself.

Okay, I could keep this all day, but I won't. Check out the site for yourself, if you want more laughs! Otherwise, enjoy your Saturday!

If This Doesn't Scare You Off, Nothing Will!

2012-01-27T09:39:00.001-05:00

This is not the first time I've been awarded the Versatile Blogger Award, however, that does not take away my excitment this time! It means a lot to me. Dictionary.com describes versatile as the following:

1. capable of or adapted for turning easily from one to another of various tasks, fields of endeavor, etc.: a versatile writer.

2. having or capable of many uses: a versatile tool.

Wow, they even say "versatile writer." Those are some heavy definitions, and it's an honor that my friend/fellow blogger and author Laird Sapir thinks they suit me. Check out her blog (click on her name)! She's pretty cool, and she's been a great encouragement to me these past couple weeks!

Now, of course, there are rules. I must list 7 completely random facts about myself. So here goes!

1. I am cold unless it's at least 80 degrees. This is no exaggeration. We keep our heat at 72, and I wear warm PJs and a heavy robe around the house. If I don't have the robe, I must have a blanket. It sucks because it prevents me from doing things outside in cooler weather, unless I'm willing to be miserable.

2. I really hate when someone interrupts me when I'm eating. I like to enjoy my food, and when someone needs something at work, or if I've just settled down at home alone with a good book and my food and someone needs something, it really aggravates me. (I just had to go to a meeting with my oatmeal. Not happy.) I like to enjoy my food while doing something or talking to people or whatever that I enjoy. Call me psycho.

Go ahead.

I dare you.

3. I'm weird about cheese. I don't really like it unless it's Parmesan, Romano, or mozzarella, and I prefer that it's melted. I think this stems from my mother putting too many plain American cheese sandwiches in my lunch.

4. I think some of you know, but I don't eat carbs. None, other than those found naturally in veggies and fruits, oatmeal and nuts. So, no bread, rice, pasta, or dessert. And even crazier? I don't miss it.

5. In 7th grade, my BFF and I exchanged stories written in code about the boys we loved. One boy's code name was "Chicken Butt." You don't want to know why. Our stories got pretty...um...steamy, and I cringe to think of my daughter ever being as boy-crazy and... sex-curious...as I was at that age.

6. I am really lazy a lot of the time. Laziness is why I don't bother with make-up, I only blow-dry/style my hair a couple times a week, and I don't bother clipping my toenails until they grow so long, they start to curl and cut into the underside of my toes. That was a problem when I danced en pointe. As far as the hair thing goes, I'm lucky with curls. I can sleep on them for a couple nights without looking like a disaster the next day.

7. A couple years ago, my husband and I got snowed in for 5 days. We spent that time watching back-to-back episodes of The Sopranos and drinking. I want another 5 days like that!

Phew! I know. After reading that, you are seriously reconsidering your decision to follow me. I forgive you. I'd be doing the same thing. :)

Okay, now to nominate 15 more recipiants of the Versatile Blogger Award!

1. Prudence MacLeod - Valkryie Rising, Prudence MacLeod
2. DL Hammons - Curising Altitude
3. Katie Mills - Creepy Query Girl
4. Jenn Greenleaf - Wearer of Many Hats
5. Susan Oloier - Memoires of a Writer
6. LM Preston - LM Preston
7. Hilary Melton-Butcher
8. MC Howe - Pensive Sarcasam
9. Ellen Goodlett - Word Thief
10. Donna K. Weaver - Weaving a Tale or Two
11. Stephen L. Duncan - Ink Rock
12. Kjerstin Gruys - Mirror, Mirror...OFF the Wall
13. Liv Rancourt - Liv Rancourt
14. Laurel's Leaves - Laurel Garver
15. One Significant Moment at a Time - Nicole Ducleroir

Phew! That's a lot of great bloggers! Check them out!

Now for you nominees of the award:

1. Nominate 15 fellow bloggers for The Versatile Blogger Award
2. Add an image of the Versatile Blogger Award
3. In the same post, thank the blogger who nominated you in a post with a link back to their blog
4. In the same post, share 7 completely random pieces of information about yourself
5. In the same post, include this set of rules
6. Inform each nominated blogger of their nomination by posting a comment on each of their blogs

It's a lot to do, I know, and I don't really expect all of you to do it. But please know that I read and love your blogs and highly recommend them to all!

Happy Friday, folks!

Lost the remote? There's an app for that.

2012-01-26T08:36:00.001-05:00

Clicker. Remote. Channel-changer. Flipper. Everyone has different names for it, it seems, but last night, I realized how helpless one can be without it.

Husband and daughter were in bed, and I had the downstairs all to myself. Ahhh.... I wanted to read, but I wanted to also watch last week's Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice so that I was ready for tonight's episodes. Yes, I can do both at the same time. I don't fast forward through the commercials. Instead, I use that time to read. My eyes also flicker to my book if the show goes into a loll - you know, once you get the point of what's happening, sometimes everything else is just extra. I'd rather read than listen to some random song play while they show shots of everyone being happy or everyone being sad or everyone being angry during the last five minutes of the episode.

We have three remote controls (and I know we're not alone in our multitude of electronic pointing devices) - 1 for the DVD/BluRay player, 1 for the TV, and 1 for the surround sound (and also to flip between different modes). I could not find the one for the TV.

It wasn't between the couch cushions, though I did find a sweatshirt, a fortune cookie wrapper, a couple pennies, and an empty Girl Scout cookie box Kylie had taped closed again in order to pretend that it was still full. All I found under the couches and coffee and end tables were dust mites, Tostitoes crumbs and my husband's dirty socks. And the only thing stacked by the entertainment center rather than in the entertainment center were DVDs without cases.

In this modern day, you cannot even turn on the TV without the remote control. We can't eject a DVD without the proper remote - there's no button on the player.

I could not watch my shows.

I knew Kylie had it last, and I tried to think like a 4'6" 7-year old. After ten minutes, I finally found it.

On the kitchen table.

But I stood there for a minute in the middle of the room. Have we become so lazy that manufacturers and designers of remote controls decided we shouldn't have to get up to turn on the television? To hit the eject button on the DVD player? Which, let's face it, is easiest anyway. We have to get up to put the DVD in the player, right?

Or is that what's next? A way to virtually read every DVD you own so it's all loaded into the player?

Well, I found a solution. And another reason I'm getting an iPhone once my BB contract runs out.

Meet, the iPhone TV Remote App:

What do you think? Is this something you'd use? I'm sure it's not really something I'll ever use, but it's insane all the apps that are out there. I wonder how many of them actually work?

Technology is so cool in so many ways. I'm in awe of the internet, the friends I've made, the opportunities that have arisen, and the knowledge I've gained through the power of web.

But, come on folks. At least let us turn on the TV all by ourselves! We can do it! I promise! And I bet, if you try really hard, you can too!

"This Is Gonna Hurt Me More Than It Hurts You"

2012-01-25T06:57:00.000-05:00

How many times did we hear this as a kid? At least a few, I'm sure. Even as a parent now, I'm not sure why parents say that to their kids. I've never said it to Kylie, at least not with a straight face.

Last night, however, I discovered it can be true.

Kylie and I have a bath time ritual - while she bathes and washes her hair, I read a chapter or two from one of the two or three books we're reading together. She loves it because she loves books and stories and hates to be upstairs alone, and I love it because it usually sets the stage for some interesting conversation after I close the book. I love the time together, and I love that she wants me there because I know that, all too soon, she won't want to have anything to do with any of us boring, old, cheesy parents.

As we leave the bathroom every night, I point to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and ask Kylie where they go. She answers "In the basket," sweeps them up, and, still dripping wet, goes to her bedroom to get dressed and throw her clothes in the hamper.

If, for some reason, I'm unable to read to her during her bath, I always find those dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. Even though I remind her nearly every night.

She's almost 8. She's old enough to make the connection that this is something she must do and do it it all on her own.

Is this a huge deal in the long run? Nope. Could she still grow up to own her own home and leave clothes and empty water bottles and dirty dishes all over the place, just like her father? Yup. But is it something she needs to learn? Yes. We are struggling right now to teach Kylie responsibility because, as seen from this example, she's not.

I came up with a plan: Kylie must go a week with no reminders. During this week, I will not read to her during bath time. She gets her bath, and she puts her clothes in the hamper without anyone reminding her. If she can make it a week, then next week, I will start reading to her again.

But I still won't remind her. And the first time she forgets, it starts all over again. She'll go another week without me reading to her.

Last night was a success. There were no clothes on the floor when I checked after her bath. I hope this works.

But I hate it. I look forward to our bath time ritual. I crave those precious moments alone together, knowing how few we'll really get in a lifetime. And it makes my heart ache not to have them.

I think this hurts me more than it hurts her.

What about you other parents out there? Ever have to discipline your kids in such a way that you end up aching so your child can learn a lesson?

A Squirmy 7-year old in Weekend Mode

2012-01-24T08:02:00.000-05:00

First off, I wanted to try a new design. I think it's lovely, but tell me honestly what you think. Is the font too dark to read? Is the whole thing just too damn dark? Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think. I can't afford to repel people from my site!

And now to that 7-year old.

Sunday night, we're all in the family room. My husband's watching the game. Kylie's running around in circles, doing cartwheels over the sofa cushions on the floor, and chasing the cat while I sit calmly and read.

My totally unorganized husband says to me, "Oh, yeah, Kylie's mother sent a study guide for some test she has this week and says she needs to study."

Great.

I get the study guide off the printer (where it's been sitting all weekend) and hand it to Kylie. The subject is "weather." This includes temperature, freezing points, condensation and evaporation, and four different types of precipitation (hail, water, snow, sleet.) It also includes a couple silly-sounding things, at least to me. ("What is a meteorologist?" Okay. Good. "Why is his job so important? Because he helps us plan for outdoor activities." Hmmm...if we planned according to our local weather guy, we would have been able to go outside Saturday to play in the half an inch of snow. Instead, the weather never warmed, the rain never came, and all that remained was a thick sheet of ice.)

Anyway, I tell Kylie to study and then bring it back to me, so I can quiz her. This is stuff she should already know because they've been talking about it in class for the past two weeks.

Two minutes later she says she's ready.

"What is the weather?"

"What goes on in the air around us." Close enough.

"What is temperature?"

Silence.

Kylie squirms around, perched on the arm of the couch. She looks up and down and at Daddy and over at the TV. The corners of her mouth turn up slightly in a "I know that you know that I didn't study at all and can't concentrate because it's still the weekend and I really don't care about weather" way.

"Kylie?"

"I forgot."

"Kylie, you know what the temperature is. You knew about it before your teacher taught you about it in school. What do you ask every morning before you get ready for school?"

"Do I have to go to school today?"

*sigh*

It went on for an hour like this. An hour.

"What's a thermometer?"

"Ummm...." *scratches head. Jumps off the couch and does some little booty shake before crawling in beside me so close I have to move the study guide so she can't read it.* "I don't remember."

Finally, after about 60 minutes, somehow for some reason, her concentration kicked in, and Kylie nailed every answer. After she nailed it all twice, we called it a night.

Her test is today. Keep your fingers crossed that she's more focused in school than she is at home!

Rebel Writer's Pledge 2012

2012-01-23T09:30:00.000-05:00

I am an awful blogger. I completely forgot about the Rebel Writer's Pledge over at SA Larsen's blog! I usually mark my calendar when I participate in a blog fest, but I guess my brain was somewhere else this time around.

So here's the idea. All of us list our 2012 writing goals and highlight one general goal. Then, our lovely hostess is going to compile all the highlighted goals, and we'll all keep these badges on our blogs to remind us of our goals and hopefully help bring about success!

This year is going to be a big year for me!

Publish COMING HOME
Finish editing and publish JUSTIFIED
edit TO CAPTURE PEACE for release early 2013
complete my next rough draft
read more non-fiction to learn more about...everything
delve into life's experiences because we can't write about life if we don't live it
remember that, above all, family comes first

Check out the other participants! I know they'll all give you inspiration, whether you're a writer or not!

Samantha Verant
Kris Yankee
Carolyn V
Heather McCorkle
Shannon O'Donnell
Susan Oloier
Sharon Mayhew
Leigh Moore
Melissa Sugar
Sophia Chang
DL Hammons
Rebekah
Kelly Hashway
Margay
Stephen Tremp
PK Hrezo
Yelena Casale

The eReader Has Changed My Life...And I Like It!

2012-01-23T08:33:00.000-05:00

Amazon released the first Kindle in 2007. This was not the first eReader, but it was the one that brought eReading into the spotlight, at least, in my memory. (A timeline can be found here if you're interested on Wikipedia.)

Knowing how much I love to read, everyone in my life asked me if I wanted one - for Christmas, for my birthday - at least once every year. Kindle gained popularity, Barnes and Noble introduced the Nook, people I knew raged about the ease and convenience, and still, my answer was the same.

Give me books I can hold in my hand! I want my bookshelves crowded! (And they are.) I want to hear the spine crack as I open the cover and smell the must rising from the yellowed pages of old books. I want the weight of the book in my hand and lap as I read, and I want to own the stories. There's something about seeing my bookshelves (over)crowded, seeing the spines all lined up with the titles and authors' names and different colors...I can't explain it. But I can say with confidence I get high off it. I really do.

You might say I'm possessive about my books as well. I hate lending them out and only do so to people I trust will treat them with respect and give them back. Which is not most people.

Then...and I know I've said this before...my husband decided to spoil me and bought me an iPad (first generation, but so what?) for Christmas. My girlfriend mentioned I could download the Kindle app. I did.

And now I have more than 200 eBooks.

Here's the latest 15 (all free) out of 206:

Journey Into Darkness: A Kim Journey Thriller	Harris, S.J.	January 22, 2012
Weep No More	Jastrzebski, Mike	January 22, 2012
Messed Up	Owens, Molly	January 22, 2012
Hindsight	Scott, Giles	January 22, 2012
The Testimony of Two Witnesses	Quinn, Jack	January 22, 2012
Hatred, Ridicule and Contempt	Cooper, David	January 22, 2012
The Falcon and His Desert Rose	Lasher, George R.	January 22, 2012
Thirst for Flame	Crumrine, Vernon	January 22, 2012
Savant	Stone, JS	January 22, 2012
Bad Karma	Zeltserman, Dave	January 22, 2012
The Halo Effect (The Butterfield Institute)	Rose, MJ	January 21, 2012
Aftermath (romantic suspense)	Ervin, Sharon	January 21, 2012
Nowhere to Hide	Hovey, Joan Hall	January 21, 2012
A Question of Closure	Miller, Jule A.	January 21, 2012
The Delilah Complex (The Butterfield Institute)	Rose, MJ

This in no way prevents me from buying books the old-fashioned way. In fact, just yesterday, I traded in two bags of books for two more at the used book store. (I keep only books I love. Which, admittedly, is most of the books I buy. But, there are still many I exchange for more.)

There's no denying that the eReader has changed my life.

I read more. I'm not sure why this is, actually. I mean, I have at least 100 paper/hardbacks in my TBR pile, and I've never been without a book in my hand. But for some reason, I read even more with the eReader. Maybe it's because I prop my iPad up on my elliptical during my daily cardio and read. Maybe it's because it's easier to read on the iPad, so I read faster. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that this bookworm, who has always been constantly reading, reads even more.

I spend more. Okay, this may not be a good thing. Sure, I buy a ton of free eBooks. But I also buy a lot with real money. This doesn't stop me from walking down the book aisle at Target or Giant. And on top of that, if I buy an eBook I really love, I have to buy the hard copy of it also. So I can have it on my bookshelves. I don't know why. But it's true.

I absorb more. I think this started because of the Kindle's ability to highlight. In my AP Lit class, I highlighted and made notations all through every book we read. In college since we owned the school books, I highlighted and made notes in all the margins and every other white space. I loved having that ability. Somewhere along the way, however, I stopped. I think I became too lazy to get up and get a pen or highlighter. Just like I was too lazy to get up and grab the dictionary to look up a word I didn't know. But the Kindle makes it so easy to learn new words and highlight and make notes that I started doing it constantly.

That led to me underlining and making notes in the paperbacks I'm reading also.

And doing this allows me to absorb the words at a great depth. I reread them as I highlight or underline. I reread them after I jot down my thoughts. I sit there and think about what I just read, how it affects me and on what levels it affects me. The words seem to reach the depths of my heart and soul so that it's not just my mind that experiences the story. I can't explain it because I've always devoured books and loved how words touch me deep inside, but for some reason, now, they go even deeper. And once there, they live with me for longer. I can't forget. They're emblazoned on my heart and soul and mind, and that's a pretty heady thing.

I can more easily support my fellow authors. Many books come out first - and many times only - electronically. Especially now when so many people are self-publishing.

I discover authors I may never have given a chanceeBooks have me buying books from completely unknown authors or first time novelists or even authors who've been around forever but aren't that popular and have now decided to release novels they wrote years ago.

I may read more, but I'm more likely to STOP reading also. Because many of the eBooks are free or cheap, I give authors a smaller window of opportunity to make me love them. Maybe that's not fair, but it's true. With real books, I had a hard time stopping, even if I didn't like the writing or the story. I did, but only after reading quite a bit of the book first, hoping with each turn of the page that the next chapter would snag my interest. Now, if I don't like it after the first chapter or two, sometimes after the first paragraph or two, I delete it from my iPad. I don't feel guilty about it either.

So tell me. If you have an eReader, how has it changed you?

Are You Ashamed of Your First Childhood Music Love?

2012-01-20T07:23:00.001-05:00

Before my parents divorced, my father was a pretty strict father...sometimes. Okay, honestly, he was the one who came home and rescued me from my mean, awful mother who would say those meaningless words, "Wait until your father gets home!"

But aside from that, my father had some strict rules.

He was strict with the "please" and the "thank you" and the "yes, sir, no sir."
Don't you dare answer a question with "yeah." "Yes is the correct form of the word."
No singing at the dinner table.
No elbows on the table.
Sit properly at the table.

I think these rules really only lasted a very short span of time, and I think they were a hold-over from his own childhood and his own father's rules. In fact, they seem so funny to me now because he's been, for some time, quite the opposite. He's the most mellow, laid-back man I know. I suppose the divorce, more time spent with us kids, my stepmother (whom I love) and time proved that austerity unnecessary.

But there was one thing in particular my father made me do that really sticks out in my mind. Aside from the 100-word sentences he'd force me to write when I disobeyed. (Seriously, he'd make me write 100 100-word run-on sentences!)

When I was probably about 10, I fell in love with New Kids on the Block. Looking at that picture now makes me cringe, but what girl of the 90's didn't crush on them? Naturally, I wanted to buy every tape (yes, tape) they released. But I was raised in a fairly strict Christian household. We upheld Christian morals and beliefs, attended church and hosted prayer meetings. And so, my father thought it would be a good idea, before allowing me to actually keep the tape, to write down what each song meant. He said he wanted me to understand what I was listening to, and I think he also wanted to make sure I wasn't listening to complete trash. (I was).

Let's take a look at the first album I bought Hangin' Tough.

1. You Got It (The Right Stuff) - I was ten, remember. These boys were singing about a girl having the right stuff. She was hot! But of course, I was young, and I had to make my father think these boys were singing about her beautiful insides, right?

2. Please Don't Go Girl - I think Joey was like, thirteen when he sang this song. His voice hadn't even changed yet. What did he know about begging a girl to stay? And stay where? In her parents' house next door?

3. I'll be Loving You (Forever) - Okay, this one wasn't so bad. There's something sweet about a bunch of teenage boys telling a girl they'll all love her forever. Wait...I just realized why boy bands are so weird...

4. Cover Girl - Just the title's pretty superficial. She's perfect, better than the models in the magazines, she's so freakin' hot...blah, blah, blah

5. Hangin' Tough - Okay, I don't get this one. The boys are saying they won't cut no one no slack, so you better look out and hang tough. 4 very white boys are threatening me?

6. I Remember When - Again, not so bad. Even at 17, you can look back at a particular moment with nostalgia and sadness. And at that age, you feel like that's all you'll ever know.

7. What'cha Gonna Do (About it) - What is it with all these song titles in parenthesis?

8. My Favorite Girl - I think this was another song by Joey. Come on, kid. How do you know enough girls to call one your favorite?

9. Hold On - Honestly, even after looking up the lyrics, I'm not sure what it is they're asking the girl to hold on to.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow, I managed to convince my dad to let me keep the tape, and I loved every note in every song. Actually, I fell in love with Joey.

I had to do the same thing when I fell in love with Rick Astley, but we'll save that for another time.

What about you guys? What was your first music love? Come on, don't be shy. I just shared mine with you, and what could possibly be more embarrassing than admitting I owned a NKOTB sleeping bag, all the dolls, t-shirts, posters, and giant-ass buttons I proudly displayed on the shelves in my room?

Happy Friday!!!

Gender Biases: LEGOS For Girls

2012-01-19T09:10:00.000-05:00

My husband has me hooked on NPR, and yesterday in the car, I heard a segment about LEGOS Friends - LEGOS crafted specifically for girls. According to the Huffington Post:

These toys were designed based on research conducted by Lego Group, looking at the differences in the ways that boys and girls play. Researchers discovered that while boys tend to build a model from beginning to end, and only play once it's completed, girls prefer to pause mid-build and play with their Legos as they go. These new Lego Friends building sets attempt to provide that ability. The pieces are bagged so that play can begin even while only part of the model is completed. The boxy, traditional figures were also ditched based on recommendations from these researchers.

I have a huge problem with this.

The woman the reporter interviewed on NPR stated that these LEGO Friends are more about the figures shopping and partying than stretching the imagination through castles and knights and adventure. The pieces are larger and less "complicated" to put together. She mentioned that even the LEGO Magazine for Girls was different - no building instructions, no intricate stories of adventure and excitement - whereas, the original Magazine holds detailed stories of the Princes and the Star Wars characters, leading the children through a maze of intellectual and stimulating imagination.

But girls don't like that, I guess. I guess girls prefer more doll-like LEGOS with sets to "build" that look more like Polly Pocket than puzzles. In fact, to me, the sets look nearly put together from the beginning, leaving the girls (or whomever is playing) with nothing to build.

I always thought building was part of the adventure.

I'm not against girls playing with dolls, but if your girl wants to play with dolls rather than construct a fantasy world out of little pieces, in my opinion, she's better off with Barbie.

As for my own daughter, she's never been into dolls, Barbie or otherwise. In fact, with my husband's help, she's created the over 1,000 piece priate ship:

The airplane:

And the helicopter:

All are prominently and proudly displayed in her bedroom.

I don't understand the gender bias in today's society. When so many strive for equality - and when so many are succeeding at the task - shouldn't we encourage that?

There's nothing wrong with LEGOS for girls, but what bothers me is that the sets are made easier to construct. The same benefits received by children playing with the original LEGOS - fine motor skills, problem-solving skills, spatial reasoning and awareness, and creativity - are nearly taken away when a child opens a box of Legos meant for girls.

Ruth Davis Konisberg says it best in her Time Magazine column:

LEGO Friends, as the new line is called, creates a place called Heartlake City which thus far consists of a beauty parlor, a café, a bakery, a clothing design school, a vet’s office, a sound stage, and, thankfully, an inventor’s workshop. (So much for municipal services.) There are no men in Heartlake City, except for the father of Olivia, one of the five core “friends” who are not minifigs at all but redesigned mini-dolls that come with the following accessories: a purse, a hair brush, a hair drier, four lipsticks and two barrettes; a spatula, an electric mixer and two cupcakes; and for when they’re not primping or baking, a puppy dog and a pink book with butterflies on it. Is this message — with its emphasis on physical appearance and limited career choices — really any different from that of Disney’s princesses?

What’s worse, LEGO Friends doesn’t give girls the same sense of mastery and accomplishment that it gives boys. Usually, when you open a LEGO set you will find several smaller bags numerically labeled in the order in which to build, along with a booklet of diagrams of the steps. But LEGO Friends has dispensed with this system, so that girls can begin playing without completing the whole model first. So much for learning how to follow instructions, or finishing what you started, or just getting those damn pieces off the floor so I won’t step on them.

What do you think? Do you think LEGO should have left LEGO alone, or do you think these new sets marketed toward girls and "traditional" female roles is a good thing?

Anyone Else Have a Clicking Problem?

2012-01-18T07:22:00.001-05:00

The minute I got my iPad (on December 22, 2011), I downloaded the Kindle App.

I have since downloaded 177 ebooks. Granted, at least 10 are for Kylie's Android tablet. About 25 are free classics. Actually, most of the books I downloaded have been free, but not all. That's why I've downloaded so many.

I just can't help myself.

It's so easy to just "click," and it's right there! In my hands!

And for some reason, this ability to instantly own books has expanded my love into YA. I LOVE Young Adult! That genre is quickly replacing all others as my very favorite ever. Young Adult is not just for teens and, well, young adults. Not that I'm an old adult, but still. The issues facing our young adults these days are deep and something that reaches into the depths of every one of our souls because we're either experiencing it or have experienced it - the confusion and excitment, hopefullness and disheartenment, love and jealousy, fear and anticipation.

Okay, I'll leave my YA rave for another post.

Anywho, I'm curious. Any other eReader clicking addicts out there?

I think we should start a club.

The eReader Clicking Addicts

Interested?

Once Upon a Dream

2012-01-17T15:32:00.000-05:00

I've been watching the new show Once Upon A Time, one of the new shows on ABC. I love it. For anyone who doesn't know, it's a show that intertwines the classic fairy tales with modern day to create a dark fantasy mystery where one woman has the power to save the people of a small town - people that are actually fairy tale characters trapped in today's world.

I love it because, as a hopeless romantic, I have a special place in my heart for fairy tales. This show takes you deep into their stories and twist them and turn them right into your back yard. If that makes sense.

I was catching up on the shows today and asked myself - if I could be one fairy tale character, who would it be?

I think it would have to be Belle, or Beauty from Beauty and the Beast. Admittedly, part of the reason is because, when the movie came out, I thought I'd never seen anyone so pretty as Belle. With her huge eyes and beautiful voice, I dreamed about living in that beautiful, old castle and dancing with candlesticks and teapots.

But even now, I'd choose to be her. She's smart and fierce. She's beautiful and talented. And she gets to be with Beast, a lovable, hug-able monster you just want to bury your face into because you know that all the world's fears would disappear with his arms around you.

So, what about you guys and dolls? If you could be any fairy tale character, who would it be and why?

Awards Abound

2012-01-14T07:30:00.002-05:00

Good morning, and welcome to the weekend! It seems that, once again, one of my new blogging/writing/Twitter friends deemed me worthy enough to present to me the Versatile Blogger Award. My friend and incredible self-publishing author Prudence MacLeod nominated me. Please, check out her blog and her books. I promise you it'll be well worth the time!

Here are her rules, and I think I will make them mine as well:

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you.
2. Add the award picture to your blog if you so desire.
3. Nominate other bloggers you believe deserve the award.
4. Share seven random and unusual things about yourself.

Once again Pru, I thank you so much. It's been such a pleasure meeting and getting to know you these past couple weeks. You are an inspiration and encouragement, and I'm blessed to have you as my friend.

1. D.A. Confidential - Not only are his posts well written, but they're also funny, amusing, and intelligent. If you want to get inside the mind of a lawyer, this is the blog for you!

2. Jenn Greenleaf - Jenn is one of the busiest women I know! Her blog is entitled "Wearer of Many Hats," and Lord, she's not kidding! She currently has several books on Amazon on the best seller lists!

3. Dana at the Daily Dose - Beautiful, 100 word posts describing poetically the moments that make up her life.

Okay, 7 random facts you may not know about me? Let's see...

1. I have a grape addiction. I'm not sure it's entirely healthy because I eat them in such large quantities. But, there you have it.

2. My palms sweat. Not all the time, but most of the time. Gross, I know.

3. I have a thing about cheese. I only really like mozzarella and parmesan, and I prefer it melted. I'll eat other cheeses if they're in something, but otherwise...yuck.

4. I don't eat carbs other than those that come in fruits and veggies and oatmeal. No pasta, rice, or desserts. Oh, but I do love my fat free Pringles.

5. I love flavored coffees, teas, and water.

6. I played the clarinet from 5th grade through 8th. Loved it the first 2 years and even made All County Band. Hated it the last two, but my mom made me finish middle school.

7. I took dance lessons and competed from the time I was 3 until I graduated high school.

Well, that's it! I hope you enjoyed my random facts. Now, while ya'll go about your Saturdays, I'm stuck in the car for 8 hours as we drive to my sister's. It's okay though - I may not have the internet, but that's one less distraction while I edit Justified and read.

As long as my husband does the driving!

Planning: The Good, The Bad, and the Frustrating

2012-01-13T08:49:00.000-05:00

I am a planner. Every night, as I lie in bed waiting for sleep, I decide what I'm going to wear the next day and what I'll bring to work to eat - including breakfasts, snacks, and lunch.

Then, I set approximate times for everything I have to do after work. Yes, this includes one-on-one time with my husband because if that isn't planned early enough, he falls asleep. However, if I don't do certain things right after work, they won't get done.

Here's what yesterday looked like:

3:30pm - leave work, go to Target (for which I made a list)
3:30-4:15 - shop in Target (check list)
4:15-4:30 - get home and change for workout
4:30-6:00 - workout
6:00-6:45 -shower/husband
6:45-7:15 - fold laundry
7:15-7:45 - eat dinner
no later than 8:00-10:00 - curl up in bed with glass of wine, book, and iPad - read, sip, and social network
10:00 - sleep

That doesn't leave much room for error, I know. But if I don't plan my activities in this manner, things won't get done. And then, I stress and freak out on my poor husband.

Yesterday went more like this:

3:30pm - leave work
3:40 - get to Target. They don't have the ink we need for our printer, I spent longer than I'd intended trying to decide whether or not to buy a $20 stylus for my iPad (which I didn't buy)
3:55 - leave Target (with purchases), drive to Best Buy (fortunately in the same shopping center)
4:15 - leave Best Buy with ink, the unplanned purchase of the clear protective sheet for the iPad
4:30 - get home, change
4:45 - workout
6:30 - finish workout/shower/husband
7:30 - fold laundry
8:00 - eat dinner
8:45 - crawl into bed
10:00 - lights out

Seems like, in the end, I hit all my goals and even turned the lights out on time, right?

And I even got some bonuses - my husband did the dishes (shocker! he doesn't even rinse them out before putting them in the sink!), picked up (another shocker! He doesn't do this unless we're expecting company!), and made healthy tilapia for me - two fillets, one for dinner last night and one for lunch today.

Yes, in the middle there, while I was running behind, all I could think about was the way time slips away. All I could think about was how one little thing - Target not having the ink I needed - threw me off and aggravated me the rest of the evening because I couldn't help but worry that I wouldn't get everything on my list accomplished.

Plans can be great. We couldn't share custody of Kylie with her mother and not plan. We're constantly shifting weekend and weekday visits depending on her schedule and where she needs to be. We'd lose track completely of which days we need to pick her up if it weren't for careful and diligent planning.

During my day job, I run the budget. Need I say more? You can probably scrape by not planning your own budget, but you can't do that when dealing in the millions.

But sometimes, you have to learn how to just go with the flow. Something unexpected pops up, you deal with it, rearrange your schedule, and move on. I have to remind myself that life is WAY too short to let Target's lack of variety slow me down or piss me off.

What about you guys? Do you plan every detail of your life and hate when you lose control of even one of those details? Or do you let everything come as it comes and go as it goes and figure it out as you go along?

I think, for me, I need to find some middle ground or else life will drive me to my cremation long before it's time.

(As an aside, it's funny that I plan my own life, but when it comes to writing, I let my characters take me where they need to, and in their own time. No outline for my novels, yet I outline my entire life. Hmmm...)

AW January Blog Chain - A Winter Nightmare

2012-01-12T15:09:00.000-05:00

This month's blog prompt is pretty broad:

Winter Nightmare

Another broad one: go wherever the prompt takes you. It can be fiction or non-fiction, the nightmare can be Cthulhu or just a struggle with a troublesome New Year's resolution (or anything in between).

Check out those who went before me:

orion_mk3 - http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month's post)
MamaStrong - http://writingofme.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
pyrosama - http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Turndog-Millionaire - http://turndog-millionaire.com/ (link to this month's post)

And those yet to come:

LilGreenBookworm - http://themayhemofwritingsahm-style.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Domoviye - http://lets-get-happy.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
writingismypassion - http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
kimberlycreates - http://www.kimberlycreates.com/ (link to this month's post)
Abielle Rose - http://stainedglassinthenight.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
Proach - http://desstories.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Suzanne Seese - http://viewofsue.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Diana Rajchel - http://blog.dianarajchel.com/ (link to this month's post)
Ralph Pines - http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
Alynza - http://www.alynzasmith.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
Literateparakeet - http://lesliesillusions.blogspot.com/ (link to this month's post)
areteus - http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com/ (link to this month's post)
I'm going with a bit of non-fiction because for some reason, my divorce in 2009 popped into mind. Here's a piece of what happened, a piece of me, my own winter nightmare.

It is the coldest day of winter so far, but no matter how cold it gets out there, my heart is colder. I stare at the text on my phone, hearing nothing but the frantic rhythm of my heart. Feeling nothing but the frantic rhythm of my heart. It's trying to get warm. It's too cold, and it thinks it can warm itself by pounding faster and faster against my ribs.

It's wrong.

I'd like to move the rest of my things out of the house tonight. I'm bringing my friend Lizzy with me.

His friend? His friend Lizzy? As if the proof wasn't in the emails I printed and filed. As if the proof wasn't in the pages and pages of phone calls and texts between my husband and Lizzy. His friend. Or the plane ticket to Hawaii in her name, for Christ's sake. Or the hotel room for two in Times Square the weekend before Christmas.

In November, I'd suggested we go there together. I love Manhattan at Christmas time. The bright lights, ice skating around the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, gazing at the festive Macy's display windows. Though I don't want to live there, the City has always held magic for me, particularly at Christmas time. Manhattan has an electrical energy that runs deeper than the flashing lights of Times Square. We could use the hotel points he'd earned from all his business trips and stay there. In Times Square/ Right in the middle of it all. But he said he didn't have enough points.

That was before I knew. Before winter came and iced my heart, and I knew. Was that only a couple weeks ago?

Instead of his wife, he took her. I have the receipt to prove he used the hotel points he claimed not to have.

I haven't heard from him since Christmas except through emails filled with nasty words and threats. He moved in with his parents a month ago. Now, he pops back into my life uninvited to drag his shit out of the house we bought together, and he's bringing his mistress? Into our house?

Panic clutches my throat, and I can't breathe. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs, but they're still wet.

She's going to be in my house. I've packed most things in boxes by now, but unless I'm there, nothing can stop her from rooting through them. From fingering my blankets and flipping through my scrapbooks and reading the blurbs on the back of my books. Nothing can stop her from sitting on my bed...

Oh, my God. What if they fuck in our bed? My bed?

I know nothing can stop her except my presence, but I can't be there. There's no way I can be there, and he knows that. That's why his text is so damn arrogant. He has to know what he's doing is disgusting, but there's nothing I can do to stop him.

I cover my stomach, hoping the heat from my hand will ease the waves of nausea. It doesn't. I clear my throat and with shaking hands, dial my father's number and pray he's home. I have no where else to go.

A Child's Magic

2012-01-12T08:09:00.000-05:00

Children are magic. Yes, they can also be exhausting, frustrating, hilarious, surprising, and at times, infuriating (actually, I honestly can't think of a time that Kylie infuriated me). But sometimes, when you least expect it, they are magic.

This, is my little Pixie.

Yesterday, I was a zombie. A living, somehow breathing zombie, but a zombie nonetheless. I was NOT looking forward to driving 45 minutes, picking Kylie up from school, and bringing her back 45 minutes to the stables for her weekly hores back riding lesson. In the cold drizzle. I'd been praying all day that drizzle would turn into a downpour so her lesson would be canceled. It was not.

I'm not sure how it happened, but as soon as Kylie's smiling face bounced toward me from the school, my exhaustion lifted. Either that, or I just plum forgot how tired I was. How much my body ached. How all I wanted to do was crawl beneath my blankets and fall into a deep sleep, only to be awakened when winter is over.

Kylie's excitement over her impending lesson and the Japanese New Year's Celebration in school the next day (today - she's in a Japanese Immersion Program) seemed to jump right out of her and into me. She fed me joy.

She rode a particularly stubborn horse yesterday, but I'm thrilled to say the instructor told me Kylie's doing very well. Even with the stubborn horse, she was aggressive, which the instructor said is not common for girls her age but a very good thing. This about a previously timid girl, a girl who wouldn't say "excuse me" if someone was in her way. Instead, she'd stand there and wait, preferring to remain unseen and unheard.

Our Little One's growing up.

When we got home, I thought I'd crash. But Kylie continued to feed me her joyous energy. I read another Japanese Fairytale to her while she bathed. We played a couple games and ate ice cream after dinner, and before long, I was tucking her in and she was feeding me again with the best words known to any parent - step or otherwise. I love you.

Thank God for the magic of children. Without it, and without Kylie's love, I'd be lost.

Quiet Your Mind - Plagued Since Childhood

2012-01-11T07:14:00.000-05:00

One night when I was about 5 or 6, Mommy said prayers with me and tucked me in. She told me she loves me and reminded me that Daddy would be in to say goodnight when he got home. Then she left the door open just enough to let the hall light shine into my room.

Usually, I fell right to sleep.

But that night, I laid there in the dark and listened to my Mother's night time sounds. The clank of glass and the splash of running water as she washed dishes, the swish of the water-filled iron as she moved it back and forth across my father's work shirts...and the echo of the television. The sound went from a laugh track to the ten 'o-clock news...and then to the opening notes of the M*A*S*H theme song.

Even without knowing yet what M*A*S*H was or what time it aired, I knew it was late. Beyond late. I knew I should be asleep and dreaming, and I couldn't understand why I wasn't.

Rubbing my teary eyes, I shuffled into my parents' bedroom. Sobbing, I rapped on the door (that was only partly shut because the cheap wood had swollen too large to shut properly). "Mommy, I can't sleep."

The first few times this happened, my mother took pity. She held me and rocked me and told me three different tricks that helped her get to sleep sometimes:

1. Say the word "black" over and over in your head, and concentrate on the colorless color swimming before your closed lids.
2. Repeat the word "sleep." Spell it forward, spell it backward, and concentrate on relaxing every muscle.
3. Make up a story in your head.

None of these ideas worked for me. When I tried to see only black, a rainbow of color swirled in circles behind my eyes like spilled motor oil on asphalt. When I repeated the word "sleep," all I could think about was how I was not, in fact, asleep. It reiterated my problem and caused me to panic and cry.

And whenever I made up a story in my head, well, I had to see it through to the end. I couldn't go to sleep before Suzy found the Golden Staff and saved the Unicorn, could I?

As a 30-year old woman, insomnia is no longer such a crazy thing. I mean, you tell me - how many things cross your mind as you lay down at night?

The sink is full of dirty dishes.
I forgot to take chicken out of the freezer to thaw.
Maybe my son's soccer game will be rained out, and I'll have time to fold the 4 loads of laundry wrinkling in baskets in the hallway.
We're almost out of toilet paper, and I have a lunch meeting, so there's no telling when I'll get to the store.
The budget report is due on my boss' desk at 9am, and I haven't even started.
The cat needs his shots.
My daughter's teacher called yesterday...something about being too chatty...
The service light came on in the car two days ago, and I forgot to mention it to my husband, and we really can't afford for something to be wrong because the fridge keeps freezing the lettuce and probably needs to be replaced, and we're still paying of Christmas debt.
My car's out of gas, and I have to chauffeur the kids around all afternoon from school to extra-curricular activities to a friend's house to study.
I forgot to call mom, I haven't had a real conversation with your husband in days, and I haven't had time to pick up a book and enjoy a little piece and quiet since...well...when was the last time?

Fortunately, my mind doesn't always go nonstop like that. I've had bouts of insomnia off and on since I was a child, often for no reason at all.

But this week, my mind has been whirling, and I've managed maybe about 2 hours of non-consecutive sleep each night since Sunday.

How do you quiet your mind at night, so you can sleep? Because all those things I can't stop thinking about? I'll never accomplish them or solve the problems if I don't drift into REM for a good 8 hours sometime soon.

Emotional Struggle with Sudden Death

2012-01-10T08:31:00.000-05:00

I apologize for so many posts in one day. I hope you don't get too tired of seeing my name. But one of the reasons I'm a writer is because I need to write, especially when something is particularly confusing or upsetting or frustrating.

Now is one of those times.

When I was 13, my parents split, and my mom had to get a job. She became good friends with a woman we'll call Sally. About a year later, Sally went for a drive. All of the sudden, it was 24 hours later, and she didn't know where she was or how she got there.

She had brain cancer and died a couple months later.

A month or so before this past Christmas, a co-worker, a superior, I've never particularly liked, was diagnosed with brain cancer. She had no clues, no hints as to the disease. She'd only gone to the doctor for a yearly check-up.

She passed away this morning.

We knew it was coming, but that doesn't relieve the shock and sadness. I didn't know her well. I've never worked directly for her, exactly, but we worked in the same budgetary circles. Others I work with daily know her...knew her...better. Some were even her friend.

I hate that I'm not crying. I feel like I should be feeling something more than shock that a previously unknown disease can take a human's life so fast. That a woman can be healthy - eat right, exercise, never smoke, not drink in excess - and still, God can swipe His hand across her body and take her soul away. That's what she was - a healthy, God-fearing woman. Gone now, and why? To break her husband's heart? To wreck her friends' to pieces? To leave a void in the lives of anyone and everyone who worked with her, loved her, cared about her?

I hate that I didn't like her. I feel awful for the frustration and sometimes anger I felt toward her. She just seemed so cocky and arrogant. I hate that I still think she acted that way, even now that she's gone.

And what right do I have to feel any kind of grief when I didn't even really know her? Who am I to care so deeply? And at the same time not care deeply enough?

Thank you, for listening. I'm not sure if what I'm saying makes sense. To me, it's a convoluted mess of hodge-podge emotions. I needed to get it out on "paper," though.

Book Spotlight & Giveaway: IF I TELL

2012-01-10T08:07:00.000-05:00

Check out this post by Ally! Another fabuous YA Novel giveaway!

Book Spotlight & Giveaway: IF I TELL

Mary Ellen Quigley, Author of The Wild Side, Tells us What NOT To Do

2012-01-10T07:11:00.001-05:00

Today's guest blogger is Mary Ellen Quigley, author of The Wild Side, a paranormal, short-story romance.

From Amazon:

Ordinary girl...

For Alena Johnson, life is simple, predictable, and downright boring. The only source of excitement is her veterinary practice. When she wakes one morning to find herself in an unknown place, no one is more surprised than Alena. Why would anyone want to abduct her?

Powerful man…

As Alpha of the Southern California Feline Pride, Leander Williams has one duty - to protect his kind. When miscarriages and medical scares began to plague the community, Leander has to make the tough decision of bringing a human doctor into the mix. Alena Johnson, with her expertise in both human and veterinary medicine, seems to be the perfect choice.

Opposites attract…

Sparks quickly begin to fly between Alena and Leander, and the two find themselves fighting an attraction hard to explain. As danger threatens the future of the pride, Leander is forced to not only defend his people against new enemies, but to protect his role as leader. Will the pride survive? Can a human and feline shifter ever be mates?

Today, Mary Ellen has offered to warn us of what NOT to do when Self-Publishing, so take heed if you haven't yet taken the plunge!

What Not to do When Self-Publishing

If there were a poster displaying the person who made the most mistakes in self-publishing, my smiling face would most likely be on it. It’s sad to admit, but I really messed up the release of my first book. I went into self-publishing thinking that my book would make it big, and I would be a great author. I loved my book and believed in my story. I had a great editor to help me. People would buy it, right?

Wrong!

My book had a terrible release, and it was all due to lack of preparation. Although sales have improved with time, my book has not earned the success I'd hoped. I learned the hard way that self-publishing takes a lot of work.

To help other up and coming self-published authors, I'm offering some tips on what not to do when self-publishing. These are all the things I skipped and shouldn’t have.

DO NOT consider self-publishing until you research it. Many people go into self-publishing because they think it will be easier. There are no queries to write, no waiting for rejections, and you release your book in your own time. The benefits are definitely a plus. However, many don't realize that when you self-publish you are your business owner. You are in charge of editing, marketing, running your website and social media pages, designing your book cover, writing press releases, handling customer (reader) complaints, and finding and participating in interviews. Sounds like a lot, and that's just the short list. You do everything by yourself that a publishing house would have a team of people doing. You must research how to accomplish these things the right way. Otherwise, you are most likely wasting your time.

DO NOT forget to edit, and be smart about it. It sounds simple, but this is a big mistake that many self-published authors make. I'm guilty of it myself. I won my editor for “The Wild Side” through a contest. He was wonderful to work with, and I'm proud to say I put out a fairly well-edited book. He was also the only other person I allowed to see my book before its release. The problem – he was a newspaper editor who knew very little about romance. I trusted my romance novel to a person who dealt with factual writing. Needless to say, some of the more romantic elements were edited out. Big mistake!

I think everyone knows you should edit your book. It's easy to forget, though, that someone from the outside should edit also. Why? We see our books every day. We pour over every word. We are simply too attached. Someone without emotionally attachment to your book will not only be better able to see your errors, but they will also be able to tell you what works and what doesn't. This results in a better flowing and better written book. The most important thing to remember about your editor is that he or she must have experience in your genre. Someone who reads romance may not be a good editor for your history book and vice versa.

DO NOT skip making a marketing plan. Marketing is important, but so hard to do. Just because all your friends on Facebook know about your book does not mean it will sell well. You should market before, during and after the release of your book. Marketing doesn’t only include Facebook and blog posts. It includes interviews, blog tours, asking people for reviews, running ads, guest posting on other people’s blogs, giveaways, and a multitude of other things. The goal is to get your name out there for everyone to see. Get out of your comfort zone and be creative. There is no perfect way to market. Do the research. As my sales and many other authors’ sales will prove – no marketing means no sales.

DO NOT be afraid to give out free copies. It's tempting to withhold free copies of your book. After all, you published it to sell. Most well-known authors give ARC (Archived Review Copies) copies of their book reviewers and fans prior to release. Why? It allows readers the opportunity to write reviews and spread the word. You can market your book in a million ways, but the number one way to sell a copy is word of mouth. How will word of mouth work if no one has read it? After the release date, consider giving away free copies using giveaways. People love free stuff, and sometimes that one free book results in a good word that spreads like crazy.

DO NOT forget to keep writing. When you're caught up in the wild world of self-publishing, you can find yourself consumed with so much work that you forget to write. Writers sell more books when they write more books. That’s the honest truth. You aren’t truly a writer unless you write. Keep writing and schedule it into your day if you have to. Things like marketing and social networking are important, but so is your writing. Find a way to keep a balance, and don’t get too overwhelmed with everything else.

I have learned from my mistakes, and I know my next book release will be done differently. I hope that by avoiding these same mistakes, you too can have a successful self-publishing experience.

Website: www.maryellenquigley.com

Blog: http://maryequigley.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MaryEllenQuigley

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/Quiggs1982

The Wild Side page on my website (It has all the links on where to buy it.): http://www.maryellenquigley.com/the-wild-side.html

Special Guest - Chris Strayln, Successful Self-Publisher

2012-01-09T07:38:00.000-05:00

Today I’m honored to interview Indie author Chris Stralyn.

Chris, tell us a little about yourself.

I never intended to be a writer. Short-order cook, security guard, safety officer, childcare provider, and teacher were all titles I’d worn – but never writer. Then I entered an essay contest for “The Worst Vacation Ever” and won. Writing became my new hobby, and soon I had several articles in print with local publications. This was followed by a short story, The Khaki Pants, which was published by RDR Publishing in an anthology that went on to sell over a million copies.

A suspense thriller was my next undertaking, and in 2008 This Time You Lose was named a finalist in the TNBW Strongest Start Novel Competition. Four months later it earned the distinction of being a TNBW Readers Choice Top Ten Novel, and has remained on the Top Ten list ever since.

I continue to work full time, raise a family, and occasionally put pen to paper in my endeavor to appease the Muse within. I live in Michigan with my husband and family.

Wow. You’ve accomplished a lot in such a short amount of time! Tell us about your book, This Time You Lose.

This Time You Lose is an intense read. It is the terrifying story of Lisa Kaamp, who operates a small childcare business out of her home in the sleepy little town of Nogeksum, Michigan. Highly respected and known for going the extra mile for her daycare kids, Lisa thought she had handled every daycare emergency possible.

But nothing prepared her for the nightmare she now faced. Lisa awakes one morning to find herself bound and gagged, four strange men in her home, and the daycare children being held hostage in the next room. Terrorized by her captors as the authorities work to meet the ransom deadline, she tries negotiating with the men for the release of the children, and soon realizes that at least one of them has no intention of letting anyone go. With the deadline quickly approaching, Lisa must do the unimaginable to protect the children and get everyone out alive.

I love a good thrill! What was your inspiration for this book?

Years ago, a neighboring community was plagued with a series of home invasions. A childcare provider myself at the time, I wondered what would happen if one of these invasions occurred in a childcare home. A woman home alone, caring for up to a dozen children in a deserted, middle-class neighborhood made the perfect target for one of these invasions – and thus my story was born.

Real life can certainly inspire amazing fiction. I’m glad you weren’t harmed by those invasions. Better yet, you were able to make something good come out of it. One of the things I love about self-publishing is having full control of the title. How’d you settle on This Time You Lose?

I changed the title of this book numerous times as I wrote, edited, and then rewrote all or parts of it. Originally, I’d titled it Daycare Nightmare, then Every Parent’s Nightmare. However, some of my first test readers were men, and they pointed out those titles could pigeon-hole it as a woman’s book. They noted that while they really liked the story, with either of those titles, they would never have picked it up off the shelf. So… I gave it a lot of thought and finally settled on the title This Time You Lose – which is actually a line of dialog in the story.

I love it. Now, a self-publisher (or soon to be) myself, one of the things I’m most interested in is how you came to publish this novel?

The first draft was completed in 6 months, but it took another year and a half of editing and rewriting to get it to the point where I felt confident sending it out. After many, many, many rejections I finally got an agent in New York. She sent it out to all the major publishers – who rejected it, but offered constructive comments. I then reworked the story based on their comments and my agent resubmitted it. This time most of the publishers really liked it, but still turned it down. My agent explained that it had more to do with the current economy than the writing....the big publishing houses just weren’t taking many chances on unknown authors right now. She suggested shelving it for a year or so, and trying it again later. So I put it away for awhile. Then after much thought and research, I decided not to wait. I didn’t NEED a big publishing company to get my book out there. I could do it myself. So I decided to self publish, and went with a print-on-demand publishing company. In less than two months I had my finished book in my hands. Of course 100% of the marketing is also in my hands, and that has proved to be more difficult than writing the original story.

Sounds like a whirlwind, but one well worth it. I’m also learning the pros and cons of marketing for yourself. But overall, I’m enjoying it. So far. J

So, for a little bit of fun. Something all writers love to learn about other writers, and probably something readers would like to know about you too – do you have any special writing rituals?

My only writing ritual is copious amounts of coffee - and Tootsie-roll pops! If I’m writing in the morning, I need LOTS of coffee. If I’m writing in the evening, I require a tootsie-roll pop in my mouth at all times. Oh, and editing requires potato chips. J

I love potato chips, but I’m a health freak and stick to my fat free Pringles. J What types of books do you read? Do you have a favorite genre?

I love suspense thrillers. I also like comedy, and true crime, and horror.., hmmm, I guess I like just about everything except romance and vampires!

I grew up reading Stephen King, and continue to do so. I am currently reading James Patterson and Dan Brown.

Stephen King is definitely one of the best. Tell us, what have you learned from your journey?

Writing is the easy part, and the most fun. Editing is hard. Getting published is tough – even with an agent. Marketing is by far the most difficult part of the whole process.

Ideally, if you could change anything, what would you change?

I would try to have a specific time & place available to me for the purpose of writing, editing, etc. Much of this book was written in the car, in the stands, even in the bathroom. (the only room in the house with a lock on the door!) As a working mom, the distractions were constant. A nice private island with a palm tree would be perfect!

I’m a working mom myself, so I understand that! What advice can you give the rest of us writers, perusing our dream to publish?

Don’t give up on your dream. Join a writers critique group – in person or online. Step back from your work occasionally and really consider what others say about what you’ve written, BUT never let others tell you that you can’t do it. Keep plugging away, and don’t be afraid to put your work out there.

Thank you so much for taking the time to answer my questions. I've started reading This Time You Lose, and only a couple chapters in, I'm hooked! I look forward to your future books. Speaking of which, do you have anything in the works?

I am currently spending most of my spare time marketing this book. However, I do have my next 2 books planned in my head. One will be another suspense thriller, with a writer as the protagonist. The other will be an anthology of real life stories – more of a humor collection.

Readers can learn more about me, This Time You Lose, and related products at any of the sites below.

Website: www.thistimeyoulose.com

Amazon.com This Time You Lose

Facebook fan page: This Time You Lose Fan Page

Twitter: @chrisstralyn

Email: chrisstralyn@gmail.com

Check out the trailor here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xh-rl2N2pGc

Book Review: Taking Lessons From Ernest by Trish Stewart

2012-01-07T15:45:00.002-05:00

I met Trish Stewart on Absolute Write. We're friends on Facebook now as well, and though I don't know her that well, I was thrilled when I discovered her book.

Taking Lessons from Ernest is a very unique story. I admit at first, before I grew accustomed to Trish Stewart's flow, it was a bit jarring. But it didn't take long for me to be pulled into the mystery.

Ric lives for mediocrity, with no ambition to succeed beyond what he can do without trying. Even his relationship with his girlfriend is based on ease because being with someone he doesn't really like is more simple than bothering with a break-up. Because of this attitude, Ric hasn't spoken to his father Daniel in two years. Yet when Daniel dies, he leaves Ric with a mission. He bequeaths to him an old personal journal and the book A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. Daniel wants Ric to bring the book and journal to his old war friend Oliver and to follow his passion to be a writer. If he does these things, Ric will get his inheritance.

An inheritance Ric desperately needs, especially after losing his job, to satisfy the loan sharks threatening his life, the debt collectors calling daily, and his apartment's landlord.

Suddenly, Ric's smoking cigarettes, eating oysters, and seeing Hemingway's ghost. He takes his best friend Tim on a road trip to find Oliver , and a mystery begins to unravel.

Oliver is not the man Daniel describes in his journal. He's a cranky old drunk who let his memories of war control his actions even during peace. What did Daniel think his son could possibly get out of meeting the man?

Ric continues to follow Hemingway's voice as the mystery continues. Who was his father, really? Why did he plan this scheme, and who was it supposed to benefit? Ric or Oliver? Or both?

Ric has a chance to become a man, and in the process, learn to feed his passion rather than just barely scrape by. The question is, will he take it?

Low on Z's, High on Productivity!

2012-01-06T15:27:00.000-05:00

I apologize for not visiting blogs today. Hopefully, this evening, I will get a chance to catch up with all of you.

I got absolutely no sleep last night. None. My mind raced with my stories and marketing and publishing and new characters. I knew I should get up and write it down, but I kept thinking, "If I just lay here a little longer, I'll fall asleep." My eyes and body were tired, but my mind was not.

Needless to say, I forgot nothing. Here's a brief list of things I accomplished today, not including the work I actually do during my regular work day. (And I had a lot of that to do today too!)

Formatted Coming Home according to Smashwords. I still have to make whatever changes I deem necessary when my editor returns it to me, but I did everything I could now, including hyperlinks and the cover page. Those of you who've used Smashwords and followed its style guideline, you understand what a tedious but rewarding process this is.
Renamed Weep Dry Tears. It is now To Capture Peace.
Wrote a very UNedited blurb for To Capture Peace (in other words, unless you love it, don't judge yet!):

When a drunk driver kills her husband Bobby in a car accident, Hadley Nash doesn't allow herself to grieve. Instead, she focuses on her five-year old daughter and photography business and tries to forget.

One year later, Hadley's business is successful, and her daughter is happy, but everything else is falling apart. Her previously distant mother seeks reconciliation and announces a ten year affair with another woman. Her sisters want to be friends after years of silence. Kelsey Easterday, the drunk driver, is released from prison, and Kelsey's brother Seth appears in Hadley's life, making her question her loyalty to Bobby.

Now Hadley's planning a wedding with her sisters fighting anger and forgiveness, and clinging to the edge of Bobby's memory. But the war within her heart holds her back from the peace she needs - with Bobby and his death, her family, Kelsey, and most of all, herself.

Worked deals with 3 Independent/Self-Published authors to guest blog here in the near future.
Jotted down the opening lines of a new story as well as the gist of my idea and the working title: Hair of the Dog. It's about a girl named Charlie Daniels. Yup, you read that right. No idea if that'll pan out or not, but so far, I like it.
Decided on the cover art for To Capture Peace.

That's about it for now!

Now, it's off to the store on my way home from work. Then a quick shower to shave my legs before my 90 minute hot stone massage, courtesy of my brother-in-law who drew my name at Christmas.

THEN, I plan to eat and chat some with you guys...and probably work on writing or cover art or a new character sketch...because despite my lack of sleep, my mind is flyin' high!

Are You Self-Published? If So, I Want YOU!

2012-01-05T12:44:00.001-05:00

Are you self-published or an Indie author? If so, I would love, love, love to have you as a guest on my blog! I want to hear about the books you've published, why you decided to go the non-traditional route, failures as well as successes and all the little bumps along the way.

Okay...not all of the little bumps along the way. But the more major ones.

The blogs don't have to be long or go into crazy detail. I want to help promote your books, learn about them myself, and learn more about the self-publishing industry I'm diving into.

So, if you're interested, please leave me a comment or email april0381@gmail.com with ideas or outlines or whatever, and we'll work out the details!

Bonus Blog: What Do I Want?

2012-01-04T14:53:00.000-05:00

I'm taking Kristen Lamb's class, Marketing Your Brand. I also read her book We Are Not Alone - The Writer's Guide to Social Media and plan to read her other best-seller Are You There, Blog? It's Me, Writer. I've already learned so much and am so excited to learn more throughout the next couple months. Kristen's patient and kind and very knowledgeable, and I already know she's going to be a great teacher!

Today, we received our first assignment.

In a couple words - write down your dream. Make it big. Write it proudly. What do I want out of my writing career? Where do I want this crazy path to take me?

Below is my response.

I don’t expect to be the next overnight success.

But I have a dream.

I want the people who buy my book to truly love the story. I want them to fall in love with the characters and become part of the story, not just be an observer. That’s the best sort of fiction to read. To me, as I’ve broadened my genre horizons, it doesn’t matter if it’s fantasy, YA, a legal drama, a thriller, a cozy mystery, or romance. I don’t care if the author is newly self-published, Indie, or rich and famous with his name covering the spines of hundreds of books at Barnes and Noble.

What I want is for the author to grab me and pull me right down into the pages so that I’m running between the lines of printed words. I want to lay in bed at night turning pages well past my bedtime, devouring every word even though I never want the book to end.

For me, as a writer, I want my followers – whether one or two or ten or fifteen hundred – to read my books that same, breathless way.

I don’t care about money. I have a full time job I won’t quit because my husband and I need the benefits. Would I like extra money? Of course. But that’s not why I’m doing this.

My choice to self-publish comes partly out of frustration and partly out of a desire to control every aspect. I didn’t realize how much fun it is to do everything yourself! Scary? Yes. Time-consuming, exhausting, and at times, stressful? Absolutely. But I’m learning so much about the industry as well as quite a bit about myself. I have more ambition than I realized I had, and even more than that, I have the tenacity to make it happen.

Yes, I mentioned frustration. I admit I was frustrated with all the rejections. I know I’m not the female Stephen King, but I also know my writing skills are more developed than some published authors. I know they say to keep querying. Keep at it. If your content is good, an agent will pick you up. An agent will choose YOU. I don’t think that’s entirely true anymore. I think there is a lot of unknown talent in this world, with energy and light calling to us to find it. To recognize it. To appreciate it. This doesn’t just go for authors, either.

But I am an author. So I’ve decided to publish my books myself and make them available to everyone who loves a good story.

When My Dream Seems Like the Emerald City

2012-01-04T07:55:00.001-05:00

I don't think I ask for too much. I work my 8.5 hours to the best of my ability, even though it's not the job I care about. I spend time with my family. I run errands and try to keep up with the messy house without bothering my husband too much about it. He brings in the majority of our money, makes the Costco runs, does most of our cooking, and picks our little one up from school almost every day. I think we're pretty even.

But then, there's this little thing I'm going to call My Choice.

I've chosen to be an Indie author (as I think most of you know.)

I'm excited about it, thrilled even! To have control over every aspect of my manuscript is an awesome concept, a choice I've made because people are reading my stories is more important to me than money and fame (not that traditional authors necessarily find fame and fortune either).

But this choice also means another full time job. I have to do my own marketing, my own promoting. I have to edit my manuscripts and beg a friend to do a line-by-line edit. (She's great. I didn't really have to beg.) My Choice means I have to create my own cover art because I don't have money to pay a professional. It means I have to format the manuscript. I have to learn how to price my book once it's released. I have to decide whether to give it away for free for one day to generate interest. After that, I have to decide whether to sell it for $.99 for another few days to generate cheap interest. I have to worry whether there will, in fact, be any interest.

And throughout all that, I have to continue to write. Keep marketing and promoting. Edit completed manuscripts, and start the process all over again.

Oh, and did I mention the huge, messy house no one helps clean, a roommate living with us for free, a daughter, a husband, a full-time paying job, daily workouts, errands, books to read, a huge extended family living in the area to visit with and celebrate birthdays with, and a couple friends I try to see socially at least twice a year? Because anything more is unrealistic?

Today I woke up feeling like it's all a bit hopeless.

My husband supports my writing and Indie goals. In fact he suggested I self-pub from the very beginning, before it became so popular. Even Bob, our roommate, is a great sounding board and the first to read every first draft. When he finishes, he teases me. "April, I have nothing to read!"

I have an amazing, growing online support group.

And I have my ambition to make this all happen.

But there are days, like today, where it all seems hopeless.

Seems hopeless.

When my dream seems like the Emerald City, I need to slip on my ruby slippers (I really do have red heels) and skip down the Yellow Brick Road.

Because my dream is the Emerald City. And waits for me just beyond the field of poppies.

Do Building Connections Also Build You?

2012-01-03T08:08:00.000-05:00

This weekend, my husband and I started watching Sons of Anarchy on Netflix streaming and didn't stop. We're hooked. We're 5 episodes into Season 3, the last season available on Netflix right now.

Jax is the VP of the motorcycle club and second in command, and near the end of Season 2, his baby boy is kidnapped. Naturally, this throws him into a downward spiral, and, not seeing clearly, he tries to break-up with his girlfriend Tara. He disguises the break-up by telling her it's for her own good. He claims he should never have dated her in the first place and brought her into the mess of his life.

She tells him she chose him and everything that comes with him. Then, she says,

"The noise doesn't matter. We don't know who we are until we're connected to someone else. We're just better human beings when we're with the person we're supposed to be with. I wasn't supposed to leave. I belong here."

And I got to thinking.

We don't know who we are until we're connected to someone else.

Is that true?

Obviously, in this example, Tara was talking about her connection with Jax. But if you take it to another level and think about all the human connections in our lives...would you know who you were without those connections?

I don't think so. I think as humans, we crave connections with other people, and on every base level and on every deeper level.

Connections with co-workers and bosses shape part of who we are. You learn about ambition and how to use it, either for you or against you. You learn, sometimes to your own detriment, how the world of business works and how to manipulate it to your advantage, if you wish. I know I'm learning through more negative connections how to assert myself. It's a work in progress, but I'm learning.

That's a different part of the, hopefully more soulful and heartfelt connection you have with your spouse. Mike brings out my laughter by being the goofy, sometimes ridiculous, sarcastic and never-serious guy he is. He, along with Kylie, are the basis for every decision I make. I think about them first, and that changes certain things I would do or wouldn't do without them. For example, I have my motorcycle license. Mike has known too many people getting very hurt or dying from motorcycle accidents and told me that, though he'd never tell me no, he'd be upset and worried if I chose to buy a bike and ride. On top of that, I recognize the dangers now, and with a daughter, I don't want to put my life at risk. I have too much to lose. That's my choice, and it's who I've become. Because of my love for them.

That's of course different than who I am through my relationships with my parents and my best friend.

Each different connection helps to shape who we are and who we become. Without that interaction...what are we? I'm not even sure we'd be human.

Think about the horror stories you've heard on the news or those reality shows about prison inmates slated to solitary confinement. Those men and women have no physical interaction with a single soul unless they initiate attention - usually the wrong kind. They sometimes don't see another pair of human eyes for weeks on end. Their minds start to wonder and...go. They literally go insane. I think you'd have to be a very strong person to sit in a 9x9 cell (or smaller?), not see or talk to or touch another human for days, and keep your sanity. I think after awhile, you'd start to question your own existence.

What do you think about that quote? What television or movie quotes inspire you or make you stop and think and consider their relevance in your own life?

Buy This YA Book! Delirium by Lauren Oliver

2012-01-02T17:42:00.000-05:00

This book is incredible from the very beginning.

Imagine a world with no love.

For Lana, it's a reality. When children reach the age of 18, doctors cure them of the love disease. They surgically remove it from the teenagers' brains, along with everything connected - passion and desire are removed as well. Then, each is paired with another of the opposite sex and put on a set track or life, including a government approved job and a set number of children.

Until then, children are raised with the fear of the disease. Boys and girls are educated separately and not allowed to spend time together unattended by someone cured. Love destroys people, makes them insane, and can eventually kill them. Love leads to war and suffering and pain. By keeping boys and girls separate most of the time, the risk of accidental love before their 18th birthdays is greatly lowered.

The government monitors everything from cell phone conversations to internet searches and music. Families live in fear of the nighttime raids. On these raids, enforcers and regulators search homes and people, hoping to weed out any sympathizer. If a sympathizer is found, he often goes to jail - or is killed - without a trial.

The book begins several months before Lena's scheduled procedure. She's scared but looking forward to the surgery because she fears love even more. She's known victims of love and witnessed their suffering and wants the procedure over and done with before she has a chance to fall victim herself.

Then she meets Alex. Alex is wan invalid - someone from the Wilds (outside Seattle's locked and electrified gates) and never had the procedure. Though no one knows. He's one of many uncureds, mingling with the normal population.

The more time Lena spends with Alex, the more she sees the world for what it is. The cured adults surrounding her no longer feel safe. Instead, she starts to understand that, without love and passion, there's nothing left to give life purpose. People work a job the government gave them; marry to the person the government chose for them; raise children by the rules; and have flat, meaningless interactions with friends and family. Once cured, it's rare for one to even fall into dreams at night.

The possibility of living the strict, government approved life begins to scare Lena more than the disease.

This book is amazing, and I preordered the next to Kindle ebooks before I finished the first chapter. I fell in love with Lena and felt like a proud parent as her strength, independence, and spirit grew. I can't wait to find out what happens next!

Wanna Know A Secret?

2011-12-31T17:34:00.001-05:00

Most, if not all of you, are readers. That's why you follow my blog. I'm going to let you in on a little secret.

All the authors you love? Even those you don't? Every author, ever, including me?

We get lost in the real world when we get lost in our stories.

Okay, maybe that's not really a secret. But today, other than my workout and some time with my husband, I've been lost. Everything else has come second to my story while I pound out the last (hopefully!) few chapters of WEEP DRY TEARS.

The house? A mess. Dishes are piled in the sink. The dishwasher is full of clean dishes to put away. Two loads of laundry folded in baskets, waiting to be stuffed in drawers. One load still sitting in the drier. I've eaten today, I think. But not much because I forgot. And because my fingers are flying too fast across the keyboard for me to worry about stopping for even a second to pop a grape into my mouth. I haven't dusted in forever, and the floors need a good Swiffering. All things I should do and will have to do eventually. But not now.

My husband's watching Sons of Anarchy, but he might as well be watching Nascar for as much as I care or even hear what's happening on the television. I would probably enjoy the show. I have friends who love it. And maybe I will watch it one day. But not now.

Now, all that matters right now is Hadley Nash and Seth Sanchez and Kelsey Easterday. Their voices echo in my head, begging me to finish their story.

And beyond them, I hear Chase Montgomery from JUSTIFIED, calling me to come back to her and edit her story. Make it perfect. Make it so that others will want to hear.

Authors get lost when they're writing, separated from the real world so that nothing else matters but telling their stories. Real life ceases to matter and in fact gets in the way. It's a compulsion, a need, a desire, a necessity.

This is my life.

And I love it.

Now go away and let me get back to my story. And please don't be offended if I don't come around to read all of your wonderful blogs. I promise I'll catch up.

But not now.

Blogging Changes and the Simple Joy of Canned Fruit

2011-12-28T11:40:00.002-05:00

Just a heads up that I'm making some blogging changes. I'm not quite sure what they will all entail yet, so please, hang in there with me! I won't be posting much for the remainder of the week.

But I will leave you with one more hilarious Christmas Tale.

One evening we had dinner at Bob's (before he lost his house). Kylie, who is a picky eater, didn't want to eat the tuna Mike grilled for us, so Bob rooted through his pantry and came out with a 12oz can of peaches.

Kylie scarfed them down and asked for more.

Throughout the evening, she must have eaten five entire cans of peaches.

Fast forward to Christmas evening, 2011. Kylie is opening her gift from Bob, tearing off the wrapping paper and tossing it to the side. The paper covered a brown box, which Bob slices open with his knife.

Kylie smiles and bounces on her knees on the floor as she pulls back the lid. She whips the newspaper padding out of the box and scrunches her eyebrows for a moment. She stops bouncing.

Then, a huge smile lights up her face. She digs into the box and pulls out...

"Canned fruit!" She shoves her prized can into the air with a grin. Her eyes are wide as she rises to her feet and shakes her little booty. "Canned fruit!"

She ate that can immediately.

She still has another eleven in the box.

Love, Laughter, and the Self-Inflatable Whoopee Cushion

2011-12-27T08:22:00.001-05:00

I hope all of you had a wonderful Holiday! I wasn't sure anything could beat last Christmas, but I was wrong. This Christmas, or rather, the collective spirit of those I love, outweighs every other Christmas by far.

I think I've posted somewhere about our Canadian friend - let's go with Bob, but in case I haven't, let me tell you a little bit about him. He's my husband's mentor. In many ways, he was more of a father to him than his own was. Mike could call Bob, angry at his parents and just needing an escape, and Bob would say, "We're headed over to King's Dominion today...come on over! The more the merrier!" Mike was at Bob's house so often that Bob's three daughters were sisters to him.

Unfortunately, Bob's faced more devastation in his life than anyone I know. He was in an accident with a cement truck that destroyed his previously extremely fit body. The doctors had to take his insides out and put them back together and place wire mesh across to keep it all where it should be. Months of physical therapy just to get use of his fingers again, and thousands and thousands in medical bills they couldn't keep.

Then, in the midst of a crumbling marriage, two of his three daughters died within a year of each other. One to suicide, the other to a car accident.

Last year, after he hosted our beautiful wedding, he lost his house. So he lives with us and likely will until...well...forever. It's tough sometimes. He's a stubborn man and not easy to live with. At times, we've felt disrespected, not even receiving a "Thank you" for the free room and board. It took some time, but I think we've ironed out most of the kinks now.

But Bob touched my heart this Christmas. He put a lot of thought into gifts for us. Christmas night, I opened two boxes from him - one full of red wine (my favorite) and the other containing the entire Stephen King Dark Tower series. He knows about my new found love for King, and being a fellow book nerd, he told me how much he loved the series. Not being a techy person, he didn't go online to order the whole set. Instead, he had to go to four different book stores until he had all of them. I was touched beyond words by, not just the thought behind the actions but the actions he had to actual take to bring those thoughts to fruition.

The best part of Christmas, however, was by far the self-inflatable whoopee cushion.

We got our Little One pretty much everything that was on her letter to Santa - minus the horses, the barn, the dog, and "all the other animals." A cheap little tablet so she could play Angry Birds without using my iPad, a skateboard, a bunch of books on horses, a horseriding helmet and riding gloves, and of course a bunch of cheap toys from the dollar store to fill the largest stocking you've ever seen.

Among those toys was the whoopee cushion.

The rest of Christmas was filled with farting sounds, followed instantly by the little girl giggle that I've realized lately she's growing out of. And of course, that giggle made the rest of us laugh right along with her. Out of all the toys and gadgets and books, the whoopee cushion was the most amusing.

But I think it was a reminder. To not take life seriously. To enjoy the silly, goofy, things in life. To sit back and watch your daughter slowly push her weight onto a whoopee cushion and giggle right along with her at the loud, very juicy-sounding fart.

An eReader Convert - Sort Of

2011-12-23T07:20:00.000-05:00

For Christmas, one of my two gifts from my hubby was an iPad 1. It doesn't have 3G, but we don't want to pay for the data package anyway, and most of the time, I'm in an area that has Wifi (like home, family's homes, etc.)

I. Love. It!

I really do!

But I've caved.

I was previously a real, live book lover. I love having the book in my hand. I love turning pages and the smell and the whole experience. Hard cover or paperback. I loved it before, and I love it now.

But now I have the Kindle app. And there are three reasons this makes me so excited, even though I will keep buying real, live books (and have at least 100 real, live books already sitting unread on my shelves.)

1. Vacations. Usually, I bring a tote of books on vacation. Seriously. Either the books take up half my suitcase, or I toss about 10 of them into a duffel bag. I don't necessarily read them all, but I panic at the thought of only packing two and finishing them in two days. Sure, you can buy more just about anywhere, from 7/11 to the grocery store. But what if, for some reason, I wasn't near any store that had ever sold books ever? Then what would I do? That is a very scary thought for this avid reader.

2. Workouts. I've mentioned I have a very nice, gym-quality elliptical. I love it. Last year for Christmas, my daughter via my husband even gave me a 32" flat screen to hang in front of it. It has a DVD player on the side, but we didn't hook it up to cable. Too complicated. And I'm fine with that, but I can only watch movies or the few shows I have on DVD. And I've already been through Sex and the City, the entire collection, twice. (I do, however, use the TV nearly every day for my Jillian Michaels' workout videos.)

Until now, I've downloaded episodes of old shows like Ally McBeal to iTunes, propped my laptop up on a chair to the right of my elliptical, and watched those while I worked out. Or, I'd hold a book and read because books don't sit easily on the little ledge provided on the machine.

But now, I can read OR watch my shows and easily prop the iPad up on that ledge to do so!!!

3. Free Kindle ebooks. Need I say more? I've already downloaded about 5. I mean, they're free. Books take up hardly any space on the hard drive. Why not, right?

Do you have an ereader? If so, do you still read real books?

In case I don't post tomorrow, I hope all of you have a wonderful, beautiful holiday, no matter what you celebrate. Myself, I'm looking forward to lots of family, food, and wine! I'll definitely be back next week to keep you entertained while the rest of the world takes a break from life before the New Year!

Battling Jealousy...and Winning

2011-12-22T08:13:00.001-05:00

Have you ever been jealous? I mean really jealous. I mean soul-sucking, hands-shaking, heart-breaking, mind-spinning, all-consuming jealousy?

I started thinking about this last night while reading Bird by Bird. Lamott has an entire chapter dedicated to the jealousy an unpublished or unsuccessful author may have toward friends or acquaintances or any other authors who've hit the big time, leaving you - still struggling to finish your manuscript or snag an agent or find the publisher - in the dust.

I looked beyond my relatively small writing world and started thinking about it more seriously. Have I ever been that jealous? Of anyone? Ever in my life? Surely, I must have been at some point, right? Everyone gets jealous. It's natural!

I started dance lessons at age 3, and by 11, I was competing on the weekends. Don't think I was some amazing dancer just because I competed. I was good, sure. I'll give you that. But neither I nor any of the other girls in my classes had the proper training to be taken too seriously. But, that wasn't what I wanted. The director of our dance studio was great and emphasized improvement and growth. She didn't whip us with a cane if we got something wrong. This wasn't New York City Ballet, there were no weigh-ins, and though we danced most days of the week, the rules were loose and easy. It was fun.

There was one guy in our class that all the girls crushed on at one point or another. Let's call him Brad. And there was one girl who I thought was prettier and better than all the rest of us. Let's call her Stacy. Stacy had the perfect body. She didn't seem to go through that awkward stage, and she always seemed so confident. Her hair was the perfect shade of blond (not so dark to be brown and not so bright to look fake), she had big brown eyes, and just the right amount of curves.

Stacy was also, it seemed, the best dancer out of all of us. Not just in ballet, but in modern and jazz and lyrical and Broadway and every single type of dance you can think of.

Brad adored Stacy.

She was my friend.

And I hated her.

Okay, not really. But if, at any point in my life I was that jealous, I think that must have been the time. I wasn't overweight, but I could have stood to lose a few pounds. I wasn't as good a dancer as Stacy. While her hair always looked perfect, mine was a frizzy mess. She nailed the quadruple pirouettes before me. Her leg extensions were more graceful and less shaky and a hell of a lot higher. Her toes more pointed, her turn-out more turned out, her smile brighter.

And she had all of Brad's drooling, puppy dog-eyed attention.

What did it take to get over that jealousy?

It was tough because growing up, I didn't have much self-esteem. Middle school was hell, high school not much better. Girls were very cruel, and from fifth grade on, I was called every name in the book and teased about my cheap Kmart clothes more times than I could count. I had many crushes, but no boy ever crushed back. No one asked me to the Homecoming or Prom or any other school dance. I didn't really have any real friends. My "best" friend was a straight-A overweight girl with a lot of acne on her face who liked to give me backhanded compliments to make her own ass feel better.

I wish I could have gone to school and been the only student. I loved learning but hated socializing.

I don't know where Stacy is now, but I do know she had her own problems. Which made me loath myself for the jealousy even more. Her parents were constantly separating and getting back together. She took anti-depressants. If she received anything less than an "A" in any class, ever, her parents emotionally stoned her. Just because she was a good dancer and had a nice body didn't mean she was happy.

Despite all that, I didn't get past the jealousy until I grew up and got out. Until I stepped out on my own two feet and discovered that I'm pretty great too.

Although my journey to full self-realization and confidence took another ten years, culminating in who I am now, I eventually grew out of my selfish jealousy and was never again threatened by that green-eyed monster. Not really. Not in a soul-sucking, hands-shaking, heart-breaking, mind-spinning, all-consuming way.

Have you ever been that jealous? How did you get over it? Did you get over it?

Tell Me About School Lunches

2011-12-21T08:03:00.000-05:00

I've read many books on writing, but for some reason, none of them have hit me so close to the heart as this one. Perhaps it's because Anne Lamott takes the book personal, weaving many of her own stories and insecurities in such a way that touches a writer's core. She knows how we feel, and she's not afraid to tell us about it and use those feelings to help us bring out our writing.

Whatever the case may be, Anne Lamott has made me think about things I've never thought of. I've been writing my entire life, but can you believe I've never sat down and thought about my childhood and just...written? She quotes someone (I'd have to look in the book to find out who) who once said that if we survive our childhood, there are pages and pages worth of stories there that would make up an incredible story or two. Though I'll never write a memoir, whoever said that is right. So many little things I could incorporate into my stories. Perhaps I have, unintentionally, in bits and pieces, but I've never sat down to consider it. To daydream through the memories and write down all I remember to see what's left.

One of the exercises Lamott says she does with her students who call her freaking out about the whole writing process is to ask, "Tell me about your school lunches." She swears after a student does, he/she hangs up the phone feeling better, no matter what he/she remembered about those school lunches. Lamott says so much can be learned about the economic and political times, about the student, about the student's parents, and about life from merely describing school lunches.

So today, as a writing prompt and for fun and because I'm excited and learning so much from this book, I'm going to tell you about school lunches.

We all brought packed lunches until we reached Middle School. I had the My Little Pony lunchbox. The exact one in the picture there. Unfortunately for me, school boxes were not cool. The only acceptable way to transport our lunches were with paper bags. I begged my mom every year to buy paper bags instead of making me put everything in the silly, plastic box, but she didn't see the point in spending the money.

I was not one of the cool kids.

The cool kids' lunches were as follows: white bread sandwiches with either peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese and mayo. Sometimes, the crusts were cut off, and the sandwiches themselves were sliced in half. If the kid was really lucky, the sandwich was sliced into fourths. No matter what, the sandwiches were sealed in plastic bags. The cool kids almost never had fruit. If they did, the apple or orange was sliced and slipped into one of those plastic bags. The oranges were peeled, all the white stuff carefully pulled away from the ripe fruit underneath. These kids always had at least two snacks. Bags of chips (Doritos were the best for trading) were the most common, but they also had little plastic bags filled with Oreos (always at least four cookies) or Little Debbie snacks. To drink, they always had cans of Coke wrapped in aluminum foil to keep them cool.

My mom not only went cheap; she went healthy. I had wheat bread sandwiches. At the time, no one had ever even heard of wheat bread. I didn't mind the butter and jelly sandwiches so much, but it didn't take long for me to grow queasy at the sight of butter and American Cheese. Those many cheese sandwiches later contributed to my strange disgust with most cheeses.

Sometimes, there may be a slice of bologna (never two slices, like in that picture) along with the cheese, but the lunchmeat she saved for my father, whose appetite was greater. Once in awhile, I was blessed with peanut butter and jelly. When that happened, my mouth watered all day in wait, and I ate the sandwich in a state of euphoria. My sandwiches always had its crust (my mother said the crust was the most nutritious part), and the bread was never cut in half. No one would want to trade for a boring wheat bread sandwich with the crusts still attached to the edges. I never had chips in my lunch. In the place of that single-serve bag was a piece of fruit. My mom never cut my fruit. The apple was shiny and whole. The orange maintained its peel.

My snack was the worst. I always got just one snack. If it was cookies, there were only two. They were never the brand name Oreo either. They were some cheap brand of sandwich cookie with no taste. Sometimes, but very rarely, I'd get a Little Debbie snack, but most of the time, those were some generic brand also. Generic brands never tasted the same, and none of the kids wanted to trade for them because you could never be sure that what looked like a Ho Ho really was one.

Then, there was my drink. My mother was ahead of her time, though I didn't know or appreciate it then. I was the only child whose juice box was 100% juice. Grape was the worst. I wasn't a fan of grape, and of course it couldn't even be a brand name like Minute Maid. It was always the store brand instead, something no one had ever heard of and no one trusted. Worse than real grape juice were the days when my mother filled a thermos with milk. We went through a period of time when my mother mixed dry milk and water. That stuff smelled sour and tasted worse, but one of the household rules was that we must drink at least two glasses of milk a day. If my mom was careless enough to put milk in my lunch, I dumped it out, rinsed out the thermos with water, and drank water instead. Unless I happened to have $0.25 on me (or managed to borrow it). Then I'd buy chocolate milk from the cafeteria instead.

When discussing my awful, embarrassing school lunches, I have to be sure to mention one more thing. Nothing my lunchbox contained was sealed in a plastic baggie. Instead, everything including my two fake Oreos, was wrapped in plastic wrap. Why spend the money on plastic bags when you could use plastic wrap? Naturally, it wasn't Glad plastic wrap, so it never clung to itself properly, leaving my sandwich or cookies slightly stale.

Lunch time was mortifying for me and clearly put each of us in the proper hierarchy where I sat, inevitably, at the very bottom.

Tell me about your school lunches.

2012 Jumpstart Update

2011-12-20T06:49:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned last week, I've jumpstarted my 2012 New Year's Resolutions. Thought I'd give you guys a quick update to let you know how my health experiment is progressing.

I read a blog yesterday...I wish I could remember whose it was. If I could, I'd link it for you, but I can't find it. Anyway, it was a beautiful post about narrowing your resolutions to one, inspirational word.

My word - Purity.

2012 is about Purifying every aspect of my life.

Purifying my mind. I'm hoping that by reading more nonfiction, this will be possible. Memoirs, histories, biographies, economical and political books...I want to read it all. Anything that can broaden my mind to see how others live, what's happening in this world, and what I can do in our corner to make it better.

So far, I've read The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. Besides learning how to spell the word "dilemma," I've learned a lot. In the book, Pollan breaks food down into three categories - industrial, organic, and hunter/gatherer. The organic he then breaks down into two subcategories: industrial and sustainable. In each of these categories, he begins at the beginning (for instance, one stalk of corn) and follows it to the very end, creating a meal from each. Industrial - McDonalds. Industrial Organic - a meal made from organic food bought from Whole Foods. Sustainable Organic - a meal made right off the farm, from animals who've helped create the plants that helped create them. And hunter/gatherer - a meal made from food he hunted and gathered himself.

Along each journey, he provides sited background and history that forced me to look at everything in this world differently.

Purifying the environment. As a result, I'm more careful with the foods I buy. I've cut way back on processed foods. No more Boca burgers (which I love). Applegate lunchmeat (expensive, but it's just the meat! No other ingredient other than water!). I went through the house this weekend and found every glass and plastic bottle and broke down every cardboard box and stuffed it all into the rarely-used, county-provided recycling bin in our garage. I spoke to my husband about how important this is to me, and when he made his run to Costco, he bought as much organic as possible. Though, with all the fruits and vegetables we go through, it's financially impossible to go organic with everything.

I'm almost finished a court drama, and then it's on to the next nonfiction.

Purifying my body. This comes in two steps for me, since I already eat mostly whole foods and work out regularly.

Less salt. I can't tell you how much salt I used to put on my food. It's been tough, but I've only added salt to my food once. Yesterday. On my eggs. And only a little bit. Other than that, I haven't added anything to my food after it was cooked other than a bit of Mrs. Dash's no salt seasonings. Bit by bit, I'm starting to really taste the food rather than the salt. I even though a slice of turkey lunchmeat was too salty. I don't know if it's a result of ridding my body of all that salt or of eating less processed foods, but I've lost 3 pounds since last week. I'm no longer bloated after meals, and I'm enjoying the meals more because I can taste the food that makes up those meals.
7 hours of sleep a night. So far, even on the weekends, SUCCESS! Am I crazy energetic every day? Hell, no! But, overall, I have more energy, and I'm more alert. This means I put more into my workouts. I get more done throughout the day. And I don't spend the first few hours of every morning too groggy to do any work. Even coffee doesn't seem entirely necessary most mornings. I just love my flavored caffeine and choose to have it rather than need to have it.

That about wraps it up! I'm so pleased with the results so far, and that gives me even more energy to keep at it. I know it's only a week into this, but it's made such a huge impact on my life, I can't imagine letting it go.

Quick writing update. So far, my friend says the book, though again, not really her genre of choice, is very good. I've left it at that. As far as working on my WIP WEED DRY TEARS, I haven't had much time what with wrapping presents and preparing for Christmas and the regularity of work and family life. I'm hoping that next week, it will be quiet enough at work for me to write there and quiet enough at home for me to write there. My goal is to finish the rough draft by the end of January.

Happy Chanakuh to anyone beginning their celebrations today!

Writer's Anxiety - Waiting

2011-12-19T08:08:00.000-05:00

I wrote COMING HOME when I was twenty-six, just as my first marriage started crumbling. The first draft was awful. Nothing fit. The characters, the plot, nothing. I stepped away from it for awhile and came back to realize the entire thing had to be rewritten. I'd tried to force Isabela Fuentes, my 19-year heroine, into the story to suit my own ideas, not hers. For example, I made her a dancer. This stems from my own dancing background and probably a bit of a Mary Sue complex. But Isabela is not a dancer. That made everything else in the story fall apart.

So, I rewrote it as Isabela Fuentes, not as myself. I let her lead me rather than trying to throw her down someone else's path. And the story worked.

A few fellow writers beta'd for me, and I edited it several times. Then I wrote a query letter and started sending it to agents.

I received on request for a partial. The rest were form rejections.

I didn't look at the story again, though since, about ten people - friends and family - have read the manuscript and enjoyed it. Several told me they couldn't put it down at night. That's the best compliment possible for a writer, I think.

I read the manuscript for the first time in years when I only recently decided to publish the story myself. As stated in an earlier post here, it was a disaster. But I spent weeks editing it for the third or fourth time, and now the manuscript is in the hands of a good friend and co-worker of mine.

And so, I wait.

She's a full time student outside of a full time employee here, but she's on winter break and offered to do a line-by-line edt. She's incredibly intelligent, and she's never seen the manuscript before, so I know she'll be able to catch all the grammatical and spelling errors I can't see for being too close. Forest, trees, yada, yada, yada.

I've also asked her to be honest. Is this story good enough to publish? COMING HOME is probably more YA than women's fiction. And my friend reads neither genre. I think that's a good thing. She's completely unbiased as she's reading this.

I trust she will be honest. Completely. Even if that means she thinks it's awful. She's that kind of friend. She doesn't sugarcoat. Never has with anything and won't start now with this story.

So I'm terrified! She started reading it through this weekend. She said she wants to read it through once to get general impressions, and then she'll go back through and edit, line by line. I got a text last night stating she was on Chapter 7 and still going.

I texted her back and asked, "Does that mean it's decent?"

No answer.

Does no answer mean she didn't know how to tell me it's awful or just that she didn't get the text yet? If she didn't get the text, does that mean she'd fallen asleep or that the manuscript was so good, she was in Isabela's world rather than her own?

Ack!

But today's another work day, and she'll be here in an hour or so, so maybe I'll find out then.

How do you keep yourself sane when you're waiting?

Deju Vu Blogfest is Here!

2011-12-16T07:18:00.001-05:00

I am so excited! Today, is DL Hammon’s DÉJÀ VU BLOGEST!

The Gist: Today everyone who has signed up will repost an old blogpost- perhaps from their early days- or a post they feel is the most helpful or worthy of a bigger audience.

It took me awhile to find the perfect post to re-post, but I found it. Unfortunately, I also found a ton of grammatical errors - why didn't anyone tell me?? Anyway, here it is, from back in the day...

Revealing Character Motivation and Other Things

Growing up, one of my favorite movies was The Wizard of Oz. The movie came on one of the local TV channels once a year, and my mother, ever the frugal example, recorded the movie. She happened to record it on the night of some anniversary of the movie, so not only did I memorize every word of the movie, but I devoured little tidbits about the actors, set designs, triumphs and failures. Along the way, I fell in love with Judy Garland and was devastated when they showed clips from later interviews. The deep smoky voice and lined face was so out of line with the soft innocence of Dorothy. Discovering she died of a drug overdose made the Childhood Me determined to keep her in her red slippers. At least in my mind.

But, I digress. (I've always wanted to say that!)

Tonight, I have the privilege of seeing Wicked with my mother-in-law. I am super excited! What better way to spend my Thursday evening than watching singers and dancers fill in all the blanks - why was the Wicked Witch of the West so...well...wicked?

The writer in me started thinking. For years, much of the world was content with The Wizard of Oz. We didn't need to know the motivations behind Glinda or or the Wicked Witch. All that mattered was that Dorothy made it back home safely with Toto.

Most likely, however, L. Frank Baum, the author of the children's book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, had a story in mind. He may not have had the same ideas for each character's background as the author of Wicked, but as a writer, he most likely knew a lot more than he gave away in the final draft of his novel.

As writers, we have to know everything about our characters. For example, in Weep Dry Tears, I open the novel with Hadley Nash who is 32 years old. The readers learn immediately her husband is dead, but they don't know how he died or how long the two were married or whether it was a happy marriage or how the two met. Some of that they learn, some they don't. But none of it needs to be expressed in the first few pages. Writers can't give it all away in the beginning.

Some things, however, writers keep to themselves. Some things - like the fact that Hadley has never been a romantic thanks to her parents' relationship with one another - I keep to myself only to help develop the character. But revealing that directly is unnecessary to the plot of the story.

Let's go back to the Wicked Witch of the West. After watching or reading The Wizard of Oz, I wondered how she turned out so mean. I didn't need to know. All I needed to know was that she was mean. Her actions against Dorothy and Toto and all their friends proved that. The motivations behind those actions, whether she was born that way or became that way later in life, were irrelevant. Yet, most likely, it was very important for the author, even if his ideas were different from the author of Wicked or from his audience.

It's the same in real life, isn't it? I know many people. I'm friends with a few but mere acquaintances with most. Even fewer know everything about my life - how I grew up, how I was raised, my relationship with my mother, the story behind my divorce, what happened when I was 19...or 13...or 9. You don't need to know all that. The only thing relevant, in fact, for most of you, is that I'm a writer. We don't reveal everything about ourselves to everyone we meet just as we don't reveal everything about our characters to our readers.

But, just as it's necessary, vital, for me to understand events leading me to the adult, mother, wife I am, it's vital for us as writers to understand every nuance or our characters' movements, every motivation behind our characters' thoughts, every reason for their every action. Without doing so, our characters wind up flat and lifeless.

I know I'm not flat and lifeless, so why should Hadley Nash be?

2012: The Year of My Health. Starts NOW!

2011-12-15T08:14:00.000-05:00

Or more precisely, started two days ago.

I've always been fairly healthy. My diet has changed a lot of the years, but I've narrowed it down to mostly whole foods, no carbs, and no red meat. Mostly vegetables, fruit, and lean protein. I'm happy with it there. As a child and teen, I was a dancer, but once I stopped dancing at age 18, I started, intermittently, taking my workouts to the gym. It wasn't until my first marriage started to crumble that I turned those occasional workouts into a daily thing. At the time, it was a need, driven by my turbulent emotions. Now, I enjoy it for a multitude of reasons, and this past October, I started taking it seriously. I added strength training to my daily cardio, and now I can do things I've never been able to do. Like real push-ups! No more girly push-ups on my knees! You can actually see the muscle!

Sounds like I'm already pretty healthy, doesn't it?

There's always room for improvement, my friends.

I'm a night person. Always have been. My nighttime routine consisted, until this week, of crawling into bed around 9 with a glass of wine and a good book. Before I knew it, it was midnight, sometimes later, and I'd had another glass or two of wine.

For my job, I get up at 5 or 6, depending on the day, so I was getting, maybe, five hours of sleep. And they were awful hours. I don't think I ever reached REM. I'd wake up two or three times in the early hours of the morning and wake up to the nasty sound of my alarm grumpy, sluggish, and feeling all around gross.

I'd get through the day okay. Sometimes, I had more energy than others. But I was only going through the motions. Forcing my workouts, barely conscious of my time with my family, never getting anything done in the evenings. Chores and errands always waited until the weekend.

Yet every night, I did the same thing and stayed up way too late, unable to put the book down.

Or so I told myself.

Well, I've had enough. So my first resolution for 2012 is to get at least 7 hours of sleep every night. This means, I'm in bed by 10 on days I have to get up at 5, 11 on days I have to get up at 6, and no later than midnight on the weekends, even if I don't have to get up at all in the morning.

I started this on Monday, and I can't believe the change! In just a few days, I've maintained a level of energy and alertness I haven't been able to maintain for more than a few hours at a time. Last night, I could have stayed up until 11, but you know what? By 10, I was ready to put my book down and sleep. My sleep is now deep and uninterrupted. I feel like a new person.

My second resolution is to eat less salt. I don't know if it's hereditary, but my father and my grandfather both use a lot of salt. I add salt to everything, just about. Or I did. And a lot of it. I think I've killed half my taste buds by now. Eating all that salt isn't good for your heart or blood-pressure, and it also can make you feel bloated and disgusting. More often than not, that's exactly how I felt after every meal. No matter how much I drank, and I drink a lot. It's hard to not reach for the salt. Food tastes and little bland and will for awhile unless it's preseasoned. But two full days of not adding salt to my food has made a big difference. I haven't felt bloated, and I think part of my energy derives from my body's lower intake of sodium. In other words, I think the excess sodium helped my feeling of lethargy. This also means no more diet soda, but I'm okay with that. I didn't drink of a lot of it before anyway.

My third resolution is a matter of mental health and intelligence - read more nonfiction. Right now, I'm reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, and I'm learning a lot. So much that I can't absorb it all and will have to reread the book, probably several times.

Reading that book leads to my fourth and final resolution - be earth aware. This means a lot of things: use the reusable shopping bags (don't leave them in the car!), recycle, buy organic as much as possible but buy from the farmers' stands and markets when the season allows, watch the labels and try really, really hard to buy items with only a few, real ingredients listed. I wish I could do more. Reading this book puts everything in a different light, from the excess plastic wrapping on the riding gloves I bought my daughter to the massive number of cardboard boxes to every label on every condiment in our refrigerator. There's only so much we can do. But I want to learn more and use my knowledge to be an advocate for the environment, even if only in my own little corner of the world. This resolution is for the health of the environment, but it also goes to my own health and that of my family. Hopefully, my new habits will wear off on my daughter, and she'll pass it along to her family. A little can go a long way.

This was a long post, I know, and if you actually got this far without falling asleep, I'll tell you that it can actually relate to writing. In fact, there's an idea forming in my head for a new story, but I'll keep that to myself for now.

What are your 2012 resolutions? And why not start them, well, now?

Unbelievable Human Traits - Fiction-alized

2011-12-14T07:11:00.000-05:00

My husband is one of the most generous people I know. I take that back. He is THE most generous person I know. He runs his own drywall and paint contracting business.

Every year, we drop about $500 on gifts for each of our parents for Christmas. I know he spends close to $2000 on me every year. He doesn't even think about money when we go shopping for our daughter. He randomly flips through my Victoria's Secret catalogues and buys items of clothing for me throughout the year. He doesn't look at the price of food too much because he wants to feed us the best. That's why he doesn't scrimp when it comes to gifts - he wants the best for those he loves. Say we want to buy his mother one of those Mother Necklaces with the birthstones of her children. We wouldn't buy gold-plated. We wouldn't buy the simulated stones. We'd buy at least 14k gold with the real stones, no matter what the cost.

His sister told me that for years, they wanted to draw names for presents at Christmas time. For years, Mike said no. They tried to put a cap on the amount of money spent on each other. Mike exceeded that cap every time.

Ask him what he wants, and he'll tell you one of two things - pennies (it's a hobby) or alcohol. I, of course, get him other things, but I have to ask him which fishing reel he wants or which woodworking tool he needs.

Part of what makes his generosity so stunning is that he's not materialistic. He constantly thinks about other people, always, always putting their needs and wants ahead of his own.

And that's just it - he puts so much thought behind every gift. I've never seen anyone, especially a man, sit at the computer for hours, searching and searching for just the right thing for someone. I've always considered myself pretty good at considering someone's personality and balancing that with something he/she might need, to find the right gift. But Mike is better and honestly, more thoughtful about those things even than me.

All of that to bring us to the point of my post (yes, there is a point!), and that is this:

People are quick to believe the bad stuff. The good stuff? Not so much. Especially when reading fiction.

If I were to create an MC as generous as my husband, I'm not sure readers would believe it. I'd have to counterbalance that generosity with some seriously awful traits to make the character un-perfect. Come to think of it, I'd probably just have to make turn that MC directly into my husband because he's got some perfectly odd traits that would round out his generosity. He is certainly not perfect!

Or, I could make the MC generous to a fault, somehow getting him into some major trouble with some evil bad guys.

Throw in those bad guys, and readers are more likely to believe it.

I wonder why that is? Well, that's something for another post.

So, what other human traits do you consider, when standing alone or not built into the character correctly, are unbelievable in a fiction novel (even if they are right there with you in person?)

The Difference Between Readers and Writers

2011-12-13T06:35:00.000-05:00

Everyone loves a good story. That's all our lives are - a string of stories put together to create a larger one. I go home and tell my husband a funny story involving a co-worker or a story that explains my frustration with my boss. He comes home and tells me about his clients. Storytelling is literally as old as humanity itself. It's most of what we do, when you think about it.

Then we've got our readers. These are people like my dad or my mom who always have a book in their hand. For that, I'm thankful because I grew up with a strong love and appreciation for books as well.

But what about writers? Most writers love to read. We have to. We can't write without reading. We read books in our genres to gain a better understanding of what other want to read. We read books on writing to learn how to write. We read everything we can get our hands on because every book has another lesson for us to learn. Whether it's from the grammar, the writing style, the structure of the book or the storyline itself.

But I don't think that's the vital difference.

Readers, most anyway, could be happy with audio book because they want the story. Sure, there are readers out there who enjoy the feel of the weight of a book (or their Kindle) in their hands, but I think most are just as happy to listen to a book on tape during their workout or work commute as they are to turn the pages of a book.

Not me. I don't know about you, but for me, there's no way an audio book would make me happy. Part of it is because I've always been a visual learner. I need to write stuff down. See it on paper. If I make my grocery list, physically write out everything I need, I usually don't need to look at the list again. Just writing it down is enough to make me remember. But if I try to go off the top of my head, try to remember everything I need, I most definitely come home missing some vital piece of food.

But the bigger part of it is that I love words. I think all writers do. I love language and words and the images they create. I revel in the beauty of words. I need to see them on the paper and let them soak into my brain. If I just listened to an audio book, I think the words would go in one ear and out the other. I wouldn't be able to comprehend everything I was hearing; therefore, I wouldn't be able to appreciate the author's talents or the beauty and poetry of the written word. I'd be less likely to search the dictionary for a word I didn't recognize, and I wouldn't absorb the true meaning of each sentence. Subtle themes would be lost in the sound of the voices reading the book to me.

This probably isn't true for everyone. Nothing ever is. But for me, the written word will always hold more power and beauty than anything spoken aloud.