I tend to be a non-promo kind of person. I'd rather have some good discussion and get to know people a bit. But,I am an author and I do get excited about my books and the incredibly brilliant covers done by my amazingly talented cover artists. I have my cover for America's Hero -- which I absolutely LOVE and in this case I got to double dip because my cover artist was also my editor and knows the story almost as well as I do. So introducing Austin Quinn and Major Cass Winter:
Regan's Books
Reads From Regan Taylor
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Waiting for Your Dream
In several venues lately I've been a party to discussions about starting to write, writing, fear of failure if you finish, submit and publish a book and, in some cases, even more frightening, the fear of success because someone may expect you to do it again.
Not a week goes by it seems that someone doesn't tell me they wish they could write or they always wanted to write or that some day they plan to write. They have any number of reasons why now isn't the time. I know those reasons well because I certainly used my fair share of them before I went back to school to complete my masters. Once I got there one degree didn't cut it for me and I did a double masters--as long as I was there I figured I might as well get it all out of my system in one shot. While I've never directly used that piece of paper, I have used the skills I learned in that four year process.
Years ago there was a diet program called Thin Within. It may still be around. The philosophy was similar to what Weight Watchers speaks about these days where if you want something, you crave something, if you don't give yourself a sample of it, you'll go overboard and eat many large portions of it and then beat yourself up with guilt after the fact.
Of course sating our desires doesn't apply to everything. Killing off your real life nemisis, unless it's in a book that is purely fictional, probably isn't a good idea. But for things that might make your life happier (okay, so killing off your nemisis might do that for you) like writing, maybe those reasons need to be re-examined.
I have a close friend who is unable to travel. In the past year or so she sat down and thought about the direction she wants her life to go. She thought about if time and money was not an issue, what would she most like to do. Instead of being frustrated that she couldn't travel to and study at different places like the pyramids or the Monroe Institute or spending time at any number of historic and spiritual places, she made a list of where she'd go and what she'd study. She then began to buy or borrow the books that would take her there, at least in her mind. She's pursuing those dreams, if only in her living room, but she's achieving those goals in a way she can.
I thought about this after an event at work this week and it hit home tonight talking with someone who plans to one day write. He has ideas, he has the goal...and he has reasons for not doing it just yet. And sometimes those reasons are valid.
One of my co-workers was planning to participate in an arduous hike in South America. She'd been training for it for quite some time and last weekend she went on what was supposed to be a day hike. She was an experienced hiker/mountain/ice climber. For whatever reason she left her cell phone in her car and ascended the mountain. The weather took a turn for the worse and while no one knows what happened, some how, she fell 2100 feet. A wrong turn, a mis-step, a slip on a patch of ice, a heavy gust of wind and in a heartbeat, she died. What little consolation we have is that she was doing something she loved. She embraced life, lived it to the fullest and pursued the things she loved, like climbing that mountain. It is those of us left behind that have the gaping hole of unfilled thoughts, desires, needs and the wish to hug her just one more time.
Her closest friend said that she grabbed life with both hands and lived it fully. When she reached the unexpected end of her life, I don't think there was regret that she hadn't done the things she wanted to.
For me she left behind inspiration, the inspiration to pursue my dreams. To make them happen. That when the time comes for me to take stock of my life, I will have at least tried to accomplish the things I wanted most to do.
I've met any number of "want to be" writers. They've got half a book written and spend weeks upon weeks revising those beginning chapters, never to finish the book. I've met any number of people who "wish" they could write, but the time never seems to be there to begin. There are kids, animals, the day job, shopping, cleaning and a host of other good reasons. I always tell the people who tell me they want to write to go for it. Try it.
Reflecting on my co-workers life I say give yourself time each day or 1,000 words a day as a gift to yourself. Don't worry about what you'll do when you finish it or that it may not be "good" or that an editor will find errors or that your family will either knock you or push for another one. Take it one step at a time, but take the step. I think my co-worker would say you won't regret pursuing your dream.
Not a week goes by it seems that someone doesn't tell me they wish they could write or they always wanted to write or that some day they plan to write. They have any number of reasons why now isn't the time. I know those reasons well because I certainly used my fair share of them before I went back to school to complete my masters. Once I got there one degree didn't cut it for me and I did a double masters--as long as I was there I figured I might as well get it all out of my system in one shot. While I've never directly used that piece of paper, I have used the skills I learned in that four year process.
Years ago there was a diet program called Thin Within. It may still be around. The philosophy was similar to what Weight Watchers speaks about these days where if you want something, you crave something, if you don't give yourself a sample of it, you'll go overboard and eat many large portions of it and then beat yourself up with guilt after the fact.
Of course sating our desires doesn't apply to everything. Killing off your real life nemisis, unless it's in a book that is purely fictional, probably isn't a good idea. But for things that might make your life happier (okay, so killing off your nemisis might do that for you) like writing, maybe those reasons need to be re-examined.
I have a close friend who is unable to travel. In the past year or so she sat down and thought about the direction she wants her life to go. She thought about if time and money was not an issue, what would she most like to do. Instead of being frustrated that she couldn't travel to and study at different places like the pyramids or the Monroe Institute or spending time at any number of historic and spiritual places, she made a list of where she'd go and what she'd study. She then began to buy or borrow the books that would take her there, at least in her mind. She's pursuing those dreams, if only in her living room, but she's achieving those goals in a way she can.
I thought about this after an event at work this week and it hit home tonight talking with someone who plans to one day write. He has ideas, he has the goal...and he has reasons for not doing it just yet. And sometimes those reasons are valid.
One of my co-workers was planning to participate in an arduous hike in South America. She'd been training for it for quite some time and last weekend she went on what was supposed to be a day hike. She was an experienced hiker/mountain/ice climber. For whatever reason she left her cell phone in her car and ascended the mountain. The weather took a turn for the worse and while no one knows what happened, some how, she fell 2100 feet. A wrong turn, a mis-step, a slip on a patch of ice, a heavy gust of wind and in a heartbeat, she died. What little consolation we have is that she was doing something she loved. She embraced life, lived it to the fullest and pursued the things she loved, like climbing that mountain. It is those of us left behind that have the gaping hole of unfilled thoughts, desires, needs and the wish to hug her just one more time.
Her closest friend said that she grabbed life with both hands and lived it fully. When she reached the unexpected end of her life, I don't think there was regret that she hadn't done the things she wanted to.
For me she left behind inspiration, the inspiration to pursue my dreams. To make them happen. That when the time comes for me to take stock of my life, I will have at least tried to accomplish the things I wanted most to do.
I've met any number of "want to be" writers. They've got half a book written and spend weeks upon weeks revising those beginning chapters, never to finish the book. I've met any number of people who "wish" they could write, but the time never seems to be there to begin. There are kids, animals, the day job, shopping, cleaning and a host of other good reasons. I always tell the people who tell me they want to write to go for it. Try it.
Reflecting on my co-workers life I say give yourself time each day or 1,000 words a day as a gift to yourself. Don't worry about what you'll do when you finish it or that it may not be "good" or that an editor will find errors or that your family will either knock you or push for another one. Take it one step at a time, but take the step. I think my co-worker would say you won't regret pursuing your dream.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Marine needing some cards & letters… wanna help?
I feel an affinity for this guy because I have a Marine in my life and my upcoming release of America's Hero has a Marine in it. Let's make sure this Marine has a very merry holiday filled with lots of good wishes!
Marine needing some cards & letters… wanna help?
Marine needing some cards & letters… wanna help?
Thursday, November 11, 2010
HONORING OUR VETERANS
Today in the United States we honor our veterans. I believe in Canada they call it Rembrance Day and I like that.
I found out for the first time last night one of my favorite uncles was a Marine. In retrospect, I should have guessed. My Uncle Neil was one of those men who loved is family and was a quiet presence that gave comfort just by his being there.
Today I think about my friend Jim who died on February 2, 1991 in a friendly fire incident at the Kuwaiti airport during Desert Storm. It's been 9 years but I miss him like I saw him just yesterday. Jim was another of those quiet presences. Sitting in the background but would let you know you were special to him. It seems all the Marines I know are like that -- a stoic presence, not intrusive unless they are partying and partying together, solid, stable in their support to those they care for. If your immediate family has a Marine in it, you are part of the larger Marine family.
I read about the incident that killed Jim in the paper the day it happened. It upset me more than the other daily reports I saw. He was based out of Camp Pendleton and was among the first to land in Saudi Arabia in August 1990. I still live in Northern California, where I lived then. I was at work the next day and looked up to see two Marines come up to our floor. My heart lodged in my throat because my boyfriend, one of Jim's best friends was over there as well as a forward air controller. Rick has recently transitioned from flying COBRAs to being a forward air controller. I knew he'd be at the battle for the airport. All I could think when they arrived was something happened to Rick.
I stood and in one of those moments when you don't know if you should run toward someone or run away as fast as your can, I stood frozen as they approached. They came to tell me they'd received a call from my key wife at Camp Pendleton. She didn't want me to hear the news over the phone so she asked for someone from Alameda to go tell me about Jim.
The battle for the airport was intense, fast movers (jets) screaming over head, both ours and Iraqi--they still had aircraft then, Fast and easily manueverable MiGs. We had COBRA helicopters firing an enemy aircraft, CH-46's bring in ground troops and performing medivac duties. Jim was a CH-46 pilot.
As I said, it was a friendly fire incident. I don't think I need to tell you what happened. There was no Pat Tillman-like cover up. Just a tragic battle where four Marine's all people I knew, died.
Rick was never the same after that -- how could he be?
It was another Marine, one who is still in my life, that got me through the ensuing months, wanting to help Rick through his darkest days.
I miss my uncle Neil and I miss Jim and today we honor all of our vets, living and dead.
I found out for the first time last night one of my favorite uncles was a Marine. In retrospect, I should have guessed. My Uncle Neil was one of those men who loved is family and was a quiet presence that gave comfort just by his being there.
Today I think about my friend Jim who died on February 2, 1991 in a friendly fire incident at the Kuwaiti airport during Desert Storm. It's been 9 years but I miss him like I saw him just yesterday. Jim was another of those quiet presences. Sitting in the background but would let you know you were special to him. It seems all the Marines I know are like that -- a stoic presence, not intrusive unless they are partying and partying together, solid, stable in their support to those they care for. If your immediate family has a Marine in it, you are part of the larger Marine family.
I read about the incident that killed Jim in the paper the day it happened. It upset me more than the other daily reports I saw. He was based out of Camp Pendleton and was among the first to land in Saudi Arabia in August 1990. I still live in Northern California, where I lived then. I was at work the next day and looked up to see two Marines come up to our floor. My heart lodged in my throat because my boyfriend, one of Jim's best friends was over there as well as a forward air controller. Rick has recently transitioned from flying COBRAs to being a forward air controller. I knew he'd be at the battle for the airport. All I could think when they arrived was something happened to Rick.
I stood and in one of those moments when you don't know if you should run toward someone or run away as fast as your can, I stood frozen as they approached. They came to tell me they'd received a call from my key wife at Camp Pendleton. She didn't want me to hear the news over the phone so she asked for someone from Alameda to go tell me about Jim.
The battle for the airport was intense, fast movers (jets) screaming over head, both ours and Iraqi--they still had aircraft then, Fast and easily manueverable MiGs. We had COBRA helicopters firing an enemy aircraft, CH-46's bring in ground troops and performing medivac duties. Jim was a CH-46 pilot.
As I said, it was a friendly fire incident. I don't think I need to tell you what happened. There was no Pat Tillman-like cover up. Just a tragic battle where four Marine's all people I knew, died.
Rick was never the same after that -- how could he be?
It was another Marine, one who is still in my life, that got me through the ensuing months, wanting to help Rick through his darkest days.
I miss my uncle Neil and I miss Jim and today we honor all of our vets, living and dead.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Nano 2010!
I usually get it together to say something about Nanowrimo long before this, but the first week has been hectic. That said, I did get in 8066 words the first 5 days making me only about 300 words short of the 1666 daily word average. Too many numbers?
Let me back up.
Nanowrimo, referred to as Nano by many, is held each November. The goal is 50,000 words in thirty days. If you break it down into a daily average it's about 1666 words per day. I've found if I make the average I finish right on time at the end of the month. Most years I've gone beyond and every year I've done it a few months later the book is contracted. I find just telling the story that wants to be told works best. If you stop to edit, double check names, eye colors, research the best restaurant in Petaluma, you get bogged down with minutae that you do need to deal with, but unless you are fortunate enough to write 8 hours a day like a regular job, you may be crunched at the end.
This year I'm writing two novellas. I have contracts for The World and the Devil with eXtasy and it's the perfect time to write them. First up is The World. I was kind of struggling with it. It's a romance but I just wasn't able to get the feel for a lot of romance for a woman who just gave birth to twins via C-section. Somehow a candlelit dinner with hubby and a romantic evening with dining and dancing, soft kisses and moonlight leading up to some fabulous sex, isn't high on the new-mom list.
I needed to get to romance, you know?
Inspiration comes to us in myriad ways. The romance for this book came to me in the form of one of my favorite co-workers. He's such an awesome guy. A true friend. Caring, compassionate and a privilege to know. Without giving away a part of the story which I am thoroughly immersed in now, I now have a cop who's going to save someone from herself and a very bad man. It's a totally awesome feeling when a story clicks.
Let me back up.
Nanowrimo, referred to as Nano by many, is held each November. The goal is 50,000 words in thirty days. If you break it down into a daily average it's about 1666 words per day. I've found if I make the average I finish right on time at the end of the month. Most years I've gone beyond and every year I've done it a few months later the book is contracted. I find just telling the story that wants to be told works best. If you stop to edit, double check names, eye colors, research the best restaurant in Petaluma, you get bogged down with minutae that you do need to deal with, but unless you are fortunate enough to write 8 hours a day like a regular job, you may be crunched at the end.
This year I'm writing two novellas. I have contracts for The World and the Devil with eXtasy and it's the perfect time to write them. First up is The World. I was kind of struggling with it. It's a romance but I just wasn't able to get the feel for a lot of romance for a woman who just gave birth to twins via C-section. Somehow a candlelit dinner with hubby and a romantic evening with dining and dancing, soft kisses and moonlight leading up to some fabulous sex, isn't high on the new-mom list.
I needed to get to romance, you know?
Inspiration comes to us in myriad ways. The romance for this book came to me in the form of one of my favorite co-workers. He's such an awesome guy. A true friend. Caring, compassionate and a privilege to know. Without giving away a part of the story which I am thoroughly immersed in now, I now have a cop who's going to save someone from herself and a very bad man. It's a totally awesome feeling when a story clicks.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Halloween Chat with DCL Authors! Contests and Prizes!
My friend Ashley Austin has extended the use chat room at the Writer's Lounge for a Halloween (Samhain) chat on October 30 from 2-5 Pacific time (5-8 eastern). Dark Castle Lords will offer up some freebies and I'll do some tarot readings for the new year (our new year starts November 1).
Come hang out with us at http://thewriterslounge.weebly.com/index.html
Come hang out with us at http://thewriterslounge.weebly.com/index.html
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Life's Surprises
You never know when life is going to throw you a curve.
When Molly, my 22 year old kitty who had kidney disease for almost five years died on June 16 I thought the worst of things was over. I never begrudged her a moment of care and if I could have her back with me now, doing her fluids and meds, even for a day, I'd take it. She was an integral part of my life.
In the days that followed more than once I reached for her sub-q fluids bags and started to warm them, I started to set up her meds, only to realize she was gone. Mel, my 12 year old white Persian was also involved in the routine and for several weeks after he continued to want me to do the same things I had done with Molly. Even with the addition of Bogie (who will be a year this week) and Missy who will be a year in December, we still had a rough go of it.
That was why when, a week after Molly's death, I didn't think too much of a sudden onset of shortness of breath. I was certain it was simply a reaction to my grief. But when I had to stop half way up my stairs to rest I figured it was time to go to the doctor. I described to her how my leg was bothering me, but I couldn't remember twisting my knee or anything. She ordered an x-ray of my lungs. With a cortisone shot for my knee and an inhaler for what she thought was pneumonia I went on my way.
A month and a half later I told her I was still having some problems breathing and she sent me to a cardiologist -- just for some tests. Before I could see him though, in early September, it seemed I had sprained my ankle. How else could it have gotten swollen? I didn't remember doing anything, but I must have, right? After 3 days of icing and the pain getting worse I went to the emergency room and much to my surprise I had a blood clot that ran from my upper thigh to my ankle. As they asked more questions and took more tests it became apparent that the shortness of breath in June was a pulmonary embolism.
More times than I can count in the past 5 weeks I have heard how lucky I am that the clot traveled to my lung and just sat there -- that it didn't go to my heart or head. Life truly is precious and just like that, without having any idea why, you could lose it.
In the weeks that followed the diagnosis my life has undergone some changes. Some favorite foods like cranberry and spinach are off the table. A one cup serving of spinach equals almost a week's ration of vitamin K. Life on coumadin brings with it some other issues -- a simple scratch can bleed for an hour or so. Regular "girl" things can be problematic. With your blood 2/3 thinner than usual, your body reacts accordingly. The literature tells you if you notice certain types of bleeding call your doctor immediately because it could be fatal. It doesn't tell you about the fact that some things are going to bleed anyway.
You tire easily and something you could normally shrug at becomes a concern, possibly a major one.
For me there was -- is -- an upside. When my blood pressure tanked the beginning of the month and they finally go a reading, it was 90 over "we don't know". The paramedic, Karl with a K, assured me it was normal and that they don't take a lower number. After about the 5th time he passed his hand over my mouth I expelled a loud breath. He asked what that was for and I asked if I was wrong that he was trying to see if I was breathing. He admitted he was.
Now he know.
To help me relax he asked what I did for fun and I told him I write on the side. He was excited to hear romance because his 80-something mother is a HUGE romance fan and loves the steamier books. He shyly told me that if I wanted to create a great hero it should be a blond haired, blue eyed fire fighter/paramedic named Karl with a K. He even offered to give me professional advice and input on how to make my character -- coincidentally Karl with a K -- realistic.
His mom will be happy to know her son will be behind a fabulous hero named Karl with a K who happens to be a fire fighter/paramedic.
But seriously, if something seems wrong, if you have a swollen ankle you don't know where it came from or if your breathing is off, check it out and keep asking questions until they can prove you are really all right.
When Molly, my 22 year old kitty who had kidney disease for almost five years died on June 16 I thought the worst of things was over. I never begrudged her a moment of care and if I could have her back with me now, doing her fluids and meds, even for a day, I'd take it. She was an integral part of my life.
In the days that followed more than once I reached for her sub-q fluids bags and started to warm them, I started to set up her meds, only to realize she was gone. Mel, my 12 year old white Persian was also involved in the routine and for several weeks after he continued to want me to do the same things I had done with Molly. Even with the addition of Bogie (who will be a year this week) and Missy who will be a year in December, we still had a rough go of it.
That was why when, a week after Molly's death, I didn't think too much of a sudden onset of shortness of breath. I was certain it was simply a reaction to my grief. But when I had to stop half way up my stairs to rest I figured it was time to go to the doctor. I described to her how my leg was bothering me, but I couldn't remember twisting my knee or anything. She ordered an x-ray of my lungs. With a cortisone shot for my knee and an inhaler for what she thought was pneumonia I went on my way.
A month and a half later I told her I was still having some problems breathing and she sent me to a cardiologist -- just for some tests. Before I could see him though, in early September, it seemed I had sprained my ankle. How else could it have gotten swollen? I didn't remember doing anything, but I must have, right? After 3 days of icing and the pain getting worse I went to the emergency room and much to my surprise I had a blood clot that ran from my upper thigh to my ankle. As they asked more questions and took more tests it became apparent that the shortness of breath in June was a pulmonary embolism.
More times than I can count in the past 5 weeks I have heard how lucky I am that the clot traveled to my lung and just sat there -- that it didn't go to my heart or head. Life truly is precious and just like that, without having any idea why, you could lose it.
In the weeks that followed the diagnosis my life has undergone some changes. Some favorite foods like cranberry and spinach are off the table. A one cup serving of spinach equals almost a week's ration of vitamin K. Life on coumadin brings with it some other issues -- a simple scratch can bleed for an hour or so. Regular "girl" things can be problematic. With your blood 2/3 thinner than usual, your body reacts accordingly. The literature tells you if you notice certain types of bleeding call your doctor immediately because it could be fatal. It doesn't tell you about the fact that some things are going to bleed anyway.
You tire easily and something you could normally shrug at becomes a concern, possibly a major one.
For me there was -- is -- an upside. When my blood pressure tanked the beginning of the month and they finally go a reading, it was 90 over "we don't know". The paramedic, Karl with a K, assured me it was normal and that they don't take a lower number. After about the 5th time he passed his hand over my mouth I expelled a loud breath. He asked what that was for and I asked if I was wrong that he was trying to see if I was breathing. He admitted he was.
Now he know
To help me relax he asked what I did for fun and I told him I write on the side. He was excited to hear romance because his 80-something mother is a HUGE romance fan and loves the steamier books. He shyly told me that if I wanted to create a great hero it should be a blond haired, blue eyed fire fighter/paramedic named Karl with a K. He even offered to give me professional advice and input on how to make my character -- coincidentally Karl with a K -- realistic.
His mom will be happy to know her son will be behind a fabulous hero named Karl with a K who happens to be a fire fighter/paramedic.
But seriously, if something seems wrong, if you have a swollen ankle you don't know where it came from or if your breathing is off, check it out and keep asking questions until they can prove you are really all right.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Alone or Lonely
ALONE OR LONELY
This subject came up in another context earlier this week and it led me to thinking about what some people think of as lonely is what someone else considers being alone—quality time with oneself.
To me being lonely is craving or simply needing company. Needing someone to be there to talk with, do something with or fill in the empty spaces of our lives. It can also be something that one person projects on to another, generally someone who prefers their alone time.
Most of the avid readers I know enjoy their alone time. Solitude may perhaps be a better choice of word. We read for entertainment, simple enjoyment, to escape our day-to-day world for a period of time. We read out of choice; not because we have no other choice. I suspect that is in part why historicals, especially romances, are so popular—they transport us to a time out of our own. When I read, which is for a time every day, it’s because I want to. It has never ceased to amaze me how non-readers think I am doing so because I am lonely and have nothing better to do. They do their best to entertain me and fill in my time for me when all I really want to do is bury myself in my latest read. I generally have another book handy and will offer it up—in the hopes they’ll leave me in peace to read. Generally I receive a smile and a pleasant refusal of the book. And they still talk on. Nodding and not closing the book seems to work after a bit.
Growing up my mother was one of those people who couldn’t bear to be alone for more than a short time. She wasn’t very good at entertaining herself although she did knit and crochet and sew, she still needed to have someone to talk to. If no one was home she’d start her way through her phone book, calling everyone she knew so she could have someone to talk to. Interesting to me because she was an only child. She projected that desperate need for companionship on to me and it was really quite frustrating. She simply did not understand I preferred to be alone in my room with a good book. My favorite day of the week was library day—when we’d head on down to the library to choose a week’s worth of reading. I’ve sort of recaptured that day in the past year only now it’s picking out classic movies along with an occasional book. Given the economy buying books is a luxury and the San Francisco library has virtually every new release and it’s still free (several libraries in my area are starting to charge a rental fee for new releases).
My habit of sitting up in bed reading started young although back then I sat under the covers with a flashlight. The last time I sat in an otherwise dark room with a flashlight reading was when I was in law school and a fellow classmate asked me to join him for a movie. I didn't realize till we got to the movie he thought it was a date and I thought it was just two classmates getting out of the school rut…errrr pressure for a night. When he started talking about goodnight kisses I started talking headache. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten out of a car as fast as I did that night and then, out of an excess of caution, I hid in my walk-in closet for several hours, reading with my flashlight as my only source of illumination. Why?
The guy was one of those really sweet and considerate people who would have gone to pick up some medicine for me, brought it back and then sat with me till I felt better. I just wanted to be by myself and read something beside my law books for a short while.
I don’t think I know what it’s like to feel lonely and that’s okay. I carry a purse large enough to hold a book in addition to my e-reading device—and with that I can have pretty much as many books as I want with me at any given time. I read on line at the store, waiting for a teller at the bank. I prefer in person instead of ATMs which may seem odd, but I figure if I go into the bank and speak with a person I’m doing my part to help someone keep their job. It’s the same reason why I won’t use the self-checkout at the grocery store. Can’t off-shore a grocery checker or teller job as much as the big corporations may want to because I’m not going overseas to pick up my groceries.
No, I don’t think I have ever had any idea what it is like to be lonely. If I’m craving a particular food I will go out to eat and bring a book. Riding the bus, waiting in line, it’s all found reading time. With interesting characters, their adventures, their mysteries, their dark moments, their happy endings and my imagination I’m never bored.
And with writing, as a fellow author said this week, her characters keep her company and are fascinating to be with. I suppose you could say with my steady ones from my series and the new people they encounter in each book, I’m never alone. Each new book takes me to a different place and in a sense I experience new events. Through research for my historicals I have a taste of life as it was lived in different periods. In my futuristics I create worlds I would choose to live in.
A reader is never really alone and even less so, a writer. I don’t think we are ever truly lonely either. Our worlds are fun at best and thrilling when we are in the midst of a good book and all from our cozy worlds.
This subject came up in another context earlier this week and it led me to thinking about what some people think of as lonely is what someone else considers being alone—quality time with oneself.
To me being lonely is craving or simply needing company. Needing someone to be there to talk with, do something with or fill in the empty spaces of our lives. It can also be something that one person projects on to another, generally someone who prefers their alone time.
Most of the avid readers I know enjoy their alone time. Solitude may perhaps be a better choice of word. We read for entertainment, simple enjoyment, to escape our day-to-day world for a period of time. We read out of choice; not because we have no other choice. I suspect that is in part why historicals, especially romances, are so popular—they transport us to a time out of our own. When I read, which is for a time every day, it’s because I want to. It has never ceased to amaze me how non-readers think I am doing so because I am lonely and have nothing better to do. They do their best to entertain me and fill in my time for me when all I really want to do is bury myself in my latest read. I generally have another book handy and will offer it up—in the hopes they’ll leave me in peace to read. Generally I receive a smile and a pleasant refusal of the book. And they still talk on. Nodding and not closing the book seems to work after a bit.
Growing up my mother was one of those people who couldn’t bear to be alone for more than a short time. She wasn’t very good at entertaining herself although she did knit and crochet and sew, she still needed to have someone to talk to. If no one was home she’d start her way through her phone book, calling everyone she knew so she could have someone to talk to. Interesting to me because she was an only child. She projected that desperate need for companionship on to me and it was really quite frustrating. She simply did not understand I preferred to be alone in my room with a good book. My favorite day of the week was library day—when we’d head on down to the library to choose a week’s worth of reading. I’ve sort of recaptured that day in the past year only now it’s picking out classic movies along with an occasional book. Given the economy buying books is a luxury and the San Francisco library has virtually every new release and it’s still free (several libraries in my area are starting to charge a rental fee for new releases).
My habit of sitting up in bed reading started young although back then I sat under the covers with a flashlight. The last time I sat in an otherwise dark room with a flashlight reading was when I was in law school and a fellow classmate asked me to join him for a movie. I didn't realize till we got to the movie he thought it was a date and I thought it was just two classmates getting out of the school rut…errrr pressure for a night. When he started talking about goodnight kisses I started talking headache. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten out of a car as fast as I did that night and then, out of an excess of caution, I hid in my walk-in closet for several hours, reading with my flashlight as my only source of illumination. Why?
The guy was one of those really sweet and considerate people who would have gone to pick up some medicine for me, brought it back and then sat with me till I felt better. I just wanted to be by myself and read something beside my law books for a short while.
I don’t think I know what it’s like to feel lonely and that’s okay. I carry a purse large enough to hold a book in addition to my e-reading device—and with that I can have pretty much as many books as I want with me at any given time. I read on line at the store, waiting for a teller at the bank. I prefer in person instead of ATMs which may seem odd, but I figure if I go into the bank and speak with a person I’m doing my part to help someone keep their job. It’s the same reason why I won’t use the self-checkout at the grocery store. Can’t off-shore a grocery checker or teller job as much as the big corporations may want to because I’m not going overseas to pick up my groceries.
No, I don’t think I have ever had any idea what it is like to be lonely. If I’m craving a particular food I will go out to eat and bring a book. Riding the bus, waiting in line, it’s all found reading time. With interesting characters, their adventures, their mysteries, their dark moments, their happy endings and my imagination I’m never bored.
And with writing, as a fellow author said this week, her characters keep her company and are fascinating to be with. I suppose you could say with my steady ones from my series and the new people they encounter in each book, I’m never alone. Each new book takes me to a different place and in a sense I experience new events. Through research for my historicals I have a taste of life as it was lived in different periods. In my futuristics I create worlds I would choose to live in.
A reader is never really alone and even less so, a writer. I don’t think we are ever truly lonely either. Our worlds are fun at best and thrilling when we are in the midst of a good book and all from our cozy worlds.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The Long and Short of Reading
The Long and Short of Reading
And Writing
This past week several of us had a discussion on trends in reading and therefore, writing. Like many of us I’m a life long reader. How many of us were the ones back even in grammar school who preferred sitting with a good book than hanging around people? I was one. I was happiest sitting in my room, reading. The weekly trip to the library, as I recall on Wednesday nights when they were open late, were the high point of my week. More than once the librarian would speak with my mother about the kinds of books I wanted to check out because, in her opinion, they were beyond your average grammar school kid’s reading level. Talk about annoying! More nights than you can count were spent huddling under the covers with a flashlight and my latest read. My dad had a collection of the world’s greatest literature as well as the complete collection of Charles Dickens, in leather-bound volumes, which I still have.
Fast forward to my first job after college. Well, actually it was my second job—my first one wasn’t too far from where I lived and I drove to work. This job was just outside New York City and I took the Long Island Railroad to work. There I was, twenty-one to twenty-two years old and feeling like such an adult taking the train to work. At night I’d sit in the bar car and have a cocktail like all the other business-type people and even though I didn't care much for the drinks, feeling like a major grown up was fun. In retrospect, I must have looked utterly dumb.
But, each way, I read and my favorite books were the long ones. Books like The Ladies of the Club and The Far Pavilions were favorites because they took me more than a day to read and the characters became as familiar to me as the regulars on the train. The first romances I read, as I’ve said before, were Rosemary Rogers and Kathleen Woodiwiss. Ms. Rogers Steve and Ginny books are in the range of 600 pages and many of Ms. Woodiwiss’ such as Shana and Ashes in the Wind are in that neighborhood. My paradigm is that romances are long reads where you become immersed in the characters’ lives and see them through more than one adventure.
Consider Ginny Brandon-Morgan in Sweet Savage Love. We see her as a teen anticipating her first ball, she comes to America and travels west, finds herself in the middle of the Mexican Revolution, sees the beginning of the end and has a series of adventures in between. Alana in Ashes in the Wind is no slouch in the events setting the course of her life – she is accused of murder, poses as a young boy, witnesses events of the American Civil War and it’s aftermath and finds herself in Minnesota with a husband I think most of us are a little in love with. But before she can come to terms with her feelings about him her life is put in danger.
The earlier romances, no, not the Barbara Cartlands’ you can read in two hours, but the other icons of our genre, were all longer books. Stories took place not over a few days, but months; sometimes years. Even with the longer books, if I got down to the last 100 pages I always had the next book in hand because I couldn’t imagine commuting without reading.
This week I saw some stats about how shorter books are not more popular than longer ones. It gave me pause and then some things to think about.
I first “discovered” ebooks in 2001 and with my Franklin Ebookman in hand I didn't have to concern myself with carrying a second book with me just in case I finished the first. No, with my Franklin I could have 200 books all set and ready to go. Having a longer book on hand became less of a concern. And convenient? A few ounces weighing less than a 300 page paperback. The Franklin, and later my Palm, were the perfect platforms for smaller books and I bought my fair share of novellas.
But with those novellas I often felt like something was missing. While the stories can evoke an emotional response, I don’t feel like I really get to know the characters. They have one, maybe two, incidents, fall in love in a day, maybe two and ride into the sunset together. I’d read the blurbs for some of them and anticipate an action packed read only to find it over before it began. Story lines seem thin with little time for the reader to connect to the characters.
I tend to write longer books. Yes, I have 3 novellas out with a fourth on the way to round out my Four Cups series but in actuality, they could be combined into one book. Each story is about 100 pages and picks up where the other ended. The series is about four women looking at breaking out of one career and moving into another and the how the men in their lives stand by them. So while each part is short, the end result is a full length novel.
I recently had an editor ask me to cut down my paragraphs into four, maybe five sentences. To find a break point in ones that were longer and limit the number of sentences. The reason – they play better on an e-reader. The size of the screens is conducive to shorter paragraphs rather than longer ones. So instead of describing a room in terms of sight, sound and smells, I needed a separate paragraph for each. It made sense in that context but it made for a change in my writing style.
In light of the discussion this week I thought more about the books I’ve been reading lately. Even in the longer ones which now run from 280-310 pages, the hero and heroine more or less have one incident that brings them together, they fall in love in a week or two at the most, have their dark moment and then their happy ever after. Okay, that’s a general summation. But it’s a summation of what I have seen lately.
Initially I thought the higher novella sellers were primarily eroticas, but another author said no, her mainstream less steamy novellas sold as well as her eroticas did. So that led me to think it is more a sign of our times.
When is the last time you sat down and wrote a letter? For me it was 2004 when my uncle died. I began to correspond with one of his fellow priests who wasn’t much into computers so we wrote letters. Since then, for the most part, I correspond by email. Even my aunt, who is in her mid-80’s, communicates not just via email, but she’s a huge presence on Facebook.
We live in a cut-to-the chase world of 140 characters so it stands to reason we aren’t inclined to sit down and spend hours reading a book. Or are we?
My favorite days are those that are slightly cool, sitting under an afghan, the cats curled against me with a book. It doesn’t matter if it’s a print book or an ebook, but it has to be a book – a full length story where I get to know the characters, see what they are seeing and maybe miss them a bit when the story ends.
What is your preference?
Print of e?
Long or short?
And why?
Do you feel a connection to the characters if you have 50-90 pages to get to know them?
Do you prefer stand alone books or series?
And Writing
This past week several of us had a discussion on trends in reading and therefore, writing. Like many of us I’m a life long reader. How many of us were the ones back even in grammar school who preferred sitting with a good book than hanging around people? I was one. I was happiest sitting in my room, reading. The weekly trip to the library, as I recall on Wednesday nights when they were open late, were the high point of my week. More than once the librarian would speak with my mother about the kinds of books I wanted to check out because, in her opinion, they were beyond your average grammar school kid’s reading level. Talk about annoying! More nights than you can count were spent huddling under the covers with a flashlight and my latest read. My dad had a collection of the world’s greatest literature as well as the complete collection of Charles Dickens, in leather-bound volumes, which I still have.
Fast forward to my first job after college. Well, actually it was my second job—my first one wasn’t too far from where I lived and I drove to work. This job was just outside New York City and I took the Long Island Railroad to work. There I was, twenty-one to twenty-two years old and feeling like such an adult taking the train to work. At night I’d sit in the bar car and have a cocktail like all the other business-type people and even though I didn't care much for the drinks, feeling like a major grown up was fun. In retrospect, I must have looked utterly dumb.
But, each way, I read and my favorite books were the long ones. Books like The Ladies of the Club and The Far Pavilions were favorites because they took me more than a day to read and the characters became as familiar to me as the regulars on the train. The first romances I read, as I’ve said before, were Rosemary Rogers and Kathleen Woodiwiss. Ms. Rogers Steve and Ginny books are in the range of 600 pages and many of Ms. Woodiwiss’ such as Shana and Ashes in the Wind are in that neighborhood. My paradigm is that romances are long reads where you become immersed in the characters’ lives and see them through more than one adventure.
Consider Ginny Brandon-Morgan in Sweet Savage Love. We see her as a teen anticipating her first ball, she comes to America and travels west, finds herself in the middle of the Mexican Revolution, sees the beginning of the end and has a series of adventures in between. Alana in Ashes in the Wind is no slouch in the events setting the course of her life – she is accused of murder, poses as a young boy, witnesses events of the American Civil War and it’s aftermath and finds herself in Minnesota with a husband I think most of us are a little in love with. But before she can come to terms with her feelings about him her life is put in danger.
The earlier romances, no, not the Barbara Cartlands’ you can read in two hours, but the other icons of our genre, were all longer books. Stories took place not over a few days, but months; sometimes years. Even with the longer books, if I got down to the last 100 pages I always had the next book in hand because I couldn’t imagine commuting without reading.
This week I saw some stats about how shorter books are not more popular than longer ones. It gave me pause and then some things to think about.
I first “discovered” ebooks in 2001 and with my Franklin Ebookman in hand I didn't have to concern myself with carrying a second book with me just in case I finished the first. No, with my Franklin I could have 200 books all set and ready to go. Having a longer book on hand became less of a concern. And convenient? A few ounces weighing less than a 300 page paperback. The Franklin, and later my Palm, were the perfect platforms for smaller books and I bought my fair share of novellas.
But with those novellas I often felt like something was missing. While the stories can evoke an emotional response, I don’t feel like I really get to know the characters. They have one, maybe two, incidents, fall in love in a day, maybe two and ride into the sunset together. I’d read the blurbs for some of them and anticipate an action packed read only to find it over before it began. Story lines seem thin with little time for the reader to connect to the characters.
I tend to write longer books. Yes, I have 3 novellas out with a fourth on the way to round out my Four Cups series but in actuality, they could be combined into one book. Each story is about 100 pages and picks up where the other ended. The series is about four women looking at breaking out of one career and moving into another and the how the men in their lives stand by them. So while each part is short, the end result is a full length novel.
I recently had an editor ask me to cut down my paragraphs into four, maybe five sentences. To find a break point in ones that were longer and limit the number of sentences. The reason – they play better on an e-reader. The size of the screens is conducive to shorter paragraphs rather than longer ones. So instead of describing a room in terms of sight, sound and smells, I needed a separate paragraph for each. It made sense in that context but it made for a change in my writing style.
In light of the discussion this week I thought more about the books I’ve been reading lately. Even in the longer ones which now run from 280-310 pages, the hero and heroine more or less have one incident that brings them together, they fall in love in a week or two at the most, have their dark moment and then their happy ever after. Okay, that’s a general summation. But it’s a summation of what I have seen lately.
Initially I thought the higher novella sellers were primarily eroticas, but another author said no, her mainstream less steamy novellas sold as well as her eroticas did. So that led me to think it is more a sign of our times.
When is the last time you sat down and wrote a letter? For me it was 2004 when my uncle died. I began to correspond with one of his fellow priests who wasn’t much into computers so we wrote letters. Since then, for the most part, I correspond by email. Even my aunt, who is in her mid-80’s, communicates not just via email, but she’s a huge presence on Facebook.
We live in a cut-to-the chase world of 140 characters so it stands to reason we aren’t inclined to sit down and spend hours reading a book. Or are we?
My favorite days are those that are slightly cool, sitting under an afghan, the cats curled against me with a book. It doesn’t matter if it’s a print book or an ebook, but it has to be a book – a full length story where I get to know the characters, see what they are seeing and maybe miss them a bit when the story ends.
What is your preference?
Print of e?
Long or short?
And why?
Do you feel a connection to the characters if you have 50-90 pages to get to know them?
Do you prefer stand alone books or series?
Saturday, June 26, 2010
A funny thing happened on the way to the Humane Society This Morning
First of all, meet Bogie:
he's a 9 month old very shy boy who was found in a feral colony. He was at Humane for 2 months and had a rough time.They said he's under socialized, but felt in the right home he's be fine. As you may or may not know, I was voted "best cat house in Marin" last year so my home is a pretty cool place if you are a cat. Yes, he does look a lot like Molly. He's not Molly. Yes his resemblance to Molly drew me to him but how he responded to me was what captured my heart.
When a lot of us have a pet die we say something like "I just wanted to hold him (or her) one more time." after they cross the bridge? We'd do anything for that one last hug, you know?
Well this morning when I was putting my shoes on to go pick up Bogie I sat by one of Molly's favorite spots and started to tear up. I told her I'd give anything to hold her one last time but it would never be enough.
So I told Molly that this morning and went to pick up Bogie. I went back to remind him he was coming home with me and this little black kitty with amber eyes walked up to the door and climbed up my leg. She looked so earnest at my as if to say "I'm ready, let's go." I walked over to Bogie and she followed, chattering to me all the way and purring. Clearly she was ready to go -- what was my problem?
I started to pet Bogie and she got more insistent. I picked her up and she started to purr and lick my face.
What was I supposed to do?
What would you do?
How do you tell a kitty that has no doubt she is coming home with you and she can't?
And how to do you tell a kitty you promised to bring home he's not coming?
Harriet met Mel minutes after coming in the house -- they spit at each other. He spit back. He's older and bigger -- his hiss is louder. She walked away from him.
He's fascinated by her, followed her around once he knew she was here. She's basically ignored him. He doesn't seem to think it's odd she's here.
Bogie had a rough start in life and right now he's under a piece of furniture and if that's where he needs to be to feel safe that's fine with me. There's food, water and litter boxes in every room. Mel isn't upset -- I know there will come a point where the three of them duke it out. But we'll be okay.
I promised Mel a new little brother and he's gotten a brother and a sister.
And -- that comment I made to Molly about being able to hold her one more time -- I think she gave Harriet the message what I needed. I've been getting hugs and kisses since I walked into that room at humane.
he's a 9 month old very shy boy who was found in a feral colony. He was at Humane for 2 months and had a rough time.They said he's under socialized, but felt in the right home he's be fine. As you may or may not know, I was voted "best cat house in Marin" last year so my home is a pretty cool place if you are a cat. Yes, he does look a lot like Molly. He's not Molly. Yes his resemblance to Molly drew me to him but how he responded to me was what captured my heart.
When a lot of us have a pet die we say something like "I just wanted to hold him (or her) one more time." after they cross the bridge? We'd do anything for that one last hug, you know?
Well this morning when I was putting my shoes on to go pick up Bogie I sat by one of Molly's favorite spots and started to tear up. I told her I'd give anything to hold her one last time but it would never be enough.
So I told Molly that this morning and went to pick up Bogie. I went back to remind him he was coming home with me and this little black kitty with amber eyes walked up to the door and climbed up my leg. She looked so earnest at my as if to say "I'm ready, let's go." I walked over to Bogie and she followed, chattering to me all the way and purring. Clearly she was ready to go -- what was my problem?
I started to pet Bogie and she got more insistent. I picked her up and she started to purr and lick my face.
What was I supposed to do?
What would you do?
How do you tell a kitty that has no doubt she is coming home with you and she can't?
And how to do you tell a kitty you promised to bring home he's not coming?
Harriet met Mel minutes after coming in the house -- they spit at each other. He spit back. He's older and bigger -- his hiss is louder. She walked away from him.
He's fascinated by her, followed her around once he knew she was here. She's basically ignored him. He doesn't seem to think it's odd she's here.
Bogie had a rough start in life and right now he's under a piece of furniture and if that's where he needs to be to feel safe that's fine with me. There's food, water and litter boxes in every room. Mel isn't upset -- I know there will come a point where the three of them duke it out. But we'll be okay.
I promised Mel a new little brother and he's gotten a brother and a sister.
And -- that comment I made to Molly about being able to hold her one more time -- I think she gave Harriet the message what I needed. I've been getting hugs and kisses since I walked into that room at humane.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Heaven Gained an Angel Today
HEAVEN GAINED AN ANGEL TODAY
Miss Molly, baby girl, heaven gained an angel today and left me with a hole in my heart. You were the light of my life, the best part of my life and a calming presence I never thought would leave.
For almost 22 years you brought love, laughter and a will to live life to the fullest to my life.
You were found on a dark Halloween night in 1988 and they didn't think you'd live. You were so little and sick they didn't give you much hope. In your all too short a life you were beside me for every major thing that happened in mine. Both good times and bad you were beside me every step of the way. You helped me interview and bring new roommates into our home. You knew the best foods to eat, the best places to sleep and how to lay just so in the sun.
In 1989 we moved into our house and Vincent needed a little sister. In May of that year you came into my life.
In 1990 we had a spat of roommates and you gave your advice on each and every one.
In 1991 you sat by my side when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait and I said goodbye to Rick, a nice guy I dated, but had merely been making a stop over in my life.
In 1992 you decided Keith was the guy for you even though you were a cat and he a human. You'd lay between us and show him your belly and coo when he'd pet you and tell you you were a pretty girl. You didn't seem to mind that he picked me – after all, we're both human and you had Vincent. When I had my surgery you slept beside me at night and cuddled by day.
In 1993 I went back to school to do my masters in counseling and you sat beside me during those late nights studying. You'd stretch and yawn and offered your own sage advice for therapy – eat well, lay in the sun, nap frequently and get cuddles whenever you can.
In 1994 when I started to write my first book, a non-fiction, you reminded me to take frequent breaks from the keyboard.
In 1995 when I got my first cell phone you also got your phone because whenever I'd talk on mine, you needed to talk too.
In 1996 we had another spat of roommates and you stoically greeted each one.
In 1997 when Keith did the unimaginable you once again sat by my side and offered me comfort.
1998 was a busy year for us, a turning point in many ways – I graduated with my masters and you partook in the festivities, at least dining on shrimp and salmon, we said goodbye to a wacky roommate and I went back to work full time after being a student for four years. In December we said goodbye to Vincent when he crossed the rainbow bridge. I would not have survived that passing if you hadn't sat beside me, sharing my grief. A few days later your sister, Ginny, moved in. At first you didn't want her, but for me you came around.
In January of 1999 MaiTai moved in and you liked him less than Ginny, but you knew you were first in my heart. You were beside me when I got the exciting news I would be working for the CHP. You waited up for me at nights when I worked graveyard shift and let me know I should hurry home when I went to Sacramento for training.
We sat the new millennium in in 2000 although you couldn't see what the drama was about. After all, if we humans only ate well, took naps and laid in the sun, what more could we want?
Oh yes, that's right – cuddle.
You were beside me in January of 2001 when my father died and then three weeks later when my mother joined him. You knew my dad because he came to visit and spoiled you – oh wait, that wasn't spoiling you, it was giving you what you richly deserved. After all, you were the princess.
You were less than pleased with him when his cat, Baby, came to live with us. She wanted to be the princess, but the part was already taken.
During the long hours following September 11, 2001 you were beside me on the couch, watching those horrible scenes over and over. You didn't understand what happened, but you knew Mommy needed extra hugs during those dark days.
In October we celebrated when I went to work for Novato police.
2002 was a mellow year and we certainly deserved it. You greeted me at the door, cuddled at night and sat beside me at breakfast. You had opinions on everything and shared each one with me.
But in 2003 we said goodbye to Baby when she crossed the bridge. When MaiTai followed her a few months later on August 1, you were sad to see him go, but shortly thereafter found a new entertainment – Mel-o-vision. When Mel moved in a few weeks later you were less than pleased. While he may have been interesting to watch in your yard, you certainly didn't want him in your house. But that was okay, Ginny liked him and took him under paw.
In 2004 we had another mellow year – and we certainly deserved it because of the ups and downs of 2003.
In 2005 Novato hit a rough patch and Mommy lost her job. The sad part was that first Ginny and then you developed kidney disease. The era of Mommy-Molly time began when each morning and night you and Ginny received your sub-q fluids. But the good part was Mommy was able to stay home with you for three months and write. Not to be outdone by his big sisters, Mel insisted he must have fluids too – we never told him he had a line with no needle that rested on his shoulders until he decided he'd had his fluids. With you by my side I wrote my first books and they quickly sold.
When Mommy started a new job in 2006 you sat on the bathroom counter and offered grooming tips and we talked about my latest writings. You still greeted me at the door, gave me cuddles and night and sat beside me at breakfast. You had opinions on my books.
In 2007 Ginny started to become sick and you helped me care for her in those last hours of her life. As I sat grieving you curled by my side, your paw on my arm, offering assurance.
In 2008 some tough things happened in Mommy's life and through each of them you stood – or rather curled, laid or sat, beside me. Your kidneys were stable and you patiently put up with getting your fluids. We added metacam to your regime because at 20 you had arthritis. I wondered how you went from that sweet little kitten to a 20 year young lady.
February of 2009 brought Mommy a really good job with super people. You weren't too happy with me being gone for longer days, but every morning you sat with me at breakfast, every night you were there to greet me when I came home, each night before bed you gave me kisses and cuddles and make my life better for your being there.
In the summer of 2009 the kidney disease started to catch up with you and as with everything else in your all too short life, you met each curve with grace. We had to add medications and increased your fluids. You became deaf and couldn't hear me tell you how much I loved you. They tell me you knew, that I didn't need to say the words for you to know how much I loved you. The good part for you was when Dr. Lynne said that whatever you wanted you could have.
You promptly ordered up wild salmon, cheddar cheese and whipped cream. Oh and don't let me forget filet mignon – no hamburger for you. After all, a princess only dines on the best.
As we passed from 2009 to 2010 you slowed down a bit more. I saw more white in your fur, your gait became a little more hobbled. The arthritis began to take it's toll as did the wear and tear of the years and your kidneys. Every step of the way you shined with grace, poise and love in your beautiful green eyes. You still greeted me at the door every night when I came home, preened when I groomed you during Mommy-Molly time, we ate baked chicken almost every night and you would tell me when it was time for lights out and go to bed. You slept by my side, your head in my hand and woke me on chilly nights so I'd move and you could have the warm spot. After all, a princess must have the best and a warm spot fit the best to a T.
When the calendar turned to June, you slowed down a bit more. You walked a little slower, your kidneys weren't up to doing their job, you slept a little deeper. But every night you greeted me at the door, told me when it was time for lights out and cuddled by my side. When a stroke took your vision you were still your amazing and determined self. Your strong will had you walking up and down the stairs even though you could no longer see.
And today when I walked in the door, you were there to greet me. I saw right away what it cost you when you went to draw breath.
For almost 22 years you were by my side every step of the way. In good times and bad, funny and sad, you were a stoic little presence that made life worth living.
How will I sleep tonight without you by my side?
How will I wake tomorrow without you to care for?
Who will sit beside me at breakfast?
Who will greet me when I walk in the door?
Who will give me the unconditional love I had from you?
Heaven gained an angel today. Sleep well little princess.
I will see you soon.
Molly – summer 1988 – June 16, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Summer Hide and Seek Contest - Coming June 7!
Welcome to our Looking Forward to Summer Hide & Seek!!
Our Heroine has been waiting patiently for the hot weather. Now it’s here but she can’t find her bikini and needs your help! (I suspect our Hero. He prefers skinny-dipping.)
Participation is very easy! All you have to do it visit each of the authors’ website listed below. Somewhere on their website or blog, you’ll find her missing suit…
(Note: The image on this page doesn't count.)
Keep a list of who and where you found it and in one (1) email send your answers to corinnedavies @ rocketmail.com. (no spaces)
Be certain to type: Looking Forward to Summer in the subject box.
The contest is open from 12:01am, June 7st to 11:59pm on June 30st. Entries with all the correct answers will be entered into a drawing.
One (1) prize will be awarded per winner.
The names of the winners will be listed on the site of all participating authors. Each winner will be contacted by the individual author of the given prize.
Participating authors & prizes:
Mechele Armstrong A signed copy of Settler's Mine 3: The Woman.
Corinne Davies A scented candle and Lust Body Lotion
Stacey Espino A $10 Gift Certificate to Siren/Bookstrand
Sophia Hunt A PDF copy of one of her books. Winner's choice
Missy Martine A Trio of Hearts necklace
Tonya Ramagos A PDF copy of one of her books. Winner's choice
Jennifer Salaiz A PDF copy of Engaging Evelyn (Blissful Bets 1)
Melissa Schroeder A signed copy of Her Mother's Killer
Jenika Snow A PDF copy of The Chosen: A Tale of the Blood Breed.
Sandy Sullivan A PDF copy of one of her books. Winner's choice
Regan Taylor A PDF copy of The Four of Cups, the Thrill is Gone.
Suzanne Thomas A $10 Gift Certificate to Siren/Bookstrand
KyAnn Waters A stuffed envelope--includes a semi precious stone beaded
book thong, a letter opener, pen, etc.
Good luck!
Our Heroine has been waiting patiently for the hot weather. Now it’s here but she can’t find her bikini and needs your help! (I suspect our Hero. He prefers skinny-dipping.)
Participation is very easy! All you have to do it visit each of the authors’ website listed below. Somewhere on their website or blog, you’ll find her missing suit…
(Note: The image on this page doesn't count.)
Keep a list of who and where you found it and in one (1) email send your answers to corinnedavies @ rocketmail.com. (no spaces)
Be certain to type: Looking Forward to Summer in the subject box.
The contest is open from 12:01am, June 7st to 11:59pm on June 30st. Entries with all the correct answers will be entered into a drawing.
One (1) prize will be awarded per winner.
The names of the winners will be listed on the site of all participating authors. Each winner will be contacted by the individual author of the given prize.
Participating authors & prizes:
Mechele Armstrong A signed copy of Settler's Mine 3: The Woman.
Corinne Davies A scented candle and Lust Body Lotion
Stacey Espino A $10 Gift Certificate to Siren/Bookstrand
Sophia Hunt A PDF copy of one of her books. Winner's choice
Missy Martine A Trio of Hearts necklace
Tonya Ramagos A PDF copy of one of her books. Winner's choice
Jennifer Salaiz A PDF copy of Engaging Evelyn (Blissful Bets 1)
Melissa Schroeder A signed copy of Her Mother's Killer
Jenika Snow A PDF copy of The Chosen: A Tale of the Blood Breed.
Sandy Sullivan A PDF copy of one of her books. Winner's choice
Regan Taylor A PDF copy of The Four of Cups, the Thrill is Gone.
Suzanne Thomas A $10 Gift Certificate to Siren/Bookstrand
KyAnn Waters A stuffed envelope--includes a semi precious stone beaded
book thong, a letter opener, pen, etc.
Good luck!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Celebrating the Release of Her Knight in Shining Amour - the Knight of Pentacles
Her Knight in Shining Amour, The Knight of Pentacles, is due for release on June 1 with eXtasy Books. extasybooks.com. I've had so much fun with my series within the publisher's series. Book 1 introduced the Four Cups aka the Love Cups in The Thrill is Gone, Four of Cups. Readers met Queenie, Karley, Kimmie and Amber and told the story of Queenie and her younger, oh so hot boyfriend Derek.
In Her Knight in Shining Amour, their editor sends Karley on a mission -- to thoroughly research her latest book she needs to check out the atmosphere of a local club. Karley gets to check out a lot more, mainly the totally hot bod of Morgan Knight, her personal Knight in Shining Amour.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Glass Cage, Book 2 of the McKenna Crime Series
What started as a way of dealing with an intolerable situation where I myself sat in a glass booth similar to the one in The Glass Cage, I found writing a story with the ending I liked best was the most cathartic experience of all. Along with my friends, Lori, Eb, Karin, Maggie and Sandy, we found a friendship that will last a lifetime. Oh yeah, and little guys CAN win!
The Glass Cage, Available Now
Friday, March 5, 2010
The Thrill is Gone - Four of Cups
It's the count down for the release of The Thrill is Gone, Four of Cups in eXtasy's Tarot series - -due out March 15.
Well, almost launch week. It was a fun story to write because it comes from a part of my life.
Two years ago Brenda Novak (www.brendanovak.com) was doing a column on her website that had interviews with real life folks in the law enforcement community. I hooked her up with a few friends of mine including Ken Holmes, the Marin County coroner. Ken is a total awesome guy and he helped me with some of my research for Her Eyes (www.amirapress.com), particularly in the area of organ transplants. In the course of her conversation with Ken she asked about seeing the coroner's office and he arranged for Brenda, Allison Brennan (www.allisonbrennan.com) and I to do a tour of the Sacramento County coroner's office. Up we went and it was an amazing afternoon where we learned more than we ever thought possible.
Last year I set up a Valentine's event with KOFY TV-20 where Brenda, Allison, Karin Tabke and I had guest spots throughout the week at the station. During the interviews Brian, our cameraman told me I should write a romantic suspense with a dashing cameraman named Brian as the hero. The idea percolated and while The Thrill is Gone isn't THAT story he does have a part in it and it does have some surprises from our TV appearances.
The four of cups is traditionally seen as a sad tarot card, one filled with a sense of loss and missing the boat. It's often defined as a time of feeling like something is missing from our lives, but nothing we can put our fingers on.
I don't see it that way. I see it as more a reminder that sometimes we need to sit back and take stock of just what we have. Too often (I think) we get caught up in what we don't have, what we've lost, what more we have to do instead of taking stock of what we do have. The four of cups, for me, reminds me to appreciate those things we too often take for granted.
Right now, my kitties are doing well. Even the 21-1/2 year old is doing awesome. Mel is struggling with something but he'll be fine.
I have some of the best friends in the world. They are talented, creative, fun, intelligent and solid people.
I don't just have a job, I have a good job working with some of the most totally awesome people ever. Being around people who are a combination intelligent and creative is energizing. Add in the fact that they can be fun and total team players you pretty much have an ideal situation.
Sometimes I think if I didn't have those four of cups moments I wouldn't appreciate these seemingly little things that make life good.
So what do you think of Angie's cover? Super, huh?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Valentines Week with the Siren Authors!
7 days of romance with the Siren-Bookstrand authors!
Come talk about romance -- your best Valentine's day, your funniest, your most romantic proposal and favorite memories! Join us from February 7 through the 13th on
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SirenBookstrand/?yguid=73632744 and
http://sirenbookstrand.blogspot.com/
Come talk about romance -- your best Valentine's day, your funniest, your most romantic proposal and favorite memories! Join us from February 7 through the 13th on
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SirenBookstrand/?yguid=73632744 and
http://sirenbookstrand.blogspot.com/
Friday, February 5, 2010
His Eyes is now available for pre-order!
Got the word today that His Eyes is available for pre-order at Siren-Bookstrand. Picking up where Her Eyes ended, His Eyes asks the question "when you look into his eyes WHO do you see." When Detective Mike Malone met Barbie-doll-look-a-like Melanie Hughes he thought he'd found the woman of his dreams. Smart, funny and well, just fab to speak her language. He asked all the right questions -- or so he thought, but there was one he didn't ask. It was the one he should have.
Meet Mike Malone:
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