Writers aren't exactly people, they're a lot of people trying to be one person. F.Scott Fitzgerald

Saturday, December 31, 2011

2012,New Year,New Beginnings?

2012! How exciting to be faced with a new year and the potential it brings to leave the old behind and begin fresh.Facing the new can be a two edged sword for all of us, especially if we have unfinished business from the old year still hovering around us like Scrooge's ghosts from Christmases past.Time to put those regrets and missed opportunities behind us and say farewell to the mistakes we made,things we wished we had done or not done and said or not said.
This is the time to look ahead and make those plans. Whether it is to finish that novel or start a new one. Send in that query,finish those revisions,paint that room,take those singing lessons or write that long overdue letter to a friend you have lost touch with.The new year is a blank slate and is and can be whatever we want it to be, whatever we choose to make it.
So make those New Years resolutions with optimism and resolve to carry through with each and every one and if you fall short,well God willing and if the creek don't rise,there is a new year just around the corner of the old! So Happy New Year to all,gotta go now and make out my new list of gonna do's for this year.
P.S. I'm adding all those gonna do's from last year that I never got around to doing!

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


For the first time in my life I am not looking forward to the Christmas holidays.This year I find myself living in a lovely senior apartment complex.now that isn't the problem.The problem is out of sight /out of mind! My children rarely call me,my friends don't visit and rarely call.I have little to no money left after paying all my bills,so I can't even go shopping for gifts.I understand now why so many people commit suicide during the major holidays,especially Christmas.
No I am am not thinking about doing away with myself,but I can understand why many choose to do so.Years ago,when I was a young and foolish wife and mother,I remember wishing I could live alone,with no one to tell me what to do or interrupting my writing or asking me to pay attention to them. I resented having to cook,clean house,take care of a husband and toddlers.I wanted to be free to watch the television shows I wanted to see instead of fishing shows every Saturday morning. Wishing I were alone so I could read my books uninterrupted or watch a movie all the way to the end without having to stop and cook dinner or play with a bored child.
Well I am sixty six,almost sixty seven and finally got what I wished for all those years ago.No one interrupts me,there are no children clamoring for my attention and no husband to take care of and pay attention to. Now I watch movies all the way through uninterrupted by anyone.
I read until the wee hours of the morning,write whenever I am inspired to do so and cook only when I want to.I don't have to rush around buying tons of Christmas presents,cook holiday meals,wrap presents,etc. I can eat fast food instead of slaving for hours over a hot stove cooking huge holiday dinners. Sounds great in theory,at least I thought so at one time.

The reality is not! My apartment is quiet,too quiet.No laughter of children,no mad wrapping presents or putting together toys until the wee hours of the morning before collapsing in bed and making love to my husband and snuggling against his warm comforting body for a few hours before the kids get up and the madhouse begins.Christmas morning there will be no sounds of laughter and delight at what Santa left under the huge Christmas tree.There are no warm hugs from my children. No kissing my husband under the mistletoe or snuggling on the sofa with his strong arms wrapped around me while we watch our children tear into the presents we spent hours wrapping. No treks to the grandparents house for the family gift exchange and helping my mother-in-law cook Christmas dinner for our huge family.
Yes I got what I wished for and I would give almost anything in the world to go back to what I had then. As I have said before.Be careful what you wish for,you just might get it!
This year,my first Christmas alone,I wish more than ever that I could go back in time knowing what I do now. I would cherish those times with my family. Yes, I want a do over and I wonder where those Christmas Spirits that visited Scrooge were when I needed them?

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

November Tradition& What It Takes To Be A Writer

First let me give the official title.(National NovemberWritingMonth). The goal of NaNoWriMo is to write 150,000 words in 30 days. Sounds simple doesn't it? Well,let me tell you it is not so easy. 150,ooo words in a month is a lot to tackle. I can do it if,I can find the discipline to stop editing as I go and just write the story, hell bent for leather. This is my third year to participate in this world wide event.I have not been an official winner as the first person to reach the goal.but I am a winner nevertheless by ending up with a new manuscript to revise,polish and hopefully have a new novel ready to send to a publisher or agent.Many new novels have been products of NaNo. Maybe this will be my year and if it isn't, well there is always next year or the next!
I love taking a thought,a phrase, an idea, a dream or even a few words and turning it into a story,then creating new characters,breathing life into them and weaving them into the story. Deciding their fate,what experiences they will go through.Love,Marriage, Danger or sometimes even their death. everything that happens or doesn't happen depends on me to create it.
Writing is not an easy job,it can be a lonely,frustrating job.At times,the words don't come easy,pulling them out of a fuzzy mind,bleary with lack of sleep or worry over not enough money to pay the bills,problems with children and just coping with life in general can leave a writer floundering and desperate for the next scene to slide into place,the next words to flow from our mind and slide into just the right place. If we are lucky,very lucky we reach a satisfactory end to the story with at least some of our sanity intact. Maybe,just maybe we will get lucky and find an agent or a publisher who wants to take a chance and turn our story into a book.
I won't even go into how slim the chances are for that to happen.That being said,writers truly cannot,not write. No matter what,we are back at it almost as soon as we type or write,The End.

Thursday, October 13, 2011


Good question and one that I suppose only an expert can diagnose. Speaking from experience I can honestly say there is a difference and it does matter.Unfortunately,one can lead to the other and both need to be treated by a professional. Whatever it takes to relieve the symptoms and get to the underlying cause should be done before things go too far My family ancestry pretty much guaranteed I would inherit both maladies as well as a predisposition for alcoholism.
My ancestors were Irish,English,Welsh, and Native American(Choctaw and Cherokee).

Growing up,I experienced both of these forms of depression with my parents. My father had a Jekyll and Hyde personality. When he drank,which he did at an increasing rate until a few months before his death at the age of 42 from a cerebral hemorrhage, he would be generous and loving one minute and cruel the next.
My mother didn't drink,but she was just as mercurial and would have days that she would lie in bed and cry.On those days she was either indifferent to us or dispensed spankings for the smallest infractions. Those dark days,she blamed on her Black Irish Moods. Fortunately, they were interspersed with days of smiles,manic house cleaning,baking,bedtime stories and a loving tenderness toward me and my younger sister.
I learned at a very early age to assess the moods of my parents in an instant and became adept at becoming a ghost or saying and doing just the right thing in the moment.Unfortunately, my stubborn and independent personality,coupled with a hot temper and inability to keep my mouth shut, assured me of many spankings.
As I grew older,I learned to become a ghost and dissappear.I spent most of my earliest childhood outside with my dog,Poco. Day or night,I stayed outside as long as possible to avoid the uneasy and ever-changing moods of my parents.My temper became worse and more destructive until I had little control of it and it had more and more control over me.
When I was eleven,my mother and father separated and divorced. By this time I hated and loved my father and my mother. I had no friends and preferred the company of my dog,Prissy.

Two years later,my mother met and married her very wealthy boss.I adored my new stepfather. When we moved to his farm when I was twelve and he gave me my first horse,I fell head over heels in love with him. He was everything to me. Everything I had ever wanted and needed from my father,he gave.
When I turned eighteen,I met a 21 year old college freshman,fell in lust and we were married a few months later.Within a few weeks i was miserable.I missed the farm,my horses and most of all my stepfather.I had nothing in common with the man I married. I missed the farm,my horses and most of all,my stepfather.I'm not sure when the dark moods began to take over.I was in too deep to recognize them as such.My husband certainly didn't seem to notice and if he did he ignored them.
After six years and two children,we divorced and I moved back to Louisiana.The old farm and my horses were gone,but my stepfather and mother had a new smaller farm and they welcomed me home.I was home again. Living on a new farm,with a new horse and back with my family.
Nothing was the same as it had been,but I didn't care,or so I thought
Before long dark despair would creep in at odd times and overwhelm me.I went for long solitary walks or rides on my horse and let the dark moods and crying jags come until the blackness would ease and I could breathe again. I appeared to function normally. I went to work,shopped, laughed with my family. No one seemed to notice,the laughter was hollow and never reached my eyes. I kept my inner torment and dark thoughts well hidden for many years.
My older children grew up and left home.I went to work,and appeared to be happy.No one,not even my present husband knew how miserable I was and how well I had learned to hide my dark thoughts of ending it all and my deep bouts of depression. I preferred to be alone as much as possible because it was easier to hide how I felt deep inside.When my son was killed in an accident,I wrapped myself in a cocoon of calm strength and held it together. Only when I was alone did I allow the tears and the darkness and grief to take over so I could release enough of the pressure to survive and keep going.
This cycle continued until my husband walked out ,leaving me and my youngest daughter alone and only then did I give in and seek help.Medication and therapy pulled me trough that very dark time.Eventually,I functioned normally(whatever the hell that is)!
However;I still have dark days, days when those, "Black Irish Moods",as my mother called them, creep in and send me to my knees.Sometimes,I give in and crawl into my cave. Let the thoughts of despair,doubt,fear,regret,memories of the past and everything I have lost and everyone who is gone overwhelm me. I don't fight it,I embrace it ,then let it go until the next time it creeps up on me and I let it in.I treasure the memories as much as I hate the losses. But,I am a survivor and I have more good days than bad.I am blessed with friends and family who love and care about me as much as I do them them. I am a survivor. I don't regret or curse what my ancestors have passed on to me. They have given me,courage,strength,perseverance, a gift of the gab, and the strong belief that Magic,Spirits,the Fey and all the things that go bump in the night, still exist in the world. SLA'N,( Gaelic for Farewell).

Friday, September 30, 2011


Two days ago was the computer screw up from Hell.That being said,I will admit I did it to myself and spent about twelve hours trying to undo the mess I inadvertently made. I decided to follow the directions on a message I received a Hotmail message,telling me my Facebook account had been used by someone to open an account and gave me a link to follow to change my password.
I followed the link and changed my password and started a snowball effect that had me so confused ended up changing user names,other passwords and writing the info on sticky notes. However; apparently, I wrote down wrong information on some of the sticky notes and not enough information on the others.By the end of the day,I was frustrated,angry at myself and very discouraged with the huge mess I had inadvertently created.I am the first to admit that I am technology challenged.Actually,I am amazingly,frustratingly,notoriously awful with almost anything that is technology based.Occasionally I stumble upon the solution and accidentally fix the problem,but those instances are exceedingly rare.Operative word being RARE.
I finally gave up and put out an S.O.S. call to Mark,who is in my world,THE COMPUTER GOD!Once again he came to my rescue and fixed the mess I had created.By the time he left,I had a folder with a printed list of my user names,passwords,etc. I will endeavor to be more aware and carefully write down the correct information anytime I change passwords,etc.
I suppose you are wondering about my intelligence level. Well,I graduated from a university with a degree in nursing with a grade point average of 3.9 and made one of the highest grades in the state on my state board exams.I worked as a research study nurse for a number of years then as a Hospice case manager until I took early retirement due to work related injuries.

I am reasonably intelligent,but have a learning disability and dyslexia in math.Apparently I have a major disability with anything pertaining to computers.I read the" Dummy"how to books and manuals on computers and I they might as well be printed in ancient Aztec.I just don't understand the lingo no matter how often I read or reread the subject matter.The one class I found and attended was a complete failure.I couldn't figure out how to turn the computer on.You may laugh,but it was very traumatic to have the instructor lead the class in laughter at my total lack of computer skills.Needless to say,I never went back to that class.
Eventually,I bought and Apple, as they were called back then and I learned some basic skills. I own a Dell now and I can maneuver around and get some things done,but I am far from being able to do so many of the things I want to be able to do.Well,I digress.Back to my really horrible day.
I received and email that someone had used my Facebook account to get into Facebook and was told to follow the link and change my password.After screwing that task up and inadvertently, creating a snowball effect,by changing other passwords and forgetting user names and trying to change those I spent twelve hours trying to fix the horrible mess I had inadvertently created.
I finally,gave up in frustration and sent an S.O.S. email to my friend,Mark.I call him the Computer God. He always comes through and fixes whatever fiasco I have created while trying to fix something myself.
As always he smiles and laughs at me and then fixes whatever problem I have created this time.By the time he left,Everything was back to normal and I had a very nice print out of my sites complete with user names and current passwords. After a big bear hug and a reminder to write down any changes I make to passwords,etc.he got in his car and drove away into the sunset.Once again,he had ridden in,saved the day and rode away into the sunset. Thanks Mark
Just a closing thought,but maybe I change his name and should call him the"Lone Computer Ranger". Hmmm,probably no. Unless I write it down,I'll probably forget his user name and how to find him again!

Wednesday, September 28, 2011


I have been challenged repeatedly today while trying to use my laptop.Every site has asked for my password which I have to stop and find.Then Hot mail wanted my password.I didn't even know I had one so I had to start the process of password recovery which I am sure Satan thought up.Then I tried to open my bookmark for my blog(which asked for my user name and password)Hell,I didn't even know I had either one for my blog.Eventually I found it through processes too horribly frustrating to to even put in writing.
Then windows live asked me for my password,you got it,I had to go through the same frustrating process of ,I'll just use the initials for that which not be named,P.R.
Then I decided(Oh foolish me) to have a little fun and go on Facebook and read what was new.
OH MY GOD! the old easy to use,entertaining Facebook is GONE! In it's place is a site almost impossible to navigate around in and so changed,it is no longer a pleasant way to talk tofriends and see what they are up to.That was the straw that broke this camels back,to use an old expression. Gone was the user friendly,amiable,laid back site and is it's place is the Devil's spawn.A place I dare not go now.I am disappointed and not too surprised.Nothing simple can be left untouched in this day and time,or so it seems.Sigh! I am going to go now and watch a few romantic movies on cable.Hopefully the gremlins have not invaded.I wonder if I can buy an insurance policy against further changes in my electronic tools.If not maybe there should be!Some one could make a fortune inventing a way to help some of us who don't want some of these changes.Newer does not necessarily mean better!

Sunday, September 25, 2011


WRITERS BLOCK to me is one of the worse ailments that can happen to a writer.I know there are worse things that can happen but this affliction is downright scary.No one can predict it,no one knows when it will strike,how long it will last, or how to cure it.
July 5th,2011,I was writing away in my latest WIP and closed down for the night.I was moving into my new apartment the next day and there was a lot of packing and coordinating the move with friends who volunteered to help. Two days later I was moved in and spent the entire day unpacking and setting up my new living space.
Finances were tight but they would get better after I recovered from all the usual moving expenses and setting up utilities,etc! I loved my new space and the senior complex was brand new and perfect for me.I was on the third floor and had a great view.Life was good.
I took a break from writing and concentrated on organizing and reorganizing my apartment,shopping for new stuff I needed and wanted until I had to stop due to a low bank balance and a need to just chill out.
I woke up on a rainy August morning and decided it was time to" sit my butt in chair" and return to my job as a writer.I sat down at my laptop and prepared to open my latest work in progress,Evolution of Monsters, a story I loved writing. Two hours later after jumping up numerous times to do other stuff that I decided needed tending to such as going to the grocery store,putting all the stuff away then rearranging the cabinets again, calling the cable company to make sure they were still coming out the next day and eating a late lunch.
I decided to sit down and rest for a bit and before I knew it, it was after five p.m. and time to fix dinner for myself and spend the rest of the evening writing.

At seven I sat down in my new computer chair in my newly arranged office nook and opened my WIP on the laptop. Twenty minutes later I stopped staring at the same scene I'd been reading and closed my it down.I was tired,it had been a long day,I'd get a fresh start tomorrow.At least that is what I told myself.

The next morning I read and answered my e-mails. Wrote an posted on my blog,watched television,read,went shopping and ignored the nagging voices of my muses and the characters in my neglected novel reminding me that my story was waiting for me to start writing again. Oh I would sit down and stare at the desk top icons where each of my novels,finished and unfinished waited for me to revise,polish or write new scenes.I did none of those things.

July eased into August,then September rushed in and I had not written a single new word in my novel.I wrote new blog posts so it wasn't writer's block,at least that is what I told myself.Oh I opened my manuscript and stared at the words on the screen acutely aware that I had written a single word in it since the end of June! A lifetime ago for a writer who had written new scenes in her works in progress almost every day since September of 2007. It was now September of 2011 and I had not written a single new word in any of my works in progress since July 5th of 2011.
A life time ago to a writer who had always loved to write.Why wasn't I writing? Too busy,still settling in,I would get back in the groove as soon as the shortage of money from the expense of the move and setting up a new residence was resolved.At least that was what I told muself evry time I sat down in front of my laptop and did busy work,then got up and tried not to feel guilty about not writing anything in my neglected novels.
Then a few days ago I sat down with the intention to write new scenes in my newest novel,Evolution of Monsters, and sat there staring at the last page I had written. After getting up and closing out the manuscript without writing a single new word, I finally stopped deluding myself and faced the truth,I was experiencing the dreaded "WRITER'S BLOCK" for the first time in my writing career. I had heard of it,but never experiencing it myself,I was naive enough to believe IT would never happen to me.Well it had and I would have to deal with it.
Today is September twenty-fifth,Two thousand eleven and I am not so arrogant or naive anymore.What I am is a writer and I can and will be the best writer I can be and continue to write and grow as a writer and hopefully soon a published author.

But first and most important of all in my recovery, is to take that first step and begin writing new words in my novel,Evolution of Monsters.

Thursday, September 15, 2011


I love to write and I always have.Writing has been the one single dependable thing in my roller coaster life.Whatever chaos was going on,I could escape for a time in the fantasy world of my choosing by writing. I could lose myself in the world of words creating characters who were heroes and heroines,creating a world and lives for them and telling their story. For a time, I could lose myself in them and their world.I lived and breathed their life story and created a world just for them. I put them up the proverbial tree,threw rocks at them, then figured out how to get them down.
For a time I lived vicariously through them.I loved my characters and would become them.It was important to become them,live inside their heads and know them intimately.Who they were,what they wanted most in life,what was important to them.Know their inner most secrets,their weaknesses and their strengths.
They weren't just fictitious people to me. Each one became very real. It didn't matter whether they were villain or hero or if loved them or hated them, each one was important and had a reason to be there. They had a story to tell and each was important to the whole.
As each novel drew to a close and ended,I flt as though I had lost a vital part of myself.I had become so thoroughly enmeshed with the characters, the hero and heroine and their life,I actually felt I had lost the most vital and thrilling part of myself.The person I had become,the heroine of the story and the life I created for her and the hero was over.I had lost a vital part of my life and the person I had become because I had become the heroine and loved the hero with all my heart and soul,just as she did.
It was as though I had lost the real me and stepped into a strangers body and life. A life and person I no longer recognized nor wanted as my own.I wanted the person I had become after so many months.I wanted to be that person and live the life I created for her. I wanted the man who was the love of her( my) life back.I wanted their life,their passionate love for each other,even their arguments and separations,which had become more real to me than my own life back. I was not ready for this thrilling surrogate life to end.
Maybe all writers don't get so caught up in their story,but I am willing to bet many of us do.
Well,I suppose you are wondering,how did I resolve my disorientation,heartache, grieving for that lost life and longing for the deep love and passions of my hero and heroine ?
Why I did what any writer who create and fall in love with new worlds and characters to inhabit those worlds do. I started a new book with the same characters.
We writers are gluttons for punishment or we probably wouldn't be writers!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Where was I on 9/11?

I showered,dressed for work,fed the cats.I worked as a Vitas Hospice RN Case Manager in southeast Texas and sat down in front of my television with my Dr.Atkins diet shake to watch the morning news.I never dreamed I would end up watching the worst tragedy in the history of the United States since the Civil War. I was watching the news cast and I remember the look of shock on the two anchor peoples faces as the first plane hit the tower of the World Trade Center, then the second tower exploded. I remember thinking,briefly, that it must be a trailer for a movie.
The shocked look on the anchors faces told me it was real.I sat there, numb and watched the news cast until my pager went off. The message was from my Team Manager we were summoned out of the field and into the office by our team manager.I continued to sit there as the rest of the horrible events played out over the screen and the reports were beginning to come into the station.
I left my apartment and drove to our office,still in shock I think.I discovered as I opened the door and went inside that what I had seen was all too real.Lynn,my team manager had a small television on.Me and the rest of the team of nurses sat there with tears running down our faces as the television revealed the entire horrible,inconceivable event on the small screen.
the main office of Vitas issued a message that the office was closed for the day and absolutely no nurses were to go out in the field.All of the families with patients at home were notified by the main office that the nurses would call later and check on the patients.
Any patients having emergencies would be transported by ambulance to our in-patient unit in north Houston.Nursing home patients had their own staff and were notified the Vitas nurses would not be out in the field making visits. At the time no one had any idea how many cities might be targeted and the south Houston area was known as the main area for oil and gas refineries.
By one pm,our time,our team manager told us that we were to go home and call our hospice families and nursing homes to check on our patients and families who had patients at home.

I don't remember the drive home,but I remember sitting down in front of my television and watching the continuous coverage of the awful,heartbreaking events.It still didn't seem real. The footage of the planes, the explosions,the people leaping out of windows trying to escape the inferno and the people on the streets running for their lives still looked like scenes from a movie.

The true extent of the horror was being revealed in front of my eyes on my big screen television by new footage and copy read by shell shocked appearing reporters and trusted tearful news anchors. The rest of the afternoon and night is a blur of speculation,news reports,interviews of shell shocked people,new footage and tragic reports.
I don't remember when I finally went to bed or if I slept. However;I will never forget that day and the images I saw. The planes, the explosions, the collapse of the towers and the shock on the faces of New Yorkers running for their lives,the grim heroic faces of the police,the firemen,and emergency personnel.No American old enough to remember that day will ever forget where they were on that day and what they saw and the emotions they experienced.

Thursday, September 1, 2011


I have had a vivid imagination as long as I can remember.At four my mother said I made up my own bedtime stories. At six I made up elaborate scripts and browbeat mt friends into acting them act in our everyday play.Cowboy and Indian scenarios,hero rescuing the helpless female,lone hero riding into town to mete out justice and sweep the lovely heroine off her feet.Handsome teenage boy gets the girl. I was always the hero,the handsome teenage boy or the brave handsome hero. As I got older the stories changed and became more elaborate. I continued to coerce my younger sister and some of my friends into acting out my scripts.
Being a died in the wool Tomboy,I was never the helpless female. I viewed girls as silly creatures who squealed,fainted when the going got tough and fell down when escaping danger. Why would anyone in their right mind want to be a female?Females stayed home,had crying ,smelly babies,cooked,cleaned house. They always had to be taken care of,protected and constantly rescued.
Obviously they were physically weak and not very intelligent. Why would I want to be a girl?I wanted to be the hero and when we acted out my elaborate scenes I was always the dashing,handsome,hero,who rode in, saved the day, and rode away.No mushy stuff though.Yuck! I certainly wasn't going to kiss a girl or a guy for that matter!

When my mother and father divorced and she married her boss,we moved to my stepfathers farm.Now I was alone,no friends lived nearby and I turned to my imagination and my writing for company.I rode my horse over our 500 acres pretending to be a lone hero, a dashing bandit or whomever my imagination conjured up at the moment. Gradually,I began to accept that not all females were helplessly inept and forever needing to be taken care of and rescued.I began to incorporate strong females into my scenarios.
Day after day,I wrote poetry,composed and sang songs as I rode over our farm.I Occasionally I would write some of them down,but for the most part they existed only in my head.

Eventually I began to write down some of these stories,poems and songs. Before I knew it ,I developed a strong need to write.I soon discovered that I could not ,not write. I would become restless until I picked up pen or pencil and committed whatever I had written to paper.
The farm is long gone now and I have few of the stories ,songs and poems I wrote in those young years.But I kept the most important thing.My love of writing.The thrill and yes,even the frustration of writing a story still have a powerful hold over me.
A physical and emotional need to tell the stories that circle around in my head and whisper seductively to me until I have no choice but to bring them into the physical.

My physical tools have changed and I rarely use paper and pencil now to write a new manuscript.I use my lap top and print out hard copies every few days.However; occasionally,I find a pencil in my hand as I scribble down the latest idea for a new book, a song and rarely, a new poem.I write notes on index cards and stress over plotting,conflict,sentence structure, character arcs,etc. etc!
Writing is hard,lonely and often frustrating work. Occasionally, everything clicks and the story flows almost effortlessly from my head and appears on the screen.However; some days nothing works and every word is like forced crocodile tear, obviously faked and inappropriate. Stubbornly keeping my butt in the chair, eventually, with great effort they come, one hesitant word at a time, until my head aches and I am exhausted.
On those days I wonder why in the world I ever wanted to be a writer.What masochistic tendency compelled me to want to be a writer? I decide I will never be good enough and I should just stop trying. Then the magic happens and the words,as seductive and compelling as a lover's touch, begin to whisper and flow as the story pulls me in and I am lost in the writers zone once again. The outside world and all of the frustrations disappear and my fingers fly over the keys.As the words fill page after page, I remember once again, why I wanted to be a writer.

I don't think that writers have a choice. I truly believe that writers are born and will eventually succumb to the siren call of the muses.It is who and what we are.Ink flows through our veins and we have to write to survive the onslaught of ideas and the insistent clamoring of new characters to be brought to life.

Stephen King once said, and I paraphrase."Writers cannot, not write".

Monday, August 29, 2011


My granddaughter spent the night with me this past weekend.I had promised her that after I moved into my new apartment she would be my first overnight guest(probably my only sleep over guest).I had very little money to take her to her favorite McDonalds or to buy her a new toy,so we explored the apartment complex,sat out on my small patio and watered my plants.
I watched her explore my apartment and discovered my Star Trek collectable figures and all of my stuffed animals that she played with when we all lived together,before her parents separated and her dad filed for divorce.We ate ice cream cones and watched movies just like we used to.
We looked at all of the family pictures hanging on my walls.She had forgotten who many of the people were.We discussed who they were and who was living and who were in heaven. I watched her touch things and listened as she told me how we had played with this toy or she remembered seeing that item in my room. Her huge blue eyes missed nothing and we talked about some of the things she remembered about our times together in Alaska and how she missed her friends and the things we used to do together. I told her I missed those things too,but we could do new things together here.
At bedtime she asked for a story,not a story from a book,but one I made up,just as I have with all my children and continued the tradition with her. Half way through story she told me she would finish it.I was surprised and a little disappointed until I realized she was carrying on the tradition and would be telling her future children and grandchildren stories one day.
I know I started this tradition many years ago with my children but only my youngest daughter,my granddaughter's mother,Mali, had carried on the tradition but being Mali, she had put her own spin on the stories by having the princess every bit as strong as the handsome prince.
Managing to sit through the end of the story with my tears un-shed and a lump in my throat,I tucked her into her sleeping bag,made sure she had her bottle of cold water beside her bed,told her our traditional goodnight phrase "Sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite" and left the room.
I walked around my apartment and looked at it,not with my adult eyes,but with the eyes of a child,the precious child sleeping in my bedroom. I began to see what I imagined she would see.Items that she remembered were still here,I was still here. Continuity and stability in her little world that had been turned upside down by her parents separation and pending divorce and living part of the time with her momma and part of the time living with her father.
My apartment was an oasis of the past in the midst of so many changes and I was still here.

Later that night I stood over my granddaughter's sleeping form curled in her sleeping bag with her favorite stuffed animal,Floppy Puppy,in her arms and gazed at her peaceful, lovely little face.Yes the tradition would carry on and I would live on as long as she remembers me,her Ga Ga, and some,if not all, of the good times we had together.
I walked around my apartment and looked at it throught the eyes of a child I closed my eyes and when I opened them I looked around me with the eyes of a child
I walked out on my patio and stood there,looking up at the faint stars.How could I forget to look through the eyes of a child and see all of the magic around me.
I have been blessed and will treasure each and every memory of our life together just as I have with all of my children and the other grandchild I have been privileged to know. I regret the grandchildren I will never know and who will never know me,but life does not always go as we wish or hope it does and this beautiful precious child,Azalynn, is enough.
All of my hardships and all of the grief melted away as I realized how truly blessed I am for the wonderful life I have been given.I don't know how many more years I will be given ,but I intend to be thankful for each and every day.

If I forget to look through the eyes of a child and see the magic all around me,I am confident Azalynn will remind me and I will strive to deserve the love she has shining in her eyes for me.

Friday, August 12, 2011


The tango is a fiery,emotional sexy dance.The passion of the couple explodes, seduces,caresses in a dance of love,hate and living life! Why you may ask am I comparing paying bills to this sensuous dance.Well,think about it? We dance with joy and passion spending money on things we love and desire,things that give us pleasure in the moment.Most of us love to spend money on pleasure and spending it on bills usually brings up strong emotions and most of those emotions and feelings are not happy ones.
Unfortunately,paying bills is a fact of life and an inescapable evil, especially if one has to rob Peter to pay Paul. If the money isn't there the dance can be a nightmare instead of a satisfying experience. I have to admit there are times my attempts at a Tango turn into a square dance or a very slow moving waltz.Gotta go now and face the music.
Anyone know how to stretch $200.00 bucks to cover $500.00 in bills?

Sunday, August 7, 2011


WEll,I asked for it and I got it! Years ago I craved being alone.All alone in my own home,able to do what I wanted and when I wanted to do it.Now don't get me wrong I loved my husband and my four children,but life was hectic with a full time very stressful job as a neonatal unit RN working twelve hour shifts,7pm to 7am.
My dream was to live in a cozy remote mountain cabin,with my dog and horse. of course I would have plenty of money to ride into town for supplies when I needed them.My own generator,my own power supply and well,etc.My cabin would be spacious and cozy and I would have a reliable vehicle for transportation to the nearest town.
I never got my remote cabin,but I did get the dog,horse and reliable transportation. Now I have an apartment of my own,no pets,no horse and no one to share my life with.
Being all alone is not as wonderful as I thought it would be.There is No One to rely on when there is a problem except myself. No to hold me when I am lonely or scared.
I find that I miss hugs, kisses, holding hands and making passionate love to a man,my man. I miss sharing my life with someone who loves me as much as I love them.So many of the things I used to take for granted and spurn when I had them ,I miss terribly. Silly ,corny jokes,family holidays,outings,pizza night, family dinners and just sharing laughter,tears, arguments, and my life with someone.
The idea of that remote cabin and being blissfully alone to do whatever I wanted to do sounded great in theory. The operative word here is THEORY. Living it is not necessarily so. I am not whining and my life isn't all bad,but it is not as full and rich as it once was.
So my friends be very careful what you wish for.Because, as I have shown,you just might get more than you bargained for.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


Sitting here trying to make my money stretch to pay all my bills and realized it is a futile attempt.At one point at the height of frustration at the impossibility of my task i paused to ponder an off asked question by myself and I am sure many others. "Why wasn't I born rich instead of beautiful?"Then it hit me that I was neither.Oh I'm not ugly and look tolerably well for an overweight sixty- six year old lady.
I was born to middle class parents in the mid 40's when you actually had a middle class.My mother wanted a better life and chose to go to work as a secretary for a self- made millionaire who was at the end of a long marriage. Well things progressed between them and they more or less began to see each other after hours.eventually my mother and I moved in with him and we were happy for many years.I had my first taste of wealth and privilege and I loved it.
Now I am no stranger to hard work and farm life is not easy,but I loved every minute of it. This was the life I had always wanted.Cattle,horses,farm/ranch life was a realization of all my dreams and I treasure every minute I spent on our farm and with my stepfather.he was my hero and still is.Oh he had his faults but I accepted the good with the not so good and never looked back.

Today I sit in my lovely apartment and look back at the stupid choices I have made in my life that took me away from the life and people I loved.Now don't get me wrong,I have had a great life filled with highs and lows and have some spectacular memories.some good and some not so good.Would I go back and change things if I was given a do over. My first instinct is to say absolutely I would in a heartbeat!

Then I revisit my memories and review my life and I am not so sure.If I could have a do over and be aware of everything I had already experienced,pick the age to begin the do over,then I honestly think I would take the chance.
So all in all the bottom line answer is yes I would take the chance and go for the do over.

What would you do if you were given the chance for a do over?Would you chance it?

Monday, July 25, 2011


Well, I have found myself in the unusual situation of finding myself unable to write any new words in any of my manuscripts. I sat my butt in my new computer chair,in my cozy little office area, in my lovely new apartment and stared at the computer screen of an unknown length of time.
I finally sneaked away with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs and watched my, " Little Dorrit" and" Pride and Prejudice" Dvds.Even Matthew Macfadyen's gorgeous presence didn't inspire me to write,but it did make me forget I was not writing for an hour or two.
Well here I am siting at my desk two weeks later and I still haven't written any new words in any of my current WIP's. But I am writing this new post on my blog and it's more productive than staring at a blank page on my blank laptop screen.I don't have the heart or the courage to click on the icons to open any of my manuscripts. Even the icons for my different works in progress stare at me accusingly from their designated spots on the screen and send me into a guilt trip over my non-productivity!
Is this writer's block or shell shock from all the drama surrounding me the last few months?I think it is a bit of both.
Today feels different though. I can feel my muses discussing the situation and I think they are discontinuing their holiday in Ireland and heading back to me. Finally,I can see the light at the end of the long black tunnel and hopefully it isn't an express train hurtling toward me.
What was that? Did I just catch a whiff of the stench of negativity? Why, I do believe I did and it has no place in my life right now.I am in my new home,I will have money coming in to pay all my bills and I will survive and land on my feet as I always have. This too shall pass! After all,Tomorrow is another day and as God is my witness I will never go hungry again!"You can talk about it or you can make things happen! Put up or shut up! The day is always darkest before the storm,but there will be a rainbow afterward. The sun will come up tomorrow and tomorrow will be a better day.Negative thoughts attract negativity in your life.Think positive!
Okay,Okay! I got a little carried away but the message is that I will survive and things will get better. I know I can write.I know I can tell an interesting story. I know I can weather a storm and come through it.I know life is a roller coaster ride and there has to be ups and downs.I have survived all that life has tossed at me for sixty six years and I plan to survive and call good things to me for as long as my allotted time allows.
So my fellow writers,my friends and readers. Hold your head up high and know that you are not alone in this crazy carnival ride we call life.There are millions who are holding on to the handlebar and feeling the exhilaration of the breathtaking ride.

Monday, July 18, 2011


Well President Obama dropped the bombshell that the Social Security system is in danger of having no money to pay all of the PEOPLE WHO HAVE WORKED ALL OF THEIR LIVES AND PAID IN MILLIONS OF DOLLARS expecting to have that money to live on when they retire!
I say reduce the salaries of all of the elected officials who are supposed to be handling things for the people who elected them,reduce the salaries of the president,tighten the budget spending for the military contracts and bring all of our military personnel home.The military have contracts with companies to buy equipment and pay exorbitant prices.one such contract was to purchase hammers.The military paid $100.00 a piece for hammers. They could have bought the exact same hammer at Wal-Mart for 5.00 each.
Stop foreign aide to countries who then buy weapons from us to sell to other countries who use them to kill our soldiers and plan terrorist attacks.
If our elected officials can't run the country in an efficient manner then we as voters have to accept the responsibility that WE elected them either by not voting or by uninformed voting!
it is our responsibility as Americans to see that our country is returned to the powerful nation that it once was.Gone are the days of trusting that the elected officials will make good on their campaign promises if they ever existed in the first place.
Gone are the days when we could spend millions helping other countries take care of them selves.
It is said "No Man Is An Island"and "We are our brothers keeper". I believe those words,but I do know there comes a time when reason and responsibility has to rear it's head. American was a great nation and can be again.But first and foremost we have to take care of our own citizens before we can help others.

Thursday, July 14, 2011


Well here I am at last,all moved into my new apartment and only a few minor glitches with internet and cable.I had help from friends moving most of the stuff from storage unit to apartment in this torrid Texas weather. My youngest daughter brought all of my stuff from various storage units and put all of it into one centrally located unit close to where I was temporarily staying.
I love my apartment.it is in a great location for me,affordable if I am careful,and the entire complex is for seniors,55 and up.It is not a retirement home, just a lovely complex for seniors,with all the amenities I could ask for.
I can't say this was an easy move but it wasn't the most difficult either. So all in all it wasn't too bad and hopefully any hard feelings will smooth over with time,but if not,we will all deal with our feelings in our own way.
As my grandmother used to say,"They have the same drawers to get glad in!"I will add,it is their choice and mine and I will have to let it go for my own piece of mind.
Sometimes I think all important conversations should be recorded for future reference.it would certainly lessen misunderstandings and the" you said ,I said," disagreements.
Well it is over and I truly hope this is my last move,unless I meet a drop dead gorgeous,wealthy, Matthew Macfadyen look alike and we fall madly in love and move to a farm in England,Ireland, Scotland or somewhere in the U.S.,sigh!Or maybe I'll find an agent who loves my writing, wants me for a client, and finds a publisher who loves my novels and wants to publish all of my manuscripts.
Hey,might as well dream big if you are going to dream.Dreams can and do come true.

Sunday, June 26, 2011


I am the first to admit I am too compulsive.I jumped at the chance to move to Alaska and I don't regret any of the experience except the very unwise amount of money I spent while there and returning to the lower 48.I received my 401k and spent the money on my family and myself. I enjoyed my purchases but being more kin to the grasshopper,I did not allow for unforeseen circumstances and once again Old Man Coyote,the trickster in native American mythology, showed up and bit me in the butt again and again.
Having always been more grasshopper than ant,I have struggled with my compulsive behavior all of my life.After being divorced with my daughter to take care of all by myself and in debt I finally realized there was no one to rescue me and learned to take care of business first.
I paid my bills first then spent only what I could afford on entertainment,new clothes for my daughter,etc.If I couldn't pay cash for it I didn't buy it.

At the moment I am in the process of waiting to move into a new seniors apartment building.I am concerned with money,it being the determining factor in almost everything I do or don't do at this time in my life.Hindsight is a bitch and if only's are a waste of time,but who among us don't go there.
I have little in the way of furniture and impulsively gave my bed to my youngest daughter.
I'll bet Old Man Coyote is laughing his skinny butt off right now,because I realized I can't afford to buy a new bed and will have to sleep in my recliner until I can save up enough to buy a bed.
Can you say"DUMB ASS, you did it again!"

Well there you have it in a nutshell,once again I was compulsive and didn't think before I spoke. I should have learned better by now,wouldn't you think?
Why you may ask don't I just tell her I made a mistake and really need the bed?Well mostly because our once very close relationship has definitely gone downhill and I love her and miss our close relationship and I confess I don't want her mad at me.She used to respect me and I don't think she does anymore.
I have made my bed so to speak. I have made so many bad impulsive decisions and I am paying the piper.Now don't get me wrong,I am not asking for sympathy,I am merely "awfulizing", as my therapist many years ago coined the phrase.I don't expect or ask anyone to fix it,I just needed to vent.
So my followers and friends,take heed and think before you leap,weigh the consequences, and consider the what if's,the unexpected and unforeseen.Remember Murphy's Law and then make a decision.The Cherokee wait four days before they make any major decisions. I plan to apply that wise decision making process in my daily life.I guess"Better late than never!"

Monday, June 20, 2011


I am not ashamed or embarrassed to admit I believe in ghosts and demons or if you prefer,malevolent spirits.I am Irish,Choctaw with a bit of English mixed in.With that mixture ,how could I not believe.I still might be more dubious if I hadn't experienced encounters with ghosts and more than one evil entity.
I believe in God,I call the higher power,Great Spirit and I believe in Jesus Christ.I am a non practicing Catholic,a Christian and I follow Native American teachings and beliefs. I have no conflict within me with these religions and beliefs. I have my own personal relationship with the mix and resolve the conflicts within myself.
Now on to my encounters.The first time I saw a true ghost or presence if you are uncomfortable with the term ghost, was on a cool late fall day.I had begun woodcarving and was working out in the workshop/garage using my band-saw to cut out the rough shapes I would later carve into animals,people,dinosaurs or whatever I wanted to make and sell. I had a tingling sensation and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rose.I stopped and looked up and was surprised to see an elderly man walking across the yard toward me. He was wearing khaki pants and a plaid flannel shirt and looked familiar. I shut off the power and started to speak to him and ask if I could help him.
The words froze on my tongue when I realized the man was my grandfather.
I couldn't speak,couldn't move merely stood there and watched as he approached me.His faded blue eyes sparkled just as they always had. He paused and looked at my workshop and then down at the stack of wooden figures I had piled on my work table,swept over my bandsaw and other woodworking equipment then pierced me with an intent look.i couldn't speak or move merely stand there and watch as he nodded and smiled his oh so very familiar and beloved smile of approval.Nodded his head and walked past me and i watched him simply evaporate or disappear.
I don't know how long I stood there unable to move,before the spell broke and I grinned.Tears of joy spilled over and I could only stand there smiling,laughing and crying, at the incredible encounter and gift of my grandfather's visit and approval.
In his lifetime,he had been a postman and delivered mail in a horse and buggy,a calvary soldier in the first world war,and helped my grandmother run their boarding house.But his love was for carpentry.He built their first home and the second,then built the first home for my parents and several other family members. Working with wood was what he loved to do and I inherited that love from him.I believe he came back to give me his approval and encouragement to pursue what I truly loved,whether I made a lot of money or not.I will always treasure that special gift.

Now as to my other encounters they vary from feelings of discomfort or fear when walking into a home to actual sightings and physical encounters.
A Native spiritual leader and good friend,asked me and my two best friends to walk her land and clear it and tell her what we felt and saw.She had a spiritual retreat for natives and non- natives and she had held a huge spiritual ceremony, Wolf Song. Hundreds of people including many elders from all over the world had been there conducting workshops and Inipis(sweat lodge) ceremonies.
My two warriors,Lisa and Sharon and I took our sacreds bag of sage,cornmeal.and other sacred objects,surrounded ourselves with protection,asked for spiritual guidance from Great Spirit and set out.
We walked the perimeters of the entire 100 acres,crossing back and forth over all the areas where ceremonies were held,groups held talks and teachings, etc.We cleansed and smudged each section of land and finally approached the entry way into the land and were amazed at the hostile energy we could feel along the entire area along the drive and entry way.
The worst, or so we thought, was the corner where the boundary of the land began all the way to the entry gate.We could feel the anger and myriad of emotions all the people who attended brought with them and left at the gateway onto the land.All of the emotions people brought with them had manifested into a physical energy and tried to prevent us from clearing and smudging the entire entire area.
We managed to sprinkle the area with sage and call for cleansing,protective and healing energy from great Spirit,the Universe and Mother Earth. We turned our back on the entity that was trying to attack us and walked away.Thankfully it was unable to follow.

The three of us recouped our energy,said our prayers of thanks, reinforced our protection and set off to tackle several other areas,the kitchen area,showers,camping spots,dining areas,etc.

The next area I was drawn to was the mobile home,where several of the ranchies,as the live-in workers were called, stayed. We stood in front of the mobile home and began our healing ritual.Suddenly we were shoved backward by a very strong and malevolent power. If just one of us had been shoved backward,we might have chalked it up to a stumble or our imagination,but all three of us stumbled backward with the force of the unknown power at the exact same time.
We looked at each other and without a word we moved forward as a united front against this angry entity.We chanted and sang the same power song without having to tell each other what to do. Our intent was set on banishing this harmful energy/entity fro the home and the land.

I have no idea how long it took before we knew the force was gone and the area was cleansed and protected.The three warriors,for we were truly spiritual warriors that day,continued to cleanse the land,outbuildings and sacred areas until at last we were standing in front of the main house,where Thunder,her spouse,White horse, and there main staff lived.
The three of us knew we were done,for now the land was cleansed and protection set. We stood side by side in silence and watched the extraordinary sunset as the day ended.Hawks flew overhead,bird song filled the air and we could actually feel the land's sigh of contentment.
Our work here was finished and we knew we had done as we were asked and the job was successful.
We sat in the living room and told Mary Thunder all we had felt,experienced physically and emotionally, seen, and accomplished. Her gratitude and our sense of a job well done was all the payment we needed.However; we did accept the gift of iced tea and food.

Later that night, as we were driving home,I was increasingly uncomfortable and had no idea why.I chose not to express my feelings until I had more information.By the time we were back home I knew. I remember the feeling of fear and unease as I told Lisa and Sharon that I realized that they knew who and what I was now.I had revealed myself to them and would have to remain vigilant.I knew without a doubt that the last most powerful entity,energy,whatever it was now knew me and I was now an enemy and always would remain so.
To this day,I smudge the places I live and my body frequently and always try to remember to surround myself with white light and keep my protective shield around me.
I won't describe all of my personal experiences with Spirits,ghosts and strange entities and energies. I know I am an Empath, a healer and have no desire to study in an attempt to know more and become more. It has taken many years to accept what I am and my abilities. I do realize I have the potential to become more but have chosen to not go there,at least at this time.
My experiences and abilities have enabled me to help others but have cost me in energy and physical well being but those stories are for another day and another blog.
Why don't I write a book about my extraordinary experiences one may ask and I will only say that I am not sure I want to show myself to a skeptical world at this time and most important, I am not sure I want to accept who and what I am or could become.
well,enough of that.
My other experiences with entities have been benign encounters and sightings.Fortunately they were in the presence of other people. At least I have proof that I am not entirely crazy or imagining all of these encounters.

Our friend,Lisa and my youngest daughter and I experienced a fire in my home that rendered the house inhabitable.We rented a home and moved in.We loved the house and it was a magical place.Dragonflies,Butterflies,Hummingbirds seemed to love the place and we were treated to their presence in our backyard constantly.
One afternoon we were sitting in the living room talking when we saw a man dressed in a khaki uniform walk across the fenced back yard, heading around the side of the house. I asked."Did you see that man and they both said they did.There was no gate from him to enter from that the direction he had come and the three of us leaped up and hurried to the door.Lisa and I went out the back door and my daughter went out the front door. There was no sign of the man anywhere and no way for him to exit the backyard and disappear that quickly.
We went back inside and discussed what we had seen. I told them that the man looked identical to my real father who had died when I was sixteen.He was a mechanic and wore the identical khaki clothes every working day until he died. I truly believe it was my father at least it was his ghost.
The next encounter happened in the same house.My 21 yr old son was killed in a one car crash when he had a blow out on a back tire going around a curve and down a mountain on his way to California to try and break into the music video business.
A few days after his death,my friend Lisa came out of her room early one morning and said she had been awakened by a visitor sitting on the foot of her bed.Jackie had visited her because he didn't want to upset me but wanted me to know he was okay and he loved me and everything was alright.
The last sighting or visitation occurred just before we moved out.The three of us were sitting in the living room watching television and we say what appeared to be a native American man walk past the doorway that opened to the hallway leading to our bedrooms. He was walking toward Lisa's bedroom. Lisa and I jumped up and checked out her bedroom.It was empty!
We all agreed we had seen the exact same thing. The entity didn't feel threatening and we didn't feel any intent to do harm.We had merely seen what we saw and it was gone.

These types of sightings and encounters have continued for years for me and occasionally I have felt the energy,being,ghost,spirit, entity,whatever one chooses to call them has been less than friendly,but for the most part they have been protective or benign. Sometimes I know why they reveal themselves sometimes I don't.
I do know they are very real and I am not afraid of them Only rarely have I felt they are not friendly and could cause harm.

I treasure every one of my many experiences and rarely talk about them to people I don't know and trust. I have made an exception here on my blog,because I trust that my readers are getting to know me and I will say if a post is tongue in cheek or a true story.I plan to continue with posts about some of my extraordinary experiences and I have had many in my 66 years and hope to have many more. check back for my next blog on my un-nerving experience with my attempt at healing and easing my sister's cancer pain.

Friday, June 17, 2011

A Blog site possessed & A Modern Horror Story!

Apparently this blog site is having some major issues.No matter what font or size print I choose it switches to the font and size it feels I actually meant to choose which varies from moment to moment. What do I have now? Seems I have been changed to... hmm..... this seems to actually be Times.I don't really have much to say,other than Apartment hunting is a major pain in the butt. Used to be (not so very long ago) You found the complex you wanted to live in,headed over for a tour,selected what you wanted,filled out paperwork and if they had the unit you wanted available you paid your money and voila you moved in.
Not so these days.You have to have either 2.5 or 3 times the cost of the monthly rent in income to even be considered and these aren't even fancy upscale apartments. These places would have been considered low to medium income apartments a few years ago.I have spent the better part of a month or more checking out apartments,filling out applications and being very disappointed with repeated rejections,not because I can't afford the monthly rent and utilities,but because I can't meet the insane income requirements.
I can certainly understand why there are so many homeless people living in shelters, and in cardboard boxes under the overpasses and in alleys.Never thought I could be amongst the homeless.I will never scoff at them again.
No one is exempt from the possibility of being homeless in this day and time!
DOO DE DOO DOO,do de doo doo!(hum to the tune of The Twilight Zone theme song.)

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Soul Mates Are Not Who YOU Think They Are!

Soul mates are not necessarily our other half,our partner in life or the person we are meant to find and be with til death do us part.That is actually our Life Mate. The one person we are meant to meet and journey through this lifetime side by side,our other half as it were. The other half of our soul. We can have more than one soul mate but usually only one Life Mate. We can find love again if we lose our Life Mate and have a fulfilling ,loving relationship but it is rarely the same deep soul connection.
A Soul Mate is a person who will come into our life to teach us our life lessons and stay only until we experience those lessons that we have agreed to learn before we are born.Those lessons can be harsh,cruel,sad,devastating,joyful but they are necessary for our growth. Some religions believe we keep coming back again and again until we experience each lesson and learn what we need to learn.
That does not mean we cannot learn from a Life Mate as well as a Soul Mate.We grow and become who we are meant to be from both teachers. Not everyone meets their Life Mate but we all meet our Soul Mates.

Mirrors in your life and what are they beyond the obvious? Think back on someone who pisses you off for no apparent reason.You just don't like the person! They make you angry to even hear them speak. Take a close look at them and ask yourself what is it about them you really dislike. Then take a closer look and you will realize that you see in them something that you don't like about yourself.They are your MIRROR.We can learn a lot about ourselves by observing our mirror and it isn't always pleasant.However ,it can be very enlightening.
Life is a gift to be lived to the fullest and remember that life is a journey and not a destination!

Monday, June 13, 2011


       I have three Muses.One looks like and acts like Audry Hepburn,one looks and acts like Kathryn Hepburn and  the male looks like Matthew Macfadyen. They have been with me since I started on this wonderful and very difficult career as a full time writer five years ago. They have guided me,encouraged me,whispered ideas in my ear and kicked my butt when I've needed it kicked.Unfortunately they are very Fey and don't always show up on time and have been known to disappear.This is one of those times.
       On  a whim,they have taken off on a vacation when I am at a crucial point in my latest novel,the middle!Unfortunately this isn't the first time they have done this,but they don't usually leave me at such a crucial point and they usually tell me where they are going.Last time was during NaNoWriMo when Matthew decided to head to Ireland for holiday and of course,the two ladies followed him.I managed to lure them back by hanging pictures of them and Ireland all over my room.
Since they got wise to that and didn't tell me this time where they were going I am forced to take drastic measures. I am posting this blog and offering a non monetary reward for their capture and return, in good condition of course. 
       Meanwhile I am writing a few new scenes in the manuscript that they insisted I finish.Between you and me,I think they are getting even for my not immediately writing the new scenes they suggested.Hopefully this will appease them and they will return when they realize I will likely make a mess and the WIP will need tons of revisions(which they hate to do).they hate it when I make a mess they have to help clean up.Mwwaaahaha,there is a method to my madness!

Sunday, June 12, 2011


        Today is Sunday.The sky is blue with a few fluffy white clouds here and there and a light breeze.It's June in Texas so it's hot!I should be writing new scenes in my latest novel,Evolution of Monsters, or editing my two finished novels and writing queries to send out to agents and publishers.I should be writing new stories in my Bedtime Stories for Children of All Ages book.  I should be writing new scenes in my fantasy novel,but obviously I'm doing none of those productive jobs.I did clean my room,make my bed,eat a pizza hot pocket for breakfast and re-arranged my computer desk for the umpteenth time.
     I know I should be writing a devastatingly witty and entertaining blog(obviously this is my rather poor attempt) for my wonderfully supportive followers.I need to go to the park,walk around and get some fresh air and exercise and feel the sun and the breeze on my face. Instead,I read and answered e-mails,checked out Facebook posts and now I am writing this to acknowledge that I am well aware of all the things I should be doing versus what I feel like doing.
  That admission being said and acknowledged, I stand my ground as the Master and Commander of my ship and I will sail her when and where I please and in this moment I intend to sail her to Wendy's for a large chocolate frosty,then join Lizzy and Mr.Darcy in a relaxing day of procrastination at Pemberly.
  Cheerio loyal followers,until we meet again!

Friday, June 10, 2011


       I never asked for a battle and never expected to be challenged.However on a mild April morning the challenge was issued and I voiced my surprise to my fellow comrades and several loyal friends who had been challenged to a battle by this formidable knight who usually came out of his fortress once a year in the Spring to challenge others to a battle.Knights are known to be noble and rarely inflict serious injury unless challenged to a battle to the death or fighting during wartime. All present had dealt with this formidable enemy and knew him to be ruthless,without mercy and almost impossible to defeat.
     I am no coward but I had no known cause to do battle with this knight and chose to try mediation and appeal to the knights code of honor and plead to know the reason for this challenge and a message was sent forthwith.    A response was issued promptly and I read the charges and strongly disagreed.
Naturally,I denied the charges,requested a more reasonable resolution in the matter and waited for a response.
   The reply was terse and accusatory and I realized this knight had no desire to resolve the issue amicably or explain the complaint in a reasonable and satisfactory manner.A battle was unavoidable.

      We sparred daily in a battle style I had no familiarity with. His weapons were far superior to mine.Obviously he had unlimited resources with which to obtain armor and weapons that far outstripped mine. nevertheless I fought as bravely as I could with the weapons I had for weeks until wounded and exhausted I proposed a truce that would leave me battle scarred but alive.
     I paid dearly in time and coins to defend myself in a battle not of my making over an offense not committed by myself,but by a well meaning friend.I suppose I lost the battle,but I am fortunate that I escaped with wounds,both mental and physical, that are gradually healing and a considerably lighter coin purse.
    Fortunately for my mental and physical health, I have retired form the battleground and will not have to face this blood thirsty Knight again. I keep to my own modest castle and listen to the tales of fellow brave knights who have had to face Sir IRS every spring. I have no fond memories of the battle in which I had no wish to participate with a knight who was less than honorable.

Monday, May 30, 2011


       I confess I am 66 and I have a major crush on the British actor,Matthew MacFadyen.I saw him for the first time as Mr.Fitzwilliam Darcy in the 2005 production of Pride and Prejudice and fell head over heels with this extraordinarily handsome man with an amazingly deep sexy voice.Thankfully, he can act too and has been in quite a few movies.I now own all of them that are still available.I ordered  8x10 photos of him and they are framed and in my room.I watch P&P at least once a week and can't wait for the new 3D movie,The Three Musketeers, to reach the theaters.
      David Matthew MacFadyen is my ideal of the perfect man,he has it all as far as I am concerned.Tall, 6'3",dark hair,nice build,handsome,sexy voice,dreamy blue green eyes and a killer smile.
     I read what I call Pride and Prejudice "What If Books" and imagine him as the extraordinary Mr.Darcy and I cannot believe I am so smitten with this unobtainable man,but I can dream and he makes me smile.So I curl up with the movie or a P&P what if book and continue my secret love affair with this drop dead gorgeous man. We all have our dreams and in my dream world I am Lizzy to his Mr.Darcy.

Sunday, May 29, 2011


       I  agree to a certain extent with that old adage.Stress,despair, depression, over a period of time can shorten our life span.Yes, I will agree that adversity can make us more determined to succeed but it can also cripple us physically and emotionally.The solution in my humble opinion is to laugh.
      Watch a funny movie,listen to a really good comedian on television,whatever it takes to put a smile on your face and laughter.Research studies have proven that laughter can actually help cancer treatments to be more effective.
      Laughter can help the body heal faster after surgery,accidents,illness,chemotherapy,radiation,etc!

       It's difficult to stay depressed when you laugh and smile.The Irish are an extraordinary people.
when a loved one dies,traditionally,a wake is held.Not so different than our funerals,except the Irish tend to celebrate the deceased person's life more than many cultures.

     A Celie (huge party) or a wake, is often held at a home or a local pub.Everyone is welcome  to raise a glass and celebrate the life of the deceased.Everyone present has a story to tell and share about the deceased. Some are true and some should have been, no one really cares. The celebration of a life lived and the grief of their passing is shared by all and the sadness is made more bearable.
   There is no disrespect intended; only a sharing of a persons life with others who knew and cared about them.I think I would much prefer a party and celebration of my life,rather than the somberness of a funeral.

Saturday, May 28, 2011


       Relationships are at their best,wonderful,exhilarating and still remain treacherous ground all at the same time.We thrill to the sensations of being in love,agonize over the"what if it doesn't last" and at times find ourselves caught up in over thinking.what you may ask is overthinking? A good friend of mind explained to me that sometimes we get so caught up in the what if's we can't see what is really important in the situation.
       In a relationship,we question,where it is going,what might happen,what if we love more than we are loved,etc,etc!That is getting in your head and over thinking!
       Sometimes we should just accept what we are experiencing and enjoy it unconditionally.
My grandmother and mother used to tell me;"Don't Borrow Trouble"! Now at the age of 66,I finally really understand what the phrase means and what they were trying to warn me against.Unfortunately for me and several relationships the light bulb turned on too late!
      As I watch a loved one struggle with trying to have a relationship in a very difficult atmosphere,I am reminded of how important it is to realize that borrowing trouble will and can hurt both partners and destroy what could ,in time, be a wonderfully satisfying life together. 
    It is ultimately up to each partner to decide if a relationship and the other person is worth the work it will take to maintain it?
So I will close this post with a hope that my words will click with anyone who is dwelling too much in their head and not allowing room in their heart for someone they truly care for.

Monday, May 23, 2011


        I am a writer and I have always been a writer.However;after I retired I began a career as a writer. I started with a romance suspense because I love to read the genre and I understand a lot more about life and love than I did at twenty. I based my characters loosely on people I know or have known in my 66 years. I decided to base the hero on the men in my life I have admired and loved. I combined them all to make the kind of man who I wished I could have found and married. The heroine is a combination of me and the woman I wished I could have been. The secondary characters are all based on real people,the farm was real and some of the incidents are real. Does this make it truly a fiction novel? For the most part yes.The overall story line is fiction with elements based on true incidents.
     I fell in love with the characters and the story.I finished it ,revised and edited it as well as I could and put the manuscript in a folder where it remains five years later.

    I have another romantic suspense I am working on,that lost my attention after it took a wrong turn.I can hear the voices of my characters pleading with me now and then to dust them off and bring them out of the dark and into the light and finish the revisions I started a few years ago..I will soon,I promised them again as I have for the last two years.

    That out of the way, I have a quick story to tell that I think a lot of writers will identify with.

         I had a dream and woke with a premise for a story that I felt was really different. Maybe not totally unique,but definitely different.I suppose it would fit under speculative fiction with elements of romance or maybe a paranormal romance.It is definitely a ,"what if novel", with a different spin.     
       Now this is the part that blindsided me.  I had one of those moments a few days ago while writing a small scene in "Evolution of Monsters".

      I sat down one morning and started working on my latest novel "Evolution of Monsters". I had left my hero and heroine facing an important life changing event when apparently I entered what I call,"THE ZONE!"Most writers know about entering that state in writing where the subconscious takes over and writes.Minutes,hours or maybe a lifetime passes until either you  snap back or drift back to awareness and stare stupidly at what you have written that you don't even remember writing.

         I wasn't aware I was gone until I blinked and I was back. I was surprised to find that I had written over three pages about two of my secondary characters and started to remove the entire episode,almost an entire chapter until I read it again, out loud this time, and realized it was pretty darn good.  
        Strong,emotional,pertinent to the story and very touchingly romantic.I still don't know if I will keep it in this story or save it for a book of their own.Either way the scenes were and still are between two important secondary characters who have an unrequited love for each other. I had written over three pages of scenes about why they weren't together, how they felt, and what caused them to finally get together and what happens between them.

        I was surprised to find that I had written this touching,very emotional encounter about them and had not even thought about doing so.I started to remove the entire episode,almost an entire chapter, until I read it again, out loud this time, and realized it was pretty darn good.Strong,emotional,pertinent to the story and very touchingly romantic.I still don't know if I will keep it in this story or save it for a book of their own.Either way it was an event that has happened to me before and I pray will happen again and again.Some of my best writing has been when I slip into that "subconscious writing mode".
     I wonder how many other writers and authors have had this same experience or one similar?

Friday, May 20, 2011


          Pain, I am told and have found  it to be true, is relative to the person experiencing the pain and their own personal pain threshold.
       Well Duh,I would say that is a No-Brainer. Of course, we all have our own personal pain threshold and conception of where our pain should rate on the charts.The old charts had numbers from 0-no pain to 10- severe pain.Some individuals rate a stubbed toe at the highest level on the chart while another person might rate the same exact injury as a 2 on the chart. Pain is definitely subjective.
        Many health care workers,now use the smiley /frowny face chart with the numbers assigned to each expression having the same rating as the original numbers chart. We humans have different conceptions of how much pain we are actually having and where we rate it on the 1-10 scale depending on our mood, the circumstances at the times of the injury. Were we ill,embarrassed, terrified,angry,inebriated,depressed,who was watching,etc.!
     Now all that being said, I have had four C-Sections, my tonsils removed, total knee replacement, shoulder surgery for a 3rd degree tear in my rotator cuff(shoulder) and dental implant surgery.
      None of the pain from those procedures can compare(in my opinion) to this infected tooth with severe inflammation in the gums and surrounding tissues. I rate this pain at a twelve even if it's not on the stupid chart. And, as for the smiley, frowny, face chart, I raise my one finger salute to you and say,Put That! on your chart!
      Obviously my mood is a cross between ill and irritable and choosing the one finger salute to rate the pain.At the moment, I not only look remarkably like an English Bulldog, I have the temper and irritability of a really pissed off  Pit Bull being teased by an intruder. Hopefully, the  pain pills will kick in,the antibiotic will be effective and I will feel much better just in time to go back to the dentist, who,unfortunately,will  have to inflict more pain. And,so it goes as the circular cycle continues,at least temporarily. I HOPE!

Thursday, May 19, 2011


        I am a wood carver,stone carver and writer. I am also a compulsive organizer.I have been known to go out to my workshop(this was six years ago when I still had a workshop) to carve and end up re-organizing the entire workspace for hours without carving a single item.
      When I was working as a hospice RN,I would organize my paperwork and re-organize my work desk every few days.Now that I am a writer and hopeful author of fiction I often sit down at my desk and end up spending more hours reorganizing than I do typing new words on my manuscript.
       I find that I cannot work or or concentrate in a messy,cluttered,unorganized area. My thought processes seem to mirror my environment. Many years ago a Native American Elder,a Lakota Sioux Chief,told me." living in a cluttered space clutters the mind.Organize you space and your mind will follow suit." I really believe that is true,at least for me it is.
     Of course I will admit that there are times when I sit down in front of the laptop and find myself reorganizing my work space instead of writing new scenes in my latest novel.I admit I cannot get up in the morning and leave my bed unmade.
    I like to organize and I want things organized the way I want them to be.If my space doesn't look and feel right I am physically uncomfortable until I can reorganize it.
   My youngest son was diagnosed with ADHD,attention deficit disorder. I understand that it can be an inherited disorder. His father  and I both fit some of the guide lines they use to diagnose the disorder,but not all of them.I can sit for hours and write new scenes.I can read an entire novel in one sitting or watch a movie without putting it on pause to go do something else.
     So,I suppose there is no definitive answer to the question. I think it depends on the moment. Sometimes I am procrastinating because I don't want to do the job. There are times I can't face the real issue that the story I'm halfway through with just isn't workings and I use organizing as a distraction.
     I procrastinate  and reorganize instead  when I just don't really want to clean my workspace. Then there are those times I look around me and see how much better and more efficient an area would be if I reorganized everything another way.I can't concentrate on whatever i was working on until I reorganize. Maybe that could be considered a compulsion.if it is,I don't think it is necessarily a bad thing or a good thing. I prefer to think of all these thing as part of my eccentric,loveable, quirkiness that makes me who I am and gosh darn,I like me!  

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Scary World of a Writer or Pulling Your Pants Down In Public!

          I am following my dream of becoming a writer. let me amend that slightly. I have always been a writer in my heart.Songs,stories,poems,etc! when I retired a few years ago I decided to write a novel with the hope of becoming a published author. Five years later I have three full length novels written,working on two more and a book of my original bedtime stories for children that is turning out to be a novel about fantasy characters that is suitable for children of all ages.
        I know in my head I won't ever know if my books are publishable unless I actually send them out into the world to be judged.I can't seem to make that final step and submit a query to an agent or send anything to a publisher. I don't even have the courage to join the local query group.
       Why? Several reasons come to mind.First, I suppose I am terrified that I will find out my writing sucks and my novels are poorly written and weak on characters,plot and the overall story is boring. I cannot be objective about my own writing and I'm too chicken to put it out there and find out the truth.
     What if I am a lousy writer? What if I'm really good? Which prospect is scarier? I don't really know is my best and most honest answer. I read a quote a year or so ago that said writing and publishing a book is akin to pulling your pants down and exposing yourself in public. Now I truly understand what they meant.
         I have decided while writing this blog post and really taking a good honest look at myself, that I am going to start by attending the next critique group meeting. No one can cut you down to size and deflate your ego faster than a room full of writers or build your confidence in yourself as a writer faster. Few writers have never received a rejection notice on their long hard road to being a published writer and that's probably why they are quicker to offer a kind word of encouragement along with an honest critique of your work.
        Okay,okay I am going to pee or get of the proverbial pot, take a deep breath and take the next step; and seriously look at agent lists, online submission requirements for agents and publishers in my genres and decide which way to go.
        Lord just putting that down in print makes my belly and chest tighten and my heart beat faster.Scary is a mild word for how I feel at this moment.Hopefully it will get better as I enter the foray and have a few hits or rejections under my belt.So long for now friends.I'll post how things turn out and my progress after I actually do some of the things I've said I'll do.

Saturday, May 7, 2011


       Haven't updated in a bit,which is unusual for me.Thought long and hard about what I wanted to talk about and decided I wanted to talk about being in a situation where you had to make a choice between the lesser of two evils.Maybe it's a marriage that in spite of trying,and a child together, you just couldn't make it work. Staying together for any reason other than love and respect for each other is never going to work.Eventually someone, even the child,if not everyone is going to be hurt and unhappy.
      A clean amiable parting of the ways is best for everyone,but that rarely occurs. In the majority of divorces, one partner is going to be left and devastated. Maybe they are still deeply in love,or maybe they are afraid of being alone, or jealous. Whatever the reason for the split, the partner left behind is usually the one who eventually becomes the angriest,most bent on causing pain and a wide range of problems for the partner who instigated the separation.
     The child is caught in the middle and occasionally used as a pawn in the painful game of marital/divorce chess.Either or both partners can and usually do go through varying degrees of the stages of grief:
1.Shock or Disbelief 2.Denial 3.Anger 4.Bargaining 5.Guilt 6.Depression 7. Acceptance and Hope.

     These stages are usually felt by both partners and can jump back and fourth until finally they both come to terms with reality. that doesn't mean,both partners get over the break and get on with their lives in a timely manner. they don't usually go through the stages the same way and they usually
don't get over the stages of grief and loss in the same amount of time.
    Sadly some get stuck in anger and vindictiveness and make it their mission in life to make the other partner miserable and inflict as much pain as possible.

There are no winners in a divorce,there are merely, survivors who are, hopefully, able to eventually find happiness.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011


       I want to tell you a very old tale. I don't know who first told this tale or when it was told.I imagine an aged Native American grandmother gathered the children in her tribe around a campfire on a moonlit night and told them this story.
     "Old coyote was always hungry,very greed, and lazy.He preferred to doze in the sun or a warm cave most of the day until hunger rumbling in his empty belly sent him on a search for food. He would travel near and far until he found another who had hunted and then sneak in and steal their hard earned food.
      Coyote was never satisfied with what he did have. The cave another animal had was always better than the one he had. Another female was much prettier than the one he'd picked. The mouse that got away was bigger and would have been much tastier than the one he caught.
    One fine October day,he set out to find food to add to the  very small cache in his cave,before the deep snows came.Coyote thoroughly disliked winter.The bears,mountain lions,fox,all the hunters he depended on to catch food that he could steal, slept in their warm caves and rarely ventured out into the freezing weather to hunt.
     He searched the forest, but found no animals but foraging deer and a few wild turkeys and mice. It never occurred to the lazy coyote to catch any of these creatures and provide his own food.  Clouds,dark, and heavy with snow began to cover the sky and chase the sun away. Belly growling from hunger and frustration,he nearly wept as he headed back to his cold,less than adequate,empty cave.His last mate had grown weary of his laziness and roving eye and left him.
    A few miles from his cave he spotted a large cluster of wild grapes still clinging to the bare vines winding around a huge tree. As luck would have it the tree grew next to a large pond,just beginning to ice around the edges. Coyote sat down and stared at the cluster of grapes for a moment,decided how to reach the grapes without getting wet. Grinning,he circled the tree,keeping his back to the huge pond,he leaped and landed on solid ground with the cluster of still juicy grapes in his teeth.
    Smug with his victory,he started to head home and realized he had made an error and the shortest way home with the heavy cluster of grapes was to swim. Turning his back on the cold water,he headed up the longer trail leading to his warm cave. He had gone a short distance when the cold winter wind shook large fat snowflakes from the heavy clouds.he knew he would soon not be able to see the trail and could become lost in a blizzard.He had no choice but to swim across the pond and take the well traveled shortcut home

     Coyote took a firmer grip on his prize and entered the icy water. He had gone a very short distance when he noticed a huge cluster of grapes in the mouth of another coyote floating just under the surface of the pond. The cluster of grapes was much bigger and the grapes were much fatter and probably much sweeter.He opened his mouth to grab the grape away from the other coyote and to his surprise he sank under the cold water and surfaced without the huge cluster of grapes.

     Struggling to the other side he collapsed on the snow covered bank until he had the strength to stand.
Coyote glanced back at the tree with the now empty vines and down at the cold dark water beginning to freeze.There was no sign of the other coyote or the grapes, in the water or any signs he made it to the bank and escaped with the grapes. The greedy intruder had made it to shore with both clusters of grapes or sunk in the cold deep water,taking both clusters with him. He shivered in the growing dark and cold, turned tail and slumped home,hoping the greedy intruder and the grapes were swallowed up by the cold dark water.
   It would serve him right for stealing food someone else had found and worked so hard to obtain.

        Now I think the moral of this story is very obvious, but it can differ according to the  person reading it and what they are experiencing in their own lives.

        Note: some people always want what they don't have and only see the worth of what they have when they no longer have it.That "pasture" on the other side of the fence can look so much bigger,greener, more lush, and tastier that the one they are currently in.Think a moment before you leap, it could be an illusion.
        Maybe it is greener and lusher because it has fertilizer(Shit) that you can't see until you are in it.
 Why do you think the old saying "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence", is actually a warning to look closer before it is too late and you wade in and discover the hidden stench of shit.

Sunday, April 24, 2011


        I've said this before but I think it bears repeating. Somehow,I missed the riches and worldly goods que altogether (British for line. I like to throw in a little foreign culture now and then.) Apparently I also missed the tall slender and drop dead gorgeous line and went through the short and reasonably pretty,get chubby as you age, line instead.
      Then I was in a hurry and rushed through the vivid imagination line instead of the hi-tech line located across the hall.After passing through that line I hurried over and went through the" Be a writer and suffer poverty,stress and multiple rejection letters in a profession you have to do all by yourself line.
      I was informed I only had three lines left to pick and I wished( not for the first time) for an adviser,a program of topics,a road map,anything to help me actually pick the best two lines.You guessed it, I misread the fine print above the entrance and excitedly strode through the door and emerged confident of a bright future.Little did I know I had picked awful husbands instead of awesome husband.I don't even want to discuss that.
      My last chance to turn my life from probably dismal to decidedly happy was within my grasp. I knew I had to be very careful.I saw the heading HAPPINESS over one door,over another FORTUNE and HEALTH over another.The wheels in my head turned and they sounded good to me.I emerged and was immediately sent downstairs for the gestation and birthing process.
      In no time at all I was born and grew.Eventually I realized it could have been worse ,but it certainly could have been better,if the Angel hall monitors had been more interactive with us newbies. Maybe clearer signs posted at our eye level instead of winged being eye levels and door monitors, who would ask what line you had chosen and redirected you if you were in the wrong line.I'm just saying it could have been better planned.
     All in all I don't regret most of what I ended up with. Out of my three husbands only one had no redeeming qualities. I have been healthy except for all the surgeries from work related injuries. I have been happy at times and really love and like my four children. I have been fortunate to always have a job,even if I didn't always like it. I was actually thinking along the lines of a real fortune,you know like being a multibillionaire. Not  sure I liked my 50+ year career as  a hospice RN, ranchers daughter,housewife,horsewoman,mother of four and now writer(unpublished).And I know I am totally fed up with being a technology challenged person who writes best on a laptop that she has no idea how to use the majority of the time.I asked for a do over,but I guess the memo,e-mail,repeated letters, got lost somehow or shoved in the wrong line.
     Maybe they'll let me run the sign up procedure when I get up there and have my wings.I really think I could organize the whole thing a lot better. Hey, I could keep you from making the same mistakes I did.