Write Where I Want to Be.

Hello 2012... a month late

2012-01-31T22:36:00.001-07:00

Christmas is long past... okay just by a month. And now January is almost over. Did you miss me? Did you even wonder where I'd been?

So since I'm a month late in telling you... Happy Belated New Year.

I guess time flies when you're having fun. Although, I'm trying to decide if I've been having fun or not.

I suppose if trying to drill a hole through your arm (as I did yesterday) can be called fun... then I was having a wonderful time.

No... I wasn't drilling holes in my arm for a whole month. I actually managed to get some things accomplished.

I've sent in the first in my coming Shadow Series... When Shadows Fall and get to start the process of editing and editing and... well you get the drift.

When Shadows Fall is my Oregon With the Wind type serial, following Rebekah St. James from the War Torn East to the New Eden on the Oregon Trail. Look for it in June.

I've been working on the sequel to Touched By Mercy. Trying to decide whether to call it Tamed By Mercy or Changed By Mercy. It's kind of a Taming of the Shrew so they both work. What do you think?

I've continued to edit for a Publishing Company and hope I don't mess the manuscript up more than when I got it. LOL

Otherwise life has been pretty quiet.

It is the time of the year when the temperature is pretty mellow in Arizona and everyone wants to come here to visit. Meaning the population has practically doubled and the streets aren't altogether mellow anymore. Plus you wait in line every where. I will have to admit that it's a far cry better than 118 like we had in the summer. But the way time is passing... that's coming around again. And the summer here does have it's upside. Less traffic, shorter lines, open swimming pools...

Still it has been nice to get out and walk in balmy weather. I still miss home. Colorado. But I don't cry as much as I used to over it now.

I found new things to cry over. Or scream over or pull my hair out over or pound my (Sorry I digress)

Case in point... I've been following the Republican Primaries.

Does the whole process make your blood pressure rise?

I myself have been getting just a touch ill with all the in fighting. I'm an inny. He's an outy. He's not as conservative as me. He made money, he took money... blah blah blah. How sad that there is nothing better to talk about. And don't get me started on the debates... Don't get me wrong there have been some excellent moments. But how many do we really need to have? How long do we keep rehashing the same things over and over and pretty much saying nothing new? My goodness... you'd think all the news media wants is to see fighting instead of talking about issues and what matters. Maybe we should just have a boxing match and get it over with.

Makes a body long for the day it's done. Well this cycle anyway. Because we know it's coming around again in four more years. This is the time of life when I hate 24 hour news. Wait five minutes and they'll tell you the same thing again.

Believe me I have some other things I could rant about, occupiers, the happening in the middle east, our leadership in America, the captain on the cruise ship, the economy, the cost of cable, how everyone separates everything out to charge extra and more... but that would fill pages. Or not.

I don't know if I could balance on my soapbox long enough to cover everything with the depth necessary. And I wonder if it'd really matter. Would anyone really care what I had to say?

I really just wanted to stop in and say hey. And tell everyone to have a wonderful and prosperous rest of your new year before it gets too old.

Don't get Scrooged

2011-12-02T11:33:00.001-07:00

I havesuch fond memories of Christmas. But I have bad ones. I'm sure you do too. WhatMemories dictate how you're going to spend the season?

Wouldyou agree that what you put in the season is what you get out of it?

So, howdo you see Christmas?

Do youstart the holiday season filled with energy and excitement? And finish feelingbreathless and zapped of strength?

Do youface Christmas with the anticipation of a child, or with trepidation? Evendread?

Maybeyou find yourself hoping that you get something wonderful for Christmas,something you waited for all year. And it doesn't have to be tangible.

Thinkingof Christmas' past, how did you feel when they were over? Wonderful? Drained?

Are youexpecting a dismal outcome this year? Or a joyous one?

Are youallowing yourself to get Scrooged out before the glorious holiday season?

Here area few steps we can take to make sure we don't get Scrooged.

First,you all know who Scrooge is… the beloved Dicken's character from ChristmasCarol whose story has warmed our hearts through the years. He was so kind and thoughtful. The characteryou love to almost hate. Kind of like the Grinch.

You canput whatever character you want in the title.

Don'tget Scrooged. Don't get Grinched.

But thefact remains, while Scrooge and Grinch are characters, there are real peoplelike them walking the streets today. People who act like their only joy in lifeis to steal it from others. They're rude, selfish, heart-hearted and at timesdownright cruel. They'd steal your Christmas Spirit if you let them.

And thatScrooge could be me. Maybe even you.

We wouldrarely consider ourselves Scrooges and we hope we're not in the business ofstripping Christmas joy.

Perhapswe don't do it on such a grand theatrical scale. And most times no one knowswe're feeling like the Grinch. But God does. Some of you may be groaning now.Believe me I know how you feel. Because if we're honest, we know we have timeswhen we're at our worst.

Thereare times, though I hate to admit, especially around Christmas when I'msupposed to be wearing a face of joy and offering good cheer, that thosefeelings begin to strip away my happy Christmas mask.

Maybeyour mask is fraying a bit too.

See ifyou can find yourself in any of the following.

Bubbly Christmas Spirit (you knowthe one you want to Strangle) dressed in colorful Christmas sweater withornament earrings… "Christmastime.I love Christmas. It's the greatest time of the year."

SarcasticModern Day Scrooge -- "Great? Yeah… well for some of us it's more like thetime when the whole world is trying to thin our pocketbooks. And our nerves are unraveling."

BCS turning up Christmas background music to blow my eardrums. "Ohbut Christmas is such a wonderful time. It's a time of Peace on Earth andGoodwill to Men."

ModernDay Scrooge -- "Unless that person happens to cut me off on the street. Imean just the other day at the mall, someone took the parking spot I'd beenwaiting for. Why should I be peaceful about that. And goodwill. Hmmph, I'll give them goodwill and a good one fingerwave to go along with it."

"But think about all you'vegotten for Christmas, think about how wonderful it is to give. Think about thegift God gave when he sent his son."

"Don't lecture me on giving.I am the queen of giving. For what good it's done me. I sent out lovelyChristmas Cards last year, and gave wonderful, extravagant and well thought outgifts. Did anyone return the favor. Humbug. And don't get me started on charitiesor needy people. They're more like leeches this time of year. When is enough…enough? Besides, I have my own family to care for and things are tight thisyear."

BCS-- (Spraying Christmas scentabout the room. Doing a few tra-la-las and twirls.) "But Christmas is atime for Joy to the World. People's hearts and lives should reflect that joy andcheerfulness. At least this time of the year."

"Excuse me? Okay so somepeople are joyous over Christmas, and maybe there is some cheer in the air. Butquite frankly, I'm too busy to be joyful or cheerful. I'm pulled apart by rehearsalsand shopping and baking and parties and and… try pulling my schedule then comeback and tell me about joy and cheerfulness"

BCS-- flopping a big photo albumon the table before me. "Christmas is a time for family and memories.

(Snorting) Yeah Right? I love the hassle of those big familygatherings. The ones that nearly end up in a brawl on the front lawn. And if it's at my house well that's more thatI have to do. Everything has to be spotless and just so so. And no matter howhard I try someone will complain. Or find fault.

And if it's at someone else'shouse then I have to load up all the my things and spend hours in the hall travelingto get there. Where I usually end up sleeping on the floor in a room devoid ofprivacy. Family, Ha, by the time I've spent one day with them I've had enoughmemories to last a life time. Have you met my family? We're talking togethernessoverload.

Christmas is a glorious time oflights and presents and traditions

Yeah well… we could talk for daysabout traditions (all those things we do because the family did it for yearsand we can't stand it.) But let's talk about lights. I tried for one of those pictureperfect yards the one's that get pictured in the paper and have people drivingby oohing and ahhing.

I hung the lights, on the house,across the yard. Put up some cute little lawn characters to wave at the lookey-loos.And put out a Nativity.

It was magnificent, pretty goodif I have to say so myself. Then one of those stupid bulbs went out and I spenthours trying to the culprit. A few strands are dead now, someone stole a lawnornament and a dog hiked his leg on baby Jesus.

I have more chance of a drive byshootings than a visit from seekers of light.

And how about those presents,huh? I get them wrapped and under the tree just so my children can shake them andtear off the paper before Christmas. And if it's not the children, it's the dogs. I'd hang up a sign saying theseare not fire hydrants or chew toys, but I doubt the dogs would understand ( thetree isn't even red).

Speaking of trees. I trudgedthrough mountains of snow, through the cold, up the hill both ways, lugging asaw and hot chocolate, on what became a forgettable family outing. We lookedall over and found nothing but a scrawny tree. Charlie Brown had a better one. ThenI had pine needles everywhere for the next month.

But what about the love ofChristmas. God loved us so much he sent his son for us. Christmas should remindus to share that love.

Well sure Christ is all lovingand all caring. But he has the power to be that way. I'm only human. I've foundthat most people just want to use me. They act all nice. Tell me we'll can bebest buds. When what they really want if for me to remember them when I sendout my gifts or throw a party. They certainly don't keep in touch the rest of theyear. I have hard time loving those kinds of people. They grate on my nerves.

If you ask me… Christmas is justa farce. A time for merchandiser to make money. Maybe that rude, fat, fowlsmelling excuse for a Santa who yelled at my children… is the embodiment of myChristmas.

Maybehe's the embodiment of yours…

Do youever get so caught up trying to make Christmas come alive… you kill it?

What isChristmas? What are you really celebrating?

When yousay Christmas… what comes to mind? A special gift or two? A scent? A dream?Many memories of Christmas haunt us. Some good. Some bad.

Whetherwe want to admit it or not… memories dictate, in some measure, how we celebrateChristmas now. Hopefully, they won't all be Scrooge moments that pull us awayfrom the joy. Hopefully, we won't have visits from Ghosts. 'Cause I'd freak.

Hopefullyour insights and memories will pull us back from Scroogedom and remind us whyChristmas is a wonderful time of year and chastise us for becoming sohard-hearted.

Is therewonderment in Christmas? Do you see Christmas through the eyes of child? Or hasit been distorted by life and the years?

Do you getgoose-bumps when you hear that Santa is coming? Delight and excitement fromstaring at the gifts under the tree? Do you feel the reverence of a child in amanger?

Some ofus have so many trappings, so many distorted feelings of Christmas we've lostsight of how beautiful the season is.

Howsimple the Christmas story and season really are. The remedy for a hectic holiday is to rememberthe reason for the Season and whose birthday we're celebrating. Share the truthof Christmas. You can impact someone's life this year. Maybe even your own.

Seeking Immanuel Makes Peace Last Eternally

MerryChristmas and A Happy New Year.

Leavea comment for chance to win a new mouse pad, or a postcard from one of mybooks.

Anne Patrick -- Kill Shot

2011-11-17T06:00:00.000-07:00

Former combatmedic Kory Wagner has been in four war zones, served three tours in Iraq,survived countless firefights, RPG’s, IED’s and even a helicopter crash. Now she’s home and out of the Army for goodand someone is trying to kill her in her own backyard. Just as disturbing is the handsome sheriffwho’s on the case.

Sheriff SeanHarding doesn’t quite know what to think of the decorated veteran that managedto outsmart an entire search party. Whatbothers him more is the body of a PI, whom she hired to find her sister'skiller, was found dead in a building Kory owns. And Kory isn’t being very cooperative with helping him find the answersas to why someone would kill her sister and want her dead. Will he be able to keep her alive alongenough to discover the truth?

Excerpt

The steel door creaked as shepushed it open, the sound echoing throughout the metal building. "Mr.Urlik?" She waited for her eyes to adjust to the change in lighting beforestepping all the way inside. A wide stream of light from the door spread out infront of her. "Mr. Urlik. Are you in here?"

Kory heard a sound a few yards infront of her. She quickly scanned the area. Three rows of huge metal shelveslined the interior. She inched forward, peering around the corner of the secondrow. Mr. Urlik lay on his side, facing her, clutching his chest. His eyes wereopened and his mouth moved, but no sound came out. A heart attack? She ran tohim, knelt down on the cement floor, and took his hand. It was wet, slimy. Shelooked down and saw his hand covered in blood. Her eyes shifted to his chest. Alarge crimson stain spread across the width of his white shirt from a smallhole near the center. He was breathing erratically. Experience told her abullet had pierced at least one lung and he didn't have much time. Sheimmediately pressed the heel of her right hand against the wound.

"I'm sorry," hemurmured.

"Where's your cellphone?" Hers was in her backpack but she didn't want to waste valuabletime digging it out.

"No time. Get out."

"Who did this, Mr.Urlik?"

He grabbed her right hand andsqueezed it tightly. "You were right -- no accident."

His hand went limp.

Kory felt something in the palmof her hand, looked down and saw it was a key. She shoved it into her jeanspocket. A whizzing sound buzzed past her, followed by the unmistakable clink ofa bullet ricocheting off metal. She instinctively threw herself over his bodyas another bullet struck metal. Kory felt for a pulse. There was none. Shelowered her hand to his chest and felt under both arms and along his waist. I thought all PIs carried guns. Just my luckthis one didn't.

She scrambled to her feet, asmore shots ricocheted around her, and dove through an opening on the first rowof shelves. A piercing pain sliced through her upper arm as she took coverbehind some boxes. They wouldn't shield her from the gunfire but they wouldconceal her presence while she figured out how she was going to get out ofthere. She paused long enough to grab her cell phone from her backpack, wishingshe hadn't when another bullet tore through a box beside her. She ducked lowerto the floor.

Kory ignored the throbbing in herarm and slithered along the floor toward the back of the building. As a child,she and her sister, Callie, had often accompanied her grandfather to thewarehouse where he worked on boats as a hobby. She remembered a back exit thatled to the side parking lot and nearby woods. If she could reach the door, shehad a chance of getting out of this alive. She looked down at the tear in hershirt, drenched with blood.

Thisisn't good!

Kill Shot: BookOne Wounded Heroes canbe purchased at most online bookstores or from my publisher – Desert BreezePublishing: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-227/Wounded-Heros-Book-One/Detail.bok

Anne'sBio: Anne Patrick is the author of more than a dozen novels of Romance,Mayhem & Faith, including the award-winning and best-selling Fireand Ash, Lethal Dreams and Sabotage. When she's notkilling off people or falling in love with dashing heroes, you can findher surfing the web or spending time with family and friends. Bornand raised in Oklahoma, she now makes her home in Kansas.

Tolearn more about Anne, please visit her website: http://www.annepatrick.weebly.com (whereI have monthly giveaways) or blog: http://www.suspensebyanne.blogspot.com.

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-13T00:00:00.001-07:00

Punctuations of Praise

by Tina E. Pinson

A worn and battered, cloth-bound, book lies before me on the shelf

I pull it down, turn the brittle pages carefully, and find the story of myself.

Written declarations of pain and strife, myriads of agony

and kaleidoscopes of mistakes, glare at me from tear-stained lines

I wonder as I read the story of my life,

Is that all there is?

The thought that my story is rife with sorrow and error, overwhelms me to tears.

But turning a new page, I read on.

As my eyes begin to clear, a miracle unfolds before me.

I begin to see the glory of the tale and find beauty written between the lines.

When my life sentence was too long… You gave me periods of rest.

There were parentheses to hold and comfort me.

Brackets secured me… when my world seemed crazy.

You dotted the i's of my life with your blood and tears.

You put an apostrophe behind my name, to say that I am yours.

You gave my life meaning.

You used hyphens to hold me together when my life was such a mess.

And between the quotes you spoke to me with love and tenderness.

With your life=s blood you red-lined my pain,

You underscored my sorrow with exclamation points.

Gave me dashes for moments to think,

and ellipses upon which to hope and dream.

You alone formed the sentences that tell the story of my life.

You gave it rhyme and meter.

The blessings found on each page I read, show me you've always been there,

And remind me of how you've made my life sweeter.

But even if the lines didn't hold the sway of my life,

Even if you erased all the punctuation,

I know I'd still see you.

You'd be in the swirl of an S, in the loop of an L,

You'd be the ink that writes my life.

Most of all, I'd remember you, because you spanned eternity to cross a t and give me a future.

For these precious blessings, I am ever grateful.

What more can I say?

But thank you, thank you, Jesus.

Period.

End of sentence.

But not the end of the story.

In Their Words: Veteran's Stories

2011-11-11T00:00:00.007-07:00

By Tricia Goyer

As early as 1940, prisoners started arriving at the small train station at Mauthausen, where nestled in the hills was a hidden concentration camp. A full two years before the bombing of Pearl Harbor, this once peaceful community was already experiencing the horrors of war. And by January 1941, the Mauthausen-Gusen camps became the only 'Category I' camps in Third Reich history, meaning "camp of no return." Prisoners were used as slave labor in quarries and munitions factories. These men and women were worked to death or killed not long after their arrival.

The estimate of the number of people killed in the Mauthausen camp system is between 120,000 and 300,000. Most who entered the large gates never exited, but in May 1945 everything changed. American troops had fought through France, Belgium, and Germany and had now crossed the Austrian border. They were headed toward the camp, though they didn’t know it yet.

The first American US GIs at the camp were the 41st Recon Squadron, 11th Armored Division, Patton's 3rd Army. The men opened the gates and brought the prisoners what they never expected—freedom—followed by food, clothes and the care of medics.

When the camp’s historian, Martha, told me about these men, I knew I wanted to meet them and to hear their stories. What was it like to grant these prisoners their freedom? How had it affected these men? When I arrived home, I researched their experiences and contacted their division’s veteran organization to ask if it would be possible to interview any of the men. I was overwhelmed with the response. The men invited me to their annual reunion in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

Those I'd connected with through letters were waiting with their photos, their stories, and their tears. After all these years they had not forgotten. I talked to Arthur and Charlie first. They'd been best friends during the war and 55 years later still finished each other's sentences. Thomas, LeRoy, and Tarmo were next … each one telling me their story. Many more men, each with their own personal experiences, poured out their hearts to me. During the week they had a special ceremony to honor their friends who'd died and to remember the people they liberated. Even after all these years they knew what they did had mattered.

***

I’d been a Christian since I was a small child, but I had even greater faith after feeling the protection of the Lord pressing upon me. I’m still a strong Christian today because of that experience. Many people can deny the fact that God exists, but not me. I’ve felt His hand . . . and heard His whisper in the midst of war. LeRoy Petersohn

***

On our way to Austria, there is one thing I will never forget. The image of what I spotted from my perch on that tank still brings tears to my eyes nearly sixty years later.

“Major,” I says.“I believe the whole German Army must be down there. The road is full of people. Just a black line.”

I couldn’t distinguish what kind of people they were, but I could see that black line stretched out for miles. I said again, “The whole German Army must be down there waiting for us.”

He answered very quietly. “No, son, that’s the prisoners from Flossenberg concentration camp. The Germans wanted to clear them out before we got there.”

The prisoners reminded me of walking skeletons. Yes, from the top of that tank I’d seen it all—the battles, the barbarity of men, and the joy of liberation. From my perch I witnessed what I’ll never forget—the fight against good and evil. And I was thankful I was part of bringing in the good.” Tarmo Holma

***

I was just a young kid straight out of high school; a replacement for killed or injured troops. Nothing had prepared me for the sight of thin arms and legs poking out of striped uniforms, their distorted faces staring at us, reminding us we were too late. Charles Torluccio

***

I attended two more reunions over the years, in Buffalo and St. Louis, and interviewed hundreds of veterans. I wrote two historical novels about their experiences, From Dust and Ashes (http://www.triciagoyer.com/historicalfiction.html#DustAndAshes) and Night Song (http://www.triciagoyer.com/historicalfiction.html#NightSong), and now Remembering You (http://www.triciagoyer.com/contemporaryfiction.html#RememberingYou), but it was the relationship with the men that forever changed my life. It's their stories that I will never forget.

Many people walk out of Mauthausen concentration camp with a sadness of what took place. I experienced that, but as I sought out the men who opened the gates I've found so much more.

So much more.

Tricia Goyer is a homeschooling mom of four and an acclaimed and prolific writer, publishing hundreds of articles in national magazines. She has also written books on marriage and parenting and contributed notes to the Women of Faith Study Bible. Tricia's written numerous novels inspired by World War II veterans, including her new release Remembering You. Tricia lives with her husband and four children in Arkansas. You can find out more information about Tricia at www.triciagoyer.com.

My thanks to Tricia for sharing these insights from WWII. And a special thanks to all those who have served our country past and present.

Rotten Potatoes

2011-10-03T12:32:00.001-06:00

I found a rotten potato today. Actually, it found me. I opened up the pantry door and it literally reached out with long green tenacles of pew and smacked my nostrils.

Ugh, gagalicious, and watch me spew.

Mushy Rotten Potatoes. Not much can compare to the way it assaults ones senses.

But being the frugal type homemaker I am. I knew I couldn't just waste that potato. Noooo
I hunted it down, cleaned it, cut it up and put it in my roast to feed to the family later. Of course with my decerning taste, I can't eat it.

AS IF...

I pulled that smelly mushy thing out of the bag by the tips of two fingers ( while I carefully plugged my nose with the other hand) and tossed it in the trash. ( and found a couple more potatoes beside it that were getting soft rotten spots and tossed those too.)

But it got me thinking about life... and how some of us actually thing we can keep the rotten potatoes around. How we try to make culinary delights out of rotten fare. Dress it up with rich flavors and think the world won't notice.

Some of us actually believe our potatoes don't stink. Our potato are a more expensive brand, so much better and they even have a hybrid brand name that keeps are potatoes from emanating any kind of smell.

And even if they do, the odor isn't that bad. We can smell the stench and ignore it. Or can buy expensive perfumes, heavy deodorants or take a gazillion baths to conceal it. And people should and will accept our potatoes stench because those potatoes are ours.

We'll deal with our rotten potatoes. When the time comes, we'll look at our potatoes again and we'll take out the bad one. Maybe... For now, it's small, it won't hurt anything.

Funny thing is... when we go to use the potatoes, they are all rotten, just because of that one stinky, mushy potato we didn't throw away before.

But we do, using our calibrated sniffers, smell everyone elses rotten potatoes. We turn up our noses and let them know how much their rotten potatoes stink. And it's always worse than ours.

And we all have our rotten potatoes.

I remember my mother, who didn't want to throw anything out... used to use moldy bread. I understand using dry bread for croutons, stuffings, and such, but Moldy bread. She told us the green growing on the bread was just penicillin and they cut mold off cheese, so she could do the same with bread. It wouldn't hurt us, infact it could be good for us. Especially during cold and flu season. She would cut of the moldy parts, dip it in eggs and cinnamon and feed it to us as French Toast for breakfast. Breakfast and meds in one bite. YUMMM

Can I just say... all the syrup and peanut butter in the world, didn't kill the taste of mold. It lingered after every bite. The thought alone could kill you... You could almost smell it, even though the green had been cut away.

All the lysol and scented candles won't get rid of the stench of rotten potato, one has to pull it out of the potato pack and deep six it.

What rotten potatoes are you carrying around?

The Game

2011-09-02T00:07:00.000-06:00

I constructed a game board. This may Boggle some of your minds and you may ask... why I just didn't go buy the game.

Well, for one, it's not on the market. And I want to play it. For two, building the board gave me a bit of a challenge. So being the artistic engineer (woodworking hobbyist) that I am, I set out to build the board myself. It was quite the Operation.

Some may say I'm an idiot. Perhaps I am. I've heard that about my other artistic outlets as well. Writing, chief among them.

I've heard how I'll never get my books published. (I proved the naysayers wrong.)

I've heard that I had too little talent and from others… too much talent. Huh? Whatever???

I realize I'll never please everyone. There will be people in this world who just don't get me. I just have to follow my heart and take a ride on the Reading Railroad. Which brings me back to the game.

My heart was set on playing this particular game. So I decided to make the board and soon realized that building the board was sort of like writing. Like Life even.

First, I got the concept from seeing the game. (Don't take stories verbatim though, that's plagiarism.) Then using my Cranium, I sketched my first draft of the board layout.

After I settled on the layout, I sat down and built a mock up out of Legos just kidding. Might have been fun though. Instead, I drew it up on the computer, till I got the right size and dimensions for a template. But couldn't print it out, 'cause my printer doesn't take such big sheets of paper. I had to change my Strategy.

So it was back to Start, to the drawing board... literally. This time I drew a full scale model. And when I laid it on the board, I realized my dimensions were off. I needed to measure the ends better. More cutting commenced. Saw dust flew.

Writer's have to cut back and change scales on their manuscripts, too. Of course to do so, we don't have to pull out the power tools and slice away. Although at times, it sure feels that way. And who knows it, might make cutting words more interesting.

So I had my board cut and laid out. Bare bones. I could have played the game on the unfinished board then, but it wouldn't have been the same.

I needed to do more.

Just like a writer, I needed to add the lines and fill empty spaces. I had to define the scenery of my board. Homebase. Start and Finish. I had to show the short cuts and make sure I researched and put down the rules somewhere. (So I could break them of course). Then I had to pull out the sander and buff some uneven spots.

I added more designs, drilled out holes for the playing pieces, which I still had to finish by giving them color and character. They, like characters in a book, can't look the same. No one will know who's who on the board.

I sanded and smoothed some more rough edges, filled holes that were drilled too deep my playing pieces got lost like sunken Battleships. I etched more color into the wood with a wood burner and then went to the garage to add a touch of varnish.

Then I had to find some decks of playing cards, and of course, round up players to play my game.

Writers have to add depth and design, we have to give our stories colorful interesting sheen, vivid real characters and editing polish, and we too, must find the players. ie., Readers willing to open our pages and spend the time in our book.

I won't send this game board out into the world, like I hope to do with my books, but hopefully myself and others will get to enjoy the game for years to come.

I hope my stories bring long hours of enjoyment.

While at times I'd like to pass go and collect my prize without all the investment of time, sweat and energy. I realize that a game or a story, will never touch another life if one doesn't take the time and Risk to move beyond the concept, the dreams, the imagination and construct the story. The game.

Who knows? Maybe no one will like the game. Or the book. Or the ________ ( you fill in the blank). I could be Sorry for putting myself out there, and investing so much time.

Maybe I'm just and Idiot. If so... I think I'm in good company.

So write your stories, build your game boards and invest in your dreams.

Play the game of Life. You may find that it's funner than a Barrel Full of Monkey.

My Rut Part II

2011-07-19T13:39:00.000-06:00

If you've read my previous posts, I've lamented this move from Colorado to Arizona and done a fairly good job of it. So I thought I'd tell you about the blessings about this move and where life was at when the prospect of moving to Arizona was put before us.

Everything was wonderful and awesome and... no wait... it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops...

We were losing our business of 7 years, and heading for bankruptcy. We had started another business, but the economy wasn't carrying it either. So we started another small avionics business, yep we did two different jobs and that didn't cut it either. Danny, my husband, got a call about a business in Arizona that was looking for an avionics man. We at first said no way, ARIZONA. We had plans to stay in Colorado.

So we plugged away at our businesses, going further in debt, growing further agitated that God wasn't providing like he promised and with us working so hard, when the call came again. Still, stubborn as we are, we kind of shrugged it off. God wasn't going to uproot us from our home, he would bring the business to keep us in Colorado. And we worked harder to see that happen, used up our savings, our energy, maybe even our faith a bit, but it never did.

Then the call came again, this time with a precursor that they were going to put out an ad for someone if Danny chose not to accept the call. Still uncertain, or perhaps stubborn, we decided to ask if Danny and our son could work part time back and forth, that would allow us to run our businesses in Colorado and keep our home as well. We could it for a time, it would work. After a year, we'd get caught up financially and we have our businesses going better too. We would plug away and prove to God what good stewards we were and how much we wanted to be in Colorado.

One month into the transition between jobs and states, proved that it couldn't be done. Danny and our son found a small apartment for cheap, and rotated between jobs, Danny would go to Arizona and our son would work in Colorado, they would overlap for a couple weeks in each place, sounds like a mind drain already and a drain on finances as well. And there wasn't enough time or energy to keep two businesses going and work four weeks out of state. Funny, but people like to find someone at the business every day of the week pretty much or they head off to your competitor.

So we let one business go, amazingly, God lined up buyers in the first day. And we cleaned it out in a week. We kept the small avionics business, but knew that while it did better than the tire business, we couldn't keep it forever either. We would have to let it go. And we couldn't afford to run two households.

God wanted us in Arizona. Why... remains to be seen, maybe for rest, for blessing, for more, but he choreographered every step that we took in the journey that got us here.

I do have an appreciation for this move, really I do. We were down to our last dime in savings, stubbornly hanging on with our fingertips waiting for God to move in Colorado, when he had formulated plans for our lives elsewhere.

Will we be here forever, who knows. Ask me how I feel about that right now and you could probably figure out my answer. Ask me another day and... well, who knows what tomorrow will bring?

In my last post I told you that I was relying on God's promises for me. I certainly plan to try. Plan to take hold of what's before me.

I have a new landscape for my home, my writing, my life. Yes even that dirt brown weeded yard is a new canvas on which to make my mark. And who knew Arizona was as rich in history as Colorado? I don't have to watch my husband leave for a month at a time, I get to be with him and some of my family here in Arizona.

See, I may have lamented the move and the fact that I'm living in a new and strange land, but trust me... I can see the Springs in the Desert too.

And gathering from some of the comments I received from my last post, there are some of you wishing to be out of the ruts your life has become. So I pray the same for you. May you find your springs in the deserts of your life. And my you realize that God was there all along.

I Miss My Rut.

2011-07-14T15:08:00.002-06:00

After nearly 20 years in Grand Junction, where my hubby and I planned to buy a cabin in the hills by a lake and live out our retirement in the cool hills of Colorado, my plans were thwarted.

Yes Thwarted. Smushed (if that's a word, if not, I like it) Burned. Erased.

Okay they were changed and they were changed against my wishes. (like I always have a say so.)
And now we live in sunny and HOT Arizona. Did I mention it was HOT.

I had a lovely green lush yard in Grand Junction. Okay honestly, most of the lushness of my yard came from crabgrass which I was constantly battling, because it encroached on everything and I did find it quite irritating the way it could choke out my vegetables. But I had mature trees for shade and flowering bushes to give color and ambiance. Oh and shade for the dogs on hot summer days.

Now, while several people around me, have trees and pools, I have a dirt brown yard with two sheds a half of a swing set, where I grow stickers and weeds and am trying to grow bermuda grass.
How Ironic that I'm missing my crabgrass. Even my dogs don't like to tread in the back dirt. They tiptoe along the edges.

People say that this move is a blessing. I know God's hand is in it, he orchestrated every step. I realize sometimes we all need to get out of our ruts. Frankly, I didn't look at my trailer as a rut. And I miss it.

But in all honesty, here is Arizona, I'm praying for those Springs in the Desert the Lord promises, and I am trying to look at this move as a new and awesome adventure. I believe the Lord has plans for me, Jeremiah 29: 11 isn't my favorite verse for nothing. I believe the Lord has something wonderful for me and mine, I'm just having a bit of a time seeing it.

And though I'm trying to envision how I can change this drab landscape behind my house, and everyone keeps telling me you settle in everything will be okay, I'm still prone to shed a tear for the world I left behind. I bought a couple of trees and some oleander, but rose- colored glasses don't change much when your surveying a dirt yard. I just don't want my life to become that dirt yard, I want the color, the vividness of life. I want this desert to flower.

I'm praying for all the Lord has in store for me and what he wants for me to do. I'm praying for his grace and mercy with me. I know being here will give me more outlets for my writing and since I have a new contract for three books through Desert Breeze Publishing, that is a good thing. I know my husband didn't have work in Grand Junction and moving here gave him the opportunity to continue working on planes like he loves to. Two of my children even moved here as well. Though I still miss the son I left behind, and my grandchildren too. I am settling. I think I am.

But let's be honest, when the mercury hits 117 and I feel like I'm in a sweat tent, and I have to trip out across my back dirt yard just so my dogs will take the plunge into the heat, I find I miss my home in Colorado.

I miss my rut.

Blog... Blog... Blog...

2011-03-30T13:43:00.001-06:00

Hi, I'm a LOGGER.

Okay, so maybe I should say BLOGGER, but the way I feel about now, I'm probably about as profficient at logging as I am at blogging.

I've been blogging for a couple of years now and honestly, there are still days I wonder why I even have a blog. Wonder if I've even reached anyone. Or is my blog more like my online diary.

What good is a blog? What is a blog for?

I know a blog should be a tool that is used to get information out and draw followers to my site.

I've sort of done that. Sorta. But it's a hit and miss process.

And frankly, I'm not always sure what the hits and misses are.

I hear people say to have a good blog, you should have a theme.

To have that theme, you have to know which audience you want to reach. And what you plan to use your blog for.

There are so many kinds of blogs. Some discuss writing, (as a writer I gravitate to these). Some are political in nature. Some are topical. Some are fluff. Some share poetry. Some share Jokes. Some talk taste in Music and on and on. But the best blogs have some kind of theme.

So what kind of theme do I want to write about?

Do I want to teach? Do I want be an outlet for other writers? Do I simply want to showcase myself and my thoughts?

Should I be funny? Should I delve into the more poignant thoughts of life? Should I be poetic? What kind of people do I want to bring to my site?

And once I've settled on my theme and what I plan to do with it…

I have to figure out how much time I want to spend on my blog. How many blogs do I want to post?

Then I have to consider layout, and links and how to get people to my site. Then I have come up with new and pithy things to write about so I'll keep my followers interested and they'll stop in often to see what new and awesome things I write about.

Mercy.

A lot goes into a blog.

But hey, today I have no worries. Today, I'm a logger.

Cha... cha... cha... changes

2011-03-21T14:16:00.000-06:00

Wow. Here I am heading for the big 50. I was certain I would hit that great mark in my life without too much fanfare or change. I was certain I would do that here in the place I call home. This place. The place I planned to live out my life with family and friends. This place where I've lived for twenty plus years. I planned to stay here and watch my family grow. I planned to tend my garden and continue writing. I planned to continue here, working toward old age and retirement.

I planned to spend my fiftieth year, right here. I would only be a year older. And perhaps a year wiser.

And life would go on as it had for a long time. I might try some new things, I might even color my hair (okay that might be a given) But I would be here. Right here, in this world I know, the world I love.

In this time, in this life as I know it.

But thanks to life, I may have to change my plans. Thanks to circumstances beyond my control, I may have to leave my home and move to a new place. A new world as far as I'm concerned.

A part of me prays nothing changes. Prays I get to stay here in my comfortable rut, working through my days in rote, since I know them so well. But I'm reminded that life hasn't always been easy here, either. What will this change bring?

Another part of me prays I'll be ready for the changes that may lie ahead. That I will realize that God will be there, cradling my life no matter where I am.

And he will. I just have to believe it.

Have to believe that blessings lie ahead, and be prepared for what God plans to show and share in my life.

Will the winds of change force me to this new place?

Who knows?

We'll see...

WORD FIND

2011-03-11T16:14:00.000-07:00

BY THE BOOK

HAVE FUN FINDING THE FOLLOWING THINGS AND NAMES THAT COME FROM MY BOOKS, IN THE MANOR OF THE GHOST AND TOUCHED BY MERCY.

TOUCHED BY MERCY              GOTHIC              FAMILY
ERNESTINE                              TRAIN                 PHINEAS
SAMANTHA NORTHAM            GRAHAM           ANGELINA
MINNESOTA                             GRACE               HANNAH
BOARDINGHOUSE                   DERRICK            FAITH
ALLAN PRATT                           PRESTON          KAITLIN
FORGIVE                                  ORPHAN            FIRE
ELDON                                      OLGA                 RUMOR
DEVLIN CLAYBORNE              GRIMES             RACHAEL
TRICKS                                      NUNS
THE MANOR OF THE GHOST

Light of the Heart by Regina Andrews

2011-03-02T00:01:00.001-07:00

A resident of Providence, RI, Regina Andrews grew up in nearby Barrington. After graduating from Providence College she attended the University of Delaware, eventually earning her Master’s Degree in American Civilization from Brown University. She is inspired by anything to do with nature, and she and her husband enjoy visiting nearby Cape Cod.

Regina’s hobbies include Travel, Museums, Theater, Classical Music, Choral Singing and Gardening. She is a radio host for In-Sight, an association dedicated to providing services to the visually impaired of all ages.

Light of the Heart

By Regina Andrews

More than anything, Cascade Preston wants to forget her dark childhood in Sterling Lakes, so there’s no way she’ll agree to help refurbish that town’s church. Then she meets Dan McQuay. Will she be able to forgive the past and let the light of God’s love shine through into her heart?

Back Cover Blurb

A stained-glass artist based in Boston, Cascade Preston’s world is a kaleidoscope of color and beauty. She has overcome a dark childhood, deeply shadowed by domestic violence, in the town of Sterling Lakes. When she is approached to design new windows for a refurbished church in Sterling Lakes, she ignores the request. But when the no-nonsense Project Manager Dan McQuay appears looking for the window plans, the project takes on a whole new light. Will Cascade be able to keep the dark, protective cocoon she has built around herself intact, or will McQuay break through and shine new light into her heart? Is it possible that God’s plan for Cascade will lead her to forgive the town that ignored the situation in her family?

Excerpt - Light of the Heart

By Regina Andrews

Chapter One

The afternoon class at Tanglewood Women's Prison was a spectrum of tension, as separated and splintered as a beam of light refracted through a prism. Cascade Preston held her student's template assignment up to the light overhead, and spoke carefully on the quality of the stained glass project.

"With two lights, or openings, Brenda, I would say your idea of a church window for this one would be correct."

Sighing, the student replied, "So you think I'm making progress?"

"Of course." She tossed her honey-colored curls behind her shoulders. "Don't you?"

Brenda snorted. "Heck, no. I'm in here for domestic assault. What do I know about progress? My life is over."

This stopped Cascade in her tracks. "Look, we all make mistakes. God has told us that sinners should flock to him. What do you think? "

Brenda shrugged. "God has his own agenda. We'll see what the parole board says about mine in two weeks."

"For now, let's focus on next week's class. Bring me a flower for that one.”

"Where are we supposed to get a flower?" someone muttered.

"Draw one, stupid," Brenda answered.

"Bye, ladies. Take care."

"See you." Sad-eyed, Brenda gave her a high-five as Cascade walked past her.

Cascade's heels clicked efficiently with her every crisp step, and she made sure to shuttle as closely as possible alongside the beefy guard who escorted her from the holding room. Getting into her Corolla, she whispered a prayer. "I don't think I'm doing any good here, Lord, but I feel you telling me to stick with it. So I will. Maybe this is the kind of thing that saved my mother." She tried to block the images of her mother's bruises from her mind, but they wouldn't go away. They never did.

The drive back into Boston passed by quickly, without too much traffic. "Lean on Me" blasted from her audio system, and she sang along with all her heart. At twenty-seven, she knew it was technically an oldie, but to her, it was fresh and filled with meaning. Cascade wondered as she sang what it would feel like to have someone to lean on, because she had always been alone.

"There's only one thing that could make tonight perfect," she mused as she pulled into the parking area for her condo complex, "and that's not going to happen, for sure."

Images of her long-gone fiancé, Kevin, came into her mind and heart. Where was he this fine June evening? More importantly, why were things so much better for him without her in his life?

A form crossing her path brought her back to reality. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed someone walking towards her car. A guy -- a big guy she did not recognize.

She shaded her eyes from the late day sun. Dark hair and outdoorsy looks. Work boots. "Nope,” she murmured to herself, “I don't know him."

Hopping from her car, she said, "Can I help you?"

"If you're Cascade Preston, you sure can."

He folded his arms across his chest. With all those muscles moving, Cascade could only imagine the stress put on the seams of his light blue cotton shirt.

"And you are..."

"Dan McQuay." He extended his arm towards her. "From the site."

"Hi." Cascade pumped his strong hand, lost in his sky blue eyes. "What site?"

He tilted his head. "The construction site."

"I'm not following you."

He looked at her steadily. "I'm project manager for the retrofit on the church in Sterling Lakes. The one that you're doing the windows for."

Cascade’s heartbeat quickened. Just hearing the name of the town where she grew up made her anxious and tense. "It seems there's been a misunderstanding. No way am I working on anything in Sterling Lakes." She started to bustle past him. "Now if you'll excuse me?"

"Don't run away, Ms. Preston. There's a problem here."

His tone of voice got her attention. He sounded like he cared... about her. That was crazy. She was a total stranger to him.

She nodded. "Apparently there is a problem, you're right. I don't know what you're talking about. Like I said, I'm not doing any work in Sterling Lakes, and I never will. That's the last place in the world I ever would go."

He gave a slow whistle. "Well, that's a loaded speech if I ever heard one."

In spite of herself, she smiled. "I didn't mean to get all hot and huffy, but it is how I feel, and I have my good reasons."

He eyed her intently before he finally spoke. "Understood. The thing is, your name is on the plans that I have, and my crew is ready to get going. We haven't heard from you, and we need to have a job meeting. Mostly, we need your specs."

Cascade noticed the strong line of his jaw when he spoke, and oh, those bluer than blue eyes of his were so easy to get lost in. She swallowed.

"I don't know what to tell you. I'm not contracted for that job. Your project executive should be able to answer your questions." She toyed with the zipper on her oversized leather shoulder bag as she watched thunderclouds roll across his handsome face. "Look, why don't you give me his name? I'll check things out at my studio in the morning and get in touch with him. Maybe I can get to the bottom of this."

"Yup." He took his hands out of his pockets. "Here's my business card, and here's his. Try and remember, every day is money to me."

"Okay, I know. I'm in business, too, so I get it. I know every job I'm on, and this one is not on my list. Let me see if I can find out why I'm on the list of subcontractors... if I really am."

"You are."

"I shouldn't be, so there's a mistake. I never even sent in a bid."

"At least we found out something tonight," he said with a shrug. "Other than you being a whole lot prettier in person than in the pictures all those magazine articles and newspaper stories print about you."

Cascade’s face warmed up at his compliment. "Now you're trying to butter me up."

"Just stating the truth, plain and simple like I always do, Ms. Preston. That's my way. Thank you for your time."

"You're welcome."

He started walking over to his truck. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Right. And there's one more thing."

He questioned her with a wondering look.

"Please call me Cascade." Her smile lingered as she watched him drive off into the Boston twilight. Too bad this job was in Sterling Lakes. It might not be that bad to do a job with Dan McQuay. Not bad at all.

Orphaned Hearts by Shawna Williams

2011-02-03T15:41:00.001-07:00

David Langley lived through the fire that took his parent's and left him severely burned.

His Orphaned Heart wants to make sure that no other child lives through the long years alone, or the ridicule he did.

Caleb Holsheyer is an orphaned heart that no one seems to want, but David is determined to see the child settled in a good home. This a task in the best of times, but it's the Great Depression, people have little money for themselves let alone another mouth to feed, and Caleb is a cripple.

Sadie Miller, the town spinster, knows what it feels like to have a home and love. When she loses her father, she doesn't want to spend her life alone.

When the plans David have for Caleb fall through, he wonders if Sadie might be the answer to his prayer for Caleb. She has a home and she needs the companionship, but Child Welfare disagrees. They will only allow Caleb to stay with Sadie until a more suitable home can be found with a mother and a father, or he is returned to the orphanage

But when these three Orphaned Hearts join forces, they find that the answer was there all along.

I enjoyed Orphaned Hearts. I know you will too.

It's Already 2011.

2011-01-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness another year has come and gone, slipped into eternity like a whisper.

Or perhaps a bang for some.

Some of you are sad to see it go.

Others are grateful to see it pass as you wish for a happier year,

a more hopeful new year.

and you're grateful for a new beginning, for a new chance.

Wherever you find yourself, I just wanted to take a moment to wish you all a

Happy and Joyous New Year.

May 2011 be the year your dreams are fulfilled.

May it be a year of blessing. A year of Growth. A year of renewal.

A year of Dreams. A year of Hope.

Happy New Year.

How I Was Touched By Mercy.

2010-12-01T09:45:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the release of my book Touched By Mercy. I am giving away a Nookcolor eReader, check out the details on the Touched By Mercy Contest Page.

But here, I would like to give away another gift, something intangible it seems, but as real as the air we breathe.

Something free, but as costly as life's blood.

It's fitting in this Holiday Season to remember all that God has done for us, especially in giving us his son, Jesus as a sacrifice.

I hope that you will share your story and bless others.

Has your life been Touched By Mercy? How so?

Author Interview with Shawna K. Williams

2010-11-02T02:00:00.009-06:00

Welcome, Shawna. Thanks so much for stopping in to tell us some about yourself and your newest release In All Things.

So First things first. Inquiring minds want to know how writers spend their time. Everyone knows we flit from one grand party to another, hobknobbing with big editors and hollywood producers who want to buy the rights to our books. Soooo...

Where are you right now (LVR, DR, Bathroom) and what are you wearing? You have to tell the truth?

Okay, I'm sitting on the loveseat in my bedroom listening to my husband snore at 2:30 in the morning while wearing a pair of paint splattered sweats. I know, glamorous!

1) If you could be anyone of your characters, which one would you choose to be? Why?

I think I'd be Ruth. She's funny, loyal and wise. She's like a young version of my grandmother. I adore my grandmother! I absolutely love the relationship between her and Jakob.

2) What is something that very few people know about you?

I once danced on a late-night show, similar to Johnny Carson, in Hong Kong. I was invited, but I had to wear this horrible red lycra suit with silver shoulder pads and fringe. I don't know who chose the outfit. We performed a high kick routine. So embarrassing...

3) When did you start writing?

I started eight years ago, working off and on, but I've only seriously pursued it for the past three. I have always had a knack for it, as well as an active imagination.

4) What are you working on? Any future story ideas?

Orphaned Hearts is my next book, and it actually comes out next month. It's a Christmas story set in 1932, very sweet and nostalgic. Because of the season there was a rush to get it in there. It's quite dear to me as it was inspired by my grandparents.

I'm working on a story about Roger, a character from No Other and In All Things. I hadn't intended to give him one, but I had about half a dozen people ask about him. Once I started thinking about it all kinds of ideas began to flow. I haven't pitched it to the publisher yet since it's still in the development phase. But...for those of you who have read No Other, and remember what a creep Meri's dad was, well, he's even worse in In All Things, and Roger has become the district attorney. In the story I'm working on Roger goes after Meri's dad. I don't know how it's going to work out yet, but even I want him to get what's coming.

5) Tell us about your latest release In All Things.

In All Things is the sequel to No Other. The story picks up with Jakob and Meri ten years later. Jakob has put all of his effort into fulfilling his promise to Roger by making Meri's dreams come true. They've moved to Hollywood and Meri is a successful actress. But what you have to ask is this; was this really Meri's dream, or was it what he thought was her dream, and by achieving it was he really trying to prove himself?

Meri on the other hand has her own set of issues. She's tried to put the past behind her, but a part of her still craves her parents' approval – something most children want even when they come from an abusive home. She hopes that time and her success have brought a change of heart to her parents, but when she finds that it hasn't she sets out with determination to shove her success in their faces and shame them that way.

Both Meri and Jakob are faced with coming to terms over the fact that success has proved dissatisfying. Likewise, an unhealthy nature to their relationship has stifled their growth in Christ, and they have to overcome that, too.

Along with Jakob and Meri's story is the story of healing that takes place in Jakob's family. Though, some things get worse before they get better. This story is actually more literary in that sense than romance. It's very focused on the characters' personal journeys.

6) What themes do you write about most often? What message do you hope your readers will take away from reading your stories?

The hindrance of self-reliance seems to be a reoccurring theme, but mainly I like to write stories that display God's Grace. My hope is that readers can see something of themselves in my characters and be reminded of God's Love for them.

7) Have you had mentors along the journey?

I haven't had personal relationships with seasoned authors, but I have developed sevreral very close relationships with some very talented writers who are making this journey with me.

8) Any words of wisdom for new authors?

We've all heard the phrase, 'write what you know.' I think it's equally important, if not more-so, that an author writes who they are. Yes, we have to learn the craft, pay attention to trends and whatnot. Those things are important. Just be sure that in doing so you don't lose yourself. God gave you this calling because of who you are. The best stories come from the heart and every heart is unique.

9) Where can we find you on the internet?

http://shawnakwilliams.com/

http://shawnawilliams-oldsmobile.blogspot.com/

http://twitter.com/shawnakwilliams

In All Things

Jakob and Meri's story continues...

Meredith Louis's Hollywood career is at a point of transition. No longer under Majestic Studios' control, Meri is free to broaden her appeal as an actress and finally earn the recognition she desires.

Meri and Jakob return to their hometown for the holidays where Meri hopes to reconcile with her parents after a decade of silence. But after a disastrous encounter, Meri is plunged into turmoil as old fears resurface in unexpected ways.

Jakob, already dealing with unresolved family issues of his own, is further burdened by his inability to help his wife. Can he learn to step aside and trust God's plan. Will Meri recognize what she already has?

In All Things is a story of faith and restoration, anchored in the belief, "...that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Touched By Mercy

2010-10-20T19:33:00.000-06:00

Cover Art for my upcoming release Touched By Mercy. Available through Desert Breeze Publishing, December 1, 2010.

enjoy an excerpt

Stay tuned for upcoming ...

Characters Matter

2010-09-22T10:53:00.000-06:00

For the last several years I've been trying to get my books published. Taking almost every road available to me, I pushed and prodded to get myself and my books outthere.

And I'm still a relative unknown. While others have gotten out there virtually overnight. WAHHH...

But I'm published now... and I should be happy right?

Well, I am... sorta, but not near as happy as I'd like. That sounds horrible. And perhaps it is.

For the last few months, I've lamented over a book that noone seems to want to read -- even though I know they are -- looking for that elusive marketing in that will put my name on the hearts and minds of people and perhaps they'll by my book and God will touch them through the words I wrote.

Such lofty plans.

I'm not saying there is anything wrong with trying to get my book out there. Not at all, just that there is more to life and right now my concerns seem a bit petty.

You see, while I've been busily trying to find that road, that in, while I've been busy worrying about book sales and new story lines, real life stories have been unfolding all around me.

While I'm complaining that noone wants to read my story, and whining about the sales...

A woman barely over 50 has just found out that chemo isn't helping her cancer, and while she worries about her own tomorrow... she learns that her child may have cancer markers as well.

A young father is perhaps looking toward a future alone, trying to figure out how he'll deal with the heartbreak of a wife who is getting ready to run, because she's somewhat bored and confused.

A family is about to lose their business, their livelihood and they're praying they don't have to go bankrupt.

A woman who has been out of work for months, still can't find a job.

An older woman is lying in a hospital bed fighting dehydration from cancer in her neck.

A young woman died in her sleep unexpectedly, leaving her husband to care for the family while dealing with his grief.

Any one of these would make great conflict for a story. But they are not my stories to write. Perhaps the only way I can be involved in touching their lives for Christ, is in laying my pencil aside for a time and falling on my knees in prayer. Laying my story aside for a time and looking at the real stories of life, love and loss that are unfolding around me.

Because Characters Matter.

You have stories unfolding all around you. Will you pray for them?

How can I pray for you?

Saying Goodbye...

2010-08-30T08:18:00.001-06:00

In loving memory of ...

Shadow

October 1995 - August 29, 2010

You were ours to hold for but a time.

A loyal friend, a member of our family.

You watched our home, protected our children.

And loved us as we loved you.

We were blessed when God gave us you.

Didn't want to say goodbye,

but knew the time had come.

Rest now dear friend,

and know you'll be in our hearts forever.

We'll miss you, precious teddy bear.

Two Reviews for Mary Connealy

2010-08-05T17:03:00.000-06:00

Having finished Mary Connealy's Wildflower Bride, book #3 in the Montana Marriage Series, I would have to say that Miss Connealy is up to fine writing form.

Wildflower Bride pulls you in from the onset when Wade Sawyer, awakened by gunfire, jumps from bed, grabs his gun, and runs out into the dusk of early morning to rescue Glowing Sun.

Readers familiar with Mary Connealy's stories will remember the main characters for Wildflower Bride, Wade Sawyer and Glowing Sun. Wade was the creep who wanted Cassie for his own in Montana Rose. He also made a brief appearance in the Husband Tree. Now with a change of heart, he's softened, matured and he's after the new woman of his dream. Glowing Sun, Abby.

Of course, Glowing Sun, wants nothing to do with him, but when her camp is massacred she has no place to go. She wants to find the murderers of her people, but Wade won't let her go alone. When they are pit together against cattle rustlers things begin to change and secrets come to a head. Belle Tanner and her brood make an appearance in Wildflower Bride too. The ride is wild and funny. And you can't let go of the book till the end. You don't want. No, and even then when reach the end of the story you want more. Unfortunately Wildflower Bride was the third and last book out in the series for now.

But have no fear the Doctor in Petticoats is in... yes, I had to say it...

I enjoyed this book. Doctor in Petticoats is the first in the Sophie's Daughters Series. With the swipe of her pen, Mary Connealy has produced the rememdy for those of us who want our heroines strong, independent, fearless and sassy. The Doc in Petticoats, Beth McClellan is all those rolled in one, like those who came before her. She is her mama's daughter.

Our anguished hero, Alexander Buchanan, seems no match for the spitfire doctor at first, but that soon changes.

Beth would just as soon have nothing to do with him, but those feelings change when Alex, a doctor in his own right and the only one the town seems to acknowledge, gives her the one thing she desires most... the chance to be a doctor and practice medicine. All he wants in return is the ability to use Beth's courage and strength to help him through the muttle his life has become. With her by his side, the nightmares are quelled. With her by his side, he finds he can return to using his hands to heal again.

Beth soon learns that Alex isn't the incompetent doctor or drunk she thought him to be. He's a weary soldier, waging a war against a past that has him undersiege. And overtime, as they work and live side by side, Beth realizes that Alex means more to her then she ever believed a man could. She is excited to share her life with him, but Alex harbors secrets that threatens to tear their world apart. Together they must race to set things aright or risk losing each forever.

And for those of you who already miss the goings on in Montana, with Belle, well Mary intertwines and allows us to spend time with several characters from previous series.

I'm already looking forward to the second book in the Sophie's Daughters Series and would recommend these books to anyone who wants to get lost in a good book for a time.

Stephanie Burkhart -- The Giving Meadow

2010-08-03T23:50:00.006-06:00

Please join me in welcoming Stephanie Burkhart to Write Where I Want to Be today.

I just want to thank Tina for having me today on my blog tour for my children's book, "The Giving Meadow."

Just a little about me: I was born in Manchester, NH but live in Castaic, California with my husband, Brent, and two sons, Andrew and Joseph. I have fond memories of Manchester, but have made California my home. I earned a BS in political science from California Baptist University in 1995.

I have been writing since I was 5, first making homemade comic books. Now, I work on creating short stories and novels. I spent 11 years in the US Army and over 7 years in Germany. Writing is a passion that still challenges me. The Giving Meadow is my first children's book and my first book with 4RV Publishing.

THE BLURB:

The Giving Meadow is about a caterpillar who hatches from his egg in the middle of a meadow. As he travels through the meadow, he meets new friends who learn the value of sharing.

THE INSPIRATION

I go to Blessed Kateri Catholic Church (in Santa Clarita, CA) and I'm involved in our Sunday Preschool program. We call it Little Church. The program works with 3, 4, and 5-year-olds. I help to teach the 3's along with 3 other talented ladies, Shirley Chang, Maureen Dunahoo, and Mary Tesselaar. Every year I help to write the Easter play for the children. In 2009, "The Giving Meadow" was our Easter play.

After I wrote it, I showed Vivian at 4RV. She's also a moderator at Writing.com and I wanted her feedback on the story. She offered it a contract! I was tickled pink. It was a nice, unexpected surprise. I can't thank Vivian (Gilbert Zabel, publisher, 4RV Publishing) for believing in the story and wanting to bring it to life.

"The Giving Meadow" is wonderfully illustrated by Stephen Macquignon. Stephen primarily works in the medium of pen and ink and color digitally. He has had the privilege to work with Director Michael Sporn of Michael Sporn Animation Inc. He is also a monthly contributor for Stories for Children's magazine.
Stephen's children's books with 4RV Publishing include; Angeline Jellybean by Crystalee Calderwood and Colors by Dana Warren.

"The First Flag of New Hampshire," by Stephanie, will be released by 4RV Publishing next year. It is a TW/Young Adult story.

GOODIE TIME: Leave a post here on the blog. I'll pick two lucky winners to receive an autographed postcard of the cover. I'll also be giving out an autographed copy of the book. Winners will be drawn out of a hat, and I'll return on 5 AUG to announce them.

BUY LINKS:

4RV PUBLISHING:
http://4rvpublishingllc.com/Childrens_Books.html

AMAZON:
http://www.amazon.com/Giving-Meadow-Stephanie-Burkhart/dp/0982588690/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1279556653&sr=1-1

BARNES & NOBLE:
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Giving-Meadow/Stephanie-Burkhart/e/9780982588697/?itm=1&USRI=The+giving+Meadow

STEPHANIE ON THE WEB:

BLOG:
http://sgcardin.blogspot.com/

WEBSITE:
http://sgcardin.tripod.com/

FACEBOOK:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1357922219

TWITTER:
http://twitter.com/StephBurkhart

STEPHANIE ON AMAZON:
http://www.amazon.com/Stephanie-Burkhart/e/B003R00R5I/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_1

Stephen Macquignon

STEPHEN ON THE WEB:

BLOG:
http://stephen-sketch2color.blogspot.com/

WEBSITE
http://www.jacketflap.com/StephenM

STEPHEN ON AMAZON:
http://www.amazon.com/Stephen-Macquignon/e/B003K7NUVG/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Romance Under the Moonlight

MATCHMAKING A-MUSE-MENT

BE MUSED, APRIL 2010

THE HUNGARIAN - MAY 2010 Desert Breeze Publishing

Visit me at:

http://sgcardin.blogspot.com/
http://sgcardin.tripod.com/

The Giving Meadow, by Stephanie Burkhart

2010-07-13T13:13:00.004-06:00

Stephanie Burkhart's new children's book, The Giving Meadow, tells the tale of a little catepillar and his journey to becoming a butterfly.

Newly hatched from his egg, the catepillar travels through the fields of the Giving Meadow, in search of water and food. He meets a few friends along the way, a frog, a ladybug, bees, and snake, who share with him and help him along through the meadow.

The colorful illustrations from Stephen Macquignon allow the reader to take the trip in vivid color.

The Giving Meadow was a cute story with a bit of a lesson on how we all need a little help from our friends.

But don't take my word for it, here are a few insights from the Little People in my house who had a look at the book.

Cool.

Pretty.

Beautiful

"I like the animals, the catepillar, the frog, and the butterfly and lady bug."

"I liked the whole story."

My grandchildren liked it well enough they wanted to read it twice. What more recommendation do you need?

The Giving Meadow was written for children 2-7, but parents and grandparents alike, will probably enjoy it too.

The Giving Meadow is available through Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble

Minding My P's & Q's... Lessons from the Writer's Delivery Room

2010-07-10T20:40:00.004-06:00

If you missed it on Seekerville... Here it is again. I hope that my lessons will help make your journey to writing delivery easier.

You've been in gestation with this book so long, you feel like an elephant. You're wondering if you'll ever get published. Take heart, you're not alone. My little spiel, or long spiel is for you. What I've learned may make your wait easier.

Perseverance— Birth Cycles are ordained

After 30 years in the writer's waiting room, I'm an ace. HA!

It's been a proverbial perseverance coaster ride. (Say that three times fast). I wished I could say I was more up than not. But I'd be lying.

I started writing in elementary school. Won awards for poetry and songs. Published short stories, took writer's courses, finalled in the Noble Theme Contest (Genesis), had an agent ask for me and more.

I still wasn't published; at times it irked me that others were. And they hadn't been gestating as long. Was I a horrible writer? No. It just wasn’t my time. I hated the waiting room. To get by, I threw pity parties, with lots of free flowing whine. Not a pretty place.

I hate to admit it, but envy visited often. It still raises its ugly head sometimes. But I have learned that we all have our waiting areas. We weren't told life would be easy, we were told to persevere.

Prophecy— The Doctor said I was having a girl. God said otherwise.

Let's talk the future. Not omens or Crystal balls, but touching the future.

The legacy of words.

Do you realize the weight the smallest of words carry? Words can build and destroy. Words can paint the truth, just as easily as they can lie.

It used to hurt when people knocked Christian Fiction. It felt like they nixed the novel-- or baby-- I carried. I heard that to really use my writing for the Lord, I should write devotionals, self-help books, or maybe a biography about someone who'd done great things for the Lord.

Huh?

We're they right? I wasn't getting published, maybe writing novels was stupid.

So I tried to write like everyone else thought I should. It turned out bea... u... ti ...ful...ly. NOT.

God gave me my words and imagination. When I didn't use it in the way he ordained, I felt listless. Why? Because I needed to write God's will. There are people I was created to touch. One or a million, it doesn't matter. If I'm not true to the writer God made me, I may not reach them. I may not leave a legacy.

What legacy will your words leave?

Promises— Pushing too hard gives you Hemorrhoids

What a lovely picture.

Consider this… while God promises to meet my needs and give me a most awesome future, he never promised I'd be published.

Say What?

It's the truth. He never said I'd be published. (Never said I wouldn't.) That was a tough to wrap my head around, I couldn't believe God would give me these stories and not let me publish them.

So I did the logical thing… I decided to prove him wrong. I checked out every avenue to publishing. Even self-published my own books, and God saw that they were good and blessed me immensely.

Yeah… and I never color my hair either.

Self-publishing, hmm. I learned volumes, spent volumes and shed a few tears. Does self-pubbing work for some people? A few. Not for me. I ended up in a funk. My brain was all over the place. Words failed me. I thought God was so upset with me, he took my gift of writing away.

Shallow thoughts, but they plagued me. Until I finally laid my writing, my pride, at God's feet and he filled my imagination and life with promise again. A promise to use my words—me –even if I never became published. I also learned I could use some preparation (notice I didn't say H). I had some work to do, some things to learn.

Do I ever pick up my pride and try to get God to see it my way, yeah. But I'm getting better.

Quality – Gentlemen we can rebuild him and make him just like...

We should strive for quality in our writing.

That's a given… but there's another aspect of quality we tend to forget, and that's the quality of the writer within.

I see writers buying into the myth that if they write like that person, they'd get published.

Not true. You can learn from another writer, but sadly when you try to write like someone else, you lose the qualities God formed in you. They're unique qualities, gifted only to you –your tone, your flow. To be used with your character, your dreams and your imagination.

Don't settle for the lie that you're not a worthy writer if you don't write like so and so. Don't sell your writer's soul; the price is far too great.

Quantum Physics— It's Alive… (Mawwwhaaahaaa, cue Frankenstein music)

1. Energy is not continuous, but comes in small but discrete units. 2. The elementary particles behave both like particles and like waves. 3. The movement of these particles is inherently random. 4. It is physically impossible to know both the position and the momentum of a particle at the same time. The more precisely one is known, the less precise the measurement of the other is. 5. The atomic world is nothing like the world we live in.

I should say "Psych" about now to see if you're still with me. 'Cause I'm sure you're wondering what Quantum Physics has to do with anything. Frankly I don't know. It had a Q and a P.

Let me say this, there are those who believe that we use your imagination and thoughts to accomplish our goals and make our dreams come. Some Scientists actually believe our thoughts are powerful enough to change reality. As we believe it.

I concur, to a point... we can change our reality.

By changing reality, I'm not saying you'll think you're a millionaire and suddenly become one. I am saying, when you use the gifts God gave and seek his wisdom, when you're in constant forward motion, shooting for your goals, your future will probably be brighter. Not always more profitable, but more joyous, more hopeful.

Let me put it a different way. Scripture tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. To do this changes our reality in a sense. Staying in God's word accomplishes this, as does using the mind and gifts he's given.

Consider how it feels when the currents running through your brain are zipping into the dark recesses and firing on all cylinders. Your imagination is on edge. Waves of thought wash over you. You see each section of your story in vivid Technicolor. If you don't get a piece of paper to write on, your head's going explode.

Have you ever been there?

You find a scrap of paper and start to write. The atoms continue to split in the channels of your mind. Electric impulses fire, arcing to the frontal lobe, skittering to the occipital lobe, racing to the temporal lobe and words begin to flow through your brain like a river, forming sentences, paragraphs and chapters. It rejuvenates your mind. Encourages forward momentum.

Who knows what it is that sets a fire in a writer. The necessary current is as different as our stories, as our characters. Every nuance, every particle forms our imagination.

Quirks – My baby sleeps with his fist in his mouth and his rump in the air…

Your characters have quirks. The funnier the better, one might say. Writers can be pretty quirky people, too.

Some writers can't write if they're not sitting in their favorite chair. Others need certain music. Still others wear a certain shirt, use a specific computer or typewriter. Or wear specific socks. Some can only write if they have on their favorite pair of glasses.

Writers are peculiar. Aren't you glad I'm here to tell you that?

Quirks are intertwined in our stories. Some writers want their words to flow a certain way. Some use a distinct style of writing. Dry wit, flowery narrative, meter, rhyme, inflection and passive verbs (I didn't say that) are all part of how some authors build their stories.

I'm not too peculiar. Sure I prefer to use three-ring, college-ruled notebook paper and a #3 three hard pencil—which must be sharpened to a perfect tip—when I write. I'm flexible though, I've adjusted to using college-ruled paper in tablet or spiral form and I will pick up a # 2 hard pencil if I can't have a #3. I won't discuss the things I love to use in writing, 'cause I always get in trouble for them. (Hint—I like omniscient point of views.)

Do quirks make our writing better? I don't know, but they do make a writer feel better. Why? Because quirks are like security blankets. (I'm not talking OCD.)

Quirks, like our qualities, address are individuality, make us who we are as writers and give tone to our voice. Embrace your quirks?

Quit – Put that baby down or you'll spoil her.

This seems to contradict what I told you about moving ahead and firing up your senses. Because we all know that, Quitters never win and Winners never quit. Au contraire.

Winners do quit sometimes –sometimes they are forced, others, they choose to for a season.

Have you ever gone through a time where couldn't find the words to write a paragraph, let alone a sentence? Have you ever felt so frustrated that you'd force yourself to write and then want to cry? Whether from stress, or just having too much on my plate, I've been there. I had to lay the pen aside and quit writing for a time. And I had to give myself the permission to do so.

When my mother was going through her chemo and stem-cell transplant, and we were running the business and watching grandkids, and one of our children was going through hard times. (All at the same time) I made a conscious choice to sit my writing aside. Not for forever. Just for a season.

I had to quit berating myself for not getting a word count. I had to quit knocking myself for low desire and energy. I had to quit telling myself I was failing if I stopped writing for a time. And strangely, or sadly, it took me awhile to reach that point.

Having said that, if your world is unbalanced and you can do something about it, do it. If it means you have to step out of some position or quit something. Then be a quitter.

Quit that group you started because you thought it might be fun.
Quit going to that study that doesn't hold your heart or attention, God won't strike you dead.
Quit buying into the lie that you have to do everything and you can't say NO.
Quit the things you can that are pulling you apart and zapping your energy. It's okay.
I give you permission. God gives you permission.

Quiet – Shhh, the baby is sleeping.

Maybe you’re the kind of writer who has the radio on and you're talking on the phone while the Television blares and your kids are yelling in the background. Multitasking is your thing. Or perhaps you're juggling. (See Quit)

Scripture says we are to be still. To Quiet our hearts. It's good for our spiritual well-being, and for our mental and imaginational (is that a word?) well-being too.

Do you quiet your mind and let it flow with the dreams and vision God has for you? Do you let your characters take you on trips to foreign lands and lost times? Do you, like the prophet Elijah, slow down long enough to hear God in the gentle wind passing like a whisper through your brain?

Many of us won't allow for down time. We think we're wasting energy if we aren't constantly moving. But taking a break and quieting our spirit, doesn't mean we're lazing the day away.

It could just be the time you need to rejuvenate your thoughts and find the flow and proper structure for your words.

To reach that place where you dwell in quiet, you will need to use this last lesson. It is one of our greatest gifts…

Prayer— How come there's no instruction book with this kid?

If you believe that God has gifted you with imagination and a desire to write, why don't you talk to him about your WIP? Let him show you where your story should go? Why wouldn't you want him to quiet your heart and give you wisdom?

So many times we wait till we're frazzled or near the edge before we talk to God. Maybe we think our little quirk with our Characters isn't worth his time. Or the bridge in that one scene is miniscule when pit against eternity. We forget who created imagination and wrote the first story. Why wouldn't He care about our menial thoughts? He does. We just have to remember to ask. Scripture encourages us to pray without ceasing.

Could that mean there is a reason to pray every second of the day? Hmmm?

You might say your days are mundane. When big problems arise you might ask for help, but you can handle the little things. There's no reason to bother God.

But God wants you to bother him. The more you talk, the more comfortable you feel sharing the small things too.

Don't wait till you're dangling off some emotional cliff, before you call.

Prayer Is Necessary, Say One Now.

After several years of waiting I finally find myself a published author. My book In the Manor of the Ghost is available at the following sites.

Touched By Mercy will be available through Desert Breeze Publishing in Dec 2010

Stephanie Burkhart, Destination Berlin

2010-07-07T23:50:00.000-06:00

Please join me in welcoming today's guest. Stephanie Burkhart, writing as S. Cardin, is here to announce the release of her new book, Destination Berlin, available through iUniverse. Stephanie served in the military, doing a tour in Germany, and wanted to incorporate some of the flavor of the country and that time into a story.

Destination Berlin is the culmination of that dream.

Blurb for Destination Berlin:

Stuck in a routine job in Cold War Germany guarding nuclear weapons, U.S. Army Corporal Sharon Cates thinks she is going to Berlin to attend an orientation tour. Unknown to her, the briefcase she carries contains top-secret information that the Stasi and KGB are willing to kill for.

Russian Junior Sergeant Dimitri Nagory is an assistant to a high-ranking Soviet officer in his country's embassy in England. Dimitri isn't expecting a great adventure as he boards the duty train for a routine trip to headquarters in Berlin, and he certainly isn't expecting to meet any Americans.

The Stasi derails the train in the middle of East Germany, expecting to take the information from Sharon's dead body. But when the sudden explosion hurls Sharon and Dimitri from the train and into each other, he too becomes a target. With Sharon nursing badly bruised ribs and branded by her country as a traitorous thief for stealing top-secret documents, Dimitri goes against everything he's ever been taught to ensure her safe return to the West.

Excerpt:

When she heard the gate close, Sharon felt a weight lift from her. Dimitri backed away from her, his back falling against the cold stone wall of the pantry. He took in deep, ragged breaths, visibly shaken.

"They were talking about me. I am a traitor," he said.

Sharon held her spot on the foot as her eyes looked toward him. She was afraid to approach him. The human thing to do would be to touch him, offer him comfort, but that might escalate into something more, and she didn't need any more complications in her life. She had to keep her military bearing.

"You can defect, Dimitri. My government will give you safety," she offered, stiffening her back. A drop of water from her damp bangs fell onto her cheek, but she ignored it.

"I should have turned you in. I had the chance, I did, but I just couldn't."

"Why didn't you?" Sharon asked.

"Because I've gotten to know you and I trust you," he admitted.

Stephanie, thank you so much for stopping in and giving us a peek at your book.

Stephanie's book can be purchased at Amazon.com and at the iUniverse Bookstore

***For my followers who are looking strictly for Inspirational books, please note that Stephanie's book, Destination Berlin is a secular fiction novel, but it is a sweet romance.

Interview with Anne Patrick -- author of Fire and Ash

2010-07-04T23:50:00.002-06:00

Join me in welcoming author, Anne Patrick. She is hear to tell us a bit about herself and share some about her new book Fire and Ash, a new Inspirational ebook through Desert Breeze Publishing

1) Where are you right now (LVR, DR, Bathroom) and what are you wearing? You have to tell the truth.

Well if I must tell the truth…I’m in the living room, in my favorite rocking chair, wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts. Not very exciting I know.

2) If you could be anyone of your characters, which one would you chose to be? Why?

That’s a tough one. My characters go through so much I’m not sure I’d want to be any of them. But I feel most connected to Maggie in my inspirational romance, Reservations for Two. She’s the combination of some very special ladies I know, and has a wonderful zest for life. When I reach my late sixties, I want to be just like her!

3) What is something that very few people know about you?

I love role-playing video games. Games like Dungeons & Dragons and Final Fantasy. I’m a huge Tomb Raider fan!

4) When did you start writing?

I published a few poems in my teens and I penned my first novel a short time later.

5) What are you working on? Any future story ideas?

I’m working on the first book in a ‘sweet’ romantic suspense series &my alter ego, Kinzie Monroe, is working on another inspirational romance.

6) Hollywood plans to turn your book into a movie, who would play your main characters?

If we’re talking about my new release, Fire and Ash, I would have to choose Meg Ryan for the part of Sadie and Tom Hanks as Quinn since they make such great movies together :-).

7) Tell us about your book.

Fire and Ash is a ‘Sweet’ Inspirational Romantic Suspense. Here’s a blurb: Fire investigator, Sadie McGregor is called to her hometown to investigate a suspicious fire that claimed the life of a local college student. Teaming up with the handsome new police chief, Quinn Harrington, the two must unravel the mystery surrounding the fire. The answers they find could rock the whole community and may cost one of them their life.

8) Have you had mentors along the journey?

My first writing instructor, Marilynn Henderson, and a professional editor named Barbara Warren. They were both instrumental in my journey.

9) What music or other artistic expression, if any, inspires your writing?

I listen to all kinds of music to entice my muse, everything from Bach to Ozzy :-).

From Bach to Ozzy -- wow that is quite the mix. Does your taste in writing cover such a large area?
10) What is your favorite genre to write in?

I’m a suspense junkie so I prefer writing what I love to read.

11) Any words of wisdom for new authors?

Be flexible. Never stop learning. Write from the heart. Never, never, never give up!

Never, never, never give up... that is so important to remember. It can take years to get published, and even then you still have to plug away on your next novel.

Anne, thank you so much for stopping by today.

12) Where can we find you on the internet?

My website: http://www.annepatrick.weebly.com/

My blog: http://www.suspensebyanne.blogspot.com/

You can also find me on Facebook, MySpace and Twitter.

AND NOW FOR THE NEWS YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR...

2010-07-01T23:55:00.004-06:00

The Winners of the

Win a Kindle... Catch a Ghost Contest are

for the Kindles

Krista Hutley

Bernard Theriault

For a copy of my ebook In the Manor of the Ghost

Barbara Riggleman

Bradley Baker

CindyWoolard

Sandra Billings

Danielle Vaughn

Debbie Lynn Costello

Mandy Anderson

Monica Krywho

Sarah Grosjean

Danielle Fanner

Thank you everyone for your interest and entries.

In the Manor of the Ghost

is available through Desert Breeze Publishing

and Amazon

Hope to see you all in December for the release of my book

Touched By Mercy

(and perhaps another contest)

Contest is closed

2010-06-30T23:55:00.007-06:00

The Win a Kindle... Catch a Ghost Contest

is now closed.

Thanks, everyone, for your entries.

Winners will be announced soon.

My book In the Manor of the Ghost is available

at Desert Breeze Publishing

Win A Kindle ... Catch a Ghost

2010-06-01T10:27:00.001-06:00

Win a Kindle... Catch a Ghost...

To celebrate the release of my new ebook In the Manor of the Ghost, out this month from Desert Breeze Publishing

picture may not depict actual model of prize.

I will be giving away 2 Kindle eBook Readers

and 10 free e-book downloads of In the Manor of the Ghost.

No purchase is necessary. From Now until June 30th you can enter for a chance to win one of 2 Kindle ebook readers or the books by filling in the blanks of the following sentence.

Though not inclined to believe the dead can walk the night laden corridors, ___________ can see them clearly in the eyes of her husband, _____________.

Find the answer by going to Desert Breeze Publishing

Then send an email with your answer, including your name and address in the body of the email, to tpins313@gmail.com to enter. One entry please. *** See way for extra entries below.

2 Winners will be drawn from the emails received by June 30th 2010. Later entries and any coarse languaged entries are disqualified. Please put Question IMOG in subject line.

For Extra Entries...

***If you have purchased my book, In the Manor of the Ghost you can mail a copy of your receipt with your name, address, phone number and email address, Handwritten on the sheet to Win A Kindle... Catch a Ghost, P.O. Box 40018, Grand Junction, Colorado, 81504 for an extra entry. Only one per purchase.

***By promoting my contest or book In the Manor of the Ghost on your sites, you can get another entry. Let me know by sending me an email with a link to where you're promoting the book or contest. Please put Promotion IMOG in your email subject line.

****Disclaimer.... entering this contest is considered a confirmation of eligilbility on behalf of the enterer in accord with rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws and is void where prohibited. Contest is open to U.S. and Canadian Residents only. Odds of winning dependent on number of entrants**** Kindle and Desert Breeze Publishing are not involved with this contest in anyway.

Do you Know that Nose? Answers...

2010-05-24T12:00:00.000-06:00

Here's the game, pick your nose and choose a name...

1. Demi Moore

2. Cameron Diaz

3. Doris Day

4. Judy Garland
5. Shirley Temple
6. Julia Roberts

7. Blake Shelton

8. Brad Pitt

9. Clark Gable

10. Hugh Jackman

11. Jimmy Stewart

12. Paul Walker

13. Johnny Depp

14. Tom Cruise

15. Tom Selleck.

A Graduation Prayer...

2010-05-19T10:43:00.000-06:00

A Parent's Graduation Prayer

By Tina Pinson

Precious Son… Beloved to me,

I watch you walk away and I am filled with a sense of pride.

for the man you've become, the man you will be.

You've grown now, and you're heading off into a

the world to blaze that trail

To live your life.

Much has been accomplished in what seems too short of time.

I'm prouder than any parent could be.

But deep in my heart, in that sheltered place,

I feel as though someone has taken a knife

and hollowed my soul.

I long to run after you, to continue this walk together,

But the path is only wide enough for you and one other.

and I know I am not the one who can walk it with you.

Nor the one who should

Oh, but all my senses cry out, begging me to run to your side,

take your hand in mine and never relinquish that hold.

But my feet are planted, and I stand silently in the shadows, weeping,

watching as you walk away.

My hands are limp and empty by my side.

Then in moments of sorrow, I look up and see who walks with you.

I look up and see, like me, you are sheltered under His arm.

Close to His heart. And He'll never let you walk alone.

And my hand, finding the strength to let you go,

Lifts with prayer for your tomorrows,

lifts with praise as I lay you in the hands of the only one who can carry you.

The one who always has.

God.

Congratulations to all the 2010 Graduates. And to the Parent's who have traveled with them on their journey

We have a Winner...

2010-05-13T22:45:00.000-06:00

Thanks so much everyone who stopped in and left a comment. You are all entered in the contest that continues through out this month for the release of ... No Other.

You can enter Shawna's contest multiple times, the details are here.

http://shawnawilliams-oldsmobile.blogspot.com/p/no-other-prize-drawing-details.html

As promised I have come bearing the name of the winner for my blog.

Congratulations to R. Ann Siracusa ... you've won the ebook of "No Other", a freshwater pearl/inspirational bracelet, and a signed postcard.

Thanks again for coming by, be sure to check back in a couple of weeks for the release of my new ebook In the Manor of the Ghost.

I will be running a contest through the month of June with some great prizes.

An Interview with Shawna K. Williams -- author of 'No Other.'

2010-05-11T22:44:00.001-06:00

Today, I am honored to welcome Shawna K. Williams. She has been busy lately on several blogs and has graceously found the time to stop in and tell us about her new ebook release ... 'No Other.' Now Available through Desert Breeze Publishing

How long have you been writing? What's the most rewarding aspect of it?

I've been writing off and on for about eight years, but I didn't start writing for the purpose of seeking publication until a little over two years ago. I had thought about it before then, but always chickened out.

The most rewarding aspect is being able to share the story of these characters – Jakob and Meri. They've been with me so long, and I've kinda come to love them. It thrills me to think this 'thing' that was locked in my head for years is now something anyone can read. I feel really passionate about the characters and their stories (there's a sequel) and I hope that others are touched by them in the way I was. I honestly don't really feel like I made their story up so much as it was given to me.

You have a new release from Desert Breeze Publishing entitled "No Other." For those who haven't read the book yet, can you tell us a little about it?

"No Other" is set in the aftermath of WWII when the nation was trying to heal. That's what Jakob Wilheimer wants too. He wants to get past the pain of his family's internment, get on with his life, and if possible, forgive those who've wronged his family -- including himself.

Having quit school three years earlier to look after the family business and care for his younger siblings, Jakob knows his first step back into normalcy must be to return and get his diploma. And after enduring the stigma and isolation associated with the internment camp, the awkwardness of being a twenty year old amidst a bunch of teen aged high school students shouldn't have been a bother. What Jakob hadn't counted on was his former schoolmate, Meri Parker, being one of his teachers.

Seeing her every day, with her life on track, uninterrupted by the war, only serves as a reminder of Jakob's hardship. However, a school assignment brings these two in closer contact, and soon Jakob begins to see little hints of a not-so-perfect life behind the facade that is Meri Parker.

As a friendship deepens into feelings of something more, these two are faced with the dilemma of their situation. To be together, means they'd have to lie to everyone around them in order to keep their relationship a secret. But Jakob also fears for Meri, and the pressure from her family who wants her to marry someone else. He's aware of their cruelty and how they use Meri's yearning for their affection as a means of control. Jakob is afraid that without him at her side, she'll succumb and be lost to him forever.

And then there's that nagging Bible verse his Grandma made him memorize all those years ago. "Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit."

Is Jakob what Meri needs, or is he getting in the way?

What was the inspiration behind "No Other?"

The inspiration for "No Other" actually came from a dream I had eight years ago. It was bizarre, like watching a movie almost. And for the next six months I kept thinking about it, trying to fill in all the gaps between scenes. It eventually grew to be so complicated that I had to write it down. After playing with it off and on for six years, I finally decided to try and turn it into something publishable, and began studying the craft of writing, joining critique groups, and submitting short stories to rack up a few publishing credits. "No Other" was inspired from the first part of that dream, when the characters were young. All the details came later as I researched and got to know them better.

What made you choose this time period as the setting for your novel?

I love this time period, but the way the story came to me was really what determined the time period. I just always knew that it was set around this era.

Is there a particular reason you chose a German family? Are you from German ancestry yourself?

Actually, yes. My grandfather was of German descent. I don't know how much of the German culture was prevalent in his family, but he was orphaned at a very young age, so any customs that may have been in keeping with the culture were lost.

After writing "No Other" I find myself very curious about my roots. I've done some minor research into the Kail lineage, and would love to visit Germany someday. My kids and I have been looking into language lessons too.

Do you draw on people from real life when you come up with characters?

Yes and no. I don't have any characters representative of anyone I know in real life. My characters are their own thing. But sometimes certain personality traits that remind me of someone I know sneak in.

Do you have a favorite character in No Other? What makes him/her so dear to your heart?

I like both Jakob and Meri a great deal. It's hard to say that I have a favorite between them. I think I relate a little more to Jakob. He's introverted and tends to over think, not unlike myself. But Meri questions herself on everything, also not unlike myself. I just like these two together, and I love the their story.

Do you plot things out, or do you write "by the seat of your pants"?

A little of both. I have to have an idea of the story, including its conclusion. I write out a summary just to get an idea of the story's framework. Then I write my first draft, which is horrible. I'm a character writer, so my stories focus a great deal on the hero and heroine's internal journey. My first drafts tend to ramble and meander with all sorts of emotional pondering, not unlike a therapy session. This helps me to nail down what my character's struggles are. It gives me an idea of what they need, and how to get them there.

Once I've done this I go back and start the rewrite. I take this on a chapter by chapter basis, writing out the goals I need to achieve to keep the story progressing. Then I go back and edit. During this process I try to weave everything together as tight as possible, and also look for any missed opportunities to strengthen the overall theme.

How do you develop your characters?

To me, characters are what make or break a story. Characters are who we experience a story through and if they aren't interesting and relatable, then no matter how intriguing the plot, a huge facet to the story is lost.

Now, I know some authors do character sketches involving the looks and profession of their characters. While this works for some, I don't do this. To me this is surface stuff and it has little to do with the person I want to convey. These details actually fill in themselves as the character evolves anyway. I like to focus on my characters history. This sometimes, as with Jakob, necessitated me going to great depths to uncover his family's history. Most of this stuff never makes it into the book in the form of information, but it does make it into the book in the way it frames my character's mind set, mannerisms, insecurities.

I'll use Jakob as an example again. One of the things I found interesting about him was his duel culture. He grew up in a family that was thoroughly German, in a town that was thoroughly Texan, and he's thoroughly both. The clash of these two cultures cause a bit of an identity crises in him in the sense that the betrayal he feels over his family's internement because of their German heritage is harder for him to fathom when he's American, and Texan to boot. Yet, when he speaks to his parents its perfect German, and many of his fondest childhood memories involve the culture. In the midst of war he wonders if that's something to be ashamed of. So...you can imagine, this story begins with a character already caught up in a whirlwind of internal struggle.

Now Meri...This girl's got issues, and quite a backstory of her own! I'm not giving that away though. Hopefully a few people will be curious enough to read the book.

There's a sequel to "No Other". Care to tell us about it?

"In All Things" is the sequel to "No Other" -- ten years later. While "No Other" is a complete story, if you look, you'll see there are some loose ends that are left unclear. One has to do with a promise Jakob makes to his rival, and another has to do with Meri's salvation. You know she's headed that direction, but when the book ends she hasn't committed her life to Christ yet. The theme to "In All Things" is similar to "No Other" but it deals with unresolved issues from a different phase in life, and adds to them with the complexities of family and careers, and substitutes for God. "No Other" mainly focuses on Jakob and Meri -- primarily because much of their interaction is in secret – but "In All Things" involves Jakob's entire family a lot more.

It's been an emotionally taxing story to write because there's so much to grasp. I find myself praying daily, "Lord, help me tell this story." But I find that there's also so much to love about it, and things I never expected to explore – one of them being how events in the first book affected Jakob's youngest sister, Esther. See, I just gave you something to think about if you read the book.

What do you want people to take from this story?

I wrote "No Other" because I wanted to tell an inspirational story about getting up after you fall. About how Christians don't just struggle, sometimes we blow it, but God doesn't abandon us. Even when our efforts to right things fail, He's still in control. Him, and No Other.

Thank you for coming by Shawna, and for such a wonderful interview.

And thanks to everyone who stops by. Shawna is giving a way an ebook for Kindle or another ebook format depending on the winner's preference. To the winner of the ebook, she will also give a freshwater pearl/inspirational bracelet, and a signed postcard.

Anyone who leaves a comment through today and tomorrow (May 13th), will automatically be entered in the drawing for the prize. The winner will announced on Friday May 14th. (Please leave your email in your comment)

For another chance to win a book and other prizes, Shawna is running a contest throughout the month of May and offering the following three prizes – a Good one, a Great one, and a Grand one. You can enter multiple times, the details are here. http://shawnawilliams-oldsmobile.blogspot.com/p/no-other-prize-drawing-details.html

Anyone leaving a comment today gets one entry (please leave your email. I promise these will all be destroyed after the drawing) And, if you can answer this question you get another entry.

What topic did Meri ask her students to write about?

The answer can be found in the second chapter, viewable through Freado, where you can also read the first four chapters. http://www.freado.com/read/6928/no-other-by-shawna-k-williams

Or through the free sample available as a Kindle download.

http://www.amazon.com/No-Other-ebook/dp/B003K15MY0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1272736275&sr=1-1

Here are links where to find me.

http://shawnakwilliams.com/

http://shawnawilliams-oldsmobile.blogspot.com/

http://twitter.com/shawnakwilliams

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1059888544&ref=profile#!/pages/Shawna-K-Williams/236629884245?ref=ts

Link to trailer

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVxeR7yeztw

An Interview with K. Dawn Byrd author of 'Queen of Hearts'

2010-05-09T23:16:00.001-06:00

Today it is my pleasure to welcome author, K. Dawn Byrd. She has graciously stopped in to answer a few questions and give a teaser about her new inspirational historical suspense novel Queen of Hearts available now through Desert Breeze Publishing.

How long have you been writing (stories)?

K. Dawn -- I've been writing for about two years. It's a wonderful, stress-relieving hobby for me.

Do you have another job, or did you get to live the writer's dream and quit your day job?What did you do before you started writing?

I do work a full-time job. I'm not sure I'd want the pressure of writing full-time. I'd have to worry about landing the next contract, plotting the next book, writer's block, etc

Why do you write? If you couldn't write, what would you do?

I write because I love it. If I couldn't write, I'd probably still be riding a Harley (I gave it up to have more time to write.)

Does your family back your writing?

My husband is very supportive and helps me with titles and plotting. Sometimes it helps to get a guy's perspective.

Since it's was just mother's day, tell us how your mother feels about your writing?

My mother believes that I take on too much. She's probably right as I'm more driven than can possibly be healthy.

How long did it take you before you were published?

I wrote for about a year and a half before landing my first contract. During that time, I studied everything I could find about craft.

Writers have been know to be quirky people, would admit to having any quirks?

I'm terrified of driving in snow. We had so much of it last winter that it was a real challenge for me to just get out there and go.

Tell us something people may find interesting about you.

I have two hairless dogs. Almost hairless anyway. My Chinese Cresteds have hair only on their head, feet and tail.

Most writers have an inspiration moment when they start a new book, ( a dream, a thought, etc), did you have such a moment for Queen of Hearts?

No such inspiration for Queen of Hearts. I love romantic suspense and had written two. I wanted to try something different. A historical fit the bill nicely.

How long did it take to write Queen of Hearts?

It was my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project. I wrote it during November of last year.

A WWII era story cast in an abandoned mental institution, quite a mix for setting. What sparked your interest for the asylum?

I ran across a website containing photos of dozens of abandoned mental institutions. It gave me the idea of placing my heroine inside one.

What kind of research did you do for mental institutions?

I watched a couple of videos of frontal labotomies and also studied the photos of abandoned asylums. That's pretty much it.

And Photography, since your heroine is an OSS operative/reporting photographer?

Since photography doesn't play a huge part in the story, I didn't really research it. I did, however, have to research the O.S.S.

What's one of the strangest things you've done for research?

I traveled to a small town an hour away and in the middle of nowhere. It's only a few miles wide, but I had to know what was there.

What actors or historical figures would best describe your hero or heroine?

My heroine reminds me of Isla Fisher

and Vito, a young Clark Gable.

Do your characters resemble you in anyway? Like in traits or quirks?

No, my characters don't resemble me unless you count the fact that they love pickles.

Thanks for stopping in, K. You can be scared all you want of driving in the snow, I'm scared of Harley's.

As for research, for one book, I've taken the trip up the Oregon trail stopping at every site I could hit in two days. Twice. You must have an iron stomach, cause I might read about it, but I doubt I'd watch a lobotomy, frontal or otherwise.

I love stories that take place during the WWII era. So much espionage took place then that we don't understand fully. I am amazed by how many asylums there are in the US that were in use during that time. That your character hides in one, is intriguing.

I wish you well with your book, K. Thank you again for coming by.Following is a short excerpt from Queen of Hearts. To read more follow the links below.

Daphne Dean is proud to be serving her country stateside during WWII as a reporter and an Office of Strategic Services operative. When the photograph she takes of the crowd at a murder scene places her on the mob's hit list, she's forced into hiding in a vacant mental asylum in the middle of nowhere with terrifying secrets of its own.

Daphne believed herself to still be in love with her ex-fiance, Kenneth, until she spends several days locked away in the asylum with Vito, the mob boss' son. Can she put the terrifying events that occurred there behind her and allow herself to pursue a relationship with Vito? Or, will she return to Kenneth who has turned his back on his country by becoming a draft dodger and a black market racketeer? One thing's for sure, it won't matter if she can't escape the mental institution alive.

Purchase links:

Queen of Hearts at Desert Breeze Publishing

Queen of Hearts for Kindle at Amazon

Youtube: Queen of Hearts Book Trailer

2010-05-05T10:36:00.000-06:00

And Now for the Winners ...

Congratulations to Carolyn O, Anne Patrick, Deborah M. and Regan Taylor--they are the winners of the $20.00 gift certificates to Desert Breeze Publishing. If you would email me at tpinson.co@netzero.net so I can make sure I have your proper email, I can get your certificates to you.

Thanks again for everyone who entered the In the Manor of the Ghost Contest Part 1.

REMEMBER ... Part 2 of the contest will be coming soon.

Monday-May 10th Author K. Dawn Byrd stops by to tell us a bit about herself and share about her new book Queen of Hearts . Available through Desert Breeze Publishing. Be sure to come by.

Wednesday- May 12th Author Shawna K. Williams stops in to share about her new release No Other, available now through Desert Breeze Publishing.

2010-05-02T21:48:00.003-06:00

My sincere Thanks to everyone who signed up during this first part of the In the Manor of the Ghost Contest.

Winners will be announced this week, so don't forget to check back.

Also, keep your eyes open for Phase Two of the contest, prizes will be bigger and better.

Monday-May 10th Author K. Dawn Byrd stops by to tell us a bit about herself and share about her new book Queen of Hearts . Available through Desert Breeze Publishing. Be sure to come by.

Wednesday- May 12th Author Shawna K. Williams stops in to share about her new release No Other, available now through Desert Breeze Publishing.

2010-04-16T09:14:00.002-06:00

In the Manor of the Ghost Contest (Part One...)

To celebrate the release of my new book In the Manor of the Ghost this June 2010 through Desert Breeze Publishing, I am giving away (4) $20.00 Gift Certificates to Desert Breeze Publishing.

For a chance to win one, simply become a follower at this blog site, Write Where I Want to Be or one of the sites listed below by May 1st.

Winners will be chosen from the follower lists of said sites and announced by May 7th.

http://tinapinson.typepad.com/blog/

http://twitter.com/Tina_Pinson

Details for In the Manor of the Ghost Contest (Part 2)... coming soon

****Disclaimer.... entering this contest is considered a confirmation of eligilbility on behalf of the enterer in accord with rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws and is void where prohibited. Contest is open to U.S. Residents only. Odds of winning depend on number of entrants****

2010-04-11T22:17:00.002-06:00

In the Manor of the Ghost.

My new ebook In the Manor of the Ghost will be available June 2010 from Desert Breeze Publishing. In celebration, I will be holding a contest to kindle some excitement. Details coming soon.

2010-04-05T17:44:00.001-06:00

Don't just tell the story... TELL THE STORY.

Okay that sounds like a contradiction.

And for some of you, like me, who love to put scenes in your stories that are rather telling or love to place omniscient clues through out, then it sounds rather like a license to TELL.

Perhaps it's a little of both. (Shhh don't tell anyone.)

Before anyone believes I'm saying it's okay to use alot of telling in your story, let me ask a few questions and hopefully explain what I mean when I say we need to learn to TELL THE STORY.

To me telling the story is a tool I use to help me extract my story from my brain, clarify what I see and write it down. Sounds simple enough. Right?

How do you tell people about your story or work in progress?

Do you sit down, set your face in a sour lemon sucking disposition and while using a monotone voice, say. . . This story is about such and such.. and so and so? I think you will find it interesting because this character does blah, blah, blah.

I can already see the audience squirming in their seats, patting their lips to keep from yawning and blinking steadily so their eyes won't roll back in their skulls. Surely you don't talk about your story, your baby that way.

If your like me when you tell someone about your story, you get a bit excited.

You try to paint the picture of your story through your words and the inflection of your voice, because you want people to be interested in your book.

I tend to get so excited in the telling I may freak a few people out. Or slap them silly with use of over exuberant hand gestures. LOL

When I see them running the other direction it's a sure sign I've shared more than they probably wanted to know. Seems they might not have wanted a paragraph by paragraph breakdown when they asked how my story was coming along.

Maybe there are times when a person can overshow. HMMM. Just a thought.

I have been criticized for writing telling scenes, but as I told you earlier, sometimes I like them. Sometimes I think we try to remove too much. On the other hand, I try to show more often too. And when I have a hard time with a scene I close my eyes and envision myself telling the story about my characters and their lives.

My family calls that LOST, day tripping or zoned out. They come in and find me crying and talking back and forth between my characters and wonder if I'm not going crazy or already there. But they have learned to leave me alone because they are never quite certain how a character might react if pulled from their scene.

Other times, I try to tell someone else about it and just to hear the words in my mind, or in my own voice, it helps me build on the scene and hopefully draw the reader into a world. A world they can see with their own eyes just because my words allowed them the ability to take the trip.

And isn't that what we as writers hope to accomplish? Of course we want to reach an audience with our stories. Several of us probably hope to sell a gazillion copies and become the next big name in writing.

I know I don't want people to buy my books, read the first chapter and toss the book aside because it was boring as spit and they could care less about the characters.

I realize not everyone is going to like the way I write. Just as I realize I shouldn't try to write like everyone else?

Then I lose the story teller's heart that I was gifted with. I don't care to go there. Do you?

What do you think about telling scenes?

What process do you go through to paint a picture with your words and get beyond the monochrome realm?

Do you think a person can over show in a story?

2010-03-19T10:39:00.002-06:00

It's Time for a Knee Party.

If you were Queen Esther or the prophet Daniel, what would you do to help heal the state of America?

Like me, you can probably think of a gazillion things you'd like to do.

But what is the most important step?

Well...

You may never be Queen of a nation like Esther, you may never be asked to put your life on the line. but as a child of God, you have been chosen by the King of Kings.

You may never be a prophet such as Daniel, you may never be asked to advise a king, but you, as joint heirs with Christ, serve the Sovereign Lord of the universe.

You were placed here for such a time as this.

What will you do?

Perhaps the best place to start is by following the examples of the Esthers and Daniels who came before you. It's time to seek the wisdom of God. The wisdom of the ages.

It's time to bend a knee before the Lord and pray.

"If my people who are call by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:14

2010-03-16T10:47:00.002-06:00

Name That State Song

1. ) Dreams come true in blue _______, and mine could all come true this magic night of nights with you…

2.) There's too much love in the              heart too much love in this              heart…

3.) I'm in a world so wide, it makes me feel small sometimes. I miss the big blue sky, The               kind…

4.) And the              rocky mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky…

5.)                   , where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain and the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet

6.)                , take off your rainbow shades,                , have another look at the world…

7.) With the rain in my shoes, / Searchin’ for you / In the cold                 rain, ...

8.) Country Roads, take me home to the place I belong,                   , mountain momma

9.)   I got to Kansas City on a Frid'y / By Sattidy I larned a thing or two

10.) Lost my heart in the Black Hills, the Black Hills of Dakota, where the pines are so high ...

11.) Meet me in Montana, I want to see the mountains in your eyes…

12.) Seems it never rain in Southern California / Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before…

13.) The windy city is mighty purdy… Im tellin you boys…We got more life in Deadwood city than the whole of Ilanoy

14.) New York, New York, it's a wonderful town, the Bronx is up and the Battery's down…

15.) Where the river is windin’, big nuggets they’re findin’ North to Alaska…

16.) That’s the night that the lights went out in Georgia…

17.) I wish they all could be California girls…

18.) My home's in Alabama, Southern born and Southern bred…

19.) Back where I come from, I'm an old Tennessean…

20.) Just an old sweet song, keeps Georgia on my mind…

21.) I’ve got some oceanfront property in Arizona, from my front porch you can see the sea…

22.) Kansas City lights, in my mind they shine so bright…

23.) I'm caught up in missing Missouri ‘cause I wanna be with my family…

24.) Cause a Mississippi girl don't change her ways / Just cause everybody knows her name…

25.) All my exes live in Texas…

Fill in the blanks. All the answers have the name of a state in them. If you can think of any other songs with States in them, don't hesitate to share.

2010-03-03T13:47:00.011-07:00

When your character walks off the page?

The day before he was just a character in your novel. Then suddenly, it's as if the pages of your book have come to life and he walks right off the written page and into your world.

He's standing right in front of you as real as the breath you take.

What do you do? Do you chase him down? Do you stop and catch your breath?

Do you call out his name?

Share some of things you've done after you saw your character come to life.
If you're not a writer, how did you feel when you saw someone that looked just like your dream walking?

2010-02-22T14:16:00.000-07:00

The Queen of Sophistication

I am sophistication personified. I am a walking testimonial to grace and elegance.

I am a big liar.

Okay... I aspire to be seen as someone who has her act together. But what is one to do when their own body gives their lack thereof away?

Some might say I have two left feet. Au Contrare. My feet are a perfect set. Unfortunately, they each have a mind of their own. Put me in stilettoes and watch me 'dance'.

I am tripped up by my own two feet, sidewalk cracks and shadows. I've tripped over wind, fallen on air and did the Miss Congeniality splat more than I care to mention

The harder I try to Runway Walk it, the worse it seems to get.

I've been stuck in road tar, stuck in the hem of my dress, stuck in mud.

I fell into an open manhole.

A manhole? Who falls into a manhole?

If it were just my clumsy feet, I might be okay, but...

I've gone to school with panty hose hanging out my pants. come out of the bathroom with my skirt in my pantyhoses. Tracked toilet paper down the hall. Broke a red pen (or two) when I sat down and forgot it was in my front pant's pocket. Broke a blue pen when I sat down and forgot it was in my back pocket, broke a black... you get the gist.

I've spent many a days tying my shirt around my waist for other reasons than I was warm.

I've sat in enough food and spilled enough on my person to feed a third world country.

Even nature knows my name or target. I've been pooed on by more birds than I care to mention. I've taken to telling friends they'd do better to walk a few paces away from me or in the least carry an umbrella.

I've been thrown by horses and chased by bats, bit by dogs and clawed by cats. (golly I'm a poet)

What I've shared is a short list of my personal pitfalls. I could fill volumes.

Invaritably these things happen when I'm in the mist of company or many times while trying to catch the eye of a school crush. (That's a story all in itself.)

You may wonder why I share these foibles.

Maybe it's because my lack of sophistication is one of the reasons I love to write.

When I write, no one can see that I can't walk a straight line and chew gum.

When I write, the words flow and carry me away to new worlds, places beyond my clumsiness. I can formulate a sentence and not trip over my tongue.

When I write I find grace at my fingertips, elegance in my characters.

I am no longer the klutz vying for a hint of sophistication, I am the story teller, ruler over the minions that reside in my stories, queen of an imaginary realm.

And perhaps I share these things to remind you if God can use me, he can use you.

Write on...

2010-02-15T17:36:00.002-07:00

Last time we shared some of our fears as writers

This time let's share some good news .

I've heard of the Snoopy Dance, high fiving, screeching and screaming.

I've heard of wailing and crying and people just being plain dumbfounded

Maybe you moon walked, did a triple flip on the furniture or cartwheeled.

Maybe you didn't jump so high you landed it a tree, but...

Tell me what you did when you got your book contract.

And if you're not a writer, share what you did when you got some exciting news.

2010-02-08T17:21:00.005-07:00

THE HUSBAND TREE by Mary Connealy

I won Mary Connealy's book The Husband Tree in a contest. And I promised her I'd even try and read the book. But I didn't have to try. From the first line I was drawn in. I got the book in the mail and finished it within three hours the same day. Now I know what the buzz is about.

The Husband Tree is the story about, Belle, a woman who lives in a hard country, Montana. After marrying and burying three husband's, and raising her four daughter's, she's become as hard as the country in which she dwells. Men have given her nothing but grief and she's decided that she doesn't need help from any no account males. Belle can take care of herself , and her daughters. She's done so for years.

Silas Harding, has lost in love himself. And in the process was forced to leave his home just to get away from the no account females in his life. He decides women are nothing but trouble and life would be better spent with out one in it.

His metal is tested when he signs on to drive cattle with Belle and her daughters (who are all memorable in their own right). At first, dealing with the contankerous lot of stubborn females, Silas is certain he'll be able to hold true to his promise and never care for a woman again. But Belle isn't anything like the whiny, weak women of Silas' past, she doesn't use her wiles on him, doesn't try to trap him and turn his head. No Belle plum confuses him, because She doesn't need him or want him for nothing more but a hired hand. So why does he find himself falling for her?

And strangely, once Silas begins to help on the drive and take care of her and her girls, Belle finds herself questioning her vow to never marry again. Silas has done more for her in a month than any of her husbands before. He heart opens toward him, but she wonders if a man can truly be trusted.

Even her daughter's hearts begin to thaw under the warmth and care that Silas gives them.

I don't want to give the story away. But The Husband Tree is funny and heartwarming. Mary Connealy has spun a tale that will pull you in and take you along for a wonderful ride. Let me encourage you to take the ride.

2010-02-04T17:54:00.001-07:00

Writer's are a strange breed. That's what I hear anyway. We have some funny quirks.

For example: The more rejections the better, they are badges of honor.

Writer's have fears.

We are afraid we'll never get published.

But some are afraid they'll get published and people will find out the're phonies.

Some are afraid they'll only sell one book. Others are scared they'll sell a million.

Some are afraid they'll lose their imagination and never be able to write again.

Others are afraid they'll go brain dead from imagination overload.

What are some of your fears?

2010-01-18T21:56:00.003-07:00

We can all use a little support. We can all use a bit of sunshine when the days are bleak. They say laughter is the best medicine so I hope this gives you a little laugh today.

2010-01-18T07:48:00.000-07:00

Does Anybody Hear Me?

I wonder...

Has anyone ever really heard my voice?

Has anyone truly read and understood the words I've written?

Has my life made a difference in the smallest way?

When I draw my final breath and am removed from life, will pieces of my story remain in the annals of times?
Or given the time of my life and the way I spent it, will anyone even know that I existed?

I wonder... Oh Lord.

Have I truly heard your voice?

Have I truly read and understood the words you've written?

Have I allowed you touch my life, and touch others through me in the smallest way?

When I draw my last breath, when I reach for eternity, will it be said of me that I lived for you?
Or will anyone even know that you existed in me?

I wonder... Oh Lord what is the measure of a life?

That I sold a million copies of a book?

That I made a million dollars?

That I lived a million lifetimes in a million seconds?

That I touched a single life?

I wonder...
Lord, make me to know my end.
And what is the measure of my days.
That I may know how frail I am

Indeed, you have made days as handbreadths,
and my age is as nothing before you.
Certainly everyman is but a vapor. Selah

Surely every man walks about like a shadow;
Surely they busy themselves in vain;
He heaps up riches,
and does not know who will gather them.

And now Lord, what do I wait for?
My hope is in you. Psalm 39: 4-7

2010-01-12T13:48:00.009-07:00

Where did that thought go and other mysteries...

I think, therefore I am...

I am, therefore I think...

I think I am so... I am I think.

Thoughts are everyday part of life, they should be cohesive.

Like notes on a scale, they can flow like a beautiful aria,

or sound discombobulated, like they're being played by my dog.

I should be able to put them on paper. I should be able to relay them to others.

Some are better unspoken. Some have me in chains

You can put your mind into a quandary just thinking about your thoughts.

Especially when they are scrambled.

Have I lost you completely?

Don't feel bad I lose myself all the time.
Like now, when I'm trying to wax poetic about thoughts.

How come I can practice a song, and sing it through, but when I stand in front of the mirror, my mind goes blank? I've sang the song through without a paper crutch for the words and suddenly the words, once my eyes see my lips move, slip my mind?

Is it age that throws my mind akilter? I wished that was my excuse. Age probably adds to the break down of my thoughts, or the interpretation of them, but I've had problems for years.

Most people do.

Think about that test you're about to take, the one you've studied for. And how, when they lay the paper in front of you, your mind takes a day trip to forgetfulville.

Or perhaps you have a mental grocery list. It's small, but when you reach the store, it's gone. Like the phone numbers you've recited over and over as you tried to punch in the number. And still dialed wrong.

We're constantly second guessing ourselves. We think of everything at once.

For example, you know as you're flying away for that week vacation, you turned the stove off. Still there is a sense of doubt. No matter what you do, the thought chips away at your reasoning and leaves you with the expectation that your house will be shards when you return because of the explosion.

Or you thought you said something that might have offended someone, and it drives you to near distraction because you're certain they're going to hate you. The thought strangles your sleep until you have to call and apologize. And they had no idea what you were talking about.

Thoughts are strange. They can be thought provoking, thoughtless, you can loose a thought, or get one. Thoughts seemed to be hooked right to your blood pressure. They elate, they uplift, they encourage, they disappoint, they reprimand, they hurt, they hinder.They are ever with us, and ever elusive.

As a writer I can dream a story from beginning to end, but when I go to write it down the words can get lost in translation? My thoughts can't formulate a paragraph, let alone a sentence. Which can be quite irritating one is looking for wordage.

Stories are full of sentences, don't ya know?

Amazingly, I can sit down and think the story through again. See it plain as the nose on your face ( or mine when I cross my eyes.)

Maybe my thoughts aren't firing properly from brain to fingers to keyboard. So I decide to try a tape recorder. Some people swear by that technique.

I swore too...(not in a good way) As soon as I hit the record button, my thoughts were frozen. I sat there with my mouth open, the first word caught on the tip of my tongue. I couldn't for the life of me spit it out.

Figuring I trick my mind, and make it think I'm was talking my story through, I sat the recorder on voice activation. I started to speak, managed a few words and started to giggle.

Certain that if I can't see the recorder, I won't be able to tell, I lay back, and close my eyes to think of my story. When I'm relaxed, I will try to dictate to the recorder.

I take a deep breath, start talking once more and shortly I'm laughing and have to stop.

My mind tells me I'm a dork, everyone can see me and I'm alone. And strangely, or not so strangely, with my eyes shut, I can still hear my voice.

And by my way of thinking, the sound is funny and foreign. Meanwhile my good little thoughts are encouring me to try again.

Why do my thoughts bump into one another?

Maybe it's because I think too much. My mind is always critiquing me. It has to know and it has to be right. My mind is intricately designed and while I think I can do everything at once, my mind doesn't do well with overload. But it believes it can.

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me? Psalm 13:2

Yes sadly, my very thoughts can become my enemy. They inhibit me from trying, from seeking what God has for me. Other times, my thoughts are my friends, they keep me grounded, they define my conscience and remind me to pray.

At times there seems to be a fine line of distinction between friend of foe.

Thank God he knows the difference.

The best thing I can do is take a deep breath, set my my paper and pencil aside, shrug off some of the worries, discard the extras that have slipped in and fried my mental circuitry, lay them at God's feet and let him renew my mind. He knows what's going on in my thoughts more than I ever will.

For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

Hebrews 4:12

Oh Lord, quiet my thoughts.

2009-12-30T17:18:00.001-07:00

Passages...

Here I stand at the onset of another year, it's but a step across the threshold, but it feels like I'm perched on a precipice ready to fall into the abyss. I study the sands of time left in my year as they fall through my fingers and settle on the ground at my feet.

Shifting through the granules with the toe of my shoe, I unsettle the sands. Some rise, and carried by the wind of ages, they flutter in the space about me, sparkling like diamonds in a night sky. I search for moments of meaning. There are fulfilled dreams, echoes of laughter and tears, moments of joy and sorrow, times of courage and fear. They are etched in my memory, as unforgettable as each breath I take.

But while those memories have meaning, many more of the time passages that filled my year still lay at my feet, heavy and blank. They are banal, misused, and misspent. Putting them together I can build endless days of nothingness.

Shamed by the wasted minutes, I long to pick them up, tuck them back in an hour glass and flip time. Then I could relive them, spend them, but the year is drawing to a close; I'll never hold them again. I scoot some away with my foot hoping noone will notice.

The last granule of time slides slowly through my fingers. A strong breeze circles my legs and sweeps the remaining moments of the year past away. I study the year ahead, it is bright with promise, with dreams. I am excited to face the unknown that spans the distance before me. Yet, I am fraught with fear.

Is this really a step or a precipice?

I study my empty hands and draw them, clenched, to my chest, afraid to gather another year. What if I squander it?

I could try harder. I could do better.

I resolve to make no resolutions. No resolutions, no failure. And yet a part of me, something deep in my spirit, wants to take that first step toward tomorrow and fly. I want to take that first step and achieve. I want to take that first step and dream.

My inner longing skips forward. My feet inch toward eternity like a slug. I close my eyes and hold out my hand. Ready to grasp the new year. Praying I won't fill overwhelmed when it fills my hand.

It's daunting to think about a year, all 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes, 31,536,000 seconds of it to be exact.

My fingers tense, and begin to draw shut. I hold my hands higher.

Oh God, please give me the wisdom to spend this new year wisely. Please don't let me squander it.

When I open my eyes, and lower my hands, I find they are filled with the seconds, minutes and hours of but one day. I blink and look again. Can that be right? One day? I turn my eyes heavenward as a new thought pushes into my head.

Had I failed so miserably the prior year that God could no longer trust me with more than a day?

I want to weep. Tears fill my eyes, and begin to track along my cheeks.

The winds of heaven caress my face and assure me that God wasn't holding time back because of my failures. I am reminded that God's mercies are new every morning.

I can dream for a lifetime of tomorrows, but a lifetime is made in the moments that build a day. A month is built by the accomplishment of days and a year is forged by months. I have only to face the new day to begin my journey, and merely the minute at hand, God the architect of my life, the one who knows the beginning and end of my story, will walk with me and guide me. I have only to hold out my hand and believe.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Matthew 6:33-34

2009-12-26T11:26:00.000-07:00

TWAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS...
and just look at my house.
For a brief moment, it's holiday beauty could grace a magazine cover
now it looks like it was attacked by sage grouse.

The stockings once hung
by the chimney with such care.
lay askew on the mantle
or strewn on the chair.

The children are sleeping late,
snuggled in their beds
with visions of Exlax, Prilosec or Pepto Bismal
dancing in their heads.

Pa is in his tennis shoes.
I've tugged on some spandex
as we contemplate hitting the gym
and trying to work up a sweat.

When out on the lawn
there a rose such a clatter
I ran to the door, tripping over boxes and wrapping
to see what was the matter.

Out in the yard, the dogs barked
and ran the fence in a flash
try to catch a stray cat who'd slipped in
and attacked the left over bones in our holiday trash

I grabbed a quick breath, snapped up a broom
and headed to the yard, to the fray.
To clean up the strewn garbage
and shoo the interloping cat away.

I tied the last bag
and crammed it into the bin
Then leaned against the fence with thoughts of Christmas now past
and thoughts of family and friends.

Christmas arrives much too quickly
but leaves much too fast.
Leaving me bereft to wonder and wish
if we couldn't find a way to make Christmas last

And laying a finger
aside of my nose
my lips lift in a smile
and joy soon arose.

I consider the presents, my family
and my friends.
And I know Christmas can last
Oh yes, yes it can

Cause Christmas isn't just what I got or who I saw
yes, that's part of it, that's true
but Christmas is Christ
and the gift he gave...lasts the whole year through.

2009-12-12T14:17:00.003-07:00

Merry Christmas

and may your dreams be fulfilled, your prayers answered and may your New Year overflow with blessings.

2009-12-12T12:48:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Laura, and Supermom, who's name were drawn for the gift cards. And because I added a third one, Michelle is a winner also. Thanks so much for coming to my page. Come again.
Merry Christmas

2009-12-01T01:00:00.001-07:00

Starting December 1st...Follow the link below and join the Desert Breeze Blog Scavenger Hunt for a chance to win prizes throughout the month of December.

http://www.desertbreezepublishing.blogspot.com/

2009-11-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

The Christmas Child
Behold a virgin will conceive and bring forth a son,
they shall call his name Emmanuel....

I love the sights and sounds of Christmas. The air has a bit of a nip to it, (in Colorado anyway), people are decorating their homes with lights and greenery and all kinds of whimsical lawn art. Anticipation is growing as everyone (well, most everyone) makes plans to be somewhere with family and friends, discussing gift exchanges, holiday parties and what they're supposed to bring to the meal among other things. You get to put up the tree and pull out memories with each ornament. You get to watch holiday movies and listen to yuletide songs on the radio. The world seems a bit gentler, a bit less hurried, or that could just be my waning eyesight (I'll probably see it different after Black Friday).

I love Christmas.

I love the smell of cinnamon, pine, pumpkin, turkey and peppermint. I love lights that color the December night. But while I look forward to the season and I kind of dread it too.

That probably sounds terrible. But it's true.

I love putting out the decorations, I dread having to pack them away. (Maybe that's why the lights are still hanging on the eaves of my house from last year.)

I love getting together with family and friends, I dread the goodbyes, especially if they've traveled from afar and have to leave. And then there's the family squabbles that manage to arise.

I love sending out cards and sentiments, I dread having to prepare the letters and sentiments I so love to send. I wonder if anyone reads them or even cares.

I love the Christmas commercials, you know the ones that tug on your heart strings, I try to forget they want to tug on my purse strings as well.

Christmas is Special, it's wonderful. It's Christmas.

And strangely, if I'm honest the enjoyment and wonderment of the day gets lost in translation.

Sometimes I long for the simpler days, when I was the child with the wild-eyes and holiday wishes. When I ripped into the packages I wasn't too worried about who had to clean up the paper, bows and packaging shrapnel that would be strewn about my house.

I didn't have to get up early to put in the turkey or spend the day putting the finishing touches on a meal then watch all my hard work be devoured within minutes.

But that's when I was a child, that was a long time ago. (Or maybe just yesterday.)

Perhaps that's where my trouble lies. I have allowed the years to distort the beauty of what Christmas really means.

Christmas needs a touch of moonbeam, a dash of nonsensical, and a dollop of whimsy.

Christmas needs wonder. Christmas needs a CHILD.

For my inner child's own good, I recite verses like...

When I was I child I thought like a child, but when I grew up, I put away childish things...

All the while forgetting...

A little child shall lead them or Christ said to bring the children to him.

But children are messy, children act stupid, I tell myself, and in so doing, I've taken the very gift of Christmas and boxed it with cynicism, packed it with grownup resolve, wrapped it with whys and wherefores, tied it with ribbons of fear and vulnerability and tagged it with a warning "to open could cause dire consequences to your psyche". Then I hid it away so no one could open it.

No one can touch the child within.

Maybe it's time to open the box. To release the child God so lovingly created.

But where does one begin?

It's allowing yourself to share

A Prayer.

A Dream.

A Memory

It's putting one foot in front of the other, listening to the symphonic melodies of snow crunching beneath your overgrown snowboots or the swish of your legs rubbing together as you waddle along in the mounds of padding and warmth of your snowsuit.

It's sticking out your tongue and catching a snowflake or letting your tongue get caught on an icicle. Or perhaps believing you will not shoot your eye out with that Red Rider BB gun.

It's allowing yourself to inhale the crisp air of winter's night, let it paint your cheeks and neck pink and feel the exhilaration as you exhale your warm breath and paint the night in return.

It's taking a moment to stare across fields of winter white, of diamonds on snow and see a canvas for snow angles and not just something you need to shovel.

It's waiting on a Judean hillside, when you know you should be tending your sheep because excitement as tangible as breath charges the air. And you know something amazing is about to happen. Then heaven resounds with a chorus of praise, and a star break the shadows with Glory.

It's following a star, knowing each step will bring you closer to destiny, to wisdom, even though some might call you a fool with stars in your eyes.

It's reaching out for the hand of the Father, letting his touch ignite the warmth in your numbed hands and chilled heart. It's feeling the sensation of being alive and knowing that to follow in his footsteps will take you on a beautiful journey. You're at first hesitant, there are too many unknowns.

But your heart is yearning, aching to follow, so you move your feet, skipping to find the rhythm til your steps match his...

Because you know you'll find the Child at the end of the journey.

And perhaps you'll remember what Christmas is all about.

And perhaps you'll believe...

Maybe my little memory will help you on your journey.

One Christmas Eve, many moons ago, while tucked in a dark cellar, in a bed with my sisters and cousins, I remember getting awakened by the tinkle sleigh bells, and thumps that sounded in my child ears like hoof beats on the roof of my grandparent's house.

"You hear that?" someone said, their voice heavy with fear and breathless wonder.

The noise continued with more bells and reindeer snorts, and a few ho, ho, hos. Squeals echoed the cellar.

"Could it really be reindeer? Was it really Santa?" We wanted to know, but were too scared of the spiders in the cellar to get out of bed and see.

When the noise finally stopped, I lay there with my heart rioting in my skull. Anxious to find out what made the noise that disturbed my slumber.

When Christmas morning peeked through the slit in the coal bin cover, we were up. I fell in with the rest of my excited bunk mates as we headed outside in our pajamas to investigate.

There in the snow, were what looked like reindeer prints and sleigh tracks.

My child mind didn't connect that those were supposed to be on the roof. Nor did I find it strange that a gazillion other foot prints dotted the snow around the spot where the sleigh had landed in the driveway. In Child like faith, I believed.

This Christmas I pray you take the journey. This Christmas I hope you find the Child.

The one within. The One who was born to die.

***Share some of your moments of Christmas wonder and whimsy. (Dirty, profane, comments will be erased) Leave a comment from now - Dec. 11 and jot down your email address, (make sure to write out at and dot ) for a chance to win one of two $20 dollar gift cards to Targets.

2009-11-11T10:51:00.001-07:00

A clock out of time...

It was weathered and beaten by the years when Dad found it, but it was no ordinary clock. This clock was made in the mid to late 1800's in Germany. An original Black Forest Clock. It was fashioned in the chalet style, wooden carvings that depicted various animals caught and bound by imaginary hunters decorated its face and a royal stag with five point horns graced the top at the point where the eaves joined.

It wasn't colorful like many you can buy today. No little children came out to dance and spin. Only a little bird popped out of small wooden door to say cuc-koo. It had only two hands to tick off time. No second hand, as perhaps times were slower when the clock was crafted.

Which is amazing when you consider how technology is used today to wittle away the seconds in our daily race of life.

But I digress, back to the clock.

We found the clock while living Germany. (Dad was in the Airforce and we lived in Zweibrucken.)

A series of chains, pendulums, bellows, pipes, springs and weights caused the clock to run. The ends of the chains were weighted by what resembled metal pinecones.

When we got the clock, some of its animals had fallen off, the stag's left rack was snapped, and the chains were missing.

Dad worked at fixing the clock. He reset the animals on the face. Glued the poor stag's rack back on so he could reign over his small realm with dignity. Then he hunted for the proper chain.

One would think that task would be realitively easy considering we lived in Germany. But... he found a chain that seemed to work, only the links were slightly off so the inner workings of the clock were unable to count the moments right.

At the time, that meant little to me. I just like it when Dad set the chains then ran the hands around to make the cuckoo bird pop out it's little door and cuc-koo the hour.

But soon, even that failed to work. The bellow were torn from age and the spring wasn't as taut as it should be. Even though it didn't work, the clock still hung of the wall like a quaint piece of artful history. People were intrigued and wanted to know about the clock. It had a story all its own and years of research still hadn't told the tale. We told them what we knew. But most of all, they wanted to hear it cuc-koo.

When we moved from Germany, the clock was wrapped and placed in a box. It moved in and out of the box for a time as we traveled from duty station to duty station. Dad continued to hunt for the right chain, but his endeavors failed. He tried chain after chain one was too heavy, one, the links were too big, one, too small. The moments ran fast or too slow. Without the proper chain, the clock ticked off irregular beats.

When my father passed away in 1994 the unworking clock hung on the wall. With noone to turn the hands or reset the chains, the hands stopped turning and the bird stopped cuc-kooing. The clock, like my father, had become silent only the memory of what the clock could do remained.

The clock's existence changed then, it was either stored in a box, or relegated to the wall of the garage.

Then my son decided to finish what his grandfather had begun. He fixed the bellows, tightened the spring, reset the broken animals, and the stag's horns that had fallen off again. We hung the clock in a place of prominence.

Unfortunately, we never found the right chain either. Oh we could manipulate the chain and get it to run some, and get the cuckoo bird to visit. But it just wasn't the same, the weak bellows tended to rip, the stag's horn was cockeyed and loose, and we grew tired of resetting the chain and hands, perhaps we didn't have the patient that Dad had.

I don't know if the clock will ever be fixed. But maybe... that's just as well.

Looking at it, its hands locked in a moment from long ago. I wonder if they haven't stopped in some wonderful place where time moves slowly, where life was lived in ticks and tocks of minutes, where the stag on the clock is young, where the bellows are filled, where my father stands before the clock adjusting the chain, turning the hands just so, and the little bird comes out to sing.

2009-11-10T15:54:00.000-07:00

I'M STILL STANDING...

Okay in all honesty, I'm sitting right now. With a backache, but at least the heart ache has subsided.

A couple of days ago it was a completely different story, I was having another one of those published writer wanna be pity parties.

This after I tried to sound so encouraging about knowing my call to write in my last post. Amazing how one reacts in the midst of the storm.

And I had planned to act so much more mature about it.

Got another rejection for Trail of the Sandpiper. Thought I'd handled it so well, then the next day hit and ... well, I found myself in a slump. All those stupid questions about whether writing was really worth it fluttered around in my brain, like birds at the wharf looking for a good meal. I tried to fend them off, but they landed and started to feed.

I let them feast for a time, while I whined to my husband. He must really love me.
We go through this more times than I care to admit. I come away telling myself it will be different next time, I won't complain, I won't pout.

HA. I did all those things and more. I hate to admit it.

Then, like all the times before, I said a prayer, squared my shoulders and started in to writing again.

Isn't that life? Whether writing or just living, when the storm hits, the vast majority of us, cower down and hope the storm doesn't hit too hard. When we should hunker down and pray. And if we must cower, do it for a time in the Lord and remember he guards and has our best interest at heart.

Perhaps, if I'm totally honest with myself, Believing that the Lord has my best interest at heart, trusting in the fact that he's not just putting me through these things and laughing is hard for me.

I've seen others and think they're just skating on through without the expending the energies I have. All the while not wanting to see the people who have to expend more. Isn't that so human of me?

I have a plan and by my account, it's a pretty good one. I've said that before and been slapped by what I thought was pretty good.

But God's plans are different.

He created my plan and knows what he wants me to become. He can see the end result, while I, petulant child that I can be, see the moment and what I wish I had. NOW.

The God of my storm, Is the God of the universe, the universe I live in, so he must have some idea about what he's doing.

That's my story and I'm sticking to, at least until the next rejection comes along.

2009-10-30T10:58:00.003-06:00

I've read several blogs this week about hanging in there and the discouragement of writing. Boy, howdy, let's face it, writing is, at times, like a life sucking leech. You write and write and usually get nothing back for your troubles.

Some days you might have more fun putting a gun to your head. Okay that pretty drastic, but ...

Do I sound discouraged? Cynical? Let's face it, I have my moments when I think the whole writing business sucks. But after years and years, I keep on Keeping on.

Why? One might ask. I ask myself that on many occasions. Because I love to write. I love to put words together and get a story. I love to make up characters, put them in love, put them in turmoil and pull them apart and bring them together.

And as I've said before I love to take imagination day trips.

It's who I am. And I think I have some pretty wonderful characters. And some pretty great stories.

Been plugging away at writing projects, trying to finish the first edits on the two stories, In the Manor of the Ghost and Then Came Mercy, for Desert Breeze and get them out. Trying to finish another story, Counting Tessa, my time travel trilogy. I have over 100,000 words. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel, then I get to start on book two, Regarding Rita. After that, we work on Asking Allyson.

And that's just tip of the iceberg, I still have a few other books to finish.

Two or three or four...

This while trying to run a business and watch children. There are days I could use another brain. Then there are days when I want to throw in the towel. Nah, I may put it all aside for a time, but I always gravitate back to the paper and pen and jot more words down. That's what writers do. And for better or worse, I am a writer.

One day I may actually get a few other people to believe that too.

2009-08-13T10:06:00.002-06:00

Three years ago . . .

My site is called Write Where I Want to be for a reason. As a writer I can take day trips to foreign lands, visit exotic locals and never leave my seat. Okay so I would love to actually go to some of the places I write about, but I guess I have to live vicariously through my character and she in turns gets to live because of my imagination.

It's a win win situation

Today I planned to take a time jump (because I'm working on a sci-fi novel) to the past, three years to the past.

I figure since I know the time and the place, having lived through it three years prior, I shouldn't have to do much research.

HA.

I have come to the realization that I my memory is weak. I can't barely recountn yesterday, let alone three years ago.

Oh sure I remember I was three years younger, I only had two grand children, I 'd only been married 26 years and so on.

The little details of everyday life escape me. What did I do in 2006 that set that year apart from the others. Was it merely filled with the same banal moments that write my moments today?

This is why people journal. So they can travel back via their words and remember. I journal off and on, then go back and read myself and wonder what was I thinking. Then try to be a good girl and not edit my writing, because I'm not her anymore.

Oh pieces of the me from three years before remain, and I still look the same, except hopefully, living through those three years has left me a bit older and perhaps wiser. Or was that wider???

So here I am in 2009, trying to remember me in 2006. Was that a good year?

I lived through it, but there were no major defining moments, no gotcha memories that clairified my existence from that year to the next.

And maybe, just maybe that's a good thing, 2006 is gone, 2009 is almost over and the future is waiting beyond, I'll just have to take a step toward it and know that even if I forget most of the moments that made my years, I still had the blessing of walking through them. And maybe, I'll stop and savor the moments I have now before they are lost in the volumes that are my past.

2009-08-12T20:01:00.003-06:00

What makes a writer write? What causes a wordsmith to toil long hours over a story? Then spend longer hours editing and whittling away the very words they labored over so they can fit a word count or Publishing house. What cause them to cramp their fingers and sometimes their style.

I ask the questions, but the answers are oft times illusive. I do know that to me . . . writing is akin to breathing, if I couldn't put my imagination on paper, if I couldn't use the gift I believe God gave me, something within me would die.

So to you all you writers out there, let me encourage you to flex your imagination, breath in and out, write and edit and pray and dream.

The words you write may touch millions or maybe just you. But don't give up.

Because, (here is my good news for the year . . . considering how often I blog) if anyone is out there listening, after many long years, (twenty plus) and a few rejection letters, two of my books have been accepted by Desert Breeze Publishing.

Miracles can and do happen. Dreams do come true.

2009-03-18T11:49:00.003-06:00

You've got to wonder why someone would start one of these blogs and not post anything. for years. . . .

Well perhaps, the poor person has nothing to say. If that's the case why say a word? That would sure fix a multitude of things in the world today.