Writer's Evolution

Four Books Which Should Have Been Mine.....

2012-01-29T03:30:00.000-05:00

When I was 11 and writing my own stories about beautiful princesses, lonely kings, defective dragonflies, kind giants, and helpful trolls, I envisioned my own book of fairy tales one day. Obviously hasn't happened, because a year later my mom let me read my first romance book.

I absolutely loved this book! After devouring it several times, I tried to instruct my sister on 'how to act' as we continued the story, inserting ourselves into it. I was the rebellious daughter of Heather and Brandon, and she was supposed to be my best friend/partner in crime, but I would ultimately get the guy (played by my giraffe coat rack....yeah, go ahead and laugh....) while she would get her own true love. But mine was the 'bad boy'. She disliked this game and wouldn't cooperate, so this story stayed in my imagination and is still somewhat swirling around in there. You might say I 'updated' it from post-Civil War to the present in Wild At Heart....

This was my first Lavyrle Spencer book, read in the early 90's. I love this one better than ones where the pregnant mama is marrying her dead fiance's best friend and vows to never love again....or there are tons of misunderstandings because of assumptions made by both adults....yes, I'll admit this keeps me turning pages, but it also makes me want to jump into the story and lock both characters in a closet until they TALK to each other!

Why do I bring this up? While painting my bedroom in summer 1990, my imagination took off and imagined an artist commissioned to paint a mural....she brings her tiny son along....and in walks the man she thought was dead. He'd been sent overseas and not heard from in several months; word trickled back he'd been killed in combat; and in her grief, she turned to his best friend, but the baby was his. Actually, you know what? This sounds an awful lot like...

...but I never got around to writing it down OR even finishing the scene I'd imagined after the initial confrontation!

And since everyone now knows I wrote my own ending to Star Wars (and got it completely wrong....), George Lucas never contacted me for my take on the prequels, ha ha ha! And I kind of gave up on Fan Fiction after that.

So what do you think? Was I cheated out of my chance? Or was I simply 'in tune' with Lavyrle Spencer's muse? I guess there's always room for my own 'spin' on these stories!

How do they DO that?

2012-01-28T13:15:00.001-05:00

I often find that after seeing a mind-blowing movie I'll think, "How the hell did someone think of that? How did they write something that complex?" Then I'll think, "I don't think I could ever do that."

When it comes to books though, I sometimes think, "I could've written this..." and "Why didn't I write this?!" For example, I wholeheartedly believe that the Twilight series is pretty craptastic when it comes to the writing. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of the series. But Meyers had a great idea and went with it. Now she probably won't ever NEED to write again because financially she's set. I wish I'd written those books, and did a better job. :)

Then of course there's JK Rowling. I know for a fact that I couldn't have written the HP series. It amazes me how she managed to weave so many things together throughout the series mostly because I'm not a planner when I write and I assume that writing like she does takes a whole lot of pre-plotting. But yep, I wish I could write like that.

Of course it's not all about the money, movies and merchandise though... I remember reading Jennifer Armintrout's first Blood Ties book years ago and totally falling in love with it. A vampire story set in Grand Rapids?! Sweet! I fell for all of the characters and ate up the series all the while thinking how cool it was that someone from Michigan wrote this awesomeness. It gave me hope that maybe one day I'd be published too. I'm still not... But I do know Jen via Facebook and The Twitter now and it's pretty damn cool to be able to chat with someone who you look up to when it comes to writing. :) <3

Another author I adore is Sarah Addison Allen. Every single time I read one of her books it gets inside of me and sets up residence for a while. I'm in awe of her writing and how she pulls her stories together. I totally wish I'd written her books because they're just so damn amazing!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a tasty book by Bronywn that I'm in the middle of reading right now that wants my attention!

Have a great week!

Damn, I Wish I'd Written That

2012-01-26T00:34:00.000-05:00

I often feel like I wish I'd written stories I've read by other authors - sometimes it's a whole story, sometimes it's just a line or two. I like to think of it as a deep and abiding love and respect for words and stories that affect me.

But the one story that I most wish I'd written is The Wild Wood by Charles deLint. Originally, I'd bought the book on eBay because I collect the artwork of the illustrator - Brian Froud. When the book arrived, I flipped through it to look at the pretty pictures. Before I knew it, I found myself sucked into the story and I had no desire to get out.

I fell in love with the magical world created by deLint. I didn't just fall in love - I wanted to crawl inside the book and live there. The writing is both haunting and poetic and the descriptions powerful. Any time I pick this book up, I fall into it again just as deeply as I did the first time I read it.

I got so much more than beautiful artwork. I discovered an author who to this day remains one of my favorites. I'd love to write a book that affects people in the way The Wild Wood affects me.

Well of Course....

2012-01-25T03:42:00.000-05:00

I'm sure we ALL wish we had written these books. Not just for the ridiculous fame and fortune Ms. Rowling has experienced since producing these works. For me it is more about the fact that she was able to touch so many people's lives. These books were such a huge part of an entire generation. People became entranced with the world and it's characters. And they were really, really good books.

Even though they were written for kids she never talked down to her readers. She trusted them to work through the difficult stuff with Harry and Ron and Hermoine. She gave the reader just as much credit as they gave her. There is a level of trust between her and her audience that is not often found in the publishing world.

I know that I write, and I like to think I produce some pretty good work. But I don't know if I have the creativity in me that she has. The stories and the settings and the lessons that were in these tomes are absolutely incredible.

So yeah, I wish it had been my idea. I wish I had written these books. But I will always be glad that at least I had the chance to read them. Over and over and over again.

XoXoXo
D

Winter By The Ages

2012-01-22T09:02:00.000-05:00

Up to age 6: Bundle me up Mommy! I'm c-c-c-coooooold!

Age 8: A blizzard? On my birthday? But I wanted to share my cupcakes and wear the crown in school today! That's not fair!

Age 12 (Blizzard of '78): Whoo hoo! Snowed in! No school! The snow is clear up to the roof! (Two weeks later): Why can't I wear pants to church? I'm COLD!

Age 13 (Blizzard of '79): This is exciting! Snowstorm hit; school is cancelled....now where are the busses? Oh...they can't get through? How am I supposed to get home? Hi Daddy!....What, the power is out at home? How's Mom going to fix supper? (Later): This is fun! Roasting hot dogs in the fireplace and pretending we're on a camping trip! And no school for the rest of the week!

Age 19: I'm tired of being cooped up due to all this snow....

Age 24: What? You expect me to drive in this? Surely the kids have a two hour delay....or none at all. Why didn't I take a job in Florida?

Age 28: Why do I have the heat kicked up so high? Do you not see it is thirty degrees below zero? I'm not going anywhere; if you want to go to the store, you know where it is.

Age 32: Is this a sign we weren't supposed to move out of the city? Been in our home for a month and an ice storm hits. My car gets stuck in a ditch twice on the way home, plus a neighbor has to tow me up the hill, due to all the ice on the road. Maybe we need to move farther south....

Age 33: Now this is my kind of winter! Snowed during Christmas Break, and melted right after New Year's!

Age 45: Gah! Where did all this ICE come from? Thankful my new employer doesn't like it anymore than I do, and is letting me stay home. Conversely, on the 'warmer' days, I go in and enjoy the solitude for five hours, knowing the spouse will be back to bring me lunch or pick me up at closing time.

Future Winter: Please adhere to the following guidelines:
-Temps not dipping below thirty (I'd say 50, but let's be realistic...)
-Snow fall not exceeding one inch per snowstorm; otherwise, please melt within 24 hours.
-Absolutely no thick ice.
-If you must snow, please do it in time for either the schools to declare 2 hour delay or close all together. Or on a morning where the spouse is willing to get up and do the driving.
-A light dusting of snow is always appreciated on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning....but not enough to hinder travel plans.
-Please, no temps below 50 after St. Patrick's Day? And certainly not any time during the month of May! I prefer Race Day (Indy 500) to be filled with sunshine and high 80's:)

I'm Winter's Bitch

2012-01-21T23:35:00.002-05:00

I love winter. I love the snow and being able to wear sweaters, sweatshirts and hand knit scarves. I love to sit inside all snuggly warm writing or reading while it's snowing like mad outside. I used to have a snow globe that sat on my desk year round that was given to me as a gift because I'd once said that when it snows I'm happy and that person wanted me to be happy all of the time. Sadly, the person who gave me that snow globe no longer cares about my happiness and I couldn't even tell you where the snow globe ended up. LOL But my point is that I always loved winter.

My driveway after the first big snow in December.

Now a days though winter and I don't exactly get along. I still love the snow and all the crap I mentioned above. But for the past couple of years I've been dealing with this weird mystery illness of mine that pretty much makes winter a living hell for me now. When the temps are at freezing or below (it's 10 fucking degrees where I am right now. Ten.) every joint in my body hurts. I find it hard to do basically anything because everything hurts. Walking, typing, standing up, lying down... everything. It's like the cold seeps into my joints and freezes everything so that I'm like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz when he's all rusted up.

I'vebeen tested for Lupus, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Osteoarthritis and a bunch of other stuff but my doctor can't figure out why I have this pain. It's definitely better when I'm warm and in warm weather, but even then I still deal with it. Basically it sucks. I have my good days and then my awful days. Most days are somewhere in between where I'm good for a portion of the day and then it hits me and I feel like I'm about 90 years old. Right now my back is screaming at me and my shoulders are so tensed up they feel like they're on fire. It's ridiculous at my age to have so much pain, and yet I do.

So yeah, winter for me is a bit of a bittersweet thing. On one hand I still love it and it still makes me smile, but on the other hand it literally hurts me. I still get excited when I hear there's a big storm headed our way and when people who live here in the Mitten bitch about winter I roll my eyes because it annoys the fuck out of me. I mean come on... sure it's annoying at times, but you live in Michigan! It's going to get ass numbing cold here and you know it! It's also going to snow here, so acting like it's the end of the freaking world because it's doing exactly what it's supposed to do in winter is just silly to me.

I truly do love winter... I just hate what it does to my body.

This is the view from my bathroom... how can you not love that?

Brilliantly Bad Verse

2012-01-20T00:01:00.000-05:00

Winter

Oh winter…
Your icy days beckon all summer.
You tease me with each frosty autumn morn.
Your crystalline flurries dusting the lawn.
Your lacy etchings on each glass pane.

Oh the promises you make…
Sugar-coated devilry,
Clouding our true memories:
Gray dismal skies the heavy price.
Days on end of slush and ice.
Biting cold to peel off the skin.
Drifts and slips and terror-filled spins.
Ditches, snow days,
Scraping and sneezing.
Layering clothes,
But still icy toed.
Frozen pipes.
Invasions by mice.
Boot melt-off,
Soaks our socks.
Heating bills soar.
Icicles form.
Dreaming…
Of the warm…

Is it spring, yet?

2012-01-19T00:34:00.001-05:00

One of the things I love most about Michigan is the fact that we have four seasons. Granted, D's right, sometimes it seems more like two. Mostly, it's two super long ones and two far too short ones. But I love the transition from one season to another. There's something about the rhythm of the changes that makes me smile.

However, this post isn't about how I feel about seasons.

It's about how I feel about winter.

Huge, heaving sigh...

You know when I like winter?

From about Thanksgiving day until New Year's Day.

It can snow as much as it wants from the end of Thanksgiving to the beginning of January, then it needs to knock it the hell off.

Unfortunately, this isn't how Michigan rolls.

It's all about snow and ice and cold and more snow and ice and cold. It's about treacherous driving conditions, slipping on icy sidewalks and people that can't drive for shit.

Granted, the snow is pretty. And I wouldn't mind it so much if I could just watch it come down from the warmth and comfort of my couch.

But since that's not an option, I'm desperately hoping for spring.

An Ode To Winter

2012-01-18T04:28:00.003-05:00

From
Up North
Comes a
Killer cold front

You're not going to school
Or work again today
Unbelievable

We Michiganders know
Its
Never going to get better
Two seasons is all we
Ever get. Hot and
Really fucking cold.

XoXoXo
D

Winter In My...

2012-01-16T07:14:00.004-05:00

I'm pretty sure there poems, stories, odes, and epics dedicated to winter. This probably doesn't count. The first heavy snowfall of winter, where everything is layered in a white downy blanket is gorgeous and I'm itching to get my camera out and take pictures. Then I either have to walk in it or drive it, then it's not so pretty. And after the rest of the city drives in it, it's grey and slippery and just plain ick.
Like I said, there is some breathtaking scenery in the state, great for the muse and the imagination. It's just freakin' cold.

As pretty as it is, I absolutely hate driving in it. I'd rather just stay home where it's warm, look at how pretty it is through the window and let someone else drive.

Simone

"Our House Was A The Four-Legged Zoo...."

2012-01-15T03:30:00.000-05:00

LOL....not really:) We just keep acquiring animals....

Roxie, our 10-y/o Cocker Spaniel. We acquired her in 2009, after euthanizing our 14-y/o German Shepherd Keisha and after the death of our 11-y/o Norwegian Elkhound Shadow. I don't have any pics of these two on my laptop, nor of the six cats we had from 1991-2005. RIP Smokey, Rosey, Tag-A-Long, Gizmo, Tiger, and Fluffy.

Cheyenne, 3-y/o our 'German Rott Bull Chow'....she came to live with us a year ago when the daughter saw her at the local shelter.

Amelia, the baby bunny the cat brought home in 2009. We 'rescued' her and kept her for about two weeks, before returning her to the backyard.

Lucky, my black lab whom we rescued from the neighbor in 2000. She survived being threatened with euthanasia by said neighbor; being run over by another neighbor's truck; and once we moved to our current home, slipped off her chain and took many runs around the neighborhood. In 2010, she was losing bladder control, and after many treatments with medication, said a tearful goodbye to her right before my oldest son's graduation.

Mikey, the rat. Son K insisted he wanted a couple of domesticated rats in April 2008, and they provided us with hours of entertainment! Here they are one day when we turned them loose on the porch. Mikey decided to try to get into the toy truck....

Pinky investigated the cat's food.....

And since I never got footage of the 'Pinky/Mikey/Oreo Comedy Hour', here is our cat Oreo tolerating Pinky trying to play with him!

And how many cats would tolerate being read to?

Youngling found Oreo in the park on New Years Eve 2008, and brought him home. He was a tiny, barely weaned kitten who quickly won everyone over with his calm demeanor, and even let the rats 'beat up' on him. We didn't think he knew he was a cat until a year later, when he began bringing home 'presents' for us on the front porch....various mice, birds, and even a baby bunny!

So the grand total from 1991-2012:

Dogs: 5

Cats: 7

Rats: 2

Bunny: 1

And I would be remiss in not mentioning kitty Simon, who tried to adopt us, but we ended up giving him to some friends. Unfortunately, two days later, the most agressive of J's dogs took a dislike to the tiny kitten and he is now buried in her back yard. The dog who instigated the senseless attack was euthanized six months later. I still tear up whenever I think of both Simon and Lucky pup.

But on a lighter note, it's never a dull moment around here! Roxie gets me up every morning at 6 (earlier if no one lets her outside at bedtime) and Oreo is usually ready to come inside for his breakfast. So they have a system, and it gets me out of bed in the mornings, even on Thursdays after being at karaoke until 2am!

Down on the Farm

2012-01-14T14:02:00.000-05:00

I literally live on a farm. We're not farmers by any means but our house is on 99 acres of farm land that someone else owns and someone else takes care of (thankfully). We do however have our own little furry farm inside of the house. :)

First there's Kira... she's my baby. She's 10 years old and a total diva. She literally doesn't like anyone but me. I don't blame her though, she spent the first few years of her life as an only child (the hamsters Edgar and Myrtle didn't really count since they were in a cage) so she was The One and Only for quite some time. Then I moved home and she had to deal with other animals and she hated it. She's come around enough that she'll let my mother touch her, if and only if she's in the mood though. :) We often refer to her as The Kitteh Upstairs because she doesn't come to the first floor of the house thanks to the dogs.

She's not all that found of my nook or other items that steal my attention.

Pretending to be a Victoria's Secret model. :)

Then there's Kia... We're not sure how old she is because she belonged to someone else before we got her. Technically she's my Grandpa's cat but now that he lives with us, she's ours now too. We couldn't figure out why she always had her tongue hanging out when she lived with my Grandpa... turns out the poor thing doesn't have teeth! Toothless is also a pro at opening cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, she makes her own fun. :)

She talks with a lisp.

Katie is my mom's dog. She's a Scottie and she's 7 years old. She's a little overweight and has only had one professional haircut so she often looks like a wookie or a warthog but she's a love muffin. Thanks to her brother Alex (see below) who tripped her when she was on the stairs once she won't go up or down stairs on her own (unless they're the stairs to the yard). Therefore this happy little tub of chub has to be carried like a princess upstairs for bed and downstairs in the morning.

One of her Good Hair Days when she actually looked like a Scottie.

She's also a belly rub whore who will roll on her back as soon as ANYONE walks in the house. Doesn't matter if she's met them before or not. :)

Alex is a special boy. Special in the way that if he were a human he's probably have an IEP in school. He's an 8 year old Cocker Spaniel Spazoid and also belongs to my mom. He's afraid of thunder, fireworks, wind, my camera, the vaccum, newspapers, and scissors (because he knows we use them to trim his hair LOL). Despite all of his weirdness though, he's a sweet boy who often forgets he's a dog and likes to sit like a human or walk around on the back of the couch like a cat.

He was totally giving me the Stink Eye because my camera scared him. LOL dork.

Sly is my boy that I inherited from my brother's friend who no longer wanted him. I totally wasn't planning on keeping him but he showed up (about 3 months old at the time) and I couldn't NOT love him. He's 5 now and is by far the biggest cat in the house. His original name was Sly Cooper after the video game (two little boys named him) but he's known around here as Sly Boy. We started calling him Meow Meow because when he talks he almost always meows twice. That somehow turned into Mr. Meow Meow and then we decided that he also has a French alter-ego named Monsiour Mew Mew. (Yes, we speak for our animals around here...). When he's Mew Mew he speaks with a French accent and believes he's quite the lover-man. He's pretty much afraid of anything that moves suddenly (like Kira hiding under a blanket to attack him).

Last but not least is Lola. She's actually not ours and doesn't live with us, but she belongs to my best friend who lives next door. I call my best friend my wife, so technically Lola's my step daughter. She looks so much like Kira that we joke that they're somehow related but honestly they're not. Her full name is Princess Lola Jasmine Bombay (lol) and she looooves when I come over with yarn. :)

I have many a photoshoot with Lola, she's a great subject and doesn't move too much!

And that's it!

I can haz kittehs?

2012-01-12T00:34:00.002-05:00

It should surprise no one here, that I'm a cat person. I like dogs just fine, but there are very few I'd ever want to live with. The only dog I'd consider living with is Brynn's. I do love that puppy-girl. :) I'm lucky because hubby's a cat person, too.

We currently have five cats. Yeah, I know...it's a lot, but they're all rescues and I wouldn't trade any of them.This is Willow challenging Corwin to a game of chess shortly after we got her. She and her sister Morrighan are two and a half now. We'd gone to the Humane Society to adopt one kitten, but they were doing a two for one deal and Matt pointed out that splitting up the girls would be like splitting up me and Cait. Have I mentioned that I love that man?

Morrighan curled up in the kitty catcher.

Willow and Morrighan lounging on the table.
This is Angus. He's 12. A neighbor kid brought him over when he was a terrified kitten and asked me to take care of him because some other kids were swinging them around by his tail. I made almost 20 calls trying to find a place for him, but by the time I'd exhausted my options with no takers, he was curled up sleeping on Matt's chest and Matt told me he thought the kitty had already found his home.
The arm of the couch is Angus' favorite place to lay.

This is Rowan. He's 16 and a half. As a five week old kitten he was rescued from the middle of horribly busy four lane road (28th street for the locals) and we adopted him shortly after. Unfortunately, we just found out that he's got kidney cancer with metastatic spots in his lungs. It's not a painful cancer and he's still the happy, loving cat he's always been, so we're just enjoying this time with him while he's comfortable, and when he's not...we'll deal with that then.
Rowan and Herne.
This is Herne. He'll be 19 on May 11th. He's nearly blind, I'm pretty sure he's deaf. He finds his way through the house yowling - we're convinced it's Kitty Sonar. But he's loving and happy and ridiculously healthy. He's got his grumpy old man moments when he discovers someone's sitting in "his" chair, but he's still the ultimate lap kitty.

In fact, this is how I do most of my work - with Herne draped over my keyboard.

While I'm not a fan of cat hair in my keyboard, or stepping in cat puke, I wouldn't trade this kind of unconditional love for anything.

*Pout

2012-01-11T04:18:00.000-05:00

I don't have furrys. :(

My husband is allergic to cats so we can't have any. And I'm not that big of a fan of dogs. Yeah, I said it. I mean, I don't hate them. But I'm a cat girl. I like their attitudes and their aloofness and their tendency to take care of themselves for the most part. Dogs are so damn needy. I already have a husband and two kids, I don't need more neediness in my life, thanks.

So for now I'll just amuse myself by looking at pictures of the kind of furry I would like to have in my life.

Four-Legged Fur Babies!!!

2012-01-09T19:20:00.006-05:00

In August of 2010 a friend of mine posted pictures of the most adorable kittens - foundlings - some idiot had the nerve to drop them off in a box in the middle of the railroad tracks - they were maybe 3 weeks old. I fell in love with one of them immediately and much to my family's dismay, I brought one home.

Tuarwen - Her name is Elvish for Noble Strength

Here she is looking at the camera - it was love at first sight.

She took over my sewing basket - well one of them.

This past August a friend of mine said asked if I wanted her brandy-new kitten because there were unforseen complications. I agreed. She came pre-named Cleo, otherwise we would have named her Castiel (Gentle) or Sidhiel (Peace) - because well, I like Elves (although Faeries and Dragons are pretty cool too) and she has a gentle heart and soul except when it comes to her food bowl.

I think this was about month after we brought her home.

I'm pretty sure she had help climbing up into the basket, she's not much of a climber, she prefers warm spots like blankets and quilts. :)

I need more pictures of my furbabies. They chase each other through the house at about 6am at warp 10, but then they do cute things like cuddle together. :)

Simone

Over Indulging....And Paying For It!

2012-01-08T03:30:00.000-05:00

There's an upside and a downside to the month of December.

The good things:
-I spend the entire month baking homemade cookies
-There are three birthdays and two major holidays, so food is plenty:)
-This year, I also had a book release, and was anticipating a second.
- I also decided to make my own candy this year.

The bad things:
-See above.

In all fairness, I only dip into the cookie dough during the first batch or the second (did I mention I LOVE raw chocolate-chip cookie dough?) and I bake while the kids are in school, so the cooled ones can be stored away from their hungry little mouths. And keeping the spouse out of the them is a chore also...which is another reason I have to make so many. I give them away to teachers, crossing guards, special friends, etc. And after the first two batches, the dough loses its appeal (shocking, I know! Seriously, sugar overload? Can it really exist?)

So I expect to put on a few pounds.

But knowing the cookies weren't going to be as plentiful as in years past, I decided to dip my finger into the homemade candies. We had bricks of almond bark, and I love chocolate covered pretzels, so seriously, how hard would it be to try making peanut butter cups and cute chocolate shapes?

A lot more labor-intensive than it sounds! And of course, who can resist melted chocolate? After all, I had to TASTE it to see if it was the right temperature; I had to TASTE my final product, to make sure people would like it; and oh yes...I just couldn't scrape the last of the chocolate into the trash, because....well, you just DON'T! If there's a spoonful left in the bowl, and you've filled your molds, you can't just put one character in the freezer; you eat the chocolate because one lonely chocolate character all by himself in the mold is too much like being the last person standing after the school yard pick. Get my meaning?

And yes, it was a shock two days after Christmas when I realized I could not fasten my good jeans and expect to breathe while sitting down. Thankfully, we were just lounging around Grandma's house, and no one cared if Kenzie walked around with her jeans unzipped and a large sweater covering it all up.

I've never been one of those 'lose weight' people, but I think it's finally happened: Metabolism shutdown at age 46. I shall HAVE to get off my butt and exercise more. And stop eating what's left of my white and milk chocolate dinosaurs!

"I, Kenzie Michaels, do solemnly swear to lay off the sweets, cut down on the pasta, and watch my total carb intake. I do go to the doctor next week for my physical, and I'm not looking forward to seeing how much weight I've gained since that 7 lb loss back in October...."

Again, in all fairness, injury kept me from my walking routine in October, and I could go out and resume my route, but temps are going to dip into the 30's again later this week, and why start something you know is only going to last 3 days?

And isn't it against the law to let good chocolate go to waste? That will be my Lent goal: To only eat half of the bad-for-my-hips chocolate and pasta, plus the temps should be rising again....now if the rain stays away so I can walk at least four days a week....

So in the meantime...(reaching for a chocolate Santa)...I'm an adult; I admit I'm a chocoholic and a carboholic and in six weeks, I'll make every effort to counteract my holiday indulgences!

This doesn't mean I have to give up my chocolate wine every month, does it?

Indulgences... I have a lot.

2012-01-07T23:04:00.000-05:00

I don't know... maybe I have the wrong idea about indulgences. I don't just have a few things that I indulge in every so often, I have lots of little things that I indulge in all of the time. I think it probably has to do with the fact that I live with clinical depression. But I like to have things around me that make me happy and I like to have them around at all times so that when I'm having a bad day or bad moment I can look around and see something that gives me warm fuzzies.

If you were to look at my desk at work you’dfind things like a Kermit Pez dispenser, a frog dressed up as a fairy, a Buckinghampalace guard who is also a frog, Smurf figurines, tons of pictures, fun pens,and quotes or silly sayings I’ve posted on my wall. I don’t need any of those things in order todo my job each day, but they make me happy so I want them there. When I grab a pen out of the cup that I gotat the Bad Ass Coffee Shop in Orlando, I think of being there in my HappyPlace. When I use a pen that has a greatbig Kermit face on the end of it, I smile because he’s my little greenboyfriend and I love him longtime.

Other indulgences I have include Starbucks, Biggby (whenthere isn’t a Starbucks around), good hand lotion, body butter ,awesome pens(don’t steal my pens!), fun coffee mugs, McDonald’s Coke (I like to call it LiquidCrack), yarn (so much yarn!), art supplies, office supplies, planners, andbooks… so many, many books!

Indulgences of the Eye Candy sort include Joe Manganeillowho is currently playing the starring role in just about everything I writebecause he’s just so damn delicious. Thenthere’s Rooney Mara because she was freaking brilliant in The Girl with the Dragon Tattooand I have a serious crush on her.

I could go on for days talking about my indulgences,really. Instead, I give you pictures ofJoe and Rooney.

Have a great week!

Indulge me...seriously, pass the damn chips

2012-01-05T00:34:00.001-05:00

Some days feel like they're nothing but wall to wall indulgences and other days feel like they're all about deprivation. For whatever reason, I don't seem to do moderation well. At all.

I really need to work on that.

But since this blog is supposed to be about indulgences and not the fact that I can't seem to balance for shit, we'll stick with the indulgences in their myriad categories.

There are the typical indulgences - dark chocolate truffles, blackberry wine, pomegranates, coke, salt and vinegar chips, baklava, Starbucks and mid-day naps. Sadly, only the naps and pomegranates are any good for me, but I suppose that's why they're indulgences.

Then there are the tactile indulgences - new fabric in fabulous colors and textures, cross stitching, playing with clay or relaxing by a big body of water. Oh yeah, I'm also a major jewelry whore. It's true, I like pretty things. So I suppose that's a check in the indulgence box.

There are also brain indulgences - playing on Pinterest, reading a great new book or an old favorite, or watching any of my favorite TV shows/Movies (Supernatural, Firefly, Once Upon a Time, Buffy, Dr. Who, Serenity, Star Wars, LoTR, Labyrinth, Willow, The Princess Bride ) Hmmmm...I'm looking at what I named this category and for the most part, they're not so much brain indulgences as "I need a break from my brain" indulgences. But hey, whatever works. Sometimes you just need to take a break from reality, and some days, that's the best indulgence of all.

And on that note, I think it's time to cue up Serenity...

Indulgence?

2012-01-04T07:08:00.003-05:00

Oh yeah. I indulge in procrastination all the time. It's not a healthy or good indulgence in any way. It keeps me from writing books. It keeps me from doing laundry. It keeps me from doing so many things that I would be so much better off just getting over with.

But I don't. I sit on my ass and watch TV or play fishing games on the Wii. I read books instead of finishing them. In fact, I have a WIP due to my editor soon. All that's left is about eight pages to go. But what am I doing? I'm not writing those pages that's for sure. No, I'm here. At least I can pretend this is being productive. I'm pre-posting the blog. That's good right? Right? It is. But it's not what I SHOULD be doing.

I did do laundry today, so that's something at least. Of course, that was a necessity because I return to normal work life tomorrow and had NO clean clothes at all. And since I think I may have already worn all of my work pants twice already, laundry had to be done.

I've been indulging in food lately too. But that ends tonight. I indulge in smoking, but that is also supposed to end tonight. Starting tomorrow I join the millions of people who promise to ring in 2012 with the no smoking/healthy lifestyle kick. The difference between me and them? I am going to pull it off. I've procrastinated on quitting smoking for far too long. I promised my dad I would quit and it is high time I come through on that promise.

As for the healthy living, I like being 26 pounds lighter. I believe I will like being ANOTHER 26 pounds lighter even more. So tomorrow I get back on the regular vitamin taking, stop eating out so much, STOP EATING CHRISTMAS CANDY, and try to get a couple vegetables into my diet every day. (Hello Subway sandwiches.)

But procrastination? I don't see that dirty little bitch going away any time soon. Oh, I'll get the books done. I have no choice. This one comes out in April. It has to be done. It has a freakin' cover. No backing out now. But I'll probably start working on that tomorrow.

XoXoXo
Dakot

Insane Fetishes That Make You Feel Normal

2012-01-03T19:28:00.004-05:00

I think it's pretty clear what my indulgences are, by this point. I'm not even sure if I should call them indulgences, because indulgence implies something you only do a little bit and I don't do stuff in little bits.

If I like jelly turtles, I eat enough jelly turtles to turn my blood green. I'm like Spock, if Spock was made a Vulcan by eating jelly turtles.

Same goes for other stuff, too. If I get into knitting, I knit so much that my bedroom starts to resemble a woolen harem. Veils everywhere, only they're veils you can't really see through unless you press your face up really close and look through the little gaps.

I think I've got an addictive personality. Though mostly luckily for me, my addictions are usually pretty harmless. I mean, I've got a giant ass from all the jelly turtles, but at least I'm not one of those people on My Weird Problems, who can't stop tanning themselves and now look like they recently came back from vacation on the Sun.

Or how about those ones who like eating sofa cushions? I swear to God, I've never eaten a sofa cushion in my life! I don't even suck my hair, because I heard that one time this girl sucked her hair and she died and when they cut her open they found a hairball as big as a banana in her kidneys. Or her lung. Or maybe I just exaggerated that whole thing and it was really just a brussel sprout sized hairball in her stomach that caused her no dying type problems at all.

But either way - I think I'm still doing good. I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't do any drugs. So you know...if I want to indulge in some serious jelly turtle eating, once in a while, I think I'm okay.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Would you watch an episode of This One Odd Thing I Do, if it was about a jelly turtle addict?

Indulging Me -

2012-01-02T07:00:00.000-05:00

An indulgence to me is something that isn't done regularly and might be of a fantasy type nature - or really rich in taste/design/whatever that is outside the realm of the everyday. But, it's also something that can be a reward for a job well done.

I'm a firm believer in personal rewards, but there are things that I indulge in - treats to myself. There are also things I don't do - like denying myself certain foods. I'm not a big fan diets (prefer lifestyle choices) or forbidding food - so if I want a candy bar, I get it. If I'm in the mood for ice cream when I go grocery shopping I get it. I just make sure to buy a smaller quantity of something my daughter and I bother like, because otherwise, I'll throw half to 3/4's of it away. This way, I'm hopefully, also teaching my daughter that food is not a reward/denial system, which will hopefully keep her from having huge weight issues.

Instead, I indulge myself with trips to friends, fabric, and cross stitch, beading, or scrapbooking stuff - or some really cool, but unnecessary house decor type things. This year though, my indulgence may also be going to RT and painting my office - once I reclaim, it is also a family vacation. As time passes, things that were indulgences aren't any more and are replaced by something new.

2011 Was A Challenge; Time To Tackle 2012

2012-01-01T03:30:00.000-05:00

Sorry for disappearing this past week; my last remaining grandparent passed away Christmas Day and this week has been a blur. As I type and pre-post this, I'm not even sure what day it is, lol!

Let's see; I didn't set any goals last year and published 3 books....wonder what I'll accomplish if I actually write this year's down? I'll have all of you to hold me accountable...(Kenzie ducks and runs behind the door....)

(Peeking out) Okay; I'll be adult about it, even though I only technically turn four in two months....:)

This year I resolve to:
-Keep with my walking program and shrink back into my blue jeans (I've overindulged slightly this past month and couldn't fasten my jeans on the 26th-hangs head and looks sheepish).

-De-clutter my house. Seriously. With two deaths in the family the past two years, my basement is piled high with boxes and furniture. Time to tamp down the sentimentality and get rid of some things. Do I really need to hang on to ALL of my MIL's angel and cherub knick-knacks? My childhood Coors and Budweiser mugs? All those baby clothes? Okay....no to the first and yes to the other two....we are expecting a little bundle of joy (cough) in June and will need those cute newborn onezies and sleepers....and the mugs are collector items (don't yell at me!).

-Finish my zombie story (oh, you didn't know I'd wandered into strange territory? Think Walking Dead meets Warehouse 13 meets who-knows-what-at-this-point!) and several other wips. And as for my alter-ego, get a jump-start on self-edits for books 5-7 so she can get back to work on books 8-12.

-Publish three more books, plus the two already slated for release in January, making a total of five (I'm getting ambitious, aren't I?) and sign contracts for three more, plus for whatever books I finish (confused yet? Don't worry; you're not alone!)

-Join my sister and her family in Orlando next August. It's time the youngling visits Disney (he was there at age 3 months) plus I want to revisit the Tampa/St. Pete area.

-Move into a better home. With my daughter expecting, we need another bedroom and another bathroom. Plus have an insulated house which isn't threatening to fall down at any given minute.

-Attend one or two conferences. I'm tired of reading about everyone else's fun and want to join in:) Beginning with driving up for the booksigning in Chicago at RT. Lori Foster's. The one in Louisville. And yes, (gasp!) RomantiCon and maybe the Grand Rapids one someone told me about....I think she's a contributor to this lovely blog.....;)

I think seven is ambitious enough for now, don't you think?

Happy New Year!!!!

Bring it on, 2012!

2011-12-31T18:24:00.001-05:00

I'm not one to make resolutions but this year has been a pretty different year so I might as well do one more new thing, right? :) Most of these have to do with writing because I really need to set more writing goals.

1. I will finish the two fanfics that I still have going so that I can work on other things without feeling guilty that I'm neglecting my readers.

2. I will blog weekly here and at least once a week over on my blog Coffee and Prozac too because it's hopelessly neglected.

3. I will commit to writing creatively three times a week. Hopefully that'll turn into more but at least three is a good start. :)

4. I'll continue to step out of my box especially with writing oportunites like the GR writing group.

5. I want to continue to lose weight and get healthier so I never see my heaviest weight like I did last summer. Also to cook more at home now that I have an awesome kitchen again!

6. I still want to learn to crochet too, damn it. :) Everyone says it's easier than knitting and I've been doing that for years.

7. I'll do things and surround myself with people who make me happy!

Happy New Year!

Plans. I've Got 'Em

2011-12-29T00:34:00.000-05:00

I've got all kinds of plans for this year, and for the most part I think they're pretty realistic.

First and foremost, I plan to enjoy my sons' last year of high school and junior high - I don't want to be too busy to miss out on these moments because everything is going to be changing soon.

I plan to incorporate healthier life style choices - yes, this means exercise and doing away with bad for me food choices.

I plan to finish my young adult novel.

I plan to finish the books on my schedule and enjoy writing them.

I plan to attend and help host several writing related events and I plan to enjoy them - not freak out over them.

I plan to take time to do things away from the computer - like more pottery and sewing.

I plan to be grateful for all of the amazing people and opportunities in my life.

(Okay, that last one was kinda a gimmee since I'm already feeling pretty damn grateful.)

Best Laid Plans

2011-12-28T05:31:00.002-05:00

I think that I will plan to survive 2012. Mayans or no, it's a pretty safe bet that I will be back here in a year to discuss how I've done on my plans for the year with a big ass check mark in the SURVIVE category.

In other news, I would like to accomplish the following things in the coming year.

1. Write and release 8 - 10 new books. This is a big deal for me because I don't usually like to put a number on my writing. I prefer to just let the stories come and write what I'm given by the muse. But I think my muse is ready to kick this shit into gear and crank out some stories. So I'm going to be pushing her to the limit to give me plots that I can go forth and create stories around.

2. Continue with the healthier lifestyle I've started this year. Though as I'm typing this all I can think of is the bag of mint M & M's I have hidden in the cupboard in the kitchen. In fact, I think I will go snag some. What the hell, it's the holidays. I have a whole year to work off the calories, right?

3. Actually quit smoking. No really. I'd really like to do it this year. Maybe I could replace smoking with more exercise and kill two plans with one stone.

4. Spend more time with friends. This one is actually the most important of all of my plans. I need to make more of an effort to spend time with the people that I care about. It's difficult, since so many of them live so far away. But I miss my friends terribly and I would like nothing more than to see them many, many times in 2012.

What plans (or resolutions if you like) do you have for the coming year?

XoXoXo
D

Full Of Cake

2011-12-27T17:22:00.002-05:00

These are my plans for 2012:

1. Not failing at life quite so much.

2. Plan my writing better so that I don't go temporarily blind or insane.

3. Not commit myself to every little writing thing because GASP someone actually ASKED me to write summat! I have to do it! How ungrateful would I be if I DIDN'T???

4. Try not to panic so much about things that are never that big a deal anyway.

5. Do more knitting. I made a little bug out of this kit Husband gave me for Christmas! It worked and everything!

6. Read more. It relaxes me and improves my brain.

7. Walk every day because when I don't my body rebels. It gives me headaches as punishment. "You didn't take me out for a walk, today," it says, and then prods me in the brain with a big stick.

8. Submit proposals to agent even though I am terrified out of my mind and that's already breaking rule 4.

And those are my plans for this year. I could list some more but it's my birthday and I'm all drowsy and full of cake.

In 2012 I Promise Myself...

2011-12-26T07:00:00.000-05:00

A plan or resolution or even a goal is really like a promise. So, in essence, saying "I plan on" or "this year I resolve to" is really like making a promise to yourself.

I started a new job this past October and there is a saying on one of the white boards "A goal without action is just a dream" and I find it somewhat, not entirely, but somewhat accurate. Everything starts with a dream or an idea. It takes goals, hard work, and determination to make a dream a reality.

For 2012, I Promise myself that I will -

- write 2000 words everyday
- write, finish, and submit 6-8 books (at least, ideally I'd like to finish closer to 12 though)
- set up writing plan
- set up writing schedule
- complete business plan
- write something new

I look forward to seeing everyone else's plans for 2012!

Enjoy,

Simone

To You And All Your Families.....

2011-12-25T03:30:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas everyone:)

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord..." Luke 2:11 (RSV)

My wish this year is for everyone to have a safe and happy holiday season!

Holiday Wishes

2011-12-24T11:39:00.001-05:00

For the holidays I wish that you're surrounded with love, happiness, friends, family and amazing plot ideas!

Smootches!
Kel

My Wish for Everyone

2011-12-22T00:34:00.000-05:00

My wish is that everyone have enough.

Enough love, enough warmth, enough money, enough food, enough happiness, enough peace, enough acceptance, enough kindness, enough joy, enough laughter.

My hope is that everyone who does have enough will share what they have - whether it's the kindness of a smile or a donated meal or a gift. Enough always seems to grow into more.

No matter what you celebrate, I hope this time of year is full of the people and things that make you happy. Wishing you all joy, laughter and a sense of wonder at the beauty found in surprising places.
Happy Holidays! Peace and Love to All!

Visions of Sugar Plums

2011-12-21T05:39:00.000-05:00

XoXoXo
D

The Rubbish Version

2011-12-20T18:32:00.003-05:00

As Simone did such a beautiful season's greetings thingie for her post, I thought I'd do my own version.

Yeah, it's not really the same, is it. You probably can't even tell what most of that stuff is supposed to be. Though if anyone can guess, I will give them extra holiday cheer! Hooray!

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Season's Greetings

2011-12-19T07:00:00.001-05:00

Proud

2011-12-18T17:01:00.000-05:00

So not only am I late in posting this, buthad I actually planned ahead I would have realized that last week’s post prettymuch went over what I was supposed to say this week. That’s pretty much how things have been goingfor me lately though. I don’t know if I’mfalling into my annual Christmas Funk, a lovely side effect of clinicaldepression, if I’m experiencing a post vacation let down, or maybe I’m just rundown thanks to the cold from hell I’ve had for a few weeks. Who knows, but it’s been kind a of acraptacular weekend so my apologies for my lateness.

Like I mentioned last week, I’m proud of alot of things this year. I’ve steppedfurther out of my shyness than I have in a long time, and I’ve actuallysurvived! I’ve reconnected with old writing friends and made new ones aswell. I joined this most awesome blogtoo and am really enjoying getting to know everyone here.

In terms of family, I have some prettyspectacular monsters to be proud of. Mybaby brother, Peanut, is sixteen years old and a Junior in High School. He’s not quite as shy as I am, but he’sdefinitely got a little bit of the shy gene. This year though he joined the choir at his school (his first time in achoir) and at his very first concert sang an amazing solo during one of thesongs. I cried through the whole thingand then cried again all of the way home because I was so proud of him fordoing something that I’ve never had the guts to do myself.

My middle nephew, Bubba, is eight years oldand is so good at reading that he’s currently reading the last Harry Potterbook. This warms my heart because I’vetried so hard to get my brother’s kids and my baby brother into reading. My little brother likes to read but doesn’tlove it yet, but Bubba seems to be falling in love with it. In fact, he’s a better reader than his oldersister. I simply love finding new booksto share with him!

My niece, Boo, is eleven and after strugglingwith school for the past couple of years has finally found a school setting sheenjoys. She’s at a charter school thatfocuses on the Arts and although she still struggled with things like reading,she can actually say she likes school again. She’s totally into drawing and art, which is another love of my own, andseeing her find confidence makes me so happy!

Then of course there’s my Doodlebutt, myyoungest nephew who is simply the coolest five year old in the world. Since starting Kindergarten this fall he’sstarted learning to read, he’s dealt successfully with a bully who is now hisfriend, and he’s also learned how to beat box. LOL I’m proud of him every singleday just because he’s so incredibly creative and his spirit makes me smile.

I can’t possible do a post on pride withouttalking about my mom. Not only is sheone of my best friends and someone who I look up to all the time (despite thefact that she’s shorter than me, hehe), but she’s someone who I’m extremelyproud of. This year she busted her assworking on her nursing degree and was about 13 weeks away from her RN when shemade a very difficult decision. She andI moved from the city into an old farm house and moved in her father who is 96years old and has severe dementia. Aftermoving Gramps into our house, it was very clear that attending full timenursing school simply wasn’t going to work. Taking care of him is truly a full time job. He’d been living alone up until this year andwas definitely not safe anymore.

He has his good days and his bad ones, butbecause my mom and I are the only people in the family willing to actually getoff our asses and do something to help, all of his care falls in our lap. I work full time which leaves my mom at homewith Gramps all day long. It’s been ahuge life change for all of us. I’mhappy to say though that after a few months of getting used to having Grampsaround, my mom is considering finishing up that last semester of school in the NewYear. When she decided to stop schoolshe was content with the fact that she could still get her LPN and continue todo what she loves and make more money doing it, but the RN was so darn closethat I’m sure it stung a little. Eitherway I’m damn proud of her, this is not by any means her first career and she’scontinuing to pursue it because she loves it.

So yeah… it’s been a difficult year but apretty good one too with lots of good things to think back on. Let’s hope 2012 is even better!

In The Name Of Love

2011-12-18T03:30:00.000-05:00

If you're a U2 fan, you'll understand the title in a few minutes:)

I had to dig deep for this week's topic, as it's been a rough year. I can't pinpoint any one thing I'm proud of, so I'll go by family members.

SU: He finally conceded he wasn't going back to work and applied for his Early Retirement. This admission enabled us to no longer worry about when his unemployment benefits would run out and we would finally be on a workable budget. And his first check coincided with the arrival of my sister and her family, so I was able to enjoy spending time with them instead of worrying about our banking account balance.

Stepdaughter: After a summer of being homeless and undecided about her future, everything came together in August when she found work at an amazon.com warehouse. And has steadily rose from temp to hire to Safety Coordinator in the past four months. She now has a new apartment and her kids are Very Happy with their new school:)

College Kid: He's had a tough two months. He'd lost his best friend in a freak health-care incident and got behind in two of his core courses. When he was home for Thanksgiving, his Plan B was to drop out of college and come home for a year. But now he's decided to change his major and is looking forward to becoming a HS Math teacher, rather than Aviation Technology. Yes, his dream of working for NASA one day came to a screeching halt this year.

Daughter: S has had a particularly turbulent year. She began dating a guy who we fervently hoped would prove our first impression wrong; this was not the case and we nearly had a rebellious runaway on our hands. Thankfully, she decided cooperating with Mom and Dad was the best course of action. And I'm really proud of the fact she finally had enough of him two weeks ago and ended all contact. The bad news is, she wised up three months too late. And will now have a permanent reminder when her child arrives in June.

Youngling: Despite entering 2nd grade still not knowing how to read, his teacher brought it to our attention that maybe his issue wasn't a learning disability (we were having him tested for dyslexia), but was ADD. We had him evaluated and put on meds. In the past two months, my baby has learned to read and brought home a test paper with a 67%, but a note was attached: He's read it himself! No more tests with notes saying 'Test was read to him'! If this continues, hopefully we won't have to retain him after all.

Myself: Among this family drama, I managed somehow to have four books released this year! Appetite for Desire found a home with Secret Cravings and was released in July; my alter-ego's series was also accepted at SCP and the first two books released in October and sometime this week (yay!). And my very first burn-your-eyes-as-soon-as-you-begin-reading book, Teacher's Pet, was finally released last week. And yes, I toned it down a little after the first couple of sex scenes. But I love this story, so forgive me?

"In the name of love
What more in the name of love.."

Pretty much sums up the past year for me!

Pride feels like an old scratchy wool coat that give you hives.

2011-12-15T00:34:00.000-05:00

I find it really easy to be proud of other people - far less so to be proud of myself. Pride is just one of those things that makes me feel really...squidgy. But, I'm going to attempt to go outside my comfort zone.

Here are some things I'm proud of this year:

I'm proud that GRRWG (my local writers group) put on a kickass first ever conference. And directly related to that, I'm proud of the work I did to help pull it off.

I'm proud that I didn't give up on the stories I had to finish this year even though there were plenty of times I just wanted to highlight and delete the whole things.

I'm proud that the things I oversee in my day job are running smoothly.

I'm proud that I wrote seven stories this year - even if I didn't finish the one I really wanted to.

I'm proud that I'm getting a little bit better about telling people no when necessary.

All right, that's pretty much all I've got. Kinda starting to feel a little hive-y.

Please pass the Benedryl.

Pride

2011-12-14T05:19:00.003-05:00

I am proud of many things that have happened this year. I'm proud of my kids, my husband and my family. I'm proud that I've kept my day job and even accepted a second job. But I'd like to focus on the writing if I may.

Vamplet - Every author has that book. The one that as they are writing it there is a constant mantra of "You will never write anything this good ever again." That is Vamplet for me. I LOVE this book. I adore the characters, I love the plot, I like the dialogue, the romance, the sadness. This book, more than any other, is my very favorite.

Blood of the Fallen - I adore this book as well. It had been a very long time since I'd written a novel length book and it scared me a little when I took it on. But I am thrilled with the outcome. It was hard work and at times I found myself in tears at the thought that it wasn't even half way done when it felt like I'd been writing forever. But in the end, I am so thankful to my muse for handing those characters and this story to me.

I am also proud that I was able to write at all this year. Last year was so difficult for me that I wondered if I would ever be able to sit down and crank out a book again. I am thrilled to say that I did, obviously. It was a fun year for me and I'm so glad that you've all stuck around to enjoy the ride as well.

XoXoXo
D

Happy Thoughts from 2011

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

Usually it's at Thanksgiving when we're reminded about what we're thankful for - families, first responders, military -- whatever and whoever is important, but this year, at least for me it's a good thing to look back at the year and see what's good and what I'm proud of.

1st - I'm proud of my daughter and the young woman she's growing up to be - smart, compassionate and a bit of a nerd.

2nd - the new addition to my family - Cleo kitty

3rd - (I really like and suck at this one) - I got out of my shell and met new people at AAD and GRL and made some great friends because of it.

4th - Writing plans can be used if the cut and paste feature and color coding functions are utilized properly - in plan English - I'm not a huge fan of you-must-do-this-now, I like flexibility.

5th - I finished more than one book and had several come out.

There are more, but I must fly, and really - I want to know what everyone else is proud of this year.

Simone.

Did I Even Make Any Resolutions/Goals?

2011-12-11T03:30:00.000-05:00

2011 was off to a rough start in the Michaels' household. Due to the spouse losing his unemployment benefits prior to Christmas Eve 2010, we had no internet; no phone; no television. If I wanted internet, I either had to go to the library, the coffee shop, or our bookstore, which would only be in business for three more months. But his benefits were restored on Dec 31st, so all was well....now we had to play catch-up.

My yearly blog post detailing goals did not get posted. I was still waiting to be assigned an editor for Teacher's Pet; I was having a love/hate relationship with my second publisher; and I was getting fed up with unanswered emails to a third potential publisher. So I decided to take a chance on a new publisher and suddenly 2011 looked promising!

Did I Write?

I did join in the word warring on Twitter, and yes, began one new wip and breathed Life into an existing one. And during NaNo, started a third.

Did I Publish Two Books?

Yes; Appetite For Desire arrived in July and Teacher's Pet is due out on Tuesday (more on this later, lol!). Plus, my alter-ego had a book released in October and her second is due out sometime this month. Plus, she has another one on track for January and a fourth in the summer. I say this one was Mission Accomplished.

How Many Manuscripts Did I Submit?

Only the four mentioned above. I didn't finish anything new.

Did I Exercise More?

Yes; when school began, I started walking 3 miles a day. And managed to drop seven pounds! Unfortunately, my momentum was disturbed by nagging pains in my feet plus twisting my ankle. Diagnosis: Plantar Fascitis and a heel spur on my right foot; arthritis (ack! I'm only 45!) in my left foot. And with the arrival of the cold weather, I will resume walking when the temps rise again to 50 degrees and higher.

Did I Make It To Any Conventions?

No. I was unable to talk the spousal unit into letting me travel. I even had to have my father drive down to get me for a mini-class reunion in August.

So I guess in retrospect, I did accomplish some of the normal goals I set each year. I wrote; published; exercised. I did NOT finish any existing wips, nor did I make it to Lori Foster's; Midwest Writer's; or RomantiCon (though it wasn't for the lack of trying! I even contacted a pilot friend and begged him to kidnap me and fly me there!)

And I conquered my fear of singing in public; I happily wait my turn each week when a friend and I go to karaoke!

So how did YOU do?

As promised, here's a sneak peek at my new book which goes LIVE on Tuesday. Enjoy:)

Blurb:

What happens when you discover the man you had mind-blowing sex with three months ago is your son's teacher? Tammy Saunders is horrified when she realizes the man who set her heart racing is her son's favorite teacher. With one bad relationship behind her, will she trust her heart again, or will she continue to deny her feminine side?

And is this particular teacher popular only with his students? Kevin has made some bad choices in his life, but sleeping with not only one, but now two, of his students' mothers, has got to be the worst mistake he ever made. Especially when he realizes he's lost his heart to one of them...

Buy link:

http://www.freyasbower.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=7&products_id=273

Excerpt:

“Mr. Taylor?” She hesitated in the doorway. “You wanted to speak to me about Danny?”

He shoved himself off the desk, his erection growing stiffer by the moment. “Call me Kevin.” He took her hand and closed the door. “I’ve been out of my mind, wondering who you were these past few months.” He brought her hand up to his mouth, lips grazing the backside.

She jerked her hand away. “That was a mistake.” She put some space between them. Color flooded her face. “I can’t believe we…that I allowed…you know,” she sputtered.

“To fuck you brainless?” He arched an eyebrow.

Her complexion was now darker than her t-shirt. “Could we please talk about my son?” she asked, teeth clenched. She cleared her throat. “I mean, that is why you called.”

“I lied. You’ve haunted me for months, Tammy. I go to sleep at night, and you’re in my dreams. I catch sight of a woman whose hair flows down her back and try to see of her face, hoping it’s you.” He noted her startled expression and stepped back. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of me these past months…”

* * * *

Oh the arrogance of a good looking man! I may have let Bruce steamroll over me in our marriage, but I’ve grown up in the past three years; I know how to handle men like you.

Her eyebrows arched. “Thought of you?” Time to take him down a notch. “Oh, right. Let me see if I have this correctly. We have mind-blowing sex, I run off to collect my kids, and you’re telling me that you, Mr. Obviously Popular, can’t sleep at night because the poor sex-starved widow never bothered to tell you her name? Is your ego that fragile?” She laughed. “Believe me,me; I’ve lost no sleep over it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. That ought to cool him off.

He closed the distance between them. “Then let me refresh your memory.” Kevin cupped her face in his hands and angled his mouth over hers. His tongue prodded between her lips; with a quiet moan, she opened them.

Like what you're reading? Buy it here:

http://www.freyasbower.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=7&products_id=273

The List

2011-12-10T16:03:00.001-05:00

I don't generally make resolutions. Mostly because I seriously suck at keeping them and then end up feeling like a failure. I did however make a list of things I'd like to do this year. I suppose you could call them resolutions, but I prefer to call them The List. :) To be honest, I don't even have The List anymore, but I do remember a few things from it and I actually did a pretty good job this year. So in no particular order...

Step Outside of My Comfort Zone: I'm a painfully shy person. You wouldn't know it if you've only known me online, but I have struggled with shyness all of my life. This year I worked really hard to force myself to do things that normally I wouldn't have done because of my shyness. Heck, just asking to join this blog is something I never ever would have done before! But I did it and look where I am now. :) I also joined a knitting guild that I'd been meaning to join for years but never did because I'd let my shyness get in the way. I even wrote an extremely personal blog post on what it's like to be shy and it went over really well with my friends and family.

Write More (and get closer to being published): I don't know if I actually wrote more this year or not, but I feel like I did. I didn't blog nearly as much as I would have liked to, but I think I did better this year than I did last year. As for the publishing thing... I'm now conversing with published authors on a regular basis and I'm about to co-write a little sumthin sumthin with the most awesome Emma Hillman, so yeah... I'd say I've done okay on this one too. :)

Learn to Crochet: I'm an avid knitter but I don't know how to do more than a simple chain when it comes to crochet. Unfortunately I have still not learned to crochet. I have a book from the library sitting in my living room that I've barely touched (and is due soon, dang it). I did look into a crochet class at one of my local yarn shops, but so far it's only been offered at times I can't do it. :(

Try New Things: This one kind of goes along with stepping outside of my comfort zone. It's also the item on The List that I'm most proud of. Last week alone I did so many new things that I almost can't believe it. I went to Miami for the first time, met two online friends in person for the first time, then went on a cruise (which frankly I said I would never, ever do). I made my first trip to the Bahamas, went to my first prom (theme party on the cruise), ate lobster for the first time, and went further into the ocean than I've ever been. It was a really awesome weekend. :) On top of that I've met some pretty awesome people on Twitter who have not only inspired me to keep working on my writing but who have also invited me to join a writers group in the New Year which I am trying very hard not to freak out about. :)

Read More: Last year I read 32 books. As of today I've read 55 and am currently reading two. Mission accomplished. :)

I guess for a girl who didn't make resolutions I did okay. :)

Smootches,
Kel

Hmmmm...feeling like a bit of a Fail Whale

2011-12-08T00:34:00.003-05:00

Well, let's review, shall we? Back in January, I resolved to:

Stick to a daily schedule
Write eight books including the YA project
Keep my office from becoming the Sacred Dumping Ground
Continue to purge excess things from my life
Tackle my TBR pile
Sew a least an 1/8th of the fabric in my office
Take more walks

Erm...is it too late to skip this post?

Yes?

How about if I distract you with something shiny?

No?

Okay, fine. Let's do this.

Stick to a daily schedule. Actually, I did pretty damn well with this...for a while. And then the conference happened and I completely underestimated what a time suck helping to put on a conference would be and how bloody difficult it would be to try to catch up afterward. However, I now know for next year, and I'm planning accordingly.

Write eight books including the YA project. Sigh. I wrote seven, but two were shorts and none were the YA project.

Keep my office from becoming the Sacred Dumping Ground. Considering I just had to shovel out the damn thing again in order to put up the Christmas tree, the answer to this would be no.

Continue to purge excess things from my life. Yes! I've actually been doing quite well with this one.

Tackle my TBR pile. Meh...not as much as I'd like, but I'm doing better than last year, so there's definite progress there.

Sew a least an 1/8th of the fabric in my office. Not even close - I think I've sewed about 60 yards. No where near 1/8th of the fabric.

Take more walks. Fail. But the treadmill is now unburied and where I can use it, so I'm gonna.

This year wasn't a total loss or anything, but I know I can do better. I'm already thinking about this year's resolutions and how to accomplish them. Best of all, I'm actually looking forward to it.

How did I do?

2011-12-07T07:05:00.004-05:00

Looking back at my resolutions I'd have to say I did pretty well.

1. Simplify - Well, ok, so the first one didn't really go off with a bang or anything. I collected even more stuff this year. I can't help it. I'm a Taurus, we like THINGS.

2. Get Healthy - I am pre-posting this in November, but as of today I am down 22 pounds. With any luck I really will have dropped 25 by the time this gets posted. I've been exercising, watching what I eat (no more chocolate lemon donuts every day for this girl), and taking vitamins. I do feel a million times better. I'm not as tired as I was all the time, my mood has vastly improved, and it's been great. My husband is pretty pleased with my slimming body as well.

3. Write More - I definitely did this. Though to be honest, it wasn't really that hard. 2010 was a terrible writing year for me. In 2011 I wrote Blood of the Fallen, Vamplet, Shake Me Up, Frienemies, Quarantine, and most of The Pit Boss (Coming 2012). I also began working on the sequels to Mitch and To Hate and To Hold. Yes, I would say that I nailed this resolution.

4. Carve out some ME time - I would like to thank my husband for allowing this resolution to be fulfilled. He has recognized my need to be alone for a little while sometimes and he has taken on lots of child rearing tasks for me. Our code is "Go to Hogwarts." This means that I can lock myself in the bedroom with my laptop and watch Harry Potter (or anything else really, but it's usually Harry) without any husband or child interference.

Unfortunately I do still smoke and still haven't saved any money, but I would have to say that all in all 2011 was a pretty damn good year. I'm looking forward to 2012 to see what it has in store for me.

XoXoXo
Dakota

2011 Goals In Review

2011-12-05T19:41:00.000-05:00

As we close in on the end of another year, a lot has changed over the last few months. I met some wonderful new people and my family expanded to include another kitten, who is absolutely adorable.

So, at the beginning of the year, I set some goals. On the writing front --

1. Write a 1000 words a day. (From today forward although I have written at least 500 words since January 1st. ) --- I started out really well, but didn't make it. I did, however, write at least semi-regularly until my world imploded. So, it's something I'll continue to work on.

2. Get my writing plan together (This way I know what I need to be working on next and whether I need to concentrate on one project or if I can play with two or three at the same time.) - I did this, I even updated periodically when things changed, were added or deleted.

3. Blog regularly (I'm hoping for regular posting on M, W, F - mostly because I can remember those easy enough in addition to wherever else I'm scheduled to be.) - Nope, I didn't do this regularly at all. The schedule feature is going to be my new best friend. I have a 'real' job, which interferes with writing and blogging time. Silly bosses.

Simone.

The Backstreet Boys ate my homework.

2011-12-05T15:03:00.001-05:00

Thursday December 1, 2011

As I write this I’m hoping two things. 1) that the hotel I’ll be at tonight has freeinternet so I can upload this to Blogger, and 2) that the Schedule function inBlogger actually works because when Saturday rolls around and this post is due,I will be sunning myself in the Bahama’s with the Backstreet Boys. I won’t haveinternet service and frankly my mind will be on the hot bodies of said Boys atour beach party. Oh yes… this groupie is going to get an eyeful of Sexy forfour days! Anyway… I’ll blog about THATon my own blog when I’m back. For now,let’s talk about food!

I have to admit that most of my favorite recipes are forThanksgiving. And since we just passedthat lovely holiday I suppose I should share something that could be used forthe upcoming winter holidays instead.

Have you discovered the awesomeness that is Pinterest? I have found quite a few awesome recipes justby browsing random boards and saving them to my own “Yum” board. One that I used just the other day was asuper easy yet super tasty treat that can be made for cookie exchanges or justto nosh on while you’re wrapping gifts and getting all holiday-like.

ChocolatePretzel Yummy Things
(yes, I made that up)

All you need are circle-shaped pretzels, Hershey’s Kisses,and M&M’s.

Set your oven to 225.

Lay out the pretzels on a non stick cookie sheet.

Unwrap six billion and two Hershey’s Kisses (this ishonestly the part that takes the longest and makes the biggest mess). Once unwrapped, place one Kiss in eachpretzel. If you have a pretzel that’s alittle wonky and the Kiss doesn’t sit flat, no worries.

Place the cookie sheet with pretzels and Kisses in apreheated oven for 3-4 minutes.

The Kisses will bemelty (that’s a very technical term, thankyouverymuch) but will still havetheir Kiss shape. Now place an M&Min the center of each Kiss while smooshing (another technical term) the Kiss sothat it touches all sides of the pretzel. If your Kiss doesn’t touch the pretzel on all sides, it will most likelyfall out once it’s cool. No big deal,but not all fancy dancy like the other ones will be. If you’re anal, you might try to make surethat you’re arranging the M&M’s so that the trademark “m” is visible at alltimes, or make a pretty red-green-red-green pattern on the cookie sheet… I’mnot saying that I have experience in this though… right. *grin*

Aren’t they cute? Andso much yum!

Put the cookie sheet in the freezer for 5-10 minutes to setthe chocolate if you can’t possibly wait for them to cool at room temperature(it takes forevvvverrrr). Once thechocolate has cooled the treats should pop right off of the cookie sheet with aspatula. In the case that you use thefreezer to cool them, wait until they’ve been out in room temperature for aminute or so before trying to pick them up. Otherwise they might stick and you end up flinging treats across thekitchen unintentionally. Hehe

Variations can be made, of course and I plan to experimentwith different versions of this gem. Forexample, using a mint M&M instead of a plain one, or perhaps a peanutbutter M&M (yum!), of course there’s always the peanut M&M option aswell. There are also different kinds ofKisses out now that could be used as well like dark chocolate, white chocolate,cherry and more. I’m tempted to givethis a try with the peppermint swirl Hugs myself.

2-ingredientPumpkin Muffins

I did not take this picture, it's from Pinterest... blah blah woof woof.

These muffins aren’t exactly holiday themed but holy hellare they yummy. They’re also extremelyeasy to make and if you happen to be on Weight Watchers, each muffin is only 2points so you can eat a bunch of them without much guilt. I found these badboys on Pinterest as well. :)

For this one, you’re going to need a yellow cake mix and a16 ounce can of pumpkin. WARNING: do notget Pumpkin Pie Mix! If you do’ yourmuffins will be very gooey and although still yummy, not at all suitable foreating in front of anyone because they’ll stick to your fingers and cause allsorts of mess.

Preheat the oven to 350.

In a big bowl mix the dry cake mix with the can ofpumpkin. Do not add any other ingredients!(Actually, you can add pumpkin pie spices if you’d like but what I’m sayinghere is that you don’t add the items listed on the cake box). Cake mix, pumpkin, stir, done!

Scoop the dough into muffin cups, then bake forapproximately 20 minutes or until a toothpick comes out of the center of amuffin clean. That’s it!

You can dust the muffins with powdered sugar, mix in minichocolate chips into the mix before baking, whip up a powdered sugar glaze, oreven top with cane sugar for a little crunch. But honestly, these muffins are so yummy you don’t need to make them allfancy. You can also use any flavor cakethat you want for this recipe but the yellow cake is the basic version. Once you’re ready to experiment you can tryit with chocolate, spice, or whatever flavor you want to try.

Enjoy!

P.S. The hotel didn't have free wifi and the ethernet didn't work. Thankfully the Miami International Airport has free wifi though so I can at least post this before I get back to Michigan. :) The cruise was all sorts of epic, by the way. :)

Best. Appetizer. Ever:)

2011-12-04T03:00:00.000-05:00

I attended my first Pampered Chef party in 1993, when pregnant with my 2nd child. Two dishes were prepared that night; one with tomatoes, bacon, and cheese; the other with ham and cheese. I'm not a tomato lover, so I prepared to enjoy the ham and cheese ring.

To my utter surprise, I could not eat enough bacon-tomato cups that night! Thankfully, the other attendees indulged my newly pregnant status and let me eat as many as I wanted.

And so they became my holiday staple, and this past Thanksgiving, my oldest son took notes on how I prepared them so he could make the appetizer for his fraternity brothers.

It's a simple recipe, and if you don't own a mini-tart shaper or mini-muffin pan, there's another way to make them. I'll include both options.

Ingredients:
-1/4 container Bacos (4.4 oz container, so maybe 1oz of it?)
-2 Cans of petite diced tomatoes
-1/2 small onion (optional; I sprinkle in onion powder)
-3 oz shredded Swiss or Mozzerella cheese
-1/2 cup mayonnaise (I like Miracle Whip)
-1 tsp basil
-2 cans refrigerated flaky biscuit (Hungry Jack works best)

Preheat oven to 375. Drain tomatoes; coarsely chop onion. Mix 1st 5 ingredients and set aside. Lightly spray mini-muffin pan (or 13x9" pan) with cooking spray.

Option #1:
Separate each biscuit into two or three thinner biscuits; lay each over mini-muffin cup. Dip tart shaper in flour and press each biscuit into a cup. Fill cups with bacon-tomato mixture.

Option #2:
Separate biscuits into two thinner ones; arrange in single layer in pan. Spread bacon-tomato mixture over biscuits.

Bake 10-12 mins until golden brown. For option #2, cut into squares and serve.

Enjoy:)

Welsh Cakes

2011-12-01T00:34:00.000-05:00

Okay, so this is pretty much an all year long recipe, but we always have them at Christmas. My Gram came to Michigan in 1945 from a small town in Wales, UK. She'd married my Grandpa during the war and when everything was finally over she came over here and, along with her knitting needles, brought this recipe with her. I can't remember a Christmas at my Gram's where there weren't Welsh cakes.

Now that my Gram is gone, it's usually my mom or my aunts making them - or more often me. Believe it or not, it's one of the few things I don't burn. Go fig.

This is a traditional breakfast/tea treat and my family loves them. They're easy to make and delicious. Normally, there isn't quite as much sugar on the outside...but the kids helped with these. o.O

I think I probably need to make some.

Immediately.

You'll need:

Welsh Cakes Recipe

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 ½ teaspoon allspice (ground)
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup sugar
½ cup butter (room temperature)
1 egg
½ cup milk
¼ cup currants (optional)

Sift flour, baking powder, allspice, salt and sugar together in a bowl. Cut the butter into the flour mixture using a pastry blender or two knives. Stir the egg and milk together in a separate bowl. Add the egg mixture to the dry ingredients. Mix well. Blend in the currants. Gather the dough into a ball and roll it out onto a floured board until it’s ¼ inch thick. Cut two inch rounds out of the dough and cook on a very hot griddle or frying pan until lightly browned. Flip. Sprinkle with sugar while warm.

Note: Griddle must be hot enough for water to dance on the surface before cooking the cakes.

So that's it - easy, peasy. And let's not forget delicious!

Banoffee...oh how I love thee, you dangerous little bitch

2011-11-30T02:18:00.009-05:00

My recipies preferences change with my level of hunger. Right now, I am feeling the need for something sweet. So instead of eating the pie I am going to tell you how to make it so YOU can eat it.

Legally, I don't believe I can endorse this method of cooking, as I'm pretty sure it is way against the law. Nothing that tastes this good could possibly be okay. But I'm going to tell you how I do it and let you be the judge of whether or not your attention span is strong enough to keep up with what I do.

1 - I fill a large stock pot with water and put two cans of Eagle Brand sweetend condensed milk in it. I put the lid on the pot and boil it for three hours. I check the water OFTEN to make sure that the cans are fully submerged. If even the barest part of the can hits the air it will explode in a scalding hot, sticky mess all over me, the ceiling and pretty much the entire kitchen. The can must stay FULLY SUBMERGED THE ENTIRE THREE HOURS. Now, if you are a baker you will know that Eagle has recently changed their can designs to all be pull tab/pop top cans. I have not had an issue using this style can. But if someone were, against my better judgement, to try this themselves and would prefer the fully sealed kind of can I am relatively certain that Carnation Sweetend Condensed Milk would be just as good. I'm just a brand whore and love my Eagle.

2 - I remove the cans from the water with tongs and let them cool, usually overnight, on a dishtowel. Occasionally I will put the towel over the can in case of explosion. DO NOT OPEN THE CAN WHILE THE INSIDES ARE HOT. Again, explody mess all over the place. If someone were to ever recommend a cooling time, which I do not because I cannot condone this method of cooking due to illegal dangers and all of that, a minimum of four hours would be requested for safety. But I leave them overnight for complete 'safety.'

2 - In the morning (why it is done in the morning will become clear in a few steps.) Take your graham cracker crust and slice bananas in the bottom. I make a thick layer of bananas, but this can be adjusted to the preference of the eater.

3 - Open the can in the of condensed milk and gaze, mesmorized by the thick, golden, delicious toffee that has formed in the can. Do not eat it out of the can with a spoon, you will need the toffee to finish the pie. Or, if you know that you cannot resist boil three cans at a time. Theoretically of course. I am not telling you what to do, just sharing what I do. Spoon the toffee over the bananas, filling the crust to the top with the sticky goodness. Top with whipped cream or cool whip and cover, place in the fridge to settle.

4 - You will notice that you have almost half of a can of toffee left after the pie has been filled with as much of the filling as you could possibly cram in around the bananas. Pre-heat your griddle while you mix pancake batter. Make a stack of pancakes, spread the toffee over them, slice some banana on top and add a dollop of cool whip. Then dig in and have an embarassingly satisfying food orgasm.

5 - After a few hours the pie will be set and you can dig in with a fork by yourself or you could be nice and slice into wedges and share with friends or family.

XoXoXo
Dakota

I Think I'll Call It...Beetroot Poop Surprise

2011-11-29T17:37:00.004-05:00

I've got to post a recipe?? Seriously? I don't think I belong here. I don't even know how to cook. The most I can make is frozen pizza, and one time I did it and then Husband found what seemed to be a dark brown disc in the bin.

Yeah, you can guess what happened.

I burn water. I make sandwiches wrong. The most I can come up with for a holiday recipe is this:

1. Open the jar of beetroot.

2. Put some on a plate.

3. Open a pot of sour cream.

4. Put that on a plate, too.

5. Cut up some ham.

6. Put that on a plate, as well.

7. Eat all of it together while watching something Christmassy, like the festive episode of Miranda.

8. Freak out when your poop comes out purple because I swear to God that happened one time.

And there you have it. My favourite holiday recipe/food. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do, and don't get purple poop.

Don't Mess with a Pilgrim Before Black Friday....

2011-11-27T02:30:00.000-05:00

"Magic 8 Ball....will this holiday season be better than in year's past?" Celia shook the black ball as she muttered her question. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and grimaced. Why was she always chosen to play the part of Sarah Bradshaw, wife of the governor? Because you've done it for so many years. It's becoming a tradition.

She stopped shaking the ball and turned it around to check the answer.

The future is unclear....try again.

Damn thing....She used to spend hours with her friends, asking the toy various questions and seeing which predictions came true. The only reason she'd picked it up this time was because her brother had left it on her desk.

"Some things never change." Celia adjusted her apron and tied the sunbonnet strings under her chin. "Let's just hope Kevin remembers his lines this year."

She hurried to her car and slid behind the wheel. The theater was next to the old police station, and she gasped in surprise upon arrival. Fire trucks and ambulances blocked her path. Getting out of her car, she approached one of the officers. "What's going on?"

"We got a report of smoke in the basement. I think the play is cancelled, Miss Pricilla."

Celia caught sight of the Youth Center's director and hurried to him. "Was there a backup plan?"

"No. They're questioning Kevin. He's the one who called it in, and apparently he'd posted on Facebook he wished the theater would burn down."

"If he didn't want to be in the play, then why did he try out?"

The director sighed. "Who knows? And Pat told me she overheard him saying they wanted to be in line at Walmart by nine o'clock, instead of making his Thanksgiving speech. So just go on home and enjoy the rest of your holiday."

Thank God....now I can go home and get some rest before talking my dad into buying me the forty-inch TV which goes on sale at midnight! Celia pulled out her cell phone and pulled up tweetdeck.

Mission accomplished.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-26T19:27:00.001-05:00

I hope you had a great holiday! Things in my neck of the woods were pretty good and now I'm trying my best not to freak the hell out about the cruise I'm about to go on in a few days and have not begun to pack for. I did however manage to whip up a little sumthin sumthin for this week's challenge so... enjoy! :)

Untitled Turkey Day Short

Detective Julia Blackhawk didn'tmind working on holidays. In fact, she often would offer to cover shifts forothers so that they could be at home with their families. It wasn't that shewas anti-holiday, and offering to work Thanksgiving had nothing to do with thefact that she was part Native American. In her opinion what Thanksgiving meanthundreds of years ago had nothing to do with Thanksgiving today, she justdidn't have anyone to celebrate it with.

Sure, friends always asked her tojoin in with their family festivities. But she hated feeling like the SingleLoser Friend who had to tag along on someone's family traditions. She made themistake one time of attending Thanksgiving at a friend's house and spent theentire day feeling like an unwelcome freak while not understanding any of thefamily's private jokes. It was after that disaster that she decided that unlessshe was going home to Michigan to visit her own family, she'd just do holidayson her own.

She sat at her desk in the nearly deserted police stationand took a break from her massive stack of paperwork that she had decided to tacklewhile everyone else was in turkey comas watching the Detroit Lions lose yetanother Thanksgiving Day game. She shookher head at the ESPN pop up window on her computer screen when she saw thelatest score. Detroit had been havingsuch a good season and everyone had hopes of finally having a Thanksgiving winbut it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. She grabbed the Magic 8-Ball that sat on her desk and looked down atit. “Will the Lions win today?” sheasked and then shook the ball before turning it upside down.

All signs point to no.

She laughed and put the ball back on her desk. The sound of paper bags rustling made herlook up. Her eyes fell on her newpartner, Nate Jimmerson, as he carried what looked like a week’s worth ofgroceries into the office.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jimmerson?” she askedwith a smile.

“My mother made enough food to feed most of Chicago. Whenshe heard that you were here working today she ordered me to bring you a plate.”

Julia looked at the multiple bags, “Just a plate?”

Nate smiled and his dark brown eyes seemed to sparkle, “Shelikes to cook…”

“It’s very sweet…” Julia said as Nate started unpackingfood. He’d brought everything includingplates, plastic wear, napkins and even little packets of salt and pepper. “But aren’t you going back home?”

“Nope,” he said and smiled. He set two plates out and began opening up food to dish up. “I have about as much paperwork to get doneas you do. I figure the office is quietenough today that maybe I can actually focus and get some work done for achange before I get written up.”

“How can you be so far behind already? You just transferred into the department.”

He paused his table setting to look at his partner, “I’m aslow typist.” He cracked a smile and letout a chuckle then resumed his task.

“You’re nuts…” Julia told him with her own smile. She saved the report she’d been working onand then sat back watching Nate. They’donly been partners for about a month. Her former partner Karen had gone on maternity leave after popping out abeautiful little girl and everyone knew that Karen wasn’t going to beback. Nate on the other hand had transferredinto the department just as Karen was leaving and so he’d been partnered upwith Julia.

He was a local boy, born and raised in Chicago, with prettymuch his whole family having worked for the CPD in some way or another. He wasn’t one of those cocky assholes ridingon the coattails of his family though, he was actually a hard worker and reallyseemed to love being a detective.

He was also pretty easy on the eyes. Julia had strict rulesabout dating coworkers and wasn’t about to break those rules with her newpartner. She could however enjoy theview and a little harmless flirting to get her through the days.

She watched Nate prepare their plates. He was wearing a well worn pair of jeans thatlooked like they’d be baby-butt soft if she could reach out and touchthem. Up top he had on a thin sweaterthat was just tight enough to show off his physique. He had a really great body. Great hair too, dark brown and messy in an “Ijust got out of bed but still look amazing” sort of way.

Julia shook her head and tried to clear her mind of thoughtsabout her cute partner. “Can I help withany of that?”

“Nope…” he said simply then reached into another bag. “Oh and my condolences to your Lions…”

Julia laughed, “It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving if we didn’tlose.”

“Yeah well, if you followed a real team…”

“I might live in Chicago but I’m from Michigan and willalways be a Lions fan.”

“Whatever you say, Jules… Come on, I think everything is ready.” He held out a hand to her whichshe stared at momentarily before taking it. He pulled her to her feel and pushed her gently toward their impromptudinner table.

She laughed when she saw that he’d even set out littledecorations. She picked one up andlooked at it, “Really, Nate? Pilgrims?”

“I told my mom not to put those in the bag but, they arekind of cute… Are they totally offensive?”

“Horribly…” she teased then laughed at the look of horror onNate’s face. “I’m kidding! They’reactually pretty cute. Just don’t whipthese out if you ever meet the rest of my family. They’re not as forward thinking as I am.”

“Duly noted…” Nate said and pulled out a chair forJulia. She sat down and then he moved tothe other side of the table to sit across her. He raised a plastic solo cup of cider, “To new partners and my motherwho makes way too much food. HappyThanksgiving, Blackhawk.”

Julia smiled and raised her own cup, “Happy Thanksgiving, PaleFace.”

They both chuckled and began their feast while talking aboutpaperwork and open cases. It was thebest Thanksgiving Julia had experienced away from home.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T00:34:00.000-05:00

In honor of Thanksgiving, I thought I'd share this video with you. Yeah...you're welcome.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T05:24:00.001-05:00

I would like to share with you the things that I am oh-so-thankful for.

I am thankful for my friends. There is an old quote that friends are the family you choose. I have always believed that. And I have the best friends a girl could ever wish for. Two of them in particular are so caring, so generous, and so sweet that I want to give them a special shout out. Brynn and Bron are probably two of the nicest women on the planet. I am honored to be your friend.

I am thankful for my family. My husband and my children are amazing. I don't know what my life would be like without them in it, and I don't really want to. Every day I know that I have been blessed to have them.

I am thankful for my gift. I may not always feel like a real writer, but I know that I am. There are too many published works with my name plastered across them for me to deny what I do. But in the times that I cannot write, when I sit and I stare at the screen and nothing comes, I make mental notes to be thankful when the muse comes back. To honor her with chocolate and beer as she likes for me to do. This is a gift, it's a talent that not everyone possesses. I hope to never take it for granted. And I hope it never leaves.

I am thankful that there are men on the planet who look like this:

And I am thankful for readers like you who take time out of your busy lives to stop by and read our ramblings, purchase our books, and support us through everything.

XoXoXo
Dakota Rebel

My Inner Demons

2011-11-20T14:36:00.001-05:00

Forgive me; I saw the topic for this week and all of a sudden Fleetwood Mac's 'My Little Demon' is going through my brain!

Okay; focus, Kenzie....what demons follow me around?

Wait; maybe I need to introduce myself? I'm Kenzie Michaels; my stories are on the tame side of the Adult Contemporary Romance genre; and currently three books are published, with a fourth due out any day now and two more pending. I've known most of the other writers of this blog for several years, and have a confession: I've been writing my own essays each week and following their blog topics in hope that one day I might be invited to 'fill in' or even invited to join. And voila! Here I am, to brighten up your Sunday afternoon.

So with that out of the way, back to my demons:

a) Demon of insecurity. I've never been comfortable in social settings unless I had a friend along, but I've noticed that in the past several years I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. I'm not sure if maturity has suddenly caught up to me, or it's the influence of a good friend, but I've been singing karaoke now for a year. The first time I stood up, my knees shook and I held the microphone too far away from my mouth. But last week, I had no problems singing duets with people and not caring how I sounded. I'll even tell the karaoke goddess, "Don't applaud that! I was horrible!" and graciously accept the thanks of those who cheer my name!

Insecurity also rears his head when I receive edits or cover art. I'd rather have a second opinion if I'm not sure how to fix a scene, or disagree with my editor. And the same goes for cover art; I've only had two covers which I 'knew' were the right ones. And I'm grateful for friends who take time out of their busy schedules, since I still consider myself a 'newbie'.

b) Demon of head-hopping. Back in 2007, when I discovered the joys of networking with other authors, I also learned the rules had changed, considering how scenes were constructed. I wrote in the style of my favorite books: Danielle Steele, Judith McNaught, Kathleen Woodiwiss. Now all of a sudden it's a no-no to switch POV's in the middle of the scene. I still struggle with this, though I'm getting better.

c) Demon of not speaking up/confrontation/defending myself: This is a biggie. I'm a people-pleaser who dislikes confrontation. And I'm married to a man who likes to raise his voice. A lot. So I tend to let him have his say, and then fume about it, especially if I think he's wrong. And the times I do argue back, my problem is overcoming his objections. I saw this when I tried sales; I've never been good at persuading strangers to buy something they don't want. I've had some high-pressure salesmen talk me into buying things, but I didn't enjoy them afterward. When I buy something, it's because I WANT it, not because I want to shut someone up.

The demon I have conquered? The 'yes' demon. I'm more comfortable telling people 'No; I'm too busy.'

So what about you?

Demons

2011-11-19T14:08:00.000-05:00

When I realized that this week’s topic was about the demons that haunt me, I immediately thought of my writing. I also realized that I’d actually already written a blog post that would fit this week’s topic perfectly. Although I kind of hate the idea of kicking off my first week on the blog with a pre-written post, it just fits this week’s topic too well not to share it. Plus it lets you get to know me a little better since I’m the new kid on the blog. Enjoy!

A Chick Who Writes
September 24, 2010

I love to write. I’ve been writing for a long, long time. I write blogs, fiction, the assorted poem, and I even wrote a song once. When I say I write fiction though, I’m not talking about short stories… I’m talking about full length drama-filled shots of life, or in a word, books.

Yes, I write books, and yet I have a very, very hard time saying that. I often say, “I write fiction,” or “I write stories.” I’ve even been known to say, “I write book-length fictional stories…” but to say that I write books for some reason freaks me out. I think when most people hear that statement they think of books stores and libraries, not online fiction. So if I were to say I’ve written five novels since 1999 (which I have), I sort of expect people to respond with, “So where are they?” If the book isn’t in a store or able to be bought, it’s not a “real” book… or at least that’s what my mind tells me when it comes to my own writing.

Writing fiction for online purposes is a lot like writing for a soap opera where the characters lives just sort of keep going on and on (and on) until finally the writer figures out a way to end the epic drama. Chapters for online fiction can sometimes be like a snapshot into the lives of the characters, not exactly needed for the plot, but still something that adds to the character development and gives the readers something new to explore. But when you’re writing for publishing, there are length guidelines and all of the extra fluff gets taken out sort of like condensing a soap opera into a feature film. Either way though, it’s still fiction, it’s still hand crafted, and it’s still a book no matter how long it is.

Take for example the book I’m currently reading on Bizkit, my handy dandy Nook, “Dead in the Family” by Charlaine Harris. This novel in the e-book format is 243 pages of vampire, fae and werewolf smutty drama. “No Rest for the Wicked” by Kresley Cole… 285 pages, “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold… 214, and “The Godfather” by Mario Puzo is 448 pages. The longest story that I have written is 651 pages in e-book format. Another one of my finished works is over 500 pages as an e-book. So in looking at just pure volume, it’s pretty clear that I write books, not “stories.”

I literally have people all over the world who read what I write. Some who I’ve met and have become a part of my family, and the only reason we met each other was because they read something I wrote and took time out to send me feedback or strike up a conversation about a chapter. I adore the relationships I’ve made through writing, and yet there is a whole group of people in my life who have never read my fiction or my previous blogs. Most of those people happen to be those who I know IRL (that’s “In Real Life” for those of you not in the know).

People who I see on a regular basis and who know my real full name, not just what I’m known as online. In other words, people who could read what I write and not like it, then I’d still have to face them knowing that they think I’m full of crap. That isn’t to say however that everyone who reads me is someone who I’ve met online. Some of my very close well-trusted offline peeps have read my stuff and are some of my biggest supporters. They’re the ones who say, “You have to keep writing! You need to be published! Stop putting yourself down!” and honestly I love them for it.

Supportive peeps and online groupies aside though, I still struggle. It’s taken me years to be able to read some of my writing and actually think, “You know what? This actually is good…” I am my own worst critic and often the person who gets in the way of my desire to write. As much as I love writing and as often as I am creating a chapter, scene or conversation in my head, I don’t always think of myself as a writer… an author. “Author” seems official as if in order to say you’re one you have to be getting paycheck for it. Writer on the other hand is somewhere between a hobby and a true author, like a person who is just about to get a book deal but hasn’t quite penned the agreement yet. Which leaves me as “a chick who writes.”

I know it’s all in my head, just like most of my insecurities are. I know that if I believed in myself more it would be easier to pursue this dream of mine. I know all of the things I need to know, I just don’t follow my own advice. I tell my fellow writers who compare their writing to mine, “Stop comparing yourself to me, you’re your own person and you are great!” then I turn around and tell myself, “Man I suck compared to such and such, I’ll never be able to write like that…” I am the poster child for “Do as I Say Not as I Do” when it comes to advice on writing.

I know it’s hypocritical and silly, I know all of this, but I also know that the mind is a strong thing. I know that my inner critic is made up of a lot of different people, situations and life lessons. I hear the echo in my head of the conversation I had fifteen years ago during which I was told that journalism wouldn’t be a wise career choice, and I remember the four years that followed where my creativity died.

I do, however, also remember when my muse came back and I began to find my voice again. I remember being totally obsessed with writing and how amazing it was. Boring college classes, lunches, and coffee breaks were just another place for me to write in my notebook. My whole world felt like it revolved around my plots and characters and getting that next chapter written and put online. I lived for the feedback from my readers and gave Feedback of the Day Rewards to people who made me giggle the most or gave me goose bumps. I loved it. I miss it.

Who knows if I’ll ever be a published author? I hope so and dream about it. I know in my heart when I read some purchased novels that I am a better writer than some of these paid authors. I catch the typos and glaring mistakes in novels that crit groups, beta readers and editors somehow miss. I know that I have talent when it comes to writing, I just need to work on believing it all of the time instead of just part time.

So here’s my first baby step.

Hi, my name is Kel, and I’m not just a chick who writes, I’m a Writer.

Demons…I Have A Trio

2011-11-18T08:22:00.003-05:00

Demons... This week, I sat back and thought about them. It's not something to dwell on, but something you need to know about as a writer. So here are the ones I identified:

1. I live with the constant fear of not being good enough -- at anything. Unfortunately, that impacts my writing as the demon stands over my shoulder and whispers “it’s not good enough. It will never be as good as your last book. It will never be as good as [insert title].” It’s an ugly little demon who’s paralyzed many a writing session.

2. The ADD demon also likes to attack me. I don’t know that I’ve got ADD; I’ve never been diagnosed with it, but it’s a very likely possibility. Both of my kids have it. My older son, like me, has learned how to control and manage it. I truly have trouble focusing on anything for more than ten minutes. And ten minutes is good. After that, I feel the pull of something else. Anything else. Even on my weekly TV date with Bronwyn to watch Supernatural, my focus is split. It’s unusual for me to stay in the room/stay seated/stay watching for more than ten minutes at a time.

3. The “Let’s Flounder For Awhile” demon. It doesn’t matter how much research I’ve done, how many character studies, how much I’ve plotted, there comes a point in every story where I’m sure I know nothing about what I’m writing. It’s utterly terrifying when it hits. Every time it hits. Even when I know it’s coming. And it always does. I start questioning the whole story and fighting the urge to rip everything apart.

So what do I do to counter these.

There’s only one thing to do. You have to sit down and keep on working. There’s a long quoted statement: the only difference between a published writer and an unpublished one is that the published one never gave up.

You can’t let your demons win. You have to identify them and by knowing them, you can understand when they attack. You may have heard “Knowing is half the battle”. It is. If you don’t know and identify your demons, you can’t fight them.

I can’t tell you how to fight your demons. What works for me, probably won’t work for you. But just know, it doesn’t matter where you are in the writing life; you will be attacked by them. You are not alone. We all are. And we can all beat them.

Is there a demon slayer in the house?

2011-11-17T00:34:00.000-05:00

Now, I'd prefer that my demons look like Sam and Dean when they're possessed - or better yet, when they're not . But sadly, those aren't the kind of demons I have.

The ones I have aren't nearly as ripped as these two. Nope, the ones that plague me are messy and annoying and suck up nearly all my time.

There are, of course, the distractions - though I notice Pinterest isn't on here...

Then there's procrastination. Truer words have never been spoken.

I can't forget about guilt. I tend to waste a lot of time feeling guilty. Some of the stuff is legit. Others, I just need to get over and let go.
And I can't forget my deadline demon which dovetails perfectly with my damn time management demon.So, these are the demons that stalk me. They're jerks, but somehow I keep opening the door to them. I've realized that I need to take a new approach. I need to open the door with Mr. Pointy in my hand and stake the bastards before they have a chance to get in!

It's time to do some dusting.

That Pink Blob Is My Face

2011-11-15T18:25:00.003-05:00

The only demon that's stalking me at the moment are deadlines. Crazy, crazy insane deadlines, that are making me sleep at odd times that don't exist, like sofa o'clock. Seriously, the other day I passed out on said item of furniture, and was so dead to the world that Husband covered me up with seventeen cardigans - though he didn't do so to be nice. He did it because he feared I'd turn over and moon all the Grammar School boys who regularly troop past my window, due to the ragged nature of the clothes I'm currently wearing.

This is an actual and true story, too. I'm really wearing rags. TBH, I'm not even sure what I'm wearing, half the time. I come downstairs with one sock on and a skirt worn like a dress - you know. Like, pulled up over my boobs so I don't flash the Grammr School boys those, too.

And my hair is like this:

See that angry, jagged bit on the side? That's true, too. It's probably the deadline demon, trying to escape my body. It's probably my immortal soul dying a tortured death, because I typed it into a computer.

All I do is type things into a computer. I'm probably starting to think the screen is a long lost parent. At night, I cuddle it and cry - and that's true, too. Though of course the cuddling in question is done with my feet, and I'm crying because in my dreams the world is made up of Armie Hammers, and all of them want to swim around inside my vagina.

Oh, Armie. Thank God I have your imaginary self to lean on, during this trying time.

If You Must Fail...

2011-11-11T00:01:00.001-05:00

Then fail big! Here's a story I call "There Are No Secrets". It's a parenting story I once published in a very small magazine and that I've often shared and I hope you find it as funny as I do. Caution: please set all beverages to the side while reading.

THERE ARE NO SECRETS

The day of “the incident', I was sailing through the task of mothering two little boys and thinking things were going very well. They were happily occupied playing in their room and I was actually getting things done. I guess things were going too well. After almost four years, I should have known better.

I also should have gotten a lock box. But that comes later.

Parenting Tip #1: When they’re quiet, there’s trouble.

My husband and I were in the living room reading when my older son, Adam, entered. Being wise – not really – I had spaced my children close together. They are the best of friends. Because of this, my younger son, Drew, entered right behind his brother.

Now Adam has always been bright and mature, and sometimes his tone reminds me of a voice from my past. My mother, in my teen years.

I realized suddenly that he was glaring at me, with his hand hidden behind him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting aside my novel and segueing into concerned mother mode. His hand whipped from behind his back.

“Momma, what extactly is dis.”

“Yeah, ma,” his little brother echoed.

Oh. My. God! I think my eyes rolled back in my head. Actually, I’m surprised I didn’t faint. If ever there was a time, this was it. How on earth did I explain? I had never even admitted to anyone that I had one of those.

As my husband -- who had bought the “dis” by the way -- choked with laughter next to me, I realized that my son held my pink, anatomically correct vibrator in his chubby little hand. His other hand on his hip, he stared at me, waiting for an answer. His brother struck a similar pose. Where is it written that the children get to gang up on their mother?

What they received as an answer was a particularly un-motherly shriek, and a “Give that to me!” That’s when my brain finally clicked back into gear. This wasn’t exactly something I left laying around. The last time I’d seen it, it was tucked safely in the back of my drawer under a pile of underwear. Once I’d put it back there, I returned to the living room and cornered my sons.

“What were you doing in my dresser?” I demanded. I’d told them often to stay out of my bedroom, a directive they patently ignored. I never expected them to go through the dresser drawers.

Parenting Tip #2: Always expect the unexpected.

Adam blinked up at me, full of innocence. “I was lost.”

I think I developed a twitch right about then. It reappears frequently – usually in conjunction with my older son.

Adam received a time out while I wished for valium. Triple strength. His brother went back to his room to play after I’d ferreted out that he was an innocent bystander in the mommy humiliation project. As soon as Adam was released from time out, he asked, “Momma, can I play wid your handcuffs? Why you hab dem anyway?”

Did I mention the water I was drinking and the fountain that resulted? He giggled maniacally, thinking I was just being funny, and begged me to do it again. I shooed him off to play, with the admonition to stay out of my bedroom.

I sank into my chair, my head in my hand. Visions of Adam performing the same “What is this?” stunt in front of company haunted me. What if he brought it up at my mother’s? At least he didn’t know what "dis" was called. I added a lock box to my shopping list.

Nothing more was said about “the incident". I fell back into a state of mommy-bliss. It would take a few more occasions for me to learn mommy-bliss is a dangerous place. Thankfully, none of the subsequent occurrences involved the pink, anatomically correct vibrator or any similar device.

Except for one. Did I mention that it was anatomically correct? Perhaps not. So in case you missed it, it was anatomically correct.

Fast forward to a few days after the first “incident". By now, I was hoping maybe Adam wouldn’t remember his foray into my dresser, that maybe he wouldn’t drag out my personal items in front of guests, and that maybe he wouldn’t be scarred for life. Lord knows, I would be.

Was it too soon for the birds and the bees talk? It was definitely too soon for the sex toy talk. Is there a sex toy talk? I can tell you, at this point, it’s a discussion I hope to never have.

Anyway, as I was dusting, I could hear my dear sons downstairs in the family room. As background, they had on a mommy-screened, child-friendly video. Only they weren’t watching it. Adam had decided to take the sex talk thing into his own hands. While I began to see black spots before my eyes, he talked earnestly to his younger brother.

“It’s not right to cut off penises and keep them in your drawer. . .”

The twitch was back.

I don't wanna brag...but I think someone picked this topic especially for me.

2011-11-10T00:34:00.002-05:00

For those of you who know me, my life tends to be one epic fail after another. However, for the most part, I (like most people around me) think they're pretty funny. Failing when you're utterly mortified is no fun for anyone. I'm really grateful to my mom. I learned that most things aren't worth getting bent over and if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, you'll be a lot happier. Trust me, this woman has done tons of things worth laughing at. As has her daughter.

I had a bit of a hard time narrowing down my best fail - mostly because there were so many to choose from. There's the time Jennifer Armintrout and I were singing songs from Buffy the Vampire Slayer in an elevator at a conference and were "caught" by an an acquiring editor we were both scheduled to pitch to. And the time at a different writers' conference where I had a bit of trouble with the New York Subway system. On the plus side, I did get a car full of New Yorkers to cheer for me once I made it on the train. That totally counts for something. Both of those tales of woe can be found here. And I can't forget (nor, I'm sure, can the Fed-Ex driver) forget the time I flashed the Fed-Ex driver...and my entire neighborhood. Nor can I forget any of my special encounters with the local police - found here, here, here and here.

My very latest epic fail is The Day I Ruined Bill's Life . Usually, my fails are all about me, but this time I took someone down with me. Poor bastard.

However, the story I'm going to share today is the tale of a pregnant Bron who needed to pee real, real bad, mostly because I don't think I've shared this little gem, yet.

Welcome to confessions of a seatbelt zealot.

I’d like to tell you that I had the kind of pregnancy of which soon-to-be new mothers dream. The one where you look as good as Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair. The one where you exude a soft radiant glow, and your Zen-like sense of calm never wavers. The one where you actually enjoy being pregnant. Yes, I’d like to tell you that I had that pregnancy, but I’d be lying more than my mother when she said; “You’ll forget about the pain as soon as you hold your baby.” Yeah, right.

By the time, I reached my ninth month I thought I’d had my quota of pregnancy mishaps, including falling asleep and snoring loudly while having blood work done. I thought perhaps I could just relax for the last couple of weeks. That may have been my biggest mistake.

My husband was out of town on business with our one and only car, so I had to borrow my little brother’s car in order to make it to my doctor’s appointment. Like the automobiles of many eighteen-year-olds, Martin’s car (a baby-blue, 80-something Ford Tempo)was crammed full of sticky soda bottles, rancid fast food wrappers and empty cigarette packages. A sour stench emanated from the upholstery. Trying not to vomit, I cleared a spot, shut the ashtray and gingerly wedged myself behind the wheel. Did I mention the missing driver’s side window? Instead of glass, the car sported a stunning combination of mostly-clear sheet plastic and duct tape. Sadly, it was February. In Michigan. During a blizzard.

I moved the seat forward, but in order to reach the pedals, I had rest my giant, nearly-ready-to-give-birth-belly in the steering wheel well. Ignominious, but necessary. Being the seatbelt zealot I am, I fastened the restraint as soon as I got situated.

The drive to the doctor’s office was fairly uneventful, despite having to peel back the plastic window to check for oncoming traffic. I even got the last spot in the frozen, ice-covered parking lot. And then my luck ran out.

I hit the release on the seatbelt clasp. It didn’t budge. I tried again. Nothing. With a sinking feeling, I realized I had to pee. I tried not to panic. It didn’t work. In a fit of misguided optimism, I thought perhaps I could wiggle out of the restraint.

Take the journey with me, people. Nine months pregnant with my second child. Giant belly shoved in the steering wheel well. Bound to a smelly, garbage filled excuse for a car, attempting to shimmy out of a securely latched seatbelt. Did I mention the part about being nine months pregnant and having to pee?

Spotting a screwdriver on the passenger side floor, I kicked off a shoe and sock. Somehow, I managed to pick it up with my toes. I tried to jimmy the latch open and succeeded only in breaking the screwdriver.

By this time, my baby happily bounced on my bladder like a demented circus clown. I knew unless something drastic happened soon, I’d add another unfortunate smell to my brother’s car. Five long, long minutes later, I was ready to cry. And then I saw her. An angel. The patron saint of nearly-hysterical pregnant women everywhere. The only sign of life in the parking lot since I’d pulled up.

Any dignity I might have possessed was long gone. I yelled for help. Okay, I admit, it was more of a shriek. A tall, lovely woman in a full-length fur coat opened the passenger side door. Perfectly coifed and dripping in diamonds, she scanned the interior. Her expensive perfume wafted in and clashed with the foul stench of the traveling landfill. Her delicate, and likely costly, nose wrinkled.

I tried to explain my dilemma. Only what popped out of my mouth was, “It’s not my car. Really.” She appeared understandably puzzled, so I launched into the sad story of my dismal condition. She smiled and assured me she’d be right back. Within moments, she returned with a pair of office scissors and cut me free. I squirmed from the car, barely noticing the steering wheel shaped ring of grime around my belly.

Then my savior turned on me. She asked me to return the shears. To the receptionist. At my doctor’s office. Once inside, I traded the scissors for a sample cup and ducked into the bathroom for the most gratifying urinating experience of my life.

When I exited the restroom, the office staff averted their eyes and stifled giggles. The nurse who took me to be weighed actually held the clipboard in front of her face. As I passed the lab area, the techs snickered and pointed. For once, I was glad to get to the exam room and strip. I hoped I didn’t smell like Martin’s car.

Figuring my ordeal was over, I tried to read. All they had in the room were those baby magazines with air brushed photos of new mothers in the throes of blissful maternity. The ones designed to make the average woman weep with the injustice of it all. I was interrupted by rapid whispers and muffled laughter outside the door. To her credit, my doctor attempted to keep a straight face when she entered the exam room. It lasted all of fifteen seconds. Having heard my saga, she asked permission to share the story with some of her other patients. She thought it would help cheer the depressed ones.

Little did I know my doctor would find it so amusing, she’d keep telling the story for years. Six years after the incident, my friend who was feeling overwhelmed by her pregnancy, called to tell me our doctor had just told her the tale at her latest appointment. Yup, that’s me. I’m the poster-girl for weak-bladdered women everywhere.

Funny Fail -- ???

2011-11-07T08:17:00.012-05:00

Fails. Definitely. Epic. Probably. Funny -- doubtful. I don't have the funny, witty, clever thing going on that Bron and Mia have - well, it might be there, but I don't how to access it.

So, Instead I give you pictures ---

Arizona - I spent a fun filled week in Arizona with one of my sisters -

Grand Canyon - Trust me - pictures never do it justice

Oak Creek Canyon - Sedona

Authors After Dark - Spent a week in Philly, PA. These are from the trip home because I never took my camera out while we were there. I drove home with Bron and Brynn

Along the highway in Penssylvania

Pennsylvania - Best Highway Signs ever

GayRomLit - Held in New Orleans, way way too much fun. Sadly, I didn't get pictures of the dancers.

French Quarter

Signs at the Clover Grill, down the street from our hotel - there were 6 or 7 of these - they're great

Happy Manners Day

2011-11-04T00:01:00.002-04:00

If I could make up a holiday, it would be Good Manners and Common Sense Day. Seriously, people around the world celebrate Talk Like a Pirate Day, but when it comes to being polite, forget it. On this day, people would be nice to others and drop the over-celebrated snark. People wouldn't tailgate and drive like, let's face it, morons. People would be kind at the grocery store, wave to their neighbors and take care of their own garbage. People wouldn't behave as if the world owes them a living. They would realize, as I often remind my children, that they are not the center of the universe.

Does this sound as if I'm angry? Bitter? I'm not. But I must admit that I have recently begun a one-woman crusade for politeness, for living in a more genteel society, and for appreciating the finer things in life, such as a clean house, thoughtfully home-cooked meals and quiet, rejuvenating time spent with family.

So I really am hoping for this holiday to happen. And like people who wish that Christmas could last all year long, I am hoping for a better society to start emerging too.

Holidays Bron Style

2011-11-03T00:34:00.001-04:00

I went to a Catholic high school and there I discovered Holy Days I'd had no clue existed. I'd get to school and find out it was an all school mass kinda day. The holy day would just sort of sneak up on me and BAM it's the Feast Day of Saint Someone or Other.

That's how I want my special holidays to work. I want them to sneak up on people and BAM! It's a holiday.

Like The Feast of the Porkception. To celebrate this holiday, you eat spectacular bacon dishes that other people prepare for you all day long. You're parking the parking garage? someone's waiting with a platter of super crispy bacon. At the first meeting of the day, you get a plate full of bundukies placed in front of you. At lunch, it's bacon quiche. And so on throughout the day.

Or how about The Sacred Day of Stories? No matter where you are or what you're doing, you should always have a book with you. During this holiday (which I feel should occur monthly) everyone stops what they're doing, sits down and reads. It should be a Holy Day of Obligation. Instant peace.

Now, the last holiday is the one I'm the most excited about - The Feast of Our Lady of Sleep. On this day, which should also occur monthly, your alarm automatically shuts itself off and BAM! You get to stay in bed - all day if you want. And your work waits for you while you catch up on all the sleep you've lost trying to fit everything else in.

All right...I'm waiting. When can celebrate the Feast Day of Our Lady of Sleep? And what holidays would you create?

Go ahead...eat all the donuts you want

2011-11-02T04:28:00.005-04:00

If I could create a mythical holiday I would have to go with National Calories Don't Count Day.

Oh yes. For one day every year you could eat anything (and everything) you want with no repercussions. No weight gain. No food allergies. No punishment at all. Just good, wholesome binging with no need to purge.

Can you imagine? Wake up in the morning and drink a pot of coffee as you throw down a dozen donuts. Full of fat, gluten, wheat, covered in nuts and topped with frosting. What does it matter, nothing counts today. Your body loves all food on this one day a year.

For your mid-morning snack you can eat a pound of fudge and wash it down with a gallon of chocolate milk. Or vodka. Fuck it. It's a holiday. You can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning, right?

For lunch you may as well eat a salad.

Right.

For lunch you can slam an entire pizza into your face. Stomach ache? Screw you it's National Calories Don't Count Day. You are doing this for AMERICA! So light a sparkler and wash that pizza down with some corn dogs.

For dessert you might want to crack open that pint of haagen daz you've been saving for a special occasion. After all, what's more special than this? NOTHING.

For an afternoon snack you can feast on a couple pounds of cinnamon roasted almonds. No pesky nut allergies today, no sir. In fact, someone should run and fetch me a hazelnut frappacino. I'm feeling a bit peckish.

For dinner...oh lord for dinner. Thanksgiving has nothing on National Calories Don't Count Day. I'll have turkey and ham and three kinds of potatos please. I'll have pumpkin, pecan AND sweet potato pie with cool whip, thanks. Pass the gravy. ALL the gravy.
Oh the eats I could eat if only I tried.

Some Month Day

2011-11-01T03:04:00.006-04:00

If I were to invent a holiday, it would be a very proper sort of affair. You know, with everyone in fancy frilly collars, and lots of doilies on everything. The drink of choice would be something classy, like sherry, and once the elegant meal of pheasant had been digested, we would all adjourn to something nice sounding, like a parlour. Maybe to play something dignified, like Bridge or Backgammon. Even though I don't know how to play either of those two things, and always imagine that you need a shitload of maths knowledge to even get close to winning them.

But even so, that's definitely the holiday for me. Because I am dignified and also totally sane, and I do normal things all the time, like drink tea and make polite chit-chat. I almost never talk about naked men. Almost never. In fact, I don't even particular like coc-

LOL okay. By this point, most of you probably know that I'm talking out of my bumhole. And even if you don't, you're probably getting some clue just from the sheer weight of my insanity, pressing on the internet and forcing its way into you through osmosis.

Because let's be honest, here. We all understand that my invented holiday would be called something like "Cockfest 3000". Or maybe "Brandon Routh and Armie Hammer Day". Or if I'm really lucky, both of those things crossing in some sort of winter solstice stone henge aligning sort of event, so that all the Armie Hammers and the Brandon Rouths end up naked in a city square somewhere, festooned with ribbons and filled with beer.

Which is, of course, how I imagine Cockfest 3000 would look. And if said look is a little bit like how people imagine a gay German sex club might appear on a Saturday night, well, that's okay. I never said my holiday had to be original. Or even heterosexual.

I just said it had to have a lot of naked Armie Hammers and Brandon Rouths in it. And if I've no idea why there are plurals of both those two men, well, I don't care about that, either. It's my holiday, dammit! I can do what I like!

And what I'd like to do is Brandon Routh and Armie Hammer. Or at the very least, I'd like a big beer that doesn't taste like beer at all, and maybe one of them giant sausages covered in cabbage, and then I'd like to watch them doing each other.

Is that so much to ask? Why isn't this holiday real, for God's sake? I mean, just think of some of the holidays we do have: May Day, for instance.

Seriously? That's the best the committee for inventing holidays could come up with? A celebration of it being a different month to April? That sucks so hard it blows. It's like when the vacuum cleaner gives up and starts working backwards. No one wants a holiday called "Some Month Day", so for God's sake:

Give me my Hammering Routh day.

Is that really too much to ask?

Holidays!!!

2011-10-31T08:37:00.003-04:00

Wow, it's holiday time around here! First, it's Halloween - so Happy Halloween or Happy Samhein, which ever applies better.

Beyond that, I've got some sort flu/cold thing which absolutely sucks, let see if I can get this make believe holiday idea out of my in a coherent mass.

Solimas - A Five day celebration with preperations being the week before with decluttering your life. During the five days there will be food - lots of pies, cookies, and other assorted homemade goodies - like bread, cake, homemade jams and jellies, good music (live) and dancing. Oh and meade. Don't forget the meade.

Actually, it sounds like a five-day ren party - that works - winters are long and cold up here, so really any excuse to get together with good friends, good music, and good food is an awesome idea.

Brain fried...
Night all...

Simone.

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-27T00:34:00.000-04:00

It's been a super long week and it's only Wednesday night. But I'll be honest, I'm exhausted and I'm pretty sure I don't have the where-with-all to rub brain cells together to come up with a coherent story. So instead, I'm gonna share my favorite bunnies and vampires with you.

...Of Night Are Falling

2011-10-25T01:49:00.005-04:00

As I'm still struggling with this idea of doing a little short story for a blog post, I thought I'd do something a bit different. And since the topic is vampire/Halloween stories, and I just so happen to be writing a vampire short at the moment...

Here's an excerpt from it! Hooray!

Heavenly Shades...

‘Please,’ I say. ‘Please.’

But I’m praying to the wrong God. This one has hair like a raven’s wing and hands as cold as stones at the bottom of an icy river, and when I beg him to give me my life back he just murmurs shhhh, shhhh, in a way that should be soothing.

And it almost is. Everything he does is almost soothing, almost tender—like a lover trying to coax me into the most sensuous bout of lovemaking. One hand pressed to my lower back, rubbing and rubbing there. The other in my hair, stroking so softly it makes me sob again.

It’s so close to something sweet, I think. So close I could almost believe in it, if it were not for the true purpose behind the push of his fingers through the newly cleaned strands.

He doesn’t like it to get in his way, when he gets a mouthful of me.

‘Oh my little one,’ he says, against the side of my face. But even without looking I know the teeth are there. I can almost feel the steely press of them, as he comes close to kissing me, as his breath ghosts cool and strange, all over my skin.

‘Don’t,’ I say again, but the word is small and fluttering and he is powerful, so powerful. I can feel the twist of those muscles, beneath the hand I’m pushing against his shoulder—though it’s more than that. He’s like a steel cage, in a way no man should ever be. He locks me in tight, and though he coos and murmurs and tries to calm me down, in the end he always has to force it.

He holds me fast, that hand in my hair now like a vice. And though I know what’s coming, I still squeeze my eyes tight shut for it. I brace myself, and then there’s just his icy mouth against my throat. That eagerness in him, suddenly—despite the fact that he’s never eager for anything.

He’s always slow, so slow and deliberate. After he’d caught me that first time, he’d stalked me like some crouching, clever beast that doesn’t actually exist. A raptor, I always think, but there’s nothing lizard-like about him—apart from the cold. And when you look at him, that cold isn’t there at all.

He looks heated, primal somehow. His hips had practically rolled, as he’d backed me into a corner. And the second I tried to evade him by doing something stupid—like jumping into the swimming pool he never uses, of course he never uses it—he’d just walked right into the water as though it wasn’t even a step down.

Where are you going, Francesca, he’d said, as though I was so silly, to want to get away.

And I suppose he had a point. There’s no getting away, from him. I just have to hang there helpless in his arms, as his lips part and that razor sharpness just grazes my skin. Every inch of me waiting for the worst feeling—the one the movies never suggest.

It’s like a crunch. His teeth slide into me and then there’s the strangest sensation afterwards…like he’s breaking my bones, somehow, even though I know he isn’t. There’s never more than two puncture marks on my skin, afterwards, and no side-effects apart from the lethargy.

But that first shot of pain, so intense it’s almost like pleasure…

It’s unbearable. It’s unstoppable. It’s like a side-effect in its own way, because even when I’m alone I can remember and feel it almost exactly.

What to wear? What to wear?

2011-10-20T00:34:00.000-04:00

Like Simone, my characters personalities, professions and time period dictate their clothing choices. You're not going to see my DNR characters wrangling black bears in a ballgown or a tux. They're going to wear their uniforms. Just like you're not going to see the yoga instructor/new age store owner wearing a Chanel suit.

I try not to go overboard describing clothes unless it's integral to the plot. There's a certain author that I know of who goes to great and torturous lengths to describe every intricate strap, every buckle or grommet on her character's impossibly tight, black leather dresses. The same amount of detail is paid to her legion of male characters. Every silken ruffle, every scrap of lace and every pair of tight leather pants is described. Often for paragraphs. Unfortunately, none of these descriptions are integral to the plot. When I was still reading this series, my frequent thought was, "OMG, I don't care how high the slit is--just fight or fuck already!"

In erotic romance, we kinda need to see what's being taken off, shoved up or pushed down. It's not only part of the genre, but it's also part of the whole atmosphere of the sex scenes. However, we don't need to know there are mother of pearl buttons...unless of course they're being ripped off and are rolling across the floor, because that right there (done right) is kinda hot.

Also, on an only vaguely related side note, someday, I will write a story in which the heroine gets to wear this dress. Because I love it.

It's True About Liam

2011-10-17T21:07:00.005-04:00

Before writing this topic I honestly thought I didn't really consider the clothes my characters wear. I mean, yeah. I usually describe it a bit, if it's important. But then, the thing is - if you're an erotic writer, it IS important. Because while literary fiction can have characters standing around for hours gabbing on without ever once mentioning what they're wearing, in erotic fiction it's different.

Here, I'll give you an example of a scene where clothes need to be described in erotic fiction, but haven't been. Instead, the items of clothing have been replaced by the word "poop":

"He casually slipped his hand beneath her poop, while working on the poops on her poop. She didn't mind admitting that it felt amazing having him unpoop her like this. Every move seemed delberate, until he got to the poops coating her legs - which he slid down, slow and easy. He didn't even seem fazed by the poops on her feet - he simply unbuttoned them and eased them off. Then finally, finally, she got to reach for the poop on his poops."

As you can see, this scene lacks a certain...sanity. And it's just barely erotic. I mean, I could probably get some hits under "scat" on Literotica, but aside from that...no one's getting turned on over this.

So clothes...they're needed in erotica - and not just for taking them off scenes. They're also needed for when I want to describe how totally hot my hero is. Behold:

"His t-shirt clung to the solid expanse of his chest."

You can see the clinging now, right? It wouldn't be as cool if I'd just said "He has a solid expanse of chest". It needs that little item of clothing, to really force it into your mind's eyes.

And what about other body parts?

"His shoulders looked like bowling balls, beneath the smooth silk of his shirt."

And yeah, okay - maybe you wouldn't use bowling ball there. But you get the idea, right?

Especially when I add:

"She could just make out the outline of his thick, sleeping cock through the material of his trousers."

I mean, that just does it for me. The second I hear about seeing cocks through clothes, and I'm just gone - especially if it's a little illicit look. Your heroine's eyes drift down, she's not really thinking she'll see anything and then BOOM. There's a massive Evian bottle in your hero's pants.

And it's not the kind of Evian bottle you drink out of. It's more the kind of Evian bottle Liam Neeson's got inside his underwear.

Ohhh yes. Clothes are important. To my vagina.

Costumes and More

2011-10-17T06:55:00.005-04:00

I've missed a few weeks - I really dispise computer viruses. I got in from GayRomLit in New Orleans very early this morning. If you weren't there you missed a fabulous time! I met so many wonderful people, it was great! I promise I have pictures coming.

Costumes or how do I dress my characters - I think technically, at least for me, they dress themselves. They tell me what they will and will not wear and I have to work within those parameters.

How a character dresses really depends on their personality and who they are in life - how they perceive themselves as well as how others perceive them. I think I pay attention more to how they dress now as part of their personality than I did when I first started writing. But what they wear also has to match the time period/setting of the story, because while contemporary styles are well known, they wouldn't necessarily be appropriate in a fantasy or sci-fi setting.

I am looking forward to seeing what everyone else says this week.

Enjoy,

Simone

Hijacked

2011-10-15T09:32:00.005-04:00

Good morning! I'm hijacking Saturday because I've been absent for weeks. Things around here have been nuts and I've let blogging (and writing) fall to the side in favor of other endeavors. But I miss you all so I thought I'd pop over and bogart the weekend on the blog to say hi and fill you in on all things Dakota.

Since I've been gone I've had a new release, re-opened my Etsy shop, worked my ass off at the day job, and lost almost 20lbs. See, I've been actually busy.

Ok, so it's not exactly a "NEW" release. It's a re-release. But it's awesome. Mitch has always been one of my favorite books. If you've never had a chance to read it I suggest you buy yourself a copy. I honestly believe you will not be disappointed. Not to sound all full of myself or anything. But I just love this book. (Click the cover to buy!)

My coworker and I have been exercising twice a day at work every day and I have noticed a HUGE difference. Plus I've been taking green tea extract, cayenne pepper pills and vitamin D. This has led to dropping almost 20 pounds in two months. I'm so excited I just have to share. I'm down a whole size and have way more energy. I always thought that was a big, stupid myth. That no one LIKES working out and after moving more I would be exhausted not energized. But I really am. It's like...well, it's like a 20 pound weight has been lifted off of me. I'm halfway to my goal weight and I can't wait to see what I look like at a normal weight. Woo Hoo!

As for my Etsy shop...this has been the biggest drag of my time and energy. Between making the jewelry and hanging out with my new Etsy friends I haven't even opened a WIP in weeks. It's super fun and very relaxing, almost meditative for me. My mood has improved ten-fold since starting up with this. Plus I'm selling and making money to buy more Etsy stuff, so it's really a win win for me. (Friends, be prepared for handmade Christmas presents...not necessarily handmade by me.) You can check out my shop here. (Use coupon code DRFAN for 10% off your order. Jewelry makes great stocking stuffers.)

So I'm sorry I've been gone. I will try to do better from now on. Don't feel like you're the only ones I've been blowing off. I haven't been on Twitter either. And I deleted FaceBook from my phone. So see, my socializing has been pretty much nixed. But I miss my friends and I will try to be better with my time management.

Hugs to all and thanks for stopping by.
XoXoXo
Dakota

My Childhood and Writing

2011-10-14T11:33:00.005-04:00

I had trauma and angst. The end.

So, today, I’m going to talk about one of my favorite childhood memories. One of my favorite times. When I was ten, my family lived in Germany. And most every Sunday, we’d drive along the Rhine River (or sometimes the Mosel) and go to the vineyards and visit castles. Sometimes, we’d just drive and marvel at sites we’d never see in the US. There are no castles here. And that’s when I fell in love with medieval history.

Below are a couple videos (not mine) about the Rhine Castles and German Castles in general. Enjoy the sites I saw weekly. These created memories that influence my writing roots. The sweeping historical.

(The Burg Eltz is my Favorite Castle)

(the one at 3:19 is my all-time favorite castle)

Enjoy!!! Brynn

Telling Stories to Myself

2011-10-13T00:34:00.000-04:00

I feel fairly certain that no one gets through their childhood unscathed. Granted, some people’s experiences are far worse than others’. But that doesn’t invalidate any of them. No matter what, we've all got baggage we carry with us, and that set of luggage affects not only who we are as writers, but who we are in everyday life as well.

As a child, I several really awful experiences. I’m not going into detail, because this is a writing blog not a therapy blog, and honestly, for the most part, I’m over them. I’m not indifferent to them, but they’ve certainly shaped the person I am today.

Now, I don’t mean to give the impression that my childhood was utterly miserable – parts of it were awesome. However, when it did suck, I’d tell myself stories. I’d go for long walks in the ravine behind our house and just wander along the creek, making up one story after another as a way to get out of my head and put some distance between the stuff that was going on and me. When I got back, it made dealing with the crap a little easier. I could pull up the stories and escape for a little bit.

When I think back about how those experiences affected me as a writer, I think they gave me the building blocks to create worlds outside of my own. After a while, I made up stories all the time. I’d think about them as I’d fall asleep at night. Even when I didn’t “need” to anymore, I still did it because I realized it was fun. In college, I turned those stories into assignments. Now, I turn them into books.

I’d like to think that I’d still be a writer had I not gone though things that made withdrawing into my own little world appealing, but I don’t know that for sure. However, as far as coping mechanisms go, there are far worse ones out there. And really, I’m glad it led me to my chosen career.

No Vagina Ravings Here

2011-10-11T00:05:00.004-04:00

It's kind of an appropriate topic, this week, as I'm just about to sub the most personal story I've ever written. I don't even want to sub it, really, because I think it says way, way too much about me, and the childhood I had.

I mean, true. I've blown up some of the issues to epic proportions. I've made my heroine's childhood near unbearable, and far more awful than anything I experienced. But even so, there's a grain of truth in there that made writing it very uncomfortable.

I don't think I've ever done that before. Usually I base my stories on nothing more than the random ravings of my vagina, so this is a departure for me. And one I'm not quite sure has worked.

Can a story still be sexy and arousing and sensuous, with a background of some pretty nasty goings-on? Part of me thinks the abuse my heroine goes through makes the freedom she finds in sex and her punk-hero sweeter. But another part of me is just all like:

Oh, let's just not even get into this. Some of the scenes made my palms all sweaty, with just that little echo of reality in them. And I honestly don't know how much readers are going to want sweaty palms, from me.

I'm glad I did it, though. I'm glad I wrote it. It was cathartic, and I suppose in a way it put my own childhood into perspective. Sad things happened, true. I didn't have a great relationship with my Father. Or the first Father I had, who left us. But I think as much as it's made me sweaty-palmed about certain things, it's also made me fierce.

It's meant that I won't be told no. I won't back down, or apologise for being a woman who enjoys reading and writing and thinks that university and learning and being published are things to be proud of. I've married a man who respects women, because I could never settle for anything less.

I'm where I am today, because of my childhood. And if it hurts sometimes, well that's okay. Everyone's childhood hurts them, in some way. It's what we make of it, that counts. It's how we strive for more, and though I sometimes fail I'll never stop striving.

And neither will my heroines.

Regrets? I have plenty.

2011-10-06T00:34:00.001-04:00

My list of regrets is long...really long. For the sake of you at home, I'll try to sum up so as not to bore and/or depress you.

I wish I hadn't...

wasted time that I should have been writing.

ignored the evil orthodontist and wore my headgear and retainer more than I did when I was a kid.

learned to be a better cook.

gained weight.

constantly over-extended myself.

had so much difficulty in learning to say no.

let my friends and family down.

I'm sure there are more I wish I hadn't done. These are just the ones that spring to mind first.

So don't leave me hanging here - what are some of yours?

Now that I've thoroughly depressed myself, I'm going to try to finish that damn book before it becomes another "I wish I hadn't."

My Eyes Are Fine Now, But I'm Still Doing It

2011-10-04T17:29:00.003-04:00

It's so perfect that "I wish I hadn't..." is the topic, this week. Because you know what I wish I hadn't done? I wish I hadn't worked so hard last night that I terrified my right eyeball into submission.

Yeah, that's right. I traumatised my right eyeball. My right eyeball woke up this morning, and was all like: please don't hurt me anymore, man. I can't take it. I'm scared for my life, man! Man, you just don't understand. I have kids to support. I'll get the writing to you tomorrow, swear to God - just don't make me go all wonky and weird again!

Though why my right eyeball talks like a cliched drug addict from an eighties cop drama I do not know. All I do know is that it was all blurry this morning, and I did not like it. I did not like it one bit. I need my eyes to see, Goddamn it. Without them, I can't look at things!

Doesn't my insane thirst to write twenty thousand things at once understand this?

Apparently not. My insane thirst doesn't care, whether I get to gaze upon Ryan Gosling's fabulous ass, or not. It just cares about the eight million stories I need to have finished now now now, and to hell with things like eyesight!

I can always write by using a complicated series of clicks and whistles. Or maybe if I press my mouth to the TV, the sight of Ryan Gosling's ass will pass into me through the power of osmosis. I mean, it's not like I'll be doing anything different, there, to the things I can be usually found doing.

Though I swear to God, when I'm trying to see through my mouth by snogging the TV, I absolutely do not use any tongue. Honestly. Maybe. Oh whatever, I can hardly see out of one eye!

Okay...here's the thing...

2011-09-29T00:34:00.000-04:00

I really wanted to write a fun little story involving Alan Rickman because HolyMotherOfGod who doesn't love Alan Rickman? Only, there's a bit of a problem. It's called Puke-a-Palooza 2011. And it's in my house. Making my life a living hell, so please bear with me while I post my favorite pictures of Alan Rickman and then go to bed and hopefully sleep off this miserable BS flu bug.

Hot Man Ass

2011-09-27T01:05:00.008-04:00

Okay, I'll be perfectly honest here. I do not know what to write. I've never written a story for a blog, before, and I'm just not sure I can do it. Which is stupid, I know, because:

a) I am a professional writer. I write for a living. I'm supposed to be able to do that thing - what's it called again? Oh yeah. WRITING.

and

b) I post on about eleven hundred different blogs now.

Seriously. Why can't I do this? Apart from the fact that I'm not even sure if that's what's being asked for? I mean, Alan Rickman is so hot he practically gives me carpet burn just by looking at me. And when I say looking, I of course mean: I rub myself against the telly box while the DVD of Dark Harbour is paused on the bit featuring his bare ass.

Which is kind of saggy and old mannish, but I don't give a fook. It's Alan fooking Rickman! I'd eat a sandwich off his backside even if it looked like this:

*

He could MAKE me eat a sandwich off of that ass, just by talking to me in that clotted cream and cigar smoke voice. And he wouldn't have to say anything cool, either, like yes, yes, if you eat the sandwich I shall make you have an orgasm the size of my nose.

He could just diligently read stereo instructions to me, in that deliberate way of his.

"And then...cab-BLE B...is AH-ttached to socket...FFFF."

Don't even tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. I know you can hear his voice when I put all those weighty pauses and clipped together words in there. Ever noticed how he kind of emphasises the wrong bits of words sometimes, too? Yeah, now you do.

Now you're going to hear it forever, but don't worry - it won't ruin your enjoyment of him. Alan Rickman is a thing of beauty, to be loved forever. He is a flawless human being, made greater still by his appearance in the Greatest Romantic Movie Of All Time Apart From Maybe Starman and Terminator:

Truly, Madly, Deeply.

My God, I didn't know what to do with myself when I watched this at the age of thirteen. I think I cried so much I had to be hooked up to an IV. Everyone else wrote hideous Mary-Sues about New Kids From The Block. I wrote them about a man five hundred years my senior in a movie about getting over grief and going off with some other loser who isn't Alan Rickman.

I mean seriously. Would you give Alan Rickman up? I'm not even sure I'd care that he was a ghost. It'd probably work out better, in the long run, because he'd stay perpetually at his hottest age (about 912) while I turned into someone's aged grandmother.

Plus you'd half your bills right there, wouldn't you. No extra food to pay for, no clothes to buy him...sounds orsum, if you ask me. Alan Rickman in perpetuity, without any cost or consequences.

I tell you, I watched Truly, Madly, Deeply the way most people make their kids watch Sound of Music: turn it off before the Nazis show up. Don't let them see the horror! Just end it with everyone singing, or in my case:

End it with Alan Rickman shagging me, forever and ever Amen.

P.S. I have a new book out, hooray! Red hot menage, kinky Irishman, married couple who don't know what's hit them...if you want to know more, here's the buy link, where you can find a blurb and excerpt:

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9586-all-other-things.aspx

But even better than that, you can win a copy at my blog!

http://themightycharlottestein.blogspot.com/2011/09/hot-menage-fun.html

Just comment to enter.

*Here I was going to have a humorous picture of an old man's flaccid ass, but unfortunately for the internet such a picture doesn't exist. I guess only women have ugly asses, huh fellas?

WYSIWYG

2011-09-22T00:34:00.001-04:00

So...me. I'm pretty much the same me online as I am in real life. Except that my foghorn laugh is far more annoying in person or over the phone than the LOL that you'll see in emails or blog posts. I thought about creating an elaborate online persona, but then I thought..."Fuck it. I can barely keep my real life straight."

I love my friends and family more than I have words to express. I love animals in general and my cats and Brynn's dog in particular. I love the sound of waves on the shore and if I could, I'd live by a huge lake surrounded by trees. I love books and fabric and clay. I like to make something from nothing - this applies to writing, too. I love autumn and Ren Faires and live music. I think sleep is one of the best things ever. I would like to have more of it.

I'm easily distracted and crippled by self doubt. My organizational skills are questionable at best, and I have a hard time telling people no when they want me to do something for them that I may not have the time or the desire to do. I'm awesome at procrastination. I have a hard time remembering not to stress eat. I'm usually late for pretty much everything. I also think spiders are made of evil.

I think kindness, joy and compassion are contagious and that we should be spreading that crap all over the place.

That's pretty much it. What you see is what you get.

The real Slim Shady

2011-09-21T03:16:00.002-04:00

So I'm not very shy about who I am. This is me. And that's my husband kissing me in case you weren't sure. Pretty much what you see is what you get.

I'm loud, I like to think I'm pretty funny, I am fiercly loyal to my friends and family. I love, love, love gay men. I write, I craft, I watch too much children's television programming. From Sprout to Disney XD, quiz me and I'll answer. Where do Rocky and CiCi work? Why they are dancers on Shake it up Chicago, of course. What's Luther's last name on Zeke and Luther? It's Waffles. Who is the nemesis of the iCarly crew? NEVILLE! BooYa. I've got it covered.

The opinions of Dakota are totally the opinions of the girl behind the psuedonym. In fact, I only have a pen name because a thousand years ago when I started writing I thought all authors had one and Dakota Rebel sounded pretty awesome. My real name? It's Liza. Which is fine for every day, but when I'm writing I like to dress it up.

My friends even call me Dakota, or D, now as if it were my real name. Which I love. It gives me the warm and fuzzy when Bronwyn calls me and says "Hey D!" Or when the kids see me on Brynn's living room floor and say "Hi Dakota." I don't know why, it just makes me feel like a real author. Who knows? I'm an enigma.

So pretty much you all really know the real me. I'm the one who comes on most Wednesdays to babble on about that weeks topic, or go off on an unrelated tangent. That's how I am in 'real life' as well. Highly off point. In fact, if you need to describe me in three words, use those.

XoXoXo
Dakota

Honestly, It Never Actually Happened

2011-09-20T04:27:00.005-04:00

The thing about the real me is: she kind of sucks. Don't believe me? Here are five ways in which the real me blows big giant donkey balls. Yeah. That's right. She sucks and blows at the same time. And there are the genitals of what is, essentially, a small horse involved.

Check it:

1. Her hair almost never goes right. Even just after it's been cut, her fringe does this weird thing where it kind of kinks up and then out, as though there's a perpetual invisible roller under there. I do not know where this invisible roller came from or why it persists in hurting me, but it's there and it's pissed.

2. She loses socks. And yeah, okay, I know that everyone loses socks, but seriously - the real me loses socks while they are on her feet. I swear to God, I turn around for one second and suddenly one of them's gone. It just slides right off my body as though my skin has no more traction than a water slide, and then I'm just staring down at my foot wondering what the fook happened. Months later I will invariably find this sock in the most unlikeliest of places. Like inside the VCR.

3. She will not stop eating beetroot. I tell her that it turns her poop a terrifying purplish colour, but she does not listen to me.

4. Large groups terrify her. She forgets how to speak. She is not charismatic while in the middle of them. Things happen, like she accidentally pokes someone in the eye. Everyone is chatting about something ordinary, like shopping or what they had for tea last night. She wishes everyone was talking about Armie Hammer's nut sack, instead. Not cool, self. Not cool.

5. She wears a big orange dress all the time. I don't even know why! It's not even comfortable. When you sit on it, it makes scratchy grooves in the backs of your thighs.

So you believe me now, right? All of that is absolutely awful, and absolutely real. But you know what's not awful? The fake me, who I have just now invented for the purposes of this totally scientific comparison:

1. The fake-me gets out of the shower and flicks her head, and her hair immediatly falls in perfect, dry, three feet long ringlets to her equally perfect ass. Of course it has to do that, because she's about to have a wild sex orgy with half the cast of The Social Network.

2. When she has wild sex orgies with half the cast of The Social Network, no-one's toe accidentally goes up her bum. Though to be clear, I'm not saying this ever actually happened to the real-me. I just thought it sounded funny, I swear.

3. She can eat anything she likes, and her poop remains a perfectly reasonable colour. In fact, I'm not even sure if she poops at all. She probably just eats unicorns and farts rainbows.

4. Eight million people came to her last birthday party, and they hung on her every word. She even managed to say things that made total sense! And then once the party once over and everyone had gone home, she demanded Armie Hammer show her his nut sack. And as we all know from the sex tape, he put up only the mildest of fights.

5. She does not wear a big orange dress. Ever. Which I think proves my point more than anything else on this list.

Real Me: 0
Fake Me: Owner of a sex tape that features Armie Hammer begging me to stop doing that with my toe.

I mean, it's just no contest really, is it?

Will The Real Simone Please Step Forward...

2011-09-19T10:33:00.009-04:00

*Here*

This is pretty much the real me. Mostly because it is more time consuming to be some one or something I'm not.

I prefer to sit and swim at the beach and walk through nature, taking photographs and letting my imagination run wild.

I claim more brothers and sisters than my mom actually gave birth too and consider my family of friends closer to me than my blood family. I spent time in the military and am seriously considering going back in.

I have loved big cats since I can remember, and have been drawn to history for about as long as I have known I was a storyteller and writer. I have always wanted to be a writer - everything else is extra.

I like festivals and faires and getting to know people. I also have more hobbies than most people, but I can blame it on growing up - my mom does too, although I have more than she does - raised with the 'idle hands are the devils workshop' sort of thinking.

I write the stories of the characters living in my head and have fun doing it.

I am a visual person, generally a good thing, but sometimes not so much.

Overall, what I write here is pretty much the real me. I don't want to spend the energy it takes to be someone else and have to remember all of those details.

Simone.

Life As We Knew It...Lost

2011-09-16T00:01:00.003-04:00

9/11 started out as a pretty normal day. I remember cruising to work, listening to Spirit in the Sky on CD and thinking it would be a fun day. I thought about the cupcakes I had to pick up at the bakery to take with me to a meeting that evening. I thought about the trip I had to make to the Secretary of State office that day to get my license renewed. I wondered what present my husband had gotten me.

I expected it to be a special day, the way it had been thirty-one times before then. 9/11 has always been special to me. It’s my birthday.

So that morning, I was in the break room and my friends were singing Happy Birthday and over one of their shoulders, I see the TV and on it was this burning building. And as we all turned to stare, the second plane rammed into the other tower.

In that moment, any innocence I might have had—and there was some—was destroyed. Until that moment, I’d thought we were safe. This was the home of the brave and the land of the free and the place where wars weren’t fought. Murder didn’t happen like this in the United States. It couldn’t be real.

And I wondered—I feared—how much more there would be before this ended. Would the nuclear power plants in Michigan be targeted? Would I be safe? Were we looking at chaos and societal collapse? Would there be war?

Life as we’d blithely known it ended that morning.

The day I’d held as sacred was destroyed.

There’s a theory that we’re all connected, that we belong to a collective consciousness. There’s no day that I believed this more than on 9/11. I felt it. To say I was completely freaked out would be an understatement. That morning, it seemed as if the center had been ripped from my soul. For days, I walked around with this hollow black space inside me. Heavy, aching, echoing with horror. I felt loss and sorrow as if it were my own family members in those towers and on the planes and at the Pentagon, as if I’d faced certain death and felt guilt for escaping. There was no joy in life for awhile after. It’s hard to explain the knowing, the certainty of so many people’s terror. The clawing finality. The united pain.

Ten years later, the gnawing feeling still weighs heavily in my center when I think of that day. I often believe I’m past it—we’re all resilient, aren’t we? We’ve all moved on. We pretend that we don’t exist in a changed world. Everything is okay. Just keep breathing. Just keep watching your back. Just be suspicious of anything unusual.

Ten years later, we’ve put cement blockades around federal buildings and military stations. Our children understand that moms and dads don’t always come home. We live in a place where trust is a nostalgic memory, lost with our naïve innocence.

Change happens, but this…this was abrupt and shocking, dragging us from our safe misconceptions and thrusting us into a world of disbelief and fear. It shook the world, deepening divisions and strengthening bonds. We’ve moved on and learned a new normal. But the fear remains. We hide it better now than we did on that September day, often veiling it behind anger and distrust and occasional rabid patriotism.

Our scars are deep, and they will remain with us forever.

And that’s where we’re at…ten years later.

Ten Years Later

2011-09-15T00:34:00.001-04:00

When I was a kid, I used to worry about being bombed like Europe was during World War II. I don't know why I had that fear. Too many Sunday matinee movies that played almost soundlessly on the TV while I visited my Dad and Grandma? Maybe. Weird kid fears? God knows I had a ton. But when I'd vocalize them, I was always told the same thing, "That would never happen here." In fact, I can still hear my Dad's voice in my head. I heard it in my head as my cousin and I watched the devastation unfold on the TV screen. I wanted to call him and scream, "But you said..."

I didn't, of course.

I know we weren't alone in thinking that it couldn't happen here. I remember hearing that a lot afterward. "I never thought it could happen here."

The day it happened, my cousin, Sarah, and I were putting together a scrapbook for our Grandpa's upcoming 80th birthday and we were sorting through the WWII photos - particularly the ones of V-Day. The men in the pictures were so young and looked so happy to be done with the fighting. Sarah and I were talking about how glad we were that two of our other cousins who were in the Navy didn't have to deal with a war like that.

It all changed when Brynn called me and told me to turn on my TV. She sounded off. If you know Brynn, you've gotta understand that freaked me out more than anything. Brynn is calm - even if she's freaking on the inside, it's rare that you'll ever see it. The fact that I could hear that edge in her voice sent chills down my spine.

I turned on the TV and Sarah and I both collapsed on the couch and stared at the images. I might have still been on the phone with Brynn or maybe someone else had called. I talked to my husband at least once or twice. I know I talked to Brynn multiple times that day. At one point, I stupidly wished her a "Happy Birthday." I felt like an ass as soon as I said it. Who says "Happy Birthday" in the middle of thousands of people dying? This ass, apparently.

Corwin was in preschool and Killian was in second grade. I remember pacing, panicking trying to remember when their buses were supposed to get home. I contemplated going out and pulling them out of school so they'd be home with me instead of out in the world that in the span of a few minutes had become a 1000% more unsafe than I ever imagined it could be. It wasn't a conscious thought, but the feeling that if my family was home and we were all together, it would be okay.

I also got a call from Cait. It was her birthday, too. Her 16th. Her friends had gotten her a giant Sponge Bob balloon and on it was written "It's the Best Day Ever!" They were singing Happy Birthday to her in one of her classes when the office broke in with the news. She put the balloon in her locker and left it there 'til it deflated. She came over after school that day and ended up spending the night. We both still think of 9/11 whenever we hear that Sponge Bob song.

At the time, all I could think about was all of the all of the kids who'd never see their mom or dad again and the parents who'd never see their children. I think of the people who lost the loves of their lives, friends and other family members. In fact, ten years later, that's what I still think about. I also think about all of the soldiers who've died in the line of duty since then. I think about all the people in other countries who've died or suffered directly or indirectly because of what happened here.

I know there are some people who've been able to bring about some good in the world since and even because of this tragedy, and I applaud them. But mostly I think about the senseless loss of life and hope and pray that someday, preferably soon, that hate will give way to peace. Maybe I'm stupidly naive, but I believe we're capable of it...if we choose to.

9/11 -- 10 Years Later

2011-09-12T13:41:00.002-04:00

I remember...I wasn't sure what I was going to write for today about that day and the days that have followed.

The days leading up to the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks were ordinary, I knew it was approaching, but I've become involved with school and veterans and the military, so I wasn't dwelling on those days. It wasn't really until on the way home from school Friday and talking to my daughter that the emotions from that day hit. She was reading about the attacks, but some of the facts weren't quite right. So, we talked about that day, I told her where I was and that I remembered watching the planes hit and the devastation that followed. I told her about a solidarity the American citizens had and the immediate suspicion cast on ALL Muslims and Middle Easterners, regardless of who they were.

There were silent tears when I pulled up the pictures that I thought she needed to see, not the more sanitized image the school news article would show. There is an emotional impact that can't be felt or truly understood through a simple article.

I have a friend, one of my sisters by another mother, who didn't feel the need to watch the coverage all day to prove that she wouldn't forget. None of us who were alive that day will readily forget. And while I understood her point, I knew my daughter needed to know what happened.

What I have seen, noticed, or thought about the changes that have occurred over the last ten years? The easy answer is a lot. The more difficult answer depends on the subject. I'm pretty sure that people will disagree with me - and they're allowed. Because we have an all volunteer military that said they would die for this country defending the Constitution - well until we give all our freedoms and rights back to the government to keep us safe.

Do I feel safer - First, I wasn't scared in the first place, because I don't live in city (then or now) that is actually important. I mean, I grew up here and I like some of the people, but on a national or international level -- it barely raises a dot. So no, I don't feel safer.

I've seen friends and family go to war in lands where only one was truly supported. Thankfully, unlike the Vietnam Veterans and in large part because of them, today's service members are supported.

And then there is the Patriot Act (which is super scary - I've read it, but it's allowed because fear allows people to be willing to sacrifice freedom for safety) and the TSA rules, which allow the government to invade people's lives and privacy without any actual proof.

We still squabble over everyone having equal rights and tolerance issues.

The world is a smaller place today on a communication level than it was in 2001 and it's harder to stay isolated from the rest of the world.

On the other hand, it has brought people together. People who normally wouldn't have met.

Over 3000 people died that day - they were civilians, service members, firefighters, EMTs and police officers - they had families and friends and on that day we were all one family and nearly everyone was affected. It is an event I will never forget.

Simone.

Back to Basics

2011-09-08T00:34:00.000-04:00

The leaves are starting to change color, it's getting cooler and the kids are back in school. It's that time of year where we start at the beginning. Weirdly, I always think of this time of year as the beginning rather than January. So in keeping with that beginning theme, I'm going to highlight the basics I feel are most important.

Normally, I don't read anyone's post before I write mine, but I figured this was one of those weeks where there might be some overlap with people's ideas about writing basics. I was right.

1.) If you wait for inspiration, you'll never finish anything. You just need to sit your butt down and start typing. Yep, it's hard. Yep, sometimes you're going to write utter crap. But, that crap is so much better than nothing and that crap can be revised into something freaking awesome. So sit down, shut up and do it.

2.) Set relatively attainable goals then do everything in your power to complete them.

3.) Very your sentence length and style.

4.) Don't head hop.

5.) Use active verbs and stay in the same verb tense throughout your story.

6.) Avoid filters like "thought" and "felt"

7.) Avoid word repetition.

8.) Avoid cliched, cardboard characters or plots.

9.) Read! It feeds the creative mind.

10.) Have fun! Yes, writing can be damn hard work, but it's also supposed to be fun. If you're not enjoying it at least some of the time, you may want to rethink your career choice.

That's all I have. Of all of those, I think 1, 2, 9 and 10 are the most important, but hey, I've been wrong before!

Basic Training

2011-09-07T03:32:00.002-04:00

My number one writing basic, the one thing I tell everyone who asks what it takes, what they should do, how they can be a writer is:

ASS IN CHAIR. FINGERS ON KEYBOARD.

That's about as basic as you can get, but it is the most honest and heartfelt advice I have for any aspiring author. And for any current author as well. If you are not sitting there writing then nothing is going to get accomplished. It doesn't have to be good, polishing comes later, it just has to be there. Your stories are not doing anyone any good inside your head.

Of course, there are other basics that are useful:

Always use double spaced 12 point NORMAL font. (Arial, Times,etc. NOT Comic Sans or Zapf Chancery.)

Know the difference between there, their and they're. Threw and Through. Your and You're. If you're not sure...LOOK IT THE F*@K UP! No editor is going to take you seriously if you can't comprehend basic grammar. It hurts their brains to look at it and they can't focus on the story.

Spell check is your friend, but it is not the be all end all to draft revision. It is not going to point out errors that it doesn't understand. If you miss letters, but it still spells a valid word, it't not going to point it out. You meant 'his' and typed 'is', guess what hot shot, is is a word and you have one more error in your manuscript. You have to read your MS with a clear head. Walk away for a few days then come back and read it. Or better yet, get a beta. Someone who you trust to be brutally honest with you. I'm sure you have twenty people who will tell you "Oh my gosh this is the best story I've ever read." You need that one person who will say "You spelled the heroine's name three different ways, your POV is totally screwed up in chapter three and for God's sake woman use a comma once in a while." That right there, is your best friend.

So there are a few little basics to get you going. I'm posting this early but I'm sure that the other authors are full of tips and hints for you to keep you on track. Have a lovely Wednesday and I'll see you next week.

XoXoXo
Dakota

Beetroot Makes It Orange

2011-09-06T11:10:00.005-04:00

Okay...writing basics. What pearls of wisdom do I have to share with the world? What little nuggets have I gathered together over the course of my two years as a published writer, five years as a teacher of creative writing, and 18 years as someone obsessed with writing stories about Damon from the Vampire Diaries' fabulous butt?

Well, here's my top ten list:

1. Never fall asleep with the laptop on the bed. Just don't do it. I know you're tired, and you just want to watch How I Met Your Mother sleepily for five minutes, but believe me it will end badly. Turn off the laptop, put it away, and then go to sleep. Otherwise, you may well wake up from that dream about Loki from the Thor movie not really being your brother so hey it's cool that we bonk, with a laptop that now looks like this:

And no, I don't know where the gunfire came from, either. It's just what happens when you fall asleep with the laptop on the bed, okay?

Also: it's still an incest dream, self. What the hell's the matter with you??

2. Don't write that incest story. Not even about the mammothly sexy Tom Hiddleston as Loki. You'll get letters.

3. Don't pretend that bags of mint meltaways are a substitute for an actual and proper dinner. They seem filling at the time, but later on you'll poop green.

4. Go outside once in a while. Around the time your skin starts peeling off and youe eyeballs turn grey is the appropriate moment.

5. Make sure the sex you're writing about connects with the plot, characterisation and emotion of your story. Yep, it's a real and proper tip. I stole it from the legendary Emma Holly, of course, but I think it still holds true. Basically, don't just throw in random sex scenes. Your sex scenes should move the story along as much as any of your other scenes that feature Loki crying over the incest he's just committed, etcetera.

6. Don't comment on reviews. Not even good ones. Okay - maybe comment on good ones. But a simple "thanks for reading, really appreciate the time you took" is more than enough. You can use that on the bad ones, too, because seriously - resist the urge to say something horrible. Even something that seems innocent can turn out badly. It's so easy to seem snide and passive aggressive - a simple "that's not what I intended" often turns into a bloodbath.

Do not be in that bloodbath. For a start, blood is murder to get out from under your fingernails.

7. Try not to start every sentence with "she" or "he". This is one of my pet peeves, but I think it still makes sense. Mainly because books filled with sentences starting with he or she sound like a robot wrote them.

8. Don't base your hero on Michael York. He is Satan himself. He walks among us! Stop now, before your hero has an upper lip like a monkey!

9. If you find you're on paragraph three of an explanation of something, stop, cut it, and start a conversation instead. Even if it has to be a conversation in the heroine's head. For example:

Why the fuck did he do that? I can't believe it.

It's not perfect, but it's better than miles and miles of she couldn't believe he'd stolen the diamond of Bubonga. It had had been in her family for generations, passed down from her great Uncle Charlie. Some said it was cursed, because the Bubobogan people...

Ugh, no. What are you doing? Short, sharp, showing is always better. Show the curse melting her face! Have Uncle Charlie appear as a ghost and hurl the diamond at her! Anything but exposition dumps, anything!

10. Write what moves you. If you're stuck, and you want to procrastinate for hours rather than write because this next scene is going nowhere, just stop, and write something else. Write about Loki bumming Thor, if you have to. Just write.

And those are my top ten writing basics. Of course, most of them are nonsense. We could play a game in which you guessed which ones, but to be honest I think it's fairly obvious. I mean, one of them's about green poop, for God's sake.

P.S. I'm having a competition over at my blog to celebrate the release of my two books - Guarded and Telling Tales. They're both about sexy threesomes and moresomes (with combinations such as the ever elusive MMMM), they're both smoking hot, and you can find info how to enter and win them both (along with links to excerpts and such) here:

http://themightycharlottestein.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-releases-competitions.html

Would love it if you stopped by!

Labor Day!!!!!

2011-09-05T08:46:00.002-04:00

Labor Day, at least here in Michigan, is the signal for school to start. Our weather is generally getting cooler, okay this morning it was down right freezing, and our nights longer. School, for public schools at least, starts tomorrow. It starts for me too tomorrow. Two more years and I'm done. Happy Dance. Well, done with a degree that I'll use for an everyday job. After that, I'll be taking random classes in history, sociology, psychology, and what ever else tickles my fancy. But there will most likely be a move before that part will happen.

Anyway, it's back to school time - school supplies started popping up back in July. Now, they're everywhere. I don't mind, since I like office supplies.

Back to school means the 'normal' subjects to be studied like English - my daughter's school calls it Language Arts, Math, Science, and Social Studies. But for writer's it can also be a good time to review the basic's, which is amazingly enough, our topic of the week.

Here are some of the Basics:
+ Every story needs a strong beginning, middle, and end.
+ The main characters should be 'real' and someone people can identify with. That includes being flawed and needing to grow. An argument I recently had with a friend of mine, who insisted that the hero needed to be perfect and go through his growth and character arc BEFORE he even met his heroine. In a love story. Have them go through it together. Much better idea.
+ Know your market, but know your talents, style and voice better.
+ READ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
+ Know your limits - including time management and self-discipline. - For this I'm breaking my monthly goals down into weekly goals. I use a kitchen timer and friends on Twitter to keep me focused and accountable.
+Have a good support system of people who either write or understand writers. Because, they are priceless!

Other than that, have a safe and happy Labor Day!!!

Enjoy,

Simone.

That really chaps my...

2011-09-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

Okee Dokee! Hey! I remembered to blog and here's my Cowboy/Game Show/Licorice story.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the cowboy standing on the curb in front of my house in the suburbs of Chicago. I mean, if I lived in the suburbs of say, Cheyenne Wyoming, I wouldn’t have blinked, but here in Chicago a man in chaps was out of the ordinary unless you went to one of the clubs I didn’t frequent.

Slowing my car to a halt, I parked beside him—mostly because it was my spot, not because I wanted to talk to him. Talking seemed unavoidable.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said as I rounded the car. Right…straight off Gunsmoke and probably looking for his horse or where he’d left his straightjacket.

I gave him a tight nod and kept heading for the safety of my house. He followed.

“Can you help me?”

I closed my eyes and made a face with my back to him. Great. He’d muttered the magic words I couldn’t resist because I couldn’t say the counter-spell of “No.” Slowly, I turned, carefully freeing my face from frustration and raising a brow in enquiry.

“I’m on a reality game show thingy,” he said. “Kinda like Amazing Race, but not terribly amazing. It’s more like…Incredibly Stupid Scavenger Hunt. Do you think you can help me out?”

I glanced around and didn’t see a single camera or even an unfamiliar car or shifty bush. “Does this line work for you often?” I asked.

“Ma’am, I don’t need a line. But…” he added hopefully. “I could use some licorice.”

“Licorice?” I repeated.

“Yes, that’s what I have to find. I lost a bet or maybe it was some sort of immunity challenge—”

“No, I think you were right the first time. It was another asinine bet.” My eyes narrowed at the man who was in fact my husband. At least, his drinking-slash-baseball-slash-partners-in-crime hadn’t made him shave his head again or get another tattoo. “Where’d you get the chaps?” I asked.

“The farm and feed store. Like them?”

“They have potential. What’s the rest of the bet? I’m sure it’s more than hanging around the sidewalk.” Now that I glanced around, I saw his pals looking out their front windows, laughing.

“Well, I have to talk you into dinner out while I’m dressed like this.”

“You’d fit right in at Chuck E Cheese,” I offered, rolling my eyes. “These bets have to stop.”

He shrugged. “Mercury’s in retrograde, at least that’s what my secretary says. It messes with things.”

“Right.” Seriously, it had been in “retrograde” for the better part of the last year and the only effect on me was the splash back of people blaming every damn thing on it. “Your marriage is about to be in retrograde,” I told him.

He grinned and stepped closer. He liked when I got pissed off. The sex was always great. “How ‘bout some role play then? Fuck the bet. I’d rather play cowboy and schoolmarm with you.”

This was sounding better.

“You’ll wear the chaps?” I asked.

“Will you wear your heels and librarian glasses?”

I laughed. “I don’t think old west schoolmarms had heels.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over mine. “I don’t think I care.”

I shrieked with laughter as he hauled me over his shoulder and carried me to the front door.

This bet might just turn out better than I thought.

Okay...you asked for it.

2011-09-01T09:22:00.004-04:00

This is my story involving a bag of licorice, a game show and a cowboy.

You've been warned.

Distorted sounding carnival music blared from the loudspeakers and I winced. I wasn't even sure how I'd gotten to this freak show. But somehow, I was here - surrounded by flashing lights and obnoxious music. It wasn't a freak show in the traditional sense. There were no bearded ladies, no contortionists or sword swallowers.

And despite the carnival music, there wasn't a funnel cake to be had. Instead, the nauseating order of licorice permeated the air. There were bags of the stuff. There was also licorice on a stick, deep fried licorice and licorice slushies. I hate licorice. I couldn't stop gagging.

Instead of the stereotypical skeevy carnies, there were guys in suits with slicked back plastic looking hair. Some of them had big flashing wheels - others had buzzers. It was like I'd died and gone to game show hell.

"Step right up, little lady!" the carnie smarmed into his microphone. "Diagram this sentence and you get your choice of prizes!"

I didn't really have a choice. The crowd pushed me forward and up to the podium. I glanced at the glowing screen, a little seed of dread sprouting in my stomach. The cat jumped.

"Seriously? The cat jumped is the sentence? Subject and verb? That's it? What kind of challenge is that?"

"Give the lady a prize!"

"But - but - " I sputtered.

The back wall of the game show booth revolved and there were nothing but cowboys lounging against the set. Tall, short, old, young, hot, homely - the choices were virtually limitless. And of course, they all had bags of licorice. I chose the hottest one of the bunch (what am I - stupid?) and wandered down the midway, my "prize" following along.

All I wanted to do was go home, but I was swept along on the tide of the crowd from one bizarre game show to another until I ended up with a heard of licorice eating cowboys following me around. I don't even like cowboys!

By the time I finally made it through the front gate, I was leading a herd of twenty-seven, licorice eating cowboys. What the hell was I supposed to do with twenty-seven cowboys? I suppose I could start writing gay romance novels and convince them to be my research. I know Chris and Jase would probably appreciate it.

Cowboy

2011-08-31T03:23:00.002-04:00

I have to admit, when I saw this title all I could think of was the dream episode of Buffy after they defeat Adam and they have a movie night and they all dream weird ass dreams about the Cheese Man. In Willow's dream they are doing Death of a Salesman in their school play and Riley is very insistant the he is the cowboy guy. It's hilarious. And Harmony is running around trying to bite Giles. And Buffy is a flapper. It's so freakin' funny. I can't even get past the image to write a story like I'm supposed to. These prompts are awesome but super hard. I can't seem to pull one off. I swear I will play along when we get to the Alan Rickman one though. I love him and have all kinds of dirty Snape thoughts I could share with that.

I was going to share the video of that dream sequence with you but I can't find one on YouTube. :(

Instead I'll remind you that Blood of the Fallen and Quarantine are available at www.resplendencepublishing.com and www.allromanceebooks.com. Go pick up a copy of one or both.

XoXoXo
Dakota

Buttons Taste Like Candy When You Close Your Eyes

2011-08-30T10:20:00.005-04:00

So I know the topic this week is short stories (or at least, I think it is), but since I'm brand spanking new here and am still fumbling around the neighborhood, walking my dog where I shouldn't and making blunders at next door's barbecue mixer, I thought it best to just to stick to something safe.

Like maybe introducing myself. Just ignore that pork chop I accidentally threw at someone, when trying to make a point about some program no-one else watches. Pretend I didn't spill punch all down the dress I shouldn't have worn, while almost standing on Mrs Finnerty's cat.

I'm normal, okay. I'm totally normal. And to prove it, here are the top four normal things I totally do all the time:

1. I write things. I write long things and short things, things about sexy times and menages and things about zombies and spaceships. Just ignore the fact that I write said things while wearing a towel on my head, eating midget gems and watching something awful, like Grounded For Life. Seriously, has anyone else seen that show? What is WITH the Dad? Where did they find him? He's almost grotesquely ugly, he's covered in a kind of ginger fur, and he seems to think panicked shouting makes him a) funny and b) likeable. I gotta tell ya - it does NOT. I'm only hanging on watching this thing because Brett Harrison is in it and he looks like Scott Valentine and I just want to snog his weird mouth.

Ooooh, is that punch over there by the hotdog buns??

2. I put on clothes and go outside. No wait - I honestly do. I know sometimes it probably seems as though I just jealously guard my lair (or "bedroom", as ordinary people call it) like a huge great furry wild animal, claws lashing out at anyone who dares to enter, burning eyes staring out from beneath a mat of hair that only happened because I fell asleep with that stupid towel on my head. And I know it kind of looks like I'm a hermit who's been permanently fused with her laptop, and doesn't understand words like "sun" and "people".

But I swear to God, yesterday I opened the front door and waved my hand out. No lie. I really did it. And then the sunlight turned to acid on my skin and I scurried back up the stairs to lick my wound, while crouching next to the fort I've made out of DVDs of shitty TV shows.

3. I talk on Twitter!

Wait. Is that considered normal? My normal-o-meter is kind of on the fritz, at the moment. Yesterday I ate a button because I thought it was a midget gem.

What? It's dark in the writing den, okay? I can't see because of my hair! The sun just burned me! Give me a break, okay?

4. I cry when The Sims 3 won't work.

Okay, I know that this one is not strictly normal. I mean, most people cry when they go outside and ultraviolet rays melt their hands like that scene in The Fly - yeah, you know which one I'm talking about. But not me. I cry when I'm happily making my Sim have my exact life - complete with aversion to social situations and need to obsessively sit at her laptop, writing - and then suddenly she turns into an old lady because I neglected to turn aging off and she only has a 90 day life.

There's a lesson in there, but I don't give a shit what it is. Instead I'm just crying now because I took aging off and started a new game, and now the fooker's glitching like nothing else. It keeps freezing! Why won't The Sims let me be great? All I want to do is take care of my little Sim, have her lead a happy life of hermititude and writing and possibly woohooing with the Armie Hammer Sim I made to live next door to her, and what happens?

It jams up on me!

And then I cried like a little baby. There's probably a lesson in that, too, I feel. Something profound, something about not letting precious seconds slip away from you, or never allowing yourself to be stuck in the same pattern.

Or even better: just buy Sims fookin' 2, instead!

Charlotte Stein is now going to leave a self-conscious third person biography for you to read at the bottom of this post, to introduce herself in a more sane fashion. She's published with Black Lace, Ellora's Cave, Resplendence, Total-E-Bound, Xcite, Cleis Press and Constable and Robinson, amongst other things that might be happening soon and that are making her giddy and stupid. Her work has been called "and" and "the" in many reviews by Jane at Dear Author, Michelle Buonfiglio and Wendy The Super Librarian, and you can usually find her over at http://www.themightycharlottestein.blogspot.com/ (mightiness is wholly imaginary on the part of Ms Stein), where you'll also find evidence of her books, and of the other blogs she frightens on a daily basis. She lives in West Yorkshire with her terrified husband and their imaginary dog.

What's that smell?

2011-08-25T00:34:00.000-04:00

I love scents. As crazy as it sounds, some of my books even have their own scents - candles or essential oils I use to helps me evoke the right time and place.

It's hard to narrow down a favorite, so I'm going to have to go with my top five list. In no particular order, I...

I love the smell of wood burning, particularly if the air is dampish and smells of a freshwater lake. There's something about the scent of damp grass, cool water and burning wood that blends and smells a lot like what I assume heaven smells like.

I love the smell of farm country in the spring and early summer. The recently plowed peat dirt smells thick and rich, heavy with the scent of onions and celery. Everything has this bright green smell with hints of sweet wildflowers. And later in the summer, I love new mown hay. I know this will probably gross everyone right out, but I don't even mind the undernotes of cow manure - not freshly spread or anything - I'm talking a day or two old.

I love the smell of little kids and babies. There's a sweetness about them, and it's not just the scented lotion and powder.

I love the scent of the essential oils that my sister and I mix every summer - honey, clove, dark vanilla, almond, amber, rosewood, cinnamon, sandalwood - not all together - not usually. We change up the combo every year and every year I think it's the best one yet.

I love the smell of autumn - tart apples, cider, fresh baked bread, changing leaves, crisp air, the subtle loamy-ness that comes with fall.

And now I'm totally in the mood for fall. I think I might bake some bread today...

Best Smells ---

2011-08-22T09:30:00.009-04:00

Some of the best smells for me are associated with happy memories and/or good food. It's one of the 5 senses and should be used in writing.

For me some of the best smells come out of my kitchen -

Fresh bread - warm and yeasty, that wraps around and comforts you and sets your stomach growling even if you've just eaten. Add some exotic spice to the mix and those flavors fill the house as well. It helps that I love to bake bread, especially those now classified as artisan breads. But there are good memories associated with bread baking - time with my daughter and time with my father.

I love certain colognes on men, especially after they showered and shaved. My favorite is still Drakkar, and again it's associated with a memory. It was first worn by the man who has become an extremely close friend. I can still see him in his flight suit walking across the tarmac. It's hard to describe the scent, it's not musky, but masculine. Clean, hard, and attracting.

Interestingly enough, a search for Drakkar brings ups hundreds of images of Viking Long Ships.

I love to cook, and in the fall I make apple butter, apple pie, and pumpkin pie among others. So, does my mom. My dad preferred breads, but my mom made the pies. But it is the memories that I am building with friends and my daughter that I love about making the pies and butters. Apples laced with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cardamon among others. Cinnamon seems to be a staple spice in my house, and I use it in a lot of things.

I love the aroma of spices, the exotic places the blending of ingredients found locally with spices from around the world. Curry blends, star anise, cinnamon, ginger, paprika, turmeric, cardamon, and at least a dozen others, used in ways that my mom can't fully imagine. Her food is practical and filling, but it doesn't have the ability to transport you or at least your taste buds to India, Asia, Mexico, or the South Seas.

But smells aren't only food. I have a good friend who loves the smell of jet fuel. No surprise, she was a mechanic in the AF and still loves to be around jets. I prefer the feel of the engine vibrations as the jet fighters take off. Spectacular view and feel.

Smells often remind us of experiences - usually good, but they can also be negative ones.

Yeah...I'm needy. What about it?

2011-08-18T00:34:00.000-04:00

I'll admit, I'm a creature of habit. There are certain things I need to be able to write comfortably. Can I write without most of them? Yes. Do I want to? Not particularly.

In no particular order, I need

My computer

A mostly distraction free zone

Music (if there are distractions I need to tune out)

Friends to chat with (or cry to depending on how the writing is going)

An idea of where my story is going

A deadline

A cat (or five) to pet (not imperative, but certainly helpful)

Coffee, Coke or Tea

Important notes that I wrote in my notebook at night or my freaking awesome waterproof notepad that's in the shower - compliments of one also freaking awesome Dakota Rebel. I love this thing because my best ideas always happen in the shower.

The end of the book - I need to know what I'm writing toward, even if I wander around a bit on the way there.

Friends (yep, I listed them twice) I need my tribe even if it's just to hear them say, "You can do it." Or "Get to work!"

Mostly I need to believe I can write the story and not let the stress of everything else get in the way. Funny how that's the hardest need of all to meet.

I NEED you

2011-08-17T03:07:00.000-04:00

I'd like to say all I need is my laptop and an idea. But that's bull. There are all sorts of things I need to write. I don't always need them all at the same time, but during any given book I will need the following things:

Laptop
Muse
IPod
Iced Tea
Coffee
Glasses
Friends
Notebook
Pen (Must be a good pen. Crappy pens make the muse angry.)
Cigarettes
Shower
Car
Twitter
Cell Phone
FRIENDS
Rain
Hot Pictures of Guys (for inspiration of course.)
Wine
Pizza
Did I mention Friends?

All of these elements play their part in the make up and completion of almost every one of my books. They are all important elements to my work because they are all important elements to me. I need these things to function like a human being and therefore I need them to function as an author.

Do you have any things you couldn't live without? Either for writing or just for existing?

XoXoXo
D