Motivation is a chocolate bunny

When writing a novel or a short story, how do we keep motivated?  This is kind of a funny post for me because currently I have no motivation at all. Maybe I have A.D.D because as I'm writing this I keep wondering why the dog is sighing under the table and should I go check on the plants I already watered.

 The most obvious answer and what everyone says is set a daily word count.  Okay.  Done.  I tell myself to try to write at least 300 words.  Some days that's a piece of cake other days I would have better luck extracting my own teeth.  This is one of those days.  Weeks, actually.

Next to rank up there behind word count for me would be remove all games from your computer.  Damn Candy Crush I curse you!  I've had to resort to pinching myself every time I thought of clicking on something other than my word document.  It works.  Of course I have large painful welts on my arms and legs that my husband keeps worrying someone, somewhere is going to place the blame on him for, but the quick pain count reminds me how much my mind wanders and forces me to stay focused.   What was I saying?  Oh yeah, I'm blogging.

Third, keep a supply of chocolate within grabbing reach.  I don't know why, but chocolate gets my creativity juices flowing!  Maybe it's the munching that simulates the brain.  If so, you can substitute chips if you prefer.  Of course by the time your book is published you can't fit into any other than your sweat pants, but on the up swing, your book is done!

Share what motivates you to keep writing when your plot has grown thin and you've written yourself into a corner?  Okay, now back to writing my Irish sequel!

Selecting the best Point of View for your scene

Finally, Southern California got some rain!  "It was the biggest storm to hit San Diego in several years," said the reporter on the street corner in his windbreaker.  Street gutters became flooded and people got their feet wet.  Actually, I have to admit, the wind was pretty strong.  Two very large branches tore off a couple of my trees in the back yard, but that was about it. 

  While I watched the rain come down, I did some editing on a novel for a friend of mine.  The particular scene I was working on was great, but something was missing. After a while I figured it out.  It was written from the wrong POV.The way she had it written, the words were passive, the action telling instead of showing.  I started to wonder if my own scenes I've been stumbling on were written the same way.  Something I'll have to check on.  Let me give an example.

 

Take the novel, Gone with the Wind.  In the scene where Melly is going to have her baby and Scarlett runs off to find Dr. Meade, the author Mitchell could have shifted POV to Dr. Meade, to show him exhausted, trying to save the lives of as many of the fallen Confederate soldier's as he could.  As a doctor, he was used to seeing death and dying- we would have felt his powerlessness, his exhaustion. We would have seen Scarlett coming toward him, stepping over bodies. we would have felt his annoyance at her selfishness. 

As it was, Margaret Mitchell wrote the novel all from the POV of Scarlett O'Hara.  From her POV it was far more powerful.  We felt her anger at having to stay with a woman she didn't like.  As a southern belle, she wasn't brought up to be around something so harsh as war.  We felt her shock, her dismay to see the south falling around her ears, her disgust of the dying and her horror and fright to think she would have to do it herself.  In that scene we still got Dr. Meade's side of things as he snapped at Scarlett that he didn't have any medicine to relieve their suffering.

Which held more power to a reader?

Novels now are usually written through several Points of Views changing sometimes every scene.  Try looking over your scenes to see if the drama or action or even romance could be better told their another characters eyes.

If you have any questions, send me an email.  

POV- how to cure the head hopping nightmare

One thing I noticed about editing my second novel, soon to be published in 2014, is my propensity for head hopping. Years ago that was an accepted form of writing novels. Instead of each scene having the characters own story and point of view, writers used to be able to mash all characters point of view all in the same scene.

I didn't find out about the rule against head hopping until I took an online writing class on synopsis'. The teacher pointed out to me that I needed to pick a character and stick with only their thoughts for the scene. Huh? Only what they can feel, see, touch, think...etc? At first I remember the transition to be a nightmare and then as I read back my work, the problems began to appear to me and I saw how confusing head hopping could be. If you suffer from head hopping, don't worry, you're not the only one. Here are some guidelines to help you.



NARRATION AND DESCRIPTION

When first starting a novel, I use stream-of-consciousness journaling to bring out the character’s personality in the parts where he’s thinking or planning or worrying or ruminating, not just when he/she is interacting with others, but just them by their selves. Have him ranting in a personal diary about the people around him, what’s going on, etc. Also show his deepest fears here. Then use this wording to show his personality more in the scenes. This not only teaches you to writing through one characters eyes, you also get to know them as a person. Bringing out their character will also help you with the plot.

An exercise for you to try until you get the hang of it, is writing the scene using first person. You can switch back later. Write a whole scene, or even a chapter or two, in first-person narration/POV to get the rhythm and flow of that person’s language patterns and attitudes. Write the scenery from their point of view. Don't forget to use the senses. Once that's written change it back to 3rd person and you have your scene. Just make sure you change everything back or you'll be switching more than just Point of Views.

This may seem like a lot of work, but once you get the hang of writing only through one person's eyes, you won't have to do it anymore.

Is Sex The Answer?

Playing the waiting game to hear back from publishers is excruciating. I have to stop myself from checking my email several times a day. It does make it easier to jump into a new project, or so they say. And so I did, though I feel more like I'm tip toeing into this new writing venture; sex...er...at least writing about it.

I decided I wanted to get crazy with it, but not too far out where I would cringe writing it. Part of me thinks I this might be a chance to explore a more naughty side, but I'm really not the whips and chains kind of gal. As I do with everything, I started researching. What I found didn't surprise me. Men have always voiced, however quiet, the desire to have a threesome, 9 times out of 10 with two women, big breasts and blond. Jeesh, there's a big surprise.

Women like the idea of multiple partners as well, but they don't stop at two. What I found was women want men in every opening they've got. The idea is certainly intriguing but does it work in the real life? One thing I know about women, is they tend to be jealous about another woman invading their space, while Men can be insecure about their size with one women let alone adding another to the pot. What happens if the going gets hot and the women leave the man out? Ooops. Or if a women has multiple men partners and finds herself showing more attention to one man. Ooops again.

In writing a fantasy, I can ignore the common pit falls of multiple partners, creating the perfect encounter that blows everyone's minds. Does such an encounter exist? Is there anyone out there reading this that might lend me their opinion?

Pushing through writer's block

Every writer goes through this scenario: You sit down at your desk or table, your fingers poised over the keyboard ready to write something, anything. You feel inspired. You've had brilliant ideas all morning long and thought to yourself, if only I could get back to my writing, I could finish the novel! You've gotten your drink, your chocolate, perhaps your favorite music is playing in the background. It's go time!

What's that saying on the bathroom wall-here I sit broken hearted...


Here's what the battle has taught me. We aren’t blocked because of lack of ideas. We're blocked because we're perfectionists. None of the ideas seem good enough; nothing feels quite brilliant enough to become reality. So we sit, stuck at our desks, waiting for something better to come.

But what if nothing better comes? What if your next idea was the best one you will ever have? Just do the unthinkable. Just write. Don't stop to edit, to fix your prose, or the spelling. Just write a first draft, a really bad one, one that will totally suck but will be something you can build upon later.

That’s what I'm learning it means to be a writer. To push through the crappy words and finish the novel!

I was able to do that and finished my second novel last week and submitted it to my publisher. Now I wait, checking my email several times, hopeful for that second contract.

Wish me luck!!!

Victorian Mourning Etiquette

This week’s writing, I found I need information on what the etiquette was for mourning in during the last 1870’s. For anyone who has suffered the loss of someone close, our modern society unfortunately doesn’t give a person time to grieve.
Not so in Victorian times. Society took their cue from her for everything from daily life to the proper mourning of death. When the Queen’s beloved husband Albert passed, Victoria fell apart and took a grieving nation along with her. In fact until the day she died, Victoria never stopped grieving.
America was a little less strict with their expectation of morning a deceased. The length of mourning depended on your relationship to the deceased. Widows were expected to wear full mourning for two years. Everyone else presumably suffered less. Full mourning was black, black and blacker. Black was thought to be the symbolic of spiritual darkness. Death was common and when someone died, the proper attire had to be obtained quickly. Many shops catered to the trade; the largest and best known of them in London was Jay’s of Regent Street.

Opened in 1841 as a kind of warehouse for mourners, Jay’s provided every conceivable item of clothing you and your family could need. And because it was bad luck to keep mourning attire after the mourning period, particularly crape, that meant buying clothes all over again when the next loved one passed. Nice business, huh?
Dresses for deepest mourning were usually made of non-reflective paramatta silk or the cheaper bombazine.

Dresses were trimmed with crape, a hard, scratchy silk with a peculiar crimped appearance produced by heat. After a specified period the crape could be removed, this was called "slighting the mourning." The color of cloth lightened as mourning went on to grey, mauve, and white. This took you into the period called half-mourning. Jewelry was limited to jet, a hard, black coal-like material sometimes combined with woven hair of the deceased or keeping a lock of their hair in a locket. That way the decease could always be close to your heart.
Men had it easy as usual. They simply wore their usual dark suits along with black gloves, hatbands and cravats. Children were not expected to wear mourning clothes, though girls sometimes wore white dresses.
The length of mourning depended on who died. The death of a spouse was deep mourning for two years. If a widow needed to remarry for monetary sake, she could after one year. For children mourning parents or vice versa the period of time was one year, for grandparents and siblings six months, for aunts and uncles two months, for great uncles and aunts six weeks, for first cousins four weeks. While in mourning, social activities were curtailed pretty much until society felt there had been a respectable amount of time.

Photographing the dead also served as a way to remember them, especially with children because the family may not have had time to photograph them in life.

http://www.victorianamagazine.com/archives/4629

The Ghosts of Fort Laramie

I love October. The leaves change, the weather dips slightly as only Southern California autumns can and the History Channel hosts their yearly spooky line up. I love Halloween programs!

There is something devilishly fun about being scared. I think my love for it comes from my brother popping out of a dark closet or hiding under my bed to grab my feet as I walked by.

Whether you believe in spooks or not, it seems everyone has a ghost story. Even during my research on Fort Laramie wheeled results of reported hauntings. Since the post was established in 1849, it has said to have been called home, not only to hundreds of soldiers, but also said to be visited by a host of ghosts. The most well-known spirit is known as the "Lady in Green.”

She was said to be the strong willed daughter of an agent for the American Fur Company. I couldn't find her name but the young lady was known to be an accomplished equestrian, her favorite riding habit was made of dark green velvet, her mount, a big black stallion. When it came time for her to leave, she begged to lengthen her visit on the rough frontier. Her father relented on her promise to stay close to the fort. One afternoon while her father was gone, she left the protection of her escorts and rode off on the distant prairie. She never returned. Despite a long thorough search, no sign of her was ever found. To this day, her disappearance is still a mystery.

Since then, her ghost is said to appear every seven years, just east of Fort Laramie on the Oregon Trail. In 1871, a young Lieutenant who was known as a fine horseman, claimed to have been chased down and struck with a jeweled riding crop by a young dark haired woman riding a huge black steed.

The old Captain’s Quarters is also said to be haunted. Built in 1870, it was intended as housing for the commanding officer, but eventually divided into a duplex, when the commanding officer of the time chose to remain in another new dwelling. When a new officer was assigned to the post, he could "rank out of quarter" any junior officer and take the house for himself. Here it is said doors open by themselves, the old wood floor boards echo with the sound of heavy boots and unseen footsteps. Late at night, there have been reports of bright lights coming from inside the facility, even though it has no electricity. This spirit has been nick named George by the staff.

Old Bedlam, the bachelor officers' quarters is also said to be haunted. First constructed in 1849, it is said to be the oldest military building in Wyoming. This entity, thought to be a Cavalry Officer, has been known to walk throughout the building, sometimes telling people to "be quiet.”

The Cavalry Barracks building, built in 1874, once housed hundreds of soldiers in its two large, open squad bays on the second floor. Early in the morning, the sounds of heavy boots can be heard making their way over the boardwalk, incidentally about the time soldiers would have once answered the reveille.

Other ghost sightings around the fort include the form of a young man in a raincoat, still holding a long past conversation...with no one. Also the apparition of a surgeon has been seen, looking irritable, his uniform covered in blood.


At Deer Creek, a small stream running through the fort property, a headless man has been sighted throwing rocks into the water during early morning hours. This ghost is said to be unfriendly and should be avoided.

Southeast of the fort is a place called Bovee Draw. Here, at midnight, witnesses have said to see the ghost of a erratic Civil War soldier. This ghost is also said to be menacing and should be left alone.

North of town, there is a place called Detention Dam. Here, the spirit of a man holding
a blood-splattered sword has been seen staring at the water at the stroke of midnight.

So, if this Halloween finds you alone on the Wyoming prairie, look out for the lone figure of a young woman, still astride her favorite mount, her green riding dress forever flowing in the ever-present Wyoming wind.

The Army Wife

Life for women at U.S. Army forts on the frontier was not any easier. Being far away from their families and friends, they were often lonely. Just like any other women at that time, many died in childbirth.

Different classes of women lived or worked at army forts, but they did not always socialize with one another because of the army caste system. In other words, officers’
wives did not befriend other women, such as enlisted men’s wives who often worked as servants for officers or as laundresses for the army.

Of all the women who lived at western army forts, officers’ wives probably had the hardest time adjusting to the frontier because they usually had a pampered upbringing. Like my character Elizabeth, they disliked having no voice in their housing arrangements. 'Falling Bricks' aspect of fort life meant officers received quarters, which was their housing based on their rank and seniority, but they could be “ranked out” of the house by a superior officer. A military wife worked hard to make their cramp quarters into a nice home, but if a new officer arrived at the fort who had a higher rank than your husband, and he selected your house to be his own, the existing family had to leave, and in turn bump someone else of lower rank, then that family would have to move, and so on. They had servants to help with household chores. So they spent their time making clothes for the family, educating their children, managing the household, reading and writing letters, sidesaddle horseback riding, putting on plays, and going on picnics.

Enlisted men’s wives didn't have it as nice. They endured miseries, suffered hardships, and often worked from sunrise to sunset. They took jobs on the forts, usually working as:
1. army laundresses—who washed uniforms and other clothes for soldiers,
2. hospital matrons—who did laundry at the post hospital, or
3. officers’ servants—who cooked, cleaned, and did laundry for officers.

The fort in my novel is Fort Laramie, so the links on forts that I used came from their main site, which is wonderful! They have added a site tour that shows some of the buildings.
http://fortlaramie.areaparks.com/
Another great resource for me at least has been Libby Custer memoirs. She has three, but the one I resourced was Boots and Saddles.
WWW.amazon.com/libbycuster
http://philkearny.vcn.com/bozemantrailhistory.htm This link has great information on forts and the trail history
http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/land/bugle.htm For information on different bugle calls

As I'm continuing the series, I'll post more links as I run across them in my own writing. If you have any questions, send me an email.

Victorian life an U.S. Army fort

We've all seen the movies of the gallant US Cavalry charging down a hill toward a wagon train being attacked by Indians, or saving a stage coach from outlaws. Just when all seemed lost, the bugle would sound and help was on the way. Army life was no picnic but without the brave men of that long ago era, the move west might never have happened.

By 1844 Americans began to spread out, leaving their towns and crowded cities to "Go West young man." And so the expansion west begin, mostly in the form of long slow moving wagon trains that cut across the long flat plains, the hot dry deserts, along the ridges of the America's majestic mountains.

These families, just as their parents and grandparents before, wanted their own piece of land. By setting forth to explore the west, they encroached on land belonging to various tribes, some hostile, some not, for hundreds of years. The first few years of the migration didn't stir up too much trouble, but as the wagons kept coming, the Indian's began to resent their land being taken. Many tribes decided to fight back in hopes of making the trek West not so appealing.

The United States government decided to establish military posts along the Oregon Trail for the protection of the emigrants. In 1846 Congress approved "An Act to provide for raising a regiment of Mounted Riflemen, and for establishing military stations on the route to Oregon," and Fort Laramie in Wyoming was reborn. Early in 1848 Fort Kearny was established on the south bank of the Platte near the head of Grand Island. Later that year news of the discovery of gold in California raced through the country like wildfire, resulting in fevered preparations to move westward increased the urgency of extending the chain of forts.

Life on a military fort was not an easy one. When the plains were peaceful, It was a life of endless drills interrupted by a series of bugle calls. The calls were so frequent that horses and dogs understood them and even a military wife's life was set by them. Officers may have graduated from a Military academy such as West Point or may have served in the Civil War and had been granted military title for their service. Many of the men who made up the forts regiments were hard working boys, some may have never before ridden a horse or others enlisted to hide their identity. Fighting Indians may have seemed glamorous but the excitement soon wore off as week long campaigns turned into months.

Researching

Hi, Welcome to my historical writing blog! I hope my advice for writing will help you get from that frightening blank page to a 300 plus word novel and onto the book shelves, whether web based or real.

Congratulations! You've decide to follow your life long dream of writing your novel. Some people have the idea in their head for years before finally putting it down, while others contemplate the notion, but get overwhelmed with where to start. I find the best way to start your novel is plot it out before you start to write. To start at the basics, your novel will need to breathe with life, so choose a topic you're passionate about. If you read a lot of science fiction, romance or political/legal thrillers, for instance, that's a great place to start. In other words, use what you know.


The genres these subjects can fit into are endless. If you have a great legal murder mystery but you want to throw in a romantic twist, go for it.

Writing is a solitary activity so choose some place where you're comfortable and you can get inside your head without being disrupted. For me, all noise making instruments must be off, with beverage and chocolate within reach.

Okay, ready?

Your novel, whatever genre you decide, will need a beginning, middle and satisfactory end. If you're planning on a trilogy, that's great, but word of caution, it's easy to get overwhelmed plotting book two before you've even written book one. Like my mother always said, "first things first."

I am a historical romance author. Once I get down the basic bones of a plot, I begin to research. Now, warning-I'm a research nut. I easily get bogged down in the fact finding and find an hour has gone by and I haven't written anything, but I have found the most amazing information on 19th century hairstyles for women. If that is your genre as well, a word to the wise, make sure your facts are accurate. You don't want an other wise great novel rejected because of a scene where someone is cooking and pulls their pot roast out of the oven when gas stoves wouldn't be around for another 20 years.

Novel research whether online, library or interviewing involves much more than 10 seconds with Google or a quick interview over lunch. Research is called re-search for a reason:  repetitive and continuous searching. Why do you need to re-research? Because even though it's on the internet, doesn't mean it's correct information.

Here are a few steps to researching:

1. It's best to combine "hard" and "soft" research for the best broad search. Hard research is proven facts, figures or statistics, where soft research is opinion based, cultural or personal experiences. By combining the two you get the whole enchilada. Take for example if you have never had a baby but you are writing a scene where your main character is a doctor and helping delivery a baby. The medical information of terms, techniques, instruments make the character shine as a doctor, but your soft research of what a person goes through while giving birth make the scene realistic.
 

2. Use Different Search Engines and Keywords

Here comes the legwork. Google is great, but there are other search engines out there that can help broaden your search. Use 3-5 keyword combinations. Stay patient and keep changing your keywords. ask.com, Clusty, Surfwax are a couple great engines or you can try the US Government Library of Congress.

3. Bookmark and Stockpile any possible content you wish to keep.
 
This sounds like a duh, right? You find this great site on cars of the 50's but you forget to save it and can't remember where you found it. Bummer, right? Get in the habit of bookmarking the site as soon as it looks interesting. This can be slow, tedious as you organize your information into necessary piles so you can easily find and sift through them later.


4. Filter and Validate the Content.

This is the slowest but most important step of all. You must filter and examine all your information to make sure it's correct before you site it or use it in your novel.
Carefully consider the author or source, and even the date of publication. Is the author an authority with professional credentials? Does the page have its own domain name like NASA or is it an obscure page or someones blog?

Be patient, skeptical, curious, and double check. Now, get to researching!  If you have any questions, you can email me. Good luck!

Who wrote the book on love-and why?

I've fought being a romance author. Silly, isn't it? Romance book sell far more than any other paperback or ebook out there, and they're so fun to write. So why do, I find myself pausing when it comes time for me to say I write romance. Why? What's wrong with romance? Over the summer I had a book signing in San Diego at a writing conference. When a woman came up to my table and and with a smile asked me what romance author inspired me to write my book. Though my novel is considered a romance, the authors that popped into my head weren't romance writers. I thought of my two current favorites, King and JA Jance.

Okay, yes, I do write historical with mysterious sub plots woven through. As much as I love to research my period, the sex scenes are the most fun to write. I love the touching, the discovering, the blushing, the tingling skin just burning to be caressed. Who doesn't remember a time when you discovered those feelings. Those new feelings of raw lust and want are the reason men and women have affairs. They yearn to be rediscovered and to discover.

I remember how embarrassed I was when my mom and dad read my first book. I imagine it's as hard for parents to picture their kids having steamy bed messing sex as it is for us to think of our parents doing "The dance without any pants." Okay, so I don't write bodice ripping scenes where the heroine throws her forearm across her head and swoons naked into her gorgeous lovers arms. Not because I'm prude but only because they're not historically accurate. If an English nobleman met that fiery vixen, he'd have to get through close to and depending on the era, ten petticoats before he could feast upon the family jewels.

So again, I ask myself, why do I feel embarrassed to say I believe in the notion of two falling head over heels in love. I'm lucky to have experienced that wonderful feeling several times in my life, so why not write it? Finding romance or if you just enjoy the chase lowers our stress levels, it's good for our heart skin and mind. and with all that is happening around us at this time in our lives, we're lucky to have it, right? As a society we spend countless hours in search of that special someone to grow old with or if you would rather, Mr. right now.

So, really who doesn't want that? And if you can, why not write about it?

Time for the resolutions

Well, that time has come again. I prefer to believe the magic this new year possesses is much like this beautiful spring like January we have here in San Diego. Birds are chirping, the sky is bright blue as far as human eyes can see. Life is good in our new house.

A neighbor found out that I was an author and brought by a biography her aunt wrote back in the 70's about her childhood here in our new town. I loved it! The road we now live on was named after her great grandfather, a pioneer farmer who at one time plowed and grew crops on where our house now sits. She wrote about her first car ride, the night she saw her first aeroplane, how patriotic America once was during the first World War.

Their life was so different in the hard work they all had-back breaking labor that gave you a sense of pride when they went to bed. I thank you Merry for sharing your Aunt's life with me. Now, back to researching West Point.

Goobye Momma

Thank you Mom for all you did for me during your life.

Your courage, your spirit and humor helped countless people and will be terribly missed. I can't believe I'll never hear your laughter or another funny story or hear you singing a song you can't remember all the words to, so you just make them up. My heart is broken with you gone, but I know you are able to see dad in heaven with perfect vision. You're probably chatting it up with Saint Peter, asking him if you can touch his wings or his hair and making everyone up there love you as they did down here on earth. I miss you now and forever.

Dorothy Church 12-25-25 to 9-21-11

Dog gone embarrassing

You can't tell me that animals don't know what they're doing-not after the embarrassing so called "graduation" Molly just put my husband and I through. Hundreds of dollars spent just to get my lab to respond to commands such as Sit and Stay, Heel and Off. I'd be happy to just have her listen to Off, but no...the petstore training center was like all the other California educational schools tonight; passing students that deserve to fail.

Yes, I said it-my seven month lab deserved to fail. She couldn't have been any worse if she had squatted and peed in the store. Oh wait, she did.

For the last class of Molly's continuous education, the trainer tested all the dogs on little races, like fetch and puppy push ups (sit, lay down, as many times as they can in a minute) The day before she did 17. Now we couldn't get her to do more than two.

Like other good parents, my husband and I worked with Molly for weeks, and she did great. We felt ready and were proud to display our dogs pending diploma. The trainer explained that our puppies would be tested that evening as though we were going through a canine good citizen award test. She would have to show she could greet people without jumping, walk on a leash without pulling, stay while we disappear (by the end of the class, my husband and I were tempted to run from the store) and finally, they must be able to wear the little graduation cap and poise for picture.

I knew we were in trouble five minutes into class when a fellow pet owner handed us a home made zip lock baggy filled with dog treats and Molly jumped up, ripped the bottom out of the bag, spilling all the treats and then gobbled them up like free donuts at a weight watchers meeting.

"Focus!" I commanded, holding the one remaining treat before me, hoping against hope to hold her nonexistent attention. The embarrassing part of this was I was the one who kept getting reprimanded. "Julie, don't shout at the dog, Julie, don't keep repeating the same command, Julie, don't hold the leash so tight, etc.

Throughout the night, Molly greeted everyone by jumping on them, and when the trainer watched her heel down the cat food isle, she proceeded to pull treats off the shelves. At one point she felt as though she was finally staying by my side but when people began laughing and pointing, I looked down to find she had pulled a pot of growing Kat nip off the shelves and was holding the muddy clump in her mouth.

We felt doomed, she would never graduate. When the class came to an end, our trainer gave away "the most improved dog" award. Up until this last class, my husband and I felt sure this would be Molly. She had grown into a loving calm dog, an important part of our family. Now as we sat there, too embarrassed to look up, we couldn't believe it when Molly's name was called. She won? We smiled apologetically, all the while, my husband still trying to get her to sit and stay long enough for a photo. While other's clapped unenthusiastically for our wild sweet pooch, Molly merely wagged her hard rutter-like tag, pulled the gradation cap off the dog next to her and trotted proudly away.

I'm baaack...

Okay, I'll admit it, I've been slacking on my posts. Actually, slacking is an understatement. I'm not going to lie and say I just haven't had the time. Honestly, if I have the time to paint the toenails on my lab, I have the time to pretty much do anything.

I have been busy though, mainly being keeping a very active puppy fed, exercised and trained. I've started a new job and now Kyle and I are house hunting. I would love to have a house for a change as opposed to a condo with a meddling HOA to tell you what to paint and what not to hang on the walls-not to mention paying their outrageous fees every month. I will miss my wonderful neighbors though. But Molly will finally have a nice big yard to run in!

But I'm getting a little ahead of myself here. Though we have found a house, and our offer has been accepted,... the bank still has to okay the deal.

The real news is my new novel is coming along very well. I traveled to Los Angeles recently for my first Civil War re-enactment and had a blast. I was pleased to realize I had done a bang up job on my research for A Soldier's Embrace. I knew I had exhausted every source I could for saddles, medicine, clothing, towns, Victorian mannerisms, etc, so I felt safe adding the information to the novel, but I was thoroughly excited to know I was correct in even the small details like the coins thrown at the soldier's that read "good for one free screw."

I met wonderful ladies who take so much care to be as authentic as possible, right down to black skillets with filled with potatoes, tomatoes, unions, and bell peppers. If it weren't for the flies hovering, it looked great.

Next week I'll be attending the Historical Novel Society conference in San Diego along with having my first book signing! I'm so excited and to be honest, more than a little nervous. I also will be meeting with agents, so I have my pitch and I'm tightening up my synopsis.

Wish me luck!

Are you smarter than a turnip?

I just got off the phone with the bank where I have my IRA. I want to roll it over into a Roth IRA. I thought it was simple enough. I get this guy who sounds like the nerd scientist from the Simpson's only his voice was more nasally and higher. I just know this guy had a pocket protector.

He's telling me all about how this call is a taxable event and have I spoken to my accountant and what income tax bracket am I in. Lord! He puts me on hold several times-probably to bang his head against the desk and then comes back. Ms. Romero? The poor guy starts again. "A conversion such as this is a taxable event, you'll need to check with your accountant on the percentage of the thing with the what in the dohicky. "
When he finally stopped talking, I asked. "Can you repeat that in English?"

Sure he said and jumped right back into explaining the tax thing with the what and the doolibob, money withheld, something something fnork.

There was a pause and thinking it might help, I blinked a couple of times. Nope, I still didn't get it.

I cleared my throat and pushed up my glasses and said..."Duh...I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about. I write romance novels."

He told me to call back after I speak to my accountant. I wanted to ask him to tell me yet again "And what do I say to my accountant?" Thank God I have Kyle!

Needless to say, I won't be applying for any math jobs.

Blocked anyone?

I'm blocked again. Most writers will have trouble with writer's block at some point in their lives. The possible reasons for writer's block are myriad: fear, anxiety, a life change, the end of a project, the beginning of a project…almost anything, it seems, can cause that particular feeling of fear and frustration. Since my dad passed away, I just don't have the writing bug like I used to, so I begin to hunt around for ways to get the words flowing again. I found that fortunately there are as many ways to deal with writer's block as there are causes.

Carve out a time to write and then ignore the writer's block. Show up to write, even if nothing comes right away. W Sometimes I just sit and stare at the wall. Of course, pen in hand, just in case. Graham Greene famously wrote 500 words, and only 500 words, every morning. Five hundred words is only about a page, but with those mere 500 words per day, Greene wrote and published over 30 books.

Writer's block could be a sign that your ideas need time to gestate. Idleness can be a key part of the creative process. Give yourself time to gather new experiences and new ideas, from life, reading, or other forms of art, before you start again.

One moment the other day I started wondering why I'm writing. I started going back over story ideas and asked myself if I still enjoyed it. I knew the answer was a resounding yes, so now I need to just give myself time and the words will come. I read that If we continue to touch base with the joy you first felt in writing, it will sustain you, not only through your current block, but through whatever the future holds.

Piddler on the Floor

It's been a long absence from writing. Since daddy died, I just haven't had it in me to write, daydream or even read. My husband has been worried about me, constantly asking me if I'm okay. Plus the holidays add an extra sting into the mix, like pouring lemon juice on a festering wound.

Dad wouldn't want me crying, or gazing off for hours out the bedroom window. He'd want me to live, laugh and write. He'd want me to enjoy life to the fullest. And so I'm trying. To be honest, some days I'm not trying very hard.

And then fate stepped in to help me along. A friends Lab had puppies and Kyle decided we needed one.

It took me years to get over the lost of our last dog, but since January of this year, I started picking up interested in having a dog again. Not a puppy, I told Kyle. I want a dog from a shelter who needs a home. I'm not sure it was a serious request, neither did Kyle and so months went by and still no dog. Our life is easy and selfish with just us. We can leave on vacation at any time and not worry about an animal being left behind. But when a heart is hurting, what better way to distract the pain than having someone or something to care for.

Enter Molly.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving my husband Kyle and I drove to La Canada and picked out a sweet 7 week old black lab puppy. We purchased a large crate, several hundred dollars in chew toys, squeaky toys, collars, leases, and other dog accessories.

When we bought her, the family had a ping pong table up in the back yard with a family tournament going on. My father loved ping pong. We played it like some father's play catch with their kids.

"See," my husband says with a smile on his face. "This was meant to be!"

The drive home, she cried, obviously nervous for being away from her parents and litter mates. When we got her home and realized how much we had gotten ourselves into, I think we both had buyers remorse. The idea of my father placing the dog in our lives faded away.

Every hour she needed to go out. Of course, it's cold outside, the ground littered with wet leaves no one, man or beast wanted to leave the house. As we stood out on the grass at 2:00 in the morning, our breath billowing out in white clouds with every exhale, our bodies shivering as we waited for this adorable black pup to relieve its self- we thought, crap, what have we done.

But I've had out of control puppies before. Barkers, whiners, chewers and so far she's none of those. Keep in mind that she's only 8 weeks old. She's learning to come when we call her, to sit and fetch her favorite toy, a Santa Monkey. So far she fits into our life style nicely. She sleeps alot and likes to watch TV. Dog Whisper and the Ipad commercial seems to be her favorite, though her tail wags at the Geico commerical with the woodchucks.

Despite the change in our lives, she gives so much love it warms my heart. With that said, how could she not be a gift from my dad?

Goodbye Poops!

It's been a month to date that my father passed away. I might be bias, but he was the greatest man ever! I called him Poops. My nick name for him was a long time running joke. I misspelled Pops on a birthday card and the name just stuck. How can he gone?

Though my mother is alive, I feel like an orphan. Why is lossing your father so devistating? I still at times feel numb, angry, disbelief but most of all just sad. Sometimes I feel all those emotions at once.

If you read back on this blog, I wrote about the adventures that he and my mom had. The time they went to the grocery store and my blind mother wondered off and my father left without her-then came back a moment later when he got in the car and realized she was missing-only because it was quiet.

And then there was the time they reported the car stolen and for days thought the worst of humanity-how could someone take their car? It took days for them to realize they had forgotten that they parked the car in a different space at their condo unit. When my father found it, he called me laughing, leaving a classic message on my machine, "if you want to hear the funnest story ever, call me."

And then there was the time I was to meet them for my birthday dinner. We both sat in the main room, eight tables from each other not realizing the other was there. I sat there for over an hour waiting, worrying. It wasn't until I heard my mother telling the waitress they were waiting for their daughter who was over an hour late that we found each other. The three of us felt so dumb. One, that we never got up to look around and two, that we all filled up on bread!

My God we're an observant bunch!

To be honest, i thought I'd be prepared for his death, at least a little bit. I wasn't.

I miss him so. My father was my greatest fan and supporter, no matter what it was. He kept score at my soft ball games, clapped with pride at my dance recital and watched with enthusiasm only a parent could have at all the shows I put on in the back yard. My world feels empty without his laughter, his eternal optimism and ever gratefulness. He was such a quiet, gentle man, who smiled through the pain of gout, and frustration of diabetes and the loss of his hearing. If I'm broken hearted, how must my mother feel, dealing now with the loss of a man who slept beside her for 65 years.
I'm homesick for a time I can't go back to, for a person I can no longer call mine. I want to lash out, scream in anger that the world continues on, not caring in the least that a wonderful, kind, generous gentleman like my father is gone. I guess that's part of the grieving.

I pray I never forget the sound of his voice, the feel of my hand in his, or the tightness of his embrace the last time we hugged.

I love you, Poops. I know one thing, if I hadn't have been your daughter, I would have wanted you as a friend. Thank you for everything!

Is it that time already?

Here it is already, the last week of June. Wow. I'm still telling people Happy New Year. How is it the days go by so fast? My, how time flies!

I've slowed down on my writing, not from lack of trying either. I just sit here staring at the computer screen. Maybe my mind is constipated. I'm 31,000 words into it and have a plot line, though it's not totally solid yet. I'm not worried about that though. This is a sequel, so the characters already know who they are and what they want. If I step out of line and write something they don't like, I hear about it.

Maybe they're on vacation, tanning themselves somewhere on the sunny beaches of Hawaii sipping some fruity drink. Huh. Why didn't they invite me?