Monday, May 30, 2016

My three favorite things




Authors have all kinds of eclectic things they prefer. Maybe it’s a pet or a photograph of a special someone sitting on their desks. Here are three things that inspire me to write:

Planners.  I love planners and journals. I spend hours in my local Barnes and Noble looking at all the pretty and practical styles and designs. I currently have a planner with large blocks for lists on each day. Lists, for me, get things done. It’s my way of breaking a huge task or tasks into small, manageable pieces. I don’t know where I’d be without my planner. 


Native American research.  It’s no surprise that I love Native American culture, especially northeastern Indians during the Colonial period. The clash of cultures and influences of blending races is so interesting and a source of storytelling inspiration for me. Sometimes just opening one of my reference books will provide a new story idea just from reading a couple of paragraphs.






Coffee. Yes, the nectar of the gods! I have a Keurig which I wonder now how I ever lived without. My favorite coffee is Caribou brand or Eight O’Clock.  I’m also fond of anything Starbucks. Coffee is the first thing I reach for every morning and one of the last things I drink before bed (which explains my insomnia!)


Readers and authors, What are your favorite things?

Sunday, May 15, 2016

New series!

I just sent off my first contemporary series Second Chance to my editor.  I can't announce a release date yet as I don't know how extensive the edits will be.  Hoping not too bad...

I'll keep you posted as things progress. 

Meanwhile, I write 1600 words on book two of the series this morning.  Fingers will be flying all day for you guys!

Friday, May 13, 2016

What's in the fire







Two years ago, I wrote a contemporary novel. My first one. I had a ton of trouble with it. It started off as a mainstream women’s fiction novel about a group of women friends, each with dysfunctional families and the problems they each faced. That plot quickly faded away.
I became stuck with it. More stuck than I’ve ever experienced with a novel.

Time went by and I decided to make the mainstream a romance. I added a hero, focused more on the heroine, and faded the secondary characters into the background.  

I sent it out to an editor who said the relationship wasn’t working. I really knew it wasn’t working before I even had it edited.Why I even thought it was ready to go out into the world yet, I don't know.

I received the edits back, dove into them, then abandoned the story.  I wrote two more historicals in the meantime, but my mind was never far away from this contemporary.

I finished the edits today.  It was a major overhaul, and I think the story is that much better for it.
Next week it goes off to another developmental editor to see what they think. Nothing wrong with the first editor's work, mind you. I’m just sending it to another editor so I can have a fresh set of eyes look at it. 

So I'm crossing my fingers.  And I'm worried.

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Parkinson's disease, I hate you



I don’t write about personal things on here very often. Anyone who knows me well pretty much knows my life is an open book when it comes to random things that don’t matter. However, right now something very personal matters a great deal.
My father has Parkinson’s disease. I never knew what the disease was until six years ago. Now it’s a demon that haunts me. It’s something I can’t stop thinking about, reading about, planning for, trying to expect what it will do and yet it baffles me at every turn.
Parkinson’s is taking my Dad away.  It has robbed me of almost every aspect of the Dad I once knew.  It has taken the person away that taught me how to be a storyteller. There are no more stories. The disease has eaten then up and spit them to the side of the curb.
Parkinson’s is selfish and destructive and has left me feeling very lonely and scared.   
I miss my Dad already. It hurts beyond words to see him unable to do the things he once loved to do, to struggle to get out of a chair, and in so much pain that he’s almost debilitated.
This is my personal that I’m sharing with you.
I don’t have any strong left today.
As a person who seldom asks for help, I am asking. I’m asking for strength and most importantly for prayers.