When Life Gives You Lemons...

I haven't written much the past two years.

There's a wealth of emotions tied to that one sentence, and even now I'm still dealing with the fallout of the wreck that has become my life. I've lost so much in two years. Some days when I reflect back on what's happened I can get a handle on everything, but other times I just cry.

A lot of circumstances when added together can become a tidal wave from which there is no escape. Our tidal wave started in 2009. They say God doesn't give more than we can handle, but obviously he has a higher opinion of my abilities than I do. Six close deaths in eight years were just the tip of the iceberg, and things only got harder when my darling hubby broke his back, for the third time.

So now the business is closed, the assets sold, and our unemployment is running out. I make $10 per hour and we are attempting to get the hubby on disability. My daughter is working two jobs to help with the expenses, and every penny is debated twice before spent. In the darkness that has been our reality, I've learned a few lessons I probably already knew but didn't adhere to.

1) Without money, you have time to work on the problems you've ignored. Every little resentment we've developed in the thirty years of our marriage has to be dealt with. No longer do we have the luxury of moving in separate areas in order to keep from facing each other.

2) When I'm stressed about finances and bills, the first thing that disappears are the voices in my head. I have three stories in various stages of development, and none of them are close enough to submission to be worth talking about. They have great story lines, but right now, every single character decided to head out on vacation.

3) People may ask how you are doing, but they really don't want to know. Everyone has issues and problems, they don't want to constantly be surrounded by yours.

4) Joy can be found in the most unexpected places. Take time to appreciate the small things you see around you. It's amazing how much you can get when you slow down and enjoy the ride. This life is all we have, don't spend so much time chasing money that you lose sight of what is truly important, and that is the relationships you have with the people around you.

I'm trying to live with these lessons and others, but I confess it's been hard. Hard putting myself aside and letting God take control. Hard realizing I am not in control of my fate anymore. Hard giving up things that I'd taken for granted, like movies and new clothes.

Each person's life is a journey, and though we we think the train has become derailed, that's all part of our journey as well.  The Apostle Paul once said, :"I must decrease so that He may increase." I'm still decreasing, and I need to let Him increase instead of stomping my foot and demanding things of which I have not proven myself ready or worthy.

So I'll embrace the lemons, and learn to make not just lemonade, but lemon pie, lemon curd, lemon jelly, everything that can be made from those lemons, because no matter what my situation, I need to be grateful for them. Those lemons came about because God sent them, and I want to master the lemon, so I can move onto the next challenge.

And somewhere along the line, the lemons will become sweeter, and the journey will continue, winding down a path made for me leading to where I do not know. But I do know I will be stronger once it is complete.

March Madness

Today is the first Wednesday in March, which means Insecure Writer's Support Group blog hop. (Gee, I hope I am still on the list!)

I'm having a hard time getting focused. Currently on my computer there are four WIPs that at any time I could finish up and start editing, but lately all I feel capable of is existing. My energy is at an all time low and creatively my mind is all over the place.

Every story line is different, so you think I would be able to focus on either saving my action hero and his wife from the mad bomber who is chasing them, or help the poor soul I've left floundering in a morass of negative emotions due to personal angst. Perhaps I could work on my werewolves who are being encroached by humans and are looking to move to the wilds of Canada to live free, or send my alter-ego into the fray to fight against darkness and tyranny.

Or perhaps, I'll grab a bowl of cereal and sit in the recliner watching back to back episodes of "Cheaters" and wondering if my helpful hubby needs stalking, I mean watching.

Wow, I need a break.

I need to sit on the beach with my toes in the sand contemplating the tan of Joey the Cabana Boy as he brings me another virgin Strawberry Daiquiri. I need to stare into the horizon and wonder at the magnitude of our world and our place in it. But perhaps, most of all, I need peace in my life.

I have a teenage daughter going through the pains of first love, a grown son with a touch of hypochondria, and a husband so ready to retire he spends as little time in the office as he can get away with. I need something. I'm not sure what it is, but the feeling of being put upon is growing by the day. If things don't reach equilibrium soon, there might be an incident which may or may not land me on the 6:00 news.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family. Maybe this is just a mid-life crisis rearing its ugly head, but my writing is suffering and I'm looking for answers not more questions. Some days my heart feels it will explode from the effort of remaining smiling and pleasant.

But don't forget to keep an eye on the headlines - after all, I am a writer. I kill people in my head everyday. The real trick is to not do it in real life.

I Am a Writer?

All my life I wanted to be a writer. Not just a scribbler, or a newspaper reporter but a real novelist along the lines of a Heinlein or Dorothy Parker. But when your own insecurities are the demons that laugh at you in the cold hours of night, sometimes it is best to let the dreams sit for a while; and so I did. I went to college, got a job, got married, had children - all the things society claims will make us happy and fulfilled. But they were wrong.

Sure, you might think everything is alright but deep inside there is a piece of you screaming for recognition. Then one day you decide to give in to the whisper and see what happens. That's what I did when my oldest went to college. With a sudden empty spot in my head, freed up from the constant worry that accompanies a son who seemed at time determined to do the exact opposite of what he was told regardless of the side effects, I decided the time had come to put the stories to paper.

When I completed the first draft of my debut novel, "Catalyst - Guardian Rising", I did what any new author might do - starting looking into getting published. I had two reasons in mind: first of all to become rich and famous (lol) and second, more important to me, to have someone tell me I knew what I was doing. To hear that accolade would mean the world to the deeply insecure person that is me. The first editor I sent a sample for a paid analysis told me yes, I do have a knack for the craft. I will forever be in his debt for all the assistance and suggestions he has given over the past three years.

I stand in awe of published writers. Having completed two full length novels in less than three years while working a full time job, raising a family, and working with rescued horses - has left me a little exhausted. Slowly I feel my creative thoughts starting to fire again, but I don't intend to push it. The story is there, I just have to coax the characters to share it with me.

This is my first post of a monthly Blog Hog, sponsored by The Insecure Writer's Support Group, and I must confess this is a group I am excited to join. My deepest confession of this first month of the New Year is this: Now that I have written the books, where do I go from here? Promotions? Writer Groups? Do I need an agent or keep going  it alone? Am I making the best use of my scarce free time? Do I still know what I am doing?

I look forward to this New Year with deep enthusiasm and a renewed commitment to the craft, and I look forward to more Blog Hops with the IWSG.

Now Available From Keith Publishing: Catalyst - Guardian Rising

In a post-apocalyptic future, the fate of the rebuilding world hangs in the balance. An unknown power seeks the forbidden knowledge needed to unleash total devastation once more upon a fragile Earth. It falls to one woman to safeguard the future of the Five Kingdoms.

Princess of the West, Vivienne has been plagued by nightmare visions of past and future since the moment of her birth. Now, to save all she loves from destruction, she must rise above the crippling self-doubts that have assailed her since childhood to become the prophesied Guardian—because the enemy is moving, and the world will soon plunge into a war of sword and sorcery.

But who is the enemy? And who is a friend? Can Vivienne trust anyone apart from her sworn protector, Devon?

The answers lurk in the past—but should the past be destroyed to protect the future?

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Excerpt from "Catalyst - Guardian Rising" :

I grew from a lanky, awkward, skinny girl into a tall, well-muscled, and fit teenager; I was five-seven and no longer looked like a scarecrow. Soon after I arrived, the rest of my body began to fill in, and the angles finally rounded out into curves. By the time of my sixteenth birthday, even Uncle Alastyre had to admit my beauty exceeded the wildest imagination and hopes.

My hair, of course, was still silver, with some darker streaks underneath and my eyes were still odd, switching from purple to gray randomly. The druids were working on a theory as to their strange origin. The most accepted was, because there are so many members of my family on both sides with varying strong talents, the eyes were a blending of the potential powers with which I was born. Once I declared which art I would dedicate myself to study, the other colors would depart, leaving me with the one traditional color. They had been working on this theory for four years, and my eyes were still multicolored. Just another oddity.

            Once I began to grow into my body, my skills as a Warrior began to improve. Theirran kept his promise to work with me when he was at the Fortress, which became more frequent as I grew older, stronger, and more competent. Occasionally, he would tell me what was going on with his family, except for Devon; what he didn’t tell me, I would gather from his mind without his consent. It was wrong, but I needed the knowledge to keep some semblance of sanity.

 From Theirran’s memories, I discovered after the three brothers left us that cold winter morning on the road to the Fortress, they chased down leads and trails for months. Der and Theirran had broken off the chase and returned to the Northerns before the winter snows closed off all roads until spring. Devon continued the chase off and on for three years, stopping at the Citadel or Der’s home when he was in the vicinity. I never once directly asked about Devon, but I always knew in my head and heart where he was. Perhaps our detractors were right to keep us so far apart. Though he was never close enough to test me, I knew inside the marrow of my bones I would have run away with him. But for whatever reason, Devon never came to the Fortress or its surrounding areas while I was there, not until the spring after my sixteenth birthday.

            That spring was glorious. My studies were going so well in Mysticism and Healing I had been given time off to concentrate on War Craft. While I was beginning to excel in fencing and tactical strategy, I had proven myself to be horrible at scouting and worse at tracking. A large bear could walk right in front of me for miles and I would miss the signs. So I was given extra assignments to learn where the processing errors kept happening. My fellow students tried to help me, but there was only so much they or anyone could do. I was, in a word, hopeless.

            On this particular day, two of us had been assigned to check out a small lake, nestled in a valley near the border between the Western Kingdom and the Fortress territory. Several druid Warriors had been sent out three days previously and we were supposed to track them from the Fortress to their final destination, which only the Warriors knew. A blind hunt, they called it. The ability to track down a person after accidentally crossing a trail was one of the more advanced skills. So far, I was no better than average.

            Sauk, my partner, was son of the Torran, ruler of the Southern Territory, and his talent lay in War Craft. The exercise mainly was for his training; soon he would be leaving the Fortress to return home, but he volunteered to try as a tutor to improve my tracking scores. I was grateful for his assistance and attention, because he was one of the best-looking students at the Fortress, as well as an excellent tracker.

Sauk was tall, taller than me, with jet-black hair, dark, black-brown eyes and skin the warm tan so prevalent among those who lived in the Southern Territory. When he smiled, which was often, the cutest little dimples appeared on his cheeks. Just as any woman who met him, I had a huge crush and felt a little nervous knowing we would be out on the trail together for at least three days. But this was all about learning a difficult skill, not a dating game, so I was sure he would be a gentleman. Southerners were always gracious.

There was a rumor in the Fortress that Sauk became the crown prince under a cloud of suspicion. His older brother died in a hunting accident; some whispered it had been Sauk’s arrow that had slain him. I remembered from political lessons with my father hearing the Torran wasn’t happy with Sauk but had no other son to inherit the throne. But when you were in Sauk’s presence, it was easy to forget any questions once you looked into those deep black eyes. They were mesmerizing yet vaguely unsettling.

            When we reached the lake, things became interesting from the very beginning. First, we ran across two different trails. That was a bit of a surprise, marking two trails would not have been part of the druid’s exercise. After much debate, we decided each of us would take a trail for a short way, and then meet to decide which was the main trail and which a decoy. It was a sound plan, using the rules spelled out for novice trackers. Before we split, Sauk rode up close, facing me. Removing his helmet, he shook his hair and looked at the sky and the darkening clouds rolling in.

            “Listen, Vivienne, if it starts to rain before we meet, just remember to follow that western mountain ridge back to this point. The trail you are going to be following lies almost due east, so heading back toward the ridge should bring you straight back to the lake, okay?”

            I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

            He smiled his brilliant smile. “That’s the spirit. You’ll be fine. If you run into anything you cannot handle, just scream. I’m sure I can find you.”

            “Ha, ha, ha. You think there is something out here that I can’t handle? I do have some skills in other areas; you might be wise to remember. Maybe you should scream if you run into anything.”

            Sauk smiled again. “Deal.”

That’s when the other interesting thing happened. Before I could put my helmet on, Sauk leaned over and grasped my wrist. I looked at him with one eyebrow raised. He had already turned nineteen. This made him three years older, a fact which made my heart race more whenever I thought about him. Several of the other, older female acolytes had been romantically linked to Sauk, and their stories were pure adolescent raging hormonal drivel, fascinating and slightly terrifying to those of us who were considered pious or chaste. But just the look in his eyes was making my heart pound crazy rhythms all on its own. He had magnetic charisma.

His eyes still locked on mine, he bent down and kissed me, gently at first, then with more assurance as I began kissing him back. It was a wonderful sensation, his soft lips against mine, his hand behind my head, fingers entwined in my hair. Sparked with electricity from an internal generator, my hormone system went into overdrive. I might be a princess and a freak, but inside I was a sixteen-year-old girl with screaming puberty angst. At any moment I could have burst into full flame and charred us both into dust. I began breathing a little too heavily. Then, as suddenly as it began, Sauk pulled away, a strange, superior expression in his dark eyes.

            “See you later,” he promised, then replaced his helmet and rode away down the chosen trail, laughter ringing out behind him. Shaking the cobwebs out of my brain, I headed down the other track. My body didn’t feel heavy enough to stay in the saddle. While it hadn’t been the romantic swoon some of the other girls professed to have experienced, it was still my first kiss and Sauk was extremely handsome. But I needed to get down to business or I was going to fail this task in magnificent fashion. To make sure I didn’t miss anything vital here in the open field, I dismounted Shae and began to walk the trail, watching the bent blades of grass as best I could. Before I could get too far, I heard a voice very close at hand, a voice I hadn’t expected or heard from in many a year.

            “Well, that was uncalled for, don’t you think?”

            I stood up from my crouched position so fast the world spun for a moment. Devon leaned against a large oak tree just ahead at a small bend on the trail. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was the one who made the second, yet more defined trail. I was so surprised to see him I completely forgot the strained circumstances under which we had last seen each other.

            We stood face-to-face without touching for what seemed an eternity, each one studying the other, noticing the changes brought about during these long years spent apart. I knew what he saw when looking at me. No longer was I the shy, under-confident, awkward twelve-year-old he had left behind in the snow that horrible winter morning. I was taller, filled out in all the right places. I was strong, lithe, and poised. I would say I had become a self-assured and beautiful woman.

            For his part, nothing much had changed. Devon was still the best-looking man I had ever laid eyes on — even including the boy who had just given me my first kiss. Devon’s eyes were that deep, clear green I remembered so well, with a few more lines at the corners. There were also more lines between his eyes and around his mouth, as though he were more accustomed to frowning than smiling. His boots and cloak were mud-spattered and stained, worn by one who had traveled a long way very quickly. While I stared in wide-eyed amazement, he graced me with one of those perfect smiles, the one that reached down into my soul and reminded me of sunshine. He cocked his head and held his arms open wide, an invitation I never could resist.

            “Oh my God, Devon!” It was difficult to hear my voice, seeing as how my face was pressed against his chest. Even though I was taller than the twelve-year-old I used to be, he was taller still. “Why are you here? Is everything okay?” My happiness suddenly vanished as I thought of all the reasons, none of them good, why he could be here. I leaned back in fright. “Is something wrong with my father? With your family?”

            “Calm down and don’t worry. Everything is fine, I promise. I was simply in the area and saw you and your ‘partner’. I decided to hang around and see how you were doing. I heard through the wind you aren’t having much luck tracking. Then I saw him take advantage of the remote and secluded location, and I waited around to see if you needed me to straighten him out. But obviously I was mistaken. You didn’t even notice me until I spoke.” Devon’s voice cracked ever so slightly. If my senses hadn’t been on alert from the tracking exercise, I doubt I would have noticed it. “Is he someone important to you?” The attempted off-hand way he asked let me know he was concerned.

            “No, not really.” I replied with a full-on blush spreading from the top of my head down to my toes. “Sauk is about to leave and return to the Torran to assume his duties as the crown prince. He volunteered to help me with some tracking practice. Because I really do stink at tracking. This is the first time he has even expressed any interest in me, other than as a tracking partner. Until today, I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.”

            Devon snorted. “Tracking partner. Right. Trust me, Vivi; his thoughts have been geared toward a different sort of partnership, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t be human if he wasn’t.” He rubbed his hand across his face. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed at having seen Sauk kiss me or if he was extremely cross.

            “Devon, stop it. It was just a kiss.” I wasn’t sure what exactly he was so upset about.

            “Well?”

            “Well what?”

“Did you?” The look on Devon’s face was priceless, part innocent but mostly obnoxious.

            “Did I what?”

            “Enjoy it?”

            His attitude was beginning to make me angry. “I don’t know. I mean, not that this is any of your business, and I have no idea why I am telling you this, but I have nothing to compare his kiss against. That was my first kiss. Ever.”

            He leaned over closer so he could look straight into my eyes. “That was your first kiss?” I could feel his soft breath against my skin, that warm, delicious, musk fragrance that was all him. I always associated it with safety and love. He was easily overpowering my already shaky senses. “I guess you kissing me good-bye so long ago didn’t count?”
            “No, I don’t count that as a real kiss; I was only twelve. For all it should concern you, yes, this was my first real kiss.” I knew I was beet red from head to toe, but I refused to look away. I wanted him to see me, not my embarrassment. After all, I wasn’t a child anymore.

            We stood there looking at each other for one long heartbeat. Suddenly, my brain was not controlling my body; my raging hormones were. Their actions were not those I would have taken if I were in my right mind. But because I wasn’t, I plowed ahead full steam, looking at him with a curious expression on my face.

            Devon frowned at me. “I know that look. You want something. Go ahead, spit it out.”

            “Do you want to kiss me? Give me something to compare with? Or is that why you’re so angry? Are you jealous because someone else got there first?” If he was going to play, then so was I.

            His face went blank. “No, I am not jealous. You see, I know who wins in the end. But right now, I don’t think kissing you would be a very good idea for either of us.”

            “Why not? You know we both want you to.”

            Devon took several slow, deep breaths before answering me. “Do you remember what Der said on that last day? About you and me and our inability to separate? I’m really testing the waters here, hoping that in the morning when you are ready to leave and return to the Fortress for the remaining three years, I won’t follow you or try to stop you. I’ve become stronger, more in control over these past years we’ve been apart, but I still don’t want to push it.”

            I thought about that for a minute. “I can respect that. In the meantime, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to hurt you more. I won’t push you. But I really would like to kiss you, someday.” I smiled broadly to let him see the honesty I was trying to convey.

            He smiled in return, brushing my hair back with his right hand. “Don’t worry about it. Our someday will come along, as we both know. Vivienne, I decided long ago to stop fighting against fate, to follow the course set out for us, take whatever comes as it comes and to always remember that I’m sixteen years older than you. Each year the emotional gap between us gets smaller. I know you aren’t ready for what my heart desires, but one day you will be. Our time will come; it’s just our clocks aren’t running together yet.”

            “I know.” As soon as I said the words, I knew this man and I were meant to be together forever. Whether by magic or fate, we were paired and there could be no other person for either of us. We had to wait for me to turn nineteen before Devon would touch me in any way remotely intimate, or at least my brain knew this. At that moment, however, my body would have gladly sold the rest of me out for just a little more time alone. “What difference can it make? If we are meant to be, surely there can’t be any harm …?”

            “You say that now, but what about when I die and leave you alone, young and widowed? Devon said it with a slight smile on his face, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Or you decide to run off with some handsome prince closer in age?”

            “But the dreams show that we are fated to marry.”

            “Are you having more dreams?” Devon was instantly on alert to either talk with me or do damage control. With my temper, you never knew which to prepare to handle.

            Frowning, I nodded. I hadn’t meant to say anything about the dreams and I didn’t want to change the subject.

            “What have you seen?”

            “Do you really want to know?”

            “Probably not. On the one hand, I need to know if we are still having the same dreams. To see if the physical separation has changed anything or if we are still linked. But at the same time, there are things I don’t know how to discuss with you.”

            “You figure prominently in many of them, Devon, if that helps. By the way, when did you get that new scar on your left hip?” I tried to keep a straight face but I think I failed miserably.

            Devon winced as though I had hit him. “That’s what I was afraid of. You’ve had the dream …”

            The blush I’d had just moments before came back with a vengeance. “Yes, I’ve had it. Rather vivid, actually. I usually have that dream around the full moon every month. I’ve grown to use it as a predictor for … other reasons.”

            Devon rubbed his hands across his face, walked away, and began to pace, back and forth across the grass between the lake and the tree. It was to cover his embarrassment; this time I was sure. It seemed strange to have things we could not talk about openly the way we did before. The whole dynamic of our relationship had changed, and I knew why. I was no longer a little girl. I was grown, closer in physical image to the Vivienne he had been fantasizing about since that bizarre day. I had been using some of my spare thought to process how this would affect Devon ever since the first time I experienced the dream in exquisite detail. It had to be hard for him to stand there and see me but not be with me.

I watched him struggle with the knowledge I also saw the pictures which disturbed him most, and tears sprang to my eyes. To keep him from noticing, I turned my back, pretending to study the trail that had led me to him. But apparently I was not very good at hiding my emotions. Especially not from Devon, not now that we had finally, to a degree, both acknowledged what had never been said or thought before: our futures were braided together, intricately woven in a pattern tighter than fabric. Everything seemed to be falling into place, but I wanted to pull Devon back to the present, keep him there with me beside the lake for a while longer. I was needy, but I didn’t care. He may have gotten stronger, but I hadn’t.

            “Devon, stay here tonight? I mean, Sauk will be here also, so it’s not like we would be alone. And hopefully having you around will keep his mind and hands where they should be. I don’t know if I could fight off too persistent a suitor, if you know what I mean. Right now my mind and body are not on speaking terms.”

            He stopped the pacing and looked at me with a thoughtful expression. It occurred to me reminding him we were not out here alone might not have been the best idea, given his earlier reaction to Sauk. Suddenly, he smiled at me with undoubtedly the coldest, most sarcastic smile he could summon, just as one might see on a cat that has swallowed a bird. He tilted his head to the west; we could both hear Sauk riding hard in our direction. Cocking his head toward the sound, I heard Devon whisper under his breath, “That might not be such a bad idea.” I rolled my eyes. This was going to be a long night.

 

Wow, What a Rush!

Last weekend here in Georgia was magnificent. Clear blue skies, pleasant temperatures - all the right ingredients for contemplating my next story!

Actually, I have three that are battling for attention and it is becoming crowded in my head. Everyone is talking at once, all of them convinced their story is the most important, and I hoped taking last weekend off from writing and just wandering through the woods on horseback would put all the pieces in order. I was partly right.

Ever since childhood I have found solace in the forest. The lack of noise pollution, the quiet acceptance of the creatures, these are just two of the reasons I love the woods. As a teenager I would disappear into the trees behind our house (usually with a stolen pack of cigarettes I'm afraid), to spend hours staring up at the tall Georgia pines and majestic oaks; working out the mysteries of the universe in two hours or less before dark.

Riding through the property was awesome. The weather was just right, my mare figured out the way home and all I had to do was sit back and think. All my characters came forward and presented their cases.

I need to finish the synopsis for book 2 of the Guardian Stories. That is the first priority. Everything is ready for submission and waiting on me to finish the synopsis. But for some reason I am having a block against sitting down and writing, not just the synopsis but anything. My mind is full of snot, compliments of my children and husband, and I cannot put words together in any sort of sense.

There are two other stories vying for attention, who have also fallen victims to the mucus attack. I promised one the first crack when clean oxygen returns to my brain, but the other is going to have to wait, much to their consternation. I hate to say no to the voices in my head, but between making chicken soup for everyone, working two email accounts for work, picking up prescriptions, and blowing my own nose - something has to give.

All these things and more slogged through my densely crowded brain while Penny (the horse) and I tackled the woods and hills of Northwest Georgia. Wind from Superstorm Sandy the previous weekend had removed most of the leaves from the hardwoods. The sun was bright in a brilliant blue sky, with not a cloud to be seen and the air was warm until the light breeze stirred up a chill to brush the skin.

After a while it began to dawn on me to stop being so hard on myself. I need to just allow myself the time to care for my family and myself; something I tend not to do when I am in full on writing / working mode. September and October were crazy at my day job. My crews were out working more than 70 hours nine weeks in a row, which of course meant hubby and I were working those same hours. If my brain is overtaxed, there's a good reason for it.

So I've decided to spend some time doing nothing. I've worked hard, I owe myself downtime, and no one is going to deprive me of the opportunity to clean out the cobwebs and snot. I know many people are participating in the NaNo WrMo challenge of 50,000 words and more power to each of you! Believe me, I would if I could. But that's not where my head is at this moment. While the rest of you write, I'm going to relax, catch up on my reading and work on outlining my next book.

With that goal in mind, I make the pledge to not do any "serious" writing until after Thanksgiving, which is amazingly only one week away. So, for one week I am taking suggestion for books to read. I have a Nook and would like at least 5 books to choose from. If you know of something I should check out, leave me the title and author.

And with that, I'm off for the day. I think taking the pressure off might kick start the healing processes, and that might spread to the rest of my sickly family. And a healthy family for Thanksgiving is the best blessing of all!

Spring Planting (Or Replanting?)

Once we decided to do a garden this year, the decision on what to plant was left up to me with hubby's stamp of approval. Corn, beans, peas, tomatoes, watermelons - all standard Georgia garden fare. With the ground prepared and the seeds ready we set out the rows and off to the races we went. All the squashes, beans, peas, melons, in three short hours we had seeded an area more than 1000 square feet. Happy and pleased with a job well done, we headed off for our first week of waiting.

Anxiously I watched the weather report, glad when radar showed rain heading in our general direction. The weekend took forever to come around again. Sunday morning arrived at last and I bounced in the car like a kid on the way to see Santa. Just when I could wait no more, we turned down the street, up the long winding driveway, then past the garden. I could see little green shoots beginning to poke through as we headed to the main house.

Church seemed to drag that morning, and lunch was forever. Just when I thought I would burst from anticipation, we arrived back at the farm. Changing into work clothes I race out to my little slice of heaven to find...

Turnip greens. That's right, turnip greens popping up all over my nicely plotted garden.

Imagine my surprise. Covering the entire garden, in my neat straight rows and in between, anywhere there was a spare inch of fertilized earth, were little turnip green leaves. Apparently the previous fall, for a winter garden, one of the helpers on my father-in-law's farm had planted turnips, harvested the greens but left the turnips themselves in the ground. With the warmer weather and the fertile spring rains, those little suckers just popped right out, heedless to the fact they are winter crops that cannot survive the hot Georgia summers.

So my first full Sunday as a gardener was spent identifying and pulling little turnip greens while trying to not pull up actual seedlings that were wanted. This is when I discovered what a non-outdoors man I married. He couldn't identify weeds from plants, didn't like having to pull so many wrong plants, and within 45 minutes had abandoned me completely to sit on the front porch drinking ice tea while I sweat and pulled and cursed turnips with my every fiber.

I was not amused.

Writer's Block

It finally has hit me hard. Writer's Block, the common name for being stuck up a plot with no contrivance, is keeping forward progress in any of my stories from occurring. However there is a small difference - it isn't that I can't write anything, I can't write anything I need to write. In other words, the right story is stuck and others are now pressing their own plot lines individual advantages.

Most days I try to keep two or three characters rolling around in my head for story development. Which is interesting while trying to work a full time job because I must admit sometimes the noise is quite deafening. After completing 'Catalyst' I began two other projects not remotely similar to each other: 'January Frost' a story for my daughter and her friends and 'Nishamora' an adventure novel.

The second in the Guardian Series has a working title as well, 'Piaculum - The Price of Redemption'. So, that makes three main stories in my head with a dozen or so major story arcs. Which makes more personalities in my head than 'All About Eve'! This much inspiration keeps my spare attention span close to zero, which does not make my husband very happy.

Currently my house is in a state somewhere between cluttered and "omg my mother is a closet hoarder!" This does not make me a happy camper. So, with this being the last week of school I have decided no matter how long it takes me I will clean up my house, work my job, be a mom, take care of my horses and still find time to write every day. I never thought I would lose my patience but I sense the end approaching.

My Loving Mother managed to accomplish all those things and much more, so I have the genetic makeup to follow in her footsteps and yet, I feel less than worthy of her apron. Were the truth of things to be told I despise cleaning. Until recent events conspired to overwhelm me my house was neat. Now though the beginnings of clutter are starting to arise.

The dining room table is covered with items that have no immediate home. The trouble always starts with items that have no immediate home. The living room is the object of my Dearest Daughter's possessions: lunchbox, jackets, clothing, blankets, anything she comes through the door carrying end ups on my couch and spills down to the floor and surround grounds.

The steps to the second floor are lined with Helpful Hubby and Dearest Daughter's shoes, soldiers of inattention neglected until searched for in panic when they are needed. The upstairs bannister has become a resting zone for items which need to go downstairs or into the laundry.

The three bedrooms are all in states of stacking up. However, I will give Dearest Daughter props, her room is much neater than any room in the house with the exception of dishes that don't always make it back to the kitchen in a timely fashion. And her laundry sometimes exists in two piles: 'dirty' and 'known only to her'. She obviously has more of her grandmother in her than I do.

My room is the worst, and I think it's because a man lives in there. Actually it is worse because I have always kept the mess out of public view. So the ironing has piled up on the cedar chest from lack of time. I need to take clothes to the thrift box which makes another pile to be cleared out. If I work on the missing sock table and reorder the DVD stack that makes five stacks I could clean out of my bedroom today!

Which brings me back to...

Writer's Block has a friend whose name is "Indecision". So unable to decide which project to tackle first I have made the first step toward planning my last week before school starts.

Let's Go Shopping.