#Writerly Wednesday~ A Royal Birth: Where This Writer's #Dreams Began #inspiration #writing #Life

It started a long time ago...I know I say I was probably 10 or 11 when I knew I wanted to be a writer, but it might have begun a bit earlier than that...Playing in our basement as a kid during summer vacation, chicken-pecking on this old Royal Typewriter, pretending I worked for a newspaper, writing late-breaking news from the neighborhood.

A while back I wrote a blog about this very typewriter, having asked my mom about it and her telling me she thought it had been tossed out during clean-up week, but when I was up this past month to visit, we were getting ready for the yard sale and lo and behold, there it was, on my dad's side of the basement.

It's absolutely filthy and the keys jam and there's no ribbon, just lots of cobwebs, caked on dust and grim of the last couple decades of being buried in my parents' basement, but it is the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time! Well, as far as my writing life is concerned. My mom said my dad was just going to part it out and sell the keys on Ebay because that's about all he could make off it these days cause people make jewelry out of the keys now. Bah, Humbug I say!

I know my eyes had to have lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning when I saw it, cause my mom took one glance at me and knew I wanted it, so she said she'd talk to my dad. She understands the significance of it to me. This old heavy, filthy grey dinosaur is where I "cut my writing teeth" so to speak. I didn't write much of anything on it really, but there was something joyous about the click-clackety sound of those keys and the way the letters struck the page. It left an impression on me, to say the least and revved my imagination and my desire to become a writer.

I have no intentions of using it to write with, but for me it's more the sentimental value of having it in my possession, something I can someday have a "spotlight" on when I have my own "office" space for writing. It will be the centerpiece of my writerly showcase~ And it's my great hope that it will also be a wonderful writing totem for me to act as inanimate inspiration... a new muse from which to draw my writing strength and drive from. It will be even better when I get the old gal cleaned up and looking pretty.

Happy Hump Day Sweets!

Thursdays with Taryn~ Join me in talking about nothing much... #Life #Time #Determination #Blessings

I honestly don't know what to write about anymore. I used to post blogs almost daily and never failed to ramble on about something. That was also during a time in my life when I was most productive in my novel writing as well. Perhaps I need to do this as an experiment to see just where my thoughts veer off the path today. And maybe I need to do this more often to keep the writerly juices flowing...

We'll see...

I've still been struggling with myself- my journey- as a writer. I finished the edits of Love By Design a while back, but I withdrew into myself and I'll admit, I've been suffering with a bit of self-doubt that I'm just starting to feel lifting its weight off of me.

I've been in avoidance mode, or it feels that way. If I don't think about it, maybe my not-up-to-snuff stories will just vanish. I've let this drag me under the tow for a while now, but I think I'm starting to resurface and I'm catching my breath again. Perhaps I will find my inspiration and desire once more and stop letting the childish part of me wallow in massive heap of self-pity. I have work to do, it's just a matter of slapping myself around some and knocking the good sense back into me.

I know it does me no good to wallow like I have been, but I just feel at a loss, uncertain where I'm heading with my writing and my life, and sometimes I feel like I'm going at this all wrong, or totally alone. A lot of the time, it looks something like this blurry mess below- rolling down a secluded back road, a solitary traveler with a dirty windshield who's moving so swiftly I can't enjoy the scenery or stop to think for a while. Maybe that's just Life whisking by and it's pulling me along with it whether I want to go that fast or not.

It would be great if Life would slow down for us, but it doesn't. If we don't enjoy it, it will get away from us and that goes for all things- whether it's enjoying the flowers blooming in your yard, a quiet sunset, watching your children grow up, celebrating another year of marriage, finishing those novels you set out to write from the heart, cherishing the time with your parents, siblings and extended family and friends.

We need to make the most of all the time we have in this Life~ relish it, enjoy it, revel in it, rather than wallow in the muck and mire, allowing the negative to suck us under and try to drown us.

Take time to breathe today, look around you and count your blessings!

I know I'm going to because I have so many wonderful things to be thankful for.

Tuesdays with Taryn~ Spring Fever Like Molasses #writing #edits #distraction #life

Spring Fever is rolling through my veins like slow warm molasses as we stumble back and forth between cool weather that chills to the bone and humid days that are perfect for sitting on the bank fishing or sunbathing in the backyard.

It's loading my senses with inspiration and distraction and each force is vying for my attention which has made it hard for me to concentrate on one sole thing at a time. I don't feel like I'm multitasking as well as I used to- I originally started writing this blog a week ago and every day I'd come back and pull it up, alter the title to fit the day of the week and then get sidetracked before I could write another word. I'm really struggling to stay on track. I was also reading through Love By Change, the 2nd story in the Love By Series, but I've put it aside momentarily because I need to work on my craft.

Most recently I've been trying to improve it, by taking a fellow author's advice. I invested in The Anatomy of Story by John Truby.

I'll admit right now...I feel that I fail in this area where a lot of my fellow authors have taken time to study the craft of writing. My writing does not come from years of schooling, research or education. My need to write is simply drilled so deep into my heart that I do just that—write the stories that come to mind. I don't really know a lot about the craft of writing or how to build worlds because I'm such a pantser and I have never attended conferences or craft lectures. That leaves me with some disadvantages, like not having strong story arches and I tend to internalize a lot and I'm sure there are a lot of other things, but now it's time for me to build onto what foundation I already have.
 
I am only a few pages into Truby's book and have taken time to pause so I can work through my "wish list" and my "premise list." I'm not sure WHAT all to put on the wish list. I don't really want for a lot of material things and I'm not sure that's part of the list making or not, but I'm giving it my best shot.

It's also been a LOT harder to come up with that single sentence for each story than I thought, so I've spent the last several days chewing over how to write my premise for each and every story idea I've ever had or written or would like to write.

No small task, so I'm not very far into the exercise, but already I sense a shift in my way of thinking and awoke the other morning realizing that there might be a better way for Love By Design to start than what I have already. In fact, it could mean some major rewrites or rearranging of the current manuscript even though I thought I was nearly to the finish line and ready to self-pub it.

Now that I'm looking at it from this new angle, I'm not so sure. I want to be certain I put out the best possible book for you, the reader, so that it's worth your time and money and that means that I'm taking the time to sort things out and make sure I give you my best. Even it if means putting off the release a bit longer than I hoped to.

Sometimes you just got to know when to take a step back and do what you have to do, rather than what you WANT to do. You'll almost always end up with better results.

Have a fantastic Tuesday!

Thursdays with Taryn~ Dusting off the Past To Find Inspiration

I've been thinking about the fact that I'm really kind of burnt out on blogging— at least, I am so far this year. Last year was a real doozy, as I attempted to put myself out there more because I had just been published and well, a girl's gotta promo and I want to keep up this year, but feel like I've lost my gusto and had the wind knocked out of me.

Today though, I'm taking advice from fellow KIW, author Katherine Lowry Logan, who suggested resharing old posts that have been popular here on the blog. As I was scrolling through my prior posts, all the way back to mid-2007, I realized that a lot of the first ones I wrote, the ones that really inspired me probably haven't seen the light of day. I had no followers back then and simply took pleasure in putting my thoughts down and talking to myself. I mean, I still do that...talk to myself, that is, but what if something I wrote back then, that few have seen, might give inspiration or resonate with another author or aspiring author now? If I leave them back there, they'll just get lost in the slush pile of my blog writing archives, but if I find a way to repurpose those thoughts and ramblings, it could be a good thing.

I mean, I have to admit...back then I was writing blogs for the pure fun of it, because I was inspired and wanted to share my thoughts about myself as a writer. I really didn't think anyone was listening anyway, but I still put it out there, knowing someone might stumble upon it. I wasn't caught up in pushing promo, for myself or anyone else at the time. I just felt I had something to say, even if I was just sharing diary entries and a glimpse into who I was as I first started my writing journey. And the thing was, I was spending a great deal of time actually WRITING, not just on this blog, but on my stories, and that's not something I can say I do on a really regular basis anymore. I want and NEED to change that.

Perhaps this will be a good thing for me as a writer- to climb over things and sit in the back of my virtual closet and dig through my virtual cardboard boxes and see what gems I might find to rejuvenate my own writing, to remind me who I am at my writer's core and to share with others and hope that they find inspiration from stories that have been rebooted.

So here's where I'm going to begin this year- a post from August of 2007 (though I've updated it a little, mostly in part due to referencing my children now, as opposed to almost 6 years ago because my daughter wasn't old enough to read yet. She's now an avid reader too and loves to write her own little stories, at home and at school. Teacher loves them and thinks she gets that from me or so she said at the Parent/Teacher conference we had a few months back)

Books and the Condescending Librarian

Writing is an extensive endeavor. Even when I'm not writing, I'm either reading something by a writer or reading something to educate myself on writing or doing research. Even when I'm not doing that, writing stays on my mind. I love to talk about writing.

My desire to write comes from somewhere deep inside me. I'm not even sure when it started to be honest. Some little ember ignited my love of reading and my mom even said that as a child I loved books and making up stories.

I know at one point in my life there was an instance that could've damaged my love of reading and writing for the rest of my life. It's any wonder it didn't.

I was in 3rd grade and I was going to borrow a book that was probably more advanced than my reading level. I always borrowed books from the school library, but that one time, the librarian made a point of telling me she thought it was too advanced for me to read and she didn't think I could read it before I brought it back. It could be that I had borrowed it before and hadn't read it and wanted to re-borrow it. I'm not sure, but I told her I would read it by the time I had to return it a week later.

Of course, I didn't read it and maybe it was stubbornness or just rebellion on my part, but when I brought it back, she asked me point blank if I read it and I told her the truth. She told me that if I didn't read the books I borrowed I shouldn't borrow any. Now I can't recall for sure if she didn't allow me to borrow books anymore, but I do recall that I didn't want to borrow any more from her and I don't think I did the rest of that school year.

I still look back and see her as a condescending adult who should've known better. She humiliated me, hurt my feelings and made me feel about this big.

I didn't borrow any books from the school library again until I started 4th grade, at a different school with a different librarian. I look back on that now and wonder how an adult could look at an 8 or 9 year old child and chastise them for something like that.

Now, I do remind my kids not to borrow something if they don't really want or plan to read it, but I wouldn't tell them that they couldn't borrow ANY books from the library. I encourage both my kids to enjoy books for everything they are worth, the adventures and emotions that you get from reading a book that puts you in another world or another life.

It was shortly after that incident in 3rd grade though that I started collecting books of my own to read. I convinced my dad to get me a subscription to the Just for Girls book club through Scholastic and if I read a book I liked well enough, I ended up buying it at some point. I started creating my OWN library.

Like I said, it could've ruined my love of reading and writing, but in some ways, that librarian's snotty attitude may have actually had the opposite affect on me. I wanted books of my own more than ever. In fact, I've got a LOT of books I've never even read in my bookcase & on my Kindle (Perhaps it's the early stages of being a hoarder- of books at least). They are on my TBR list, but I know that I can read them anytime I want without someone looking down their nose at me and telling me that I have to do it their way or the highway...

It may well have been when I started dreaming of being a writer, too, because if I never stepped foot in another library, at least I'd have my own stories I could read and no one telling me that I couldn't.

Isn't it funny how childish beliefs and issues carry over into adulthood, but at the same time might well have been the catalyst for my desire to write? Maybe I should be thankful for the condescending librarian, but more so, I'm glad that it didn't turn me against reading & writing altogether.

Was there ever anyone or anything that could've turned you off of writing? Please feel free to share.

#Writerly Wednesday Preparing for NaNoWriMo 2012

Yep, I'm doing it. I announced it a couple of weeks ago, but decided to make it official on the blog seeing as I only have approximately 2 weeks to get my head wrapped around the idea. This shouldn't be intimidating, considering I've done and won 5 NaNos before, but after skipping last year because I was deep in edits before Castaway Hearts came out this past April, I'm feeling a bit nervous about rejoining the ranks of fellow writers on this journey into 30 days of writing insanity.

Well, I have to admit, I'm nervous, but I'm eager, too. I haven't written "new" in what seems like forever and I'm chomping at the bit to get started. There's a current of excitement rippling under the surface, revving my engine and getting me charged with writing energy that I haven't felt in a long time. I know I burned out a while back, so writing has not been a top priority on my list, but it needs to be.

I was tired, yes...tired of writing because I burned through so much midnight oil in such a short amount of time that I needed to recover. Three years of almost non-stop writing took its toll, but that doesn't mean I haven't THOUGHT about writing almost CONSTANTLY. It eats away at me that I haven't produced much more than a few paragraphs here and there, finished a manuscript, but still feel I've come up short of my own expectations.

I'm hoping this year's NaNo will be the kindling I need to reignite the writing fire in my tummy and set me ablaze! This was, for 5 years, a very big part of my November- the crazed writing and chewing on Twizzlers and popping gum and guzzling lots of caffeine. It's a good thing I have a very understanding husband, who will cheer me on each evening when he gets home by checking to see how many words I've pummeled onto the screen. I used to not have his support, but he's quite the cheerleader for me these days.

If anyone needs a writing buddy, or just someone to talk to, bounce ideas off of or just give you a good swift kick to get you going again, I'm here, so feel free to leave me comments on the blog or email me, find me at www.nanowrimo.org and add me as a buddy. As someone who's wrestled this bear called NaNo before, I can promise you that it's worth it. You can defeat those 50,000 words and you can come out the other side with a little something to show for it. Of course, afterwards, you'll have to untie your internal editor and let her/him get to work cleaning up the drivel, but YES, it's totally worth the craziness of doing National Novel Writing Month!

Come join me!

#Writerly Wednesday- Shattered #poetry #writing

This morning's Writerly Wednesday will be just free flowing thought/poetry because I need an outlet for some built up emotion.

Peering through the darkness
My mind stumbles over
A sliver of yellow light

Dust motes swirling, teasing
So distant, yet so tangible
That I reach out, grasping at a shadow

A shadow of what once was
That slips through my fingertips
I follow it down a long gray hall

The golden fragment
Twists and spirals
Beckoning me with a seductive ripple

Taunting me to remember
That time, that life so long ago
That love that once was mine
 
I come upon a pane of glass
Transparent yet tarnished
A window on my past

Wipe away the dust and time
I see his face, his smile, his eyes

 I catch my breath
I taste the salt
A heart arrested in my chest
Unbidden tears demand to fall
 
Fingers skim the icy surface
A pop, a crackle, then
Shattered!

A desperate cry escapes my throat
Air forced from lungs
I breath again
 
The heartache just too raw
The fractured images splinter out
Left with only reflections
Staring back

Shards of memories
Frozen
In moments trapped forever
In my heart

(copyright Taryn Raye August 2012)



Have a great Hump Day!
I can see the weekend from here!

#Writerly Wednesday- Are You "Listening" @bentaylorHQ New #Album #music #writing

Listening

(image used with permission)

My introduction to Ben Taylor's music was a smooth little melody called "Island" from his 2002 album, Famous Among the Barns. Based on that singular song, I invested in the entire album and found new hidden gems that rippled through my soul and spoke to me.

Second to writing, music is one of my other loves. I can't sing any better than the alley cat on the fence post under the full moon, howling and mewling for attention, but the poetry of song lyrics is what gets me.

The Poetry. The Words. The Emotion. (Doesn't take much for me, does it?)

When combined with melody- it can tell a story or evoke emotions that go unexpressed any other time. It can remind you of youth, wrap you in the warmth of remembrance of loved ones long ago, of the truths in life, the joys and agonies we all feel and experience- all expressed in song. Some songs just do it better than others and some songwriters hit the nail on the head with a purity and honesty that you know has to come from the heart, from the soul. It's genuine. When I find music that touches me that deeply, I know I've found a kindred spirit in this world.

When I took my writing back up in 2006 after years of stagnation, I found that when I wrote, I needed music and there are a few singers, songwriters, and groups whose music has become a mainstay in my "writing playlists" because the music moves me deeply, speaks to my heart and helps me put my words to the page (or screen as the case may be.)

Ben Taylor's music, not just from Famous Among the Barns, but also songs from Another Run Around the Sun and The Legend of Kung Folk, Pt. 1 have made their way into every playlist for every book I've written to date. (11) The songs are an eclectic mix and on any day, under any circumstance, I can usually find songs that fits my mood or the scene I'm writing.

There are a couple of select songs I've yet to get, but intend to- "Dear Boy" & "Boyfriend," but I've been eagerly anticipating the release of his newest album Listening for months. It released yesterday, and I'm beyond ecstatic because I'm sure you know what I've been listening to since then and I'm certain that it will become part of my writing roster.

Check out the video below of the title song, Listening and check out the album. I love how the birds in the background are even enjoying the sweetness of the music and joining in.

Follow Ben on Twitter

Website

Get Listening on

Amazon

iTunes

(image used with permission)

#Writerly Wednesday Beauty When It Blooms #writing

Beauty, when it blooms, takes my breath away. It doesn't "burst" but unfolds with a simple kind of grace that not all things have. In a way, that's how my writing process often is. It doesn't burst onto the scene always, but infiltrates my mind slowly, sometimes slower than molasses on a cold winter morning, but, things begin to take shape and sometimes it's the most beautiful awe-inspiring thing to me when bits and pieces of a character start to come to life.

A little while back, I posted about my eagerness to start the next story, except for the research I need to do and that I'm getting bits and pieces of background info, like things about the heroine's grandmother. The other night, after working to clean the bathroom, kitchen and living room and wearing myself out so severely that I woke up every hour in bodily pain, I started "brainstorming" in my sleep.

Yes, I guess brainstorming it is, as I wasn't technically dreaming anything, but for several hours before I awoke, my brain worked out a BUNCH of background info on my heroine, who was otherwise a stranger to me. I mean, I know more about the hero. He is the baby brother of the other Pryce brothers, so he's made his appearances, albeit, most the time brief, but he's there and I know his family. The heroine was a complete stranger to me, until more recently and as her background and past begin to bloom for me, even in the deepest and darkest of the night, I feel exhilarated that "she" is showing me who she is, where she's from, the life she had before the story begins.

And from the looks of it, her past is haunting her with significant losses and rebellion in her youth. Her past is not going to be spotless. Not that all my characters pasts are, but this one seems exceptionally dark considering she's a surfer, but then, I'm starting to understand that surfing isn't just something she loves doing- its also her escape and her sanctuary. It's a dangerous sport, but one that brings her momentary peace from her demons, and its the thing she has just for her that saved her life after all the tragedy in her youth. No one else in her life, up until now, understands it, but Mark will and it's just making me SO SUPER excited to start writing their story!!!

(Laugh if you want, but the swell of excitement about starting a new story has brought me to tears this afternoon. It feels so good to be this excited about writing again!)

And thank heavens Mercury is back direct! I feel the shift, the movement of forward motion again in my life, and writing...and it's about time.

Hope you're having a wonderful Hump Day!

~I can see the weekend from here~

#Writerly Wednesday- I'm #Dreaming of an Awesome Book Cover

As a writer, it's sort of my birthright to dream and dream big, but I also dream vivid, at night, while I sleep, too.

You see, yesterday I spent a good portion of my afternoon just scrolling through image after image on a couple of those stock photo sites, trying to get ideas for book covers, perhaps find models who resemble what my characters look like in my mind, or themes that might make good background layers for book covers.

Then last night I dreamed I was designing covers and they were great, just cover after cover and even some I did were so good they impressed publishers. One in particular had a young woman's face, cast in dark shadows, her skin shimmering with perspiration or rain, with a title like "Overwhelmed" and the young woman looked, well-  overwhelmed, tears rolling down her face, from her bright blue eyes, as though I had captured exactly what was needed to grab the reader's attention.

Of course, it was just a dream, but it was vivid and inspiring and that's the little burst of air I need under my wings.

Now, years ago, I used to piddle around with Paint Shop Pro, making signature tags and cutesy banners for my computer desktop and for a Mommies forum I belonged to. In fact, that's where I cut my teeth on graphic design, making cute images with my children's pictures on it to put in my signature when I was chatting on the forums with other moms. Or making tags for them, as well. Of course, I'm by no means a professional, but I can manipulate images, crop, layer, adjust the opacity, etc.

When I started writing, I stop designing cutesy sig tags and I started searching online for images of actors and actresses who fit my characters...I made tags with them for my own personal use, sort of like putting them up on an idea story board, but using them as the desktop backgrounds, so I could see the characters while I was on the computer, which helped me with the descriptions. Eventually I made my own "faux" book covers for each story I wrote, just to give myself "inspiration."

As I've mentioned before, I am giving serious consideration to self-publishing, but I'm one of those people who like to get my ducks in a row, take my time about researching and discovering the ins and outs of things. I'm kind of riding the fence on the to self-pub or not to self-pub, but I'm liking the idea the more I read about how to format novels and I kind of like the idea of having more control over what goes on with my books and so since I'm considering self-pubbing, I'm also considering cover design, too.

In my youth, the idea of self-publishing was something I once knocked because back in the day it was more about vanity publishing and paying hundreds of dollars to someone to put everything together for you. I couldn't image spending all that time writing and polishing and preparing a story and then not getting that validation from a big house. And then spending unimaginable amounts of money I couldn't afford to have it published myself. Nowadays though, I think I'd rather get my validation from readers who enjoy what I write. I write because I love the stories and want to share them. Being a best-seller would be great, but it's not a requirement for me regarding how I value my career success.

Self-publishing is not vanity publishing. The author puts in a lot of time and works hard to see that they put out a good product. It is not vanity publishing, as I'd say the majority of what's "spent" is time and hard work rather than a lot of moolah. Sure there are a few fees (editors, formatters, cover art, etc) unless you are able to do those things yourself, but it's not the same as forking over a lot of money like back in the day.

I mean, after all, I also once doubted the viability of digital books because I wanted to cling tight to my paper books. I love the smell, weight and feel of a real book and shopping for a real book in a brick and mortar store, but I'm coming around and I now see the logic and viability- and the mobility of eBooks. I actually love my Kindle Touch, so it can't be all bad, right?

But as for covers, if I find I just can't hack it with designing covers, I'll hire someone, but first I want to see if I still have the graphic chops to do a few myself and I'm eager to learn more, so if you know of websites that are great for amateur cover artists, sites that offer great stock images that don't hurt the pocketbook, or other things that you've found work well with design, let me know. I'd love all the help I can get and it would definitely be appreciated more than you know.

I am a #Writer ~ A Poetic Soul ~ I am a Dreamer #writing #inspiration

(Image from MorgueFile photographer Darren Hester)

I am a writer- a poetic soul- I am a dreamer-

I've known I wanted to be a writer from around the time I was 10 or 11 years old, playing with an old upright Royal typewriter in our basement on hot summer afternoons pretending to work for a newspaper as a reporter, or handwriting my "high-school-sweethearts-happily-ever-afters" and illustrating them in pencil and crayon or colored pencils. My neighborhood friends can attest to this, but the proof was destroyed years ago, so you will never see them! Haha!

I wrote a lot of angsty (horribly embarrassing) poetry in my teens- yeah, that's still around but you'd have to pry it out of my cold dead fingers. I stayed up late on weekends, scribbling short stories and the beginnings of YA novels in those Lisa Frank rainbow-colored-LSD-trip notebooks on pastel pink and blue colored pages until my parents got me a Smith Corona typewriter/word processor and 3 1/2 inch floppies for Christmas the year I was 17. That was also the year they gave me "The Romance Writer's Pink Pages" and a package of paper and a good long talk from my logical dad about how "hard" it is to be a writer, that I might not ever be able to do it for a living without a back up plan and a regular day job, that not everyone can break into the business, just like artists and singers...it's lofty and inspiring, but not always practical.

I continued writing, but never finished anything. A lot of spitting and spluttering. I got older, got a job rather than going to college and had very little time for writing any more. Ah, Life...

Around 21 I started writing a more serious novel, one I consider to be a work of women's fiction after some very personal issues I was dealing with, but the story became hard to write, emotionally- the relationship I was in was failing and though I started taking a writing workshop, I just grew more and more frustrated with my instructor's guidance. I wasn't mature enough to handle criticism, constructive or otherwise. Add to that, I had a fiance who didn't believe in me or my dreams of becoming a writer. The relationship ended after much fighting and arguing and back and forth of "I want you, but I don't know what I want" and "I love you, but I can't love you if you don't have a job." (His wishy-washy, not mine) That is one for the record books of unsolved mysteries...I STILL don't understand it, but I'm okay with how it all turned out or I wouldn't be where I am today.

I tucked away my writing, deeming myself unworthy, incapable, etc. All the self-pity I could wallow in. I wrote angsty twenty-somethings poetry and decided that maybe writing and publication weren't my dreams to chase after all. I did have a few who encouraged me along the way, but most of what I wrote was still poetry, still not quite believing in myself enough.

Fast forward almost a decade, I'd been married 4 years, had a school-age stepson, a young daughter and I was a housewife who hit a very low spot. Writing kept egging me from the corners of my life, reminding me that it was also something I wanted to go with the husband, the family, the life. I couldn't get away from it. It taunted me as I settled in to go to sleep at night- "You NEED to be writing and have something just for you."

I'd never really told my husband how much I wanted to be a writer, so for a while, he looked at me like I was just trying to find a hobby to bide my time as a stay at home mom and wife. He didn't take it seriously, but I started coming back out of my shell, started to think that maybe all the stories in my head needed to be out on the pages. I began to write again, but more seriously than I ever had and the best part- it boosted my self-confidence- but so did the encouragement from my mom(who had always encouraged me to get back to it because she said I had a way with words)- from friends, from fellow writers I was meeting online.

I finally finished that one story- the one that was emotionally hard on me- I finished it in August 2006. Then I discovered NaNo in October and did my first one that November with only my mom and a friend encouraging me to do it- to see if I could write a novel in 30 days~ after all, it had taken me a decade from start to finish on the first one~ I needed to prove to no one but myself that I had more in me and could write it in less time.

And I did it. I penned and finished my 2nd manuscript, then followed that with two more the following year, and 5 the next. Then I hit a slow down- I burnt out, but I still wrote one for NaNo '09 and the most recent one- the 11th one I've written, was a NaNo '10 that I finally finished last month. Now #12 is looming on the horizon, and I know I have more than that hidden inside, bubbling to the surface a few ideas at a time.

As a writer, a poetic soul and a dreamer, I'll never let someone steal it out from under me again. That's just NOT going to happen.

#MemoryLane Mondays- Family, Home and Writerly Things #writing #inspiration #author

Every summer I visit my parents, sister, family and friends for a week, or two, or three. Part of the reason lies in the fact that I live nearly 3 hours away from my hometown and I miss the people who made me who I am. It’s also because I want my daughter to know her grandparents and aunt and where her momma comes from. Summer vacations and breaks from school are our only opportunities for these kinds of visits.

The other day a fellow author was talking about having shady places, where you can take rest, away from the sun, the world, from life. Cozy alcoves. My mom and I were talking about it and I realized my hometown is one of my “shady” places. It’s where I come to recharge, to decompress and gather my thoughts. Without it, I might lose touch with who I am because this is the place that molded me, that nurtured my writerly roots.

As I’ve pondered over this the past few days, I’ve found myself feeling more inspired and emotional about my childhood home, my memories and the woman I’ve become. I’ve slept in my old bedroom in a small twin size bed. Its not the bed I had—mine had an old faux brass headboard that jingled when the screws wiggled loose and I always kept a screwdriver nearby because the rattling every time I turned over in my sleep annoyed me, but it’s still reminiscent of my youth. The dark plum walls I painted are still there along with the sponged-on white ivy pattern. My mom insisted on painting in my room years ago while I was at work one day because she hated how dark the walls were so she did the two opposite walls with an ivy patterned paint roller.

The room looks tiny now, with all the shelving and cabinets my dad built and put in there after I moved out. He stores eBay items he plans to sell, shipping boxes and my mom’s sewing machine and bookcases and lots of other bits and pieces. It’s a “junk room” now, a catch-all, and I lay on that tiny bed, staring at the flowery white plaster pattern on the ceiling, letting my mind wander over the past decade since I left and further back in time.

I've known I wanted to be a writer from around 10 or 11 years old, playing with an old upright Royal typewriter in our basement on hot summer afternoons pretending to work for a newspaper as a reporter, or handwriting my "high school sweethearts happily-ever-after" stories and illustrating them in pencil and crayon or colored pencils.

I wrote a lot of angst-riddled (horribly embarrassing) poetry in my teens and I remember staying up late on weekends, scribbling short stories and the beginnings of YA novels in Lisa Frank notebooks on pastel pink and blue colored pages. My parents got me a Smith Corona typewriter/word processor and 3 1/2 inch floppies for Christmas the year I was 17. That was also the year they gave me "The Romance Writer's Pink Pages" and a package of typing paper and a good long talk from my logical dad about how "hard" it is to be a writer. I remember him sitting on the end of my bed beside me, extolling the facts that I might not ever be able to do it for a living without a backup plan and a regular day job and that not everyone can break into the business, just like artists and singers...it's lofty and inspiring, but not always practical.

That room was my world for years- my safe haven, my Fortress of Solitude- I learned and grew in that room and I cut my teeth on writing in that room. It was my shade for a majority of my life.

And it’s funny though that I talk about shade from the “sun”—

I awoke the other morning with a thought when I saw it was daylight already- how I still remember the bright golden sunlight beaming through my back bedroom window on summer mornings. Even now, I felt the salutation of its warmth soaking into the room, into my being. It made me smile to think the sun still remembers me here and still greets me just the same, even when hidden from it. But then, the shadow and light know me here- know that writing is at the heart of me, that poetic words reside within me and that it’s one of the things that define who I truly am.

Writerly Wednesday- Meanderings- Of What Remains #ideas #writing #inspiration

Tucked away on one of the country byways of Kentucky is a small abandoned house with a triple window arch centered on the front side, shattered glass panes in those windows and the ones on the ground floor, the tin roof is rusted red and the exterior walls are dingy greenish gray and as weather-beaten as a grizzled old man who once worked in those nearby fields, raising tobacco or corn or cows under the blazing hot sun to supply his family with food, clothing, shelter.

The trees and shrubs and brambles are grown up around it now, huddling close as if protecting what remains. It looks as though no one has lived in it for years- decades even. A new road runs off into the distance to the right there, with power poles and electric lines, but no one notices the house or what remains of it.

All kinds of questions fill my head- Does anyone around these parts know the history of this shell of a home? Was it once embraced and loved as the "old homestead?" And if so, what happened to the family that once loved it and kept the grass cut and tended to the upkeep of the roof and windows and siding?

I see this house from time to time in our outings and I saw it and snapped this photo the other day when hubby and I were heading home after our anniversary movie and dinner date. Every time I see it, I'm filled with a sadness unimaginable- partly because it reminds me of my old homestead in Anderson County, the one that haunts me.

We didn't live there long, in that 2-story that always brought to mind plantations and the old south, but I felt a connection to the place, even as a young child. This other little house reminds me of it because I know my old homestead no longer stands, torn down a few years back, and I have no way of resurrecting it except in memory and perhaps one day I will be able to at least capture the spirit of it with the written word in one of my novels.

The same feeling comes over me in regard to this little house and a few others I've seen in passing, not just here, but often as we travel to visit my family. There's also this old house (pictured below) that calls to me. (Though I believe this one is currently someone's home.) It's at the end of a long lane that dead ends not far from the interstate and sticks out like a sore thumb. There are remnants of old stone walls out front, which again brings to mind life in the ol' South, plantations and tobacco or cotton crops and my mind wanders to that world that existed more than a century and a half ago and leaves me wondering about what remains... and whether there is a reason I am so drawn to these places (especially knowing I also might have stories to be written someday that fall into that time frame.)

These were places that once called family and kinfolk home to the warmth of the hearth and the love that existed within the walls. The large families gathered around the long dining table, horses galloping across green pastures, the kids fishing down by the creek, the animals that needed feeding at the crack of dawn, the cows needing milking.

Now, a lot of them stand destitute and weary on crumbling foundations, no longer loved and oftentimes seemingly forsaken and forgotten. They have stories hidden in their walls, dancing through the dust in the big empty rooms, buried under the rubble and tangled within the thistle and thorn that's woven around the existing structure.

They cannot tell their stories outright, but I am trying to listen when I am drawn in, because I feel them whispering to me via what remains....

#Favorite #Books #Spotlight- #MySweetAudrina by #VCAndrews

(click image to go to the Amazon page for the paperback, with new cover art)

(From the back blurb of the copy I have Copyright 1982)

V.C. Andrews, author of the phenomenally successful Dollanganger series, has created a fascinating new cast of characters in this haunting story of love and deceit, innocence and betrayal, and the suffocating power of parental love.

Audrina Adare wants so to be as good as her sister. She knew her father could not love her as he had loved her sister. Her sister was so special, so perfect—and dead.

Now she will come fact to face with the dangerous, terrifying secret that everyone knows. Everyone except...My Sweet Audrina

I started reading V.C. Andrews when I was a teenager. Honestly, I can't remember what year it was, but I had to be thirteen or fourteen because I can remember that the middle school library had copies of her books. My introduction was through the first four books of in the Dollanganger Series, starting with Flowers in the Attic. I remember borrowing my aunt's four books (later discovering the 5th one along with several other series).

She hadn't read them, but I saw them on her bookshelf and was mesmerized by the haunting cover art and blurbs. I remember going home that first night with them clutched in my fingers and being scared out of my mind about whether these were horror novels or something else. After reading the first chapter late at night (around midnight), I was so freaked out, thinking it was a horror novel, that I put it down, turned off the lights and huddled under the blankets.

Soon after that though I discovered the depth of her novels, the description and emotions she put into the story lines and I've aspired to write with that kind of vivid depth of feeling and visuals ever since. Though I love all the books that V.C. Andrews wrote, I slowly lost interest after the ghostwriter took over and supposedly wrote based on her notes once she passed away. I'm sorry Ghostwriter, but you have nothing on V.C.

And though I love the series books, My Sweet Audrina is one that I can take up and read in no time because it is a stand-alone. Every time I read it, I get so caught up in the story, I forget I've read it numerous times before and the tears still come at the same places, just like all the laughter and joy.

It's books like this that remind me that great books, just like great movies or music, always take us back to a good place, a reminder of heartaches, happiness and how deeply affected we can be by emotions.

Have a Great Thursday and don't forget to stop by
Krista Ames'
A Passion for Romance for my
AUTHOR, AUTHOR interview and my MEATBALL recipe!

#WIPlash Wednesdays- Spring Broke Me

(Click images for larger, clearer versions)

Spring Break is over. :( I had a really wonderful visit with my family and friends but as always, the visit never lasts long enough. Usually the time away gives my brain and body a break from the daily routine we have during the school year. This time, I find I've come back with a lot of things weighing on my mind- Blog scheduling, promo'ing, and all sorts of other things that need my attention.
The plans changed on Saturday, as my husband was going to drive up after work, stay the night at my parents' and we'd head back on Sunday morning, but then he found out he'd probably have to work Mon-Fri rather than his regular Wed-Sat due to a small inventory they've planned at the warehouse for this coming weekend. Fly in the ointment.
Considering we needed to restock the cabinets with food, grocery shopping needed to be done, as well as getting the yard mowed in case the weather didn't permit me to take care of it during the day while he was at work. So we headed home Saturday evening, much to our daughter's dismay because she still wanted more time with Grandma and Pop-Pop and she was NOT happy that we had to leave early.
Sunday we tackled the grocery shopping and the yard, got the kids ready for heading back to school after a week without a regular bedtime and days away from books and homework. It's time to knuckle down and knock out the rest of the school year. Less than a month now, I do believe.
So, anyway...Monday I balanced up the checkbook, put bills out in the mail, kids on the bus, laundry into dryer and started another load, ate a bowl of cereal, unpacked my laptop and then collapsed on the bed and took a nap with the Miz until 10 AM.
Then I spent the rest of the day finishing laundry, playing catch up on email, scheduling blog posts (I've fallen so far behind) so I have "unwritten" blogs lined up in the drafts where I can easily see the titles of what kind of posts I have coming up and give myself time to think about what I'll even write. I also spent some time out of doors snapping all these great photos of my roses and irises that are in bloom at the moment.
Tuesday was spent doing more of the same, when I'd really rather have been writing. Yes, what good is WIPlash Wednesdays if I write nothing? Honestly, these writing spurts are driving me insane. There seriously are not enough hours in the day for me to accomplish all the things I want to or need to and sometimes I feel like I'm just barely keeping up. When will the world slow down so I can catch up?
I need focus and a schedule and it needs to include writing. Most of what I spend my time doing focuses around social networking and building those skills and getting the word out, etc. Monday night I lay in bed, wide away for an hour before my busy brain would let me nod off to dream land, just because everyone else in the house was asleep and I felt obligated to go to bed when they did. Unfortunately, I wasted that hour staring into the darkness, with only the black and gray shadows illuminating the room, vague blocky images taunting me that I should have gotten up and used that time wisely.
I need to listen to myself more and stop letting all the outside interference create static so that I can't hear what I need to.

How do you find balance?
Is there such a thing?
What do you do when life gets out of control and you need to slow things down?
Do you take a step back to breath?
Share with me what helps you.

#SCENTsational Saturdays- #Floral #Inspiration #Love #Spring

Spring brings plenty to inspire with the lovely colors and fragrances in nature. The soft aroma of lilacs and roses fill the air along with hyacinths and honeysuckles, welcoming and awakening the world around us and embracing it with the warmth that dissipated in the fall and winter months.

These scents also put me in the mind of romance and love because it inspires the softness and simplicity of beauty in it's most basic form- and in a way we don't get in the hazy heat of summer or the crispness of fall or the chill of winter.

That rebirth of Life in spring feels like falling in love, over and over again. What other time of the year, do you feel as young as you did in your youth? So full of hope and ideas and emotions. It's rejuvenating and uplifting to know you made it through the cold spell. That things are greening up and blooming out.I could spend all day outside under the pristine blue skies and enjoy the fragrance that abounds at this time of year. It spells hope for new growth, for transitioning into a new phase in your life, a brighter, fresher view of the world, the people around you and gives new focus to what your life is all about.Enjoy the beauty around us, the joy of new life taking shape, love renewing itself in our hearts and the world. Don't waste time on petty things. Enjoy the here and now.

What are some of your favorite fragrant blooms? Please feel free to share with me.
Would love the company!

Hope you have a SCENTsational Saturday!

#WIPlash Wednesdays- Neck on the #Writer's Block #Procrastination #Life #Writing

I used to believe in "writer's block" when I was younger, but the older I get, the more I realize that any obstacles that have hindered me as a writer were due to more than just the notion of "writer's block." Procrastination plays a very big part as does Life events and illness and momentary attacks of de-motivation and chinks of doubt in the armor of my self-confidence.

I wrote a lot through my teens- mostly poetry (a good deal of it bad poetry I'm sure) and terrible horrible short stories, with silly illustrations. I'm pretty sure a few of my friends from the neighborhood can attest to that.

It wasn't until my late teens/early twenties that I started thinking more in terms of novels and most of my ideals were for young adult stories that weren't just about budding romances, but with other deeper plot lines- dealing with divorce, peer pressure, etc. Of course, some of what I wrote might work for nowadays, but I think I'd have to take a serious look at how teenagers view the world too- I still like to believe I'm young at heart, but not sure I'm "with the times."

I still have a few, hand-written in Lisa Frank notebooks with pastel blue pages, but most are half-baked ideas that never fully formed. The first novel I started and eventually finished took ten years- not because I was writing all the time, but because I wrote 3/4 of it in a very short matter of time, but then I stalled. I couldn't finish writing it for emotional and personal reasons, the final part of that book became, well, my nemesis. I didn't want to face it, didn't think I had the strength to, sprouted numerous heads of doubt in my mind that told me it wasn't a good story anyway, that there was no point in finishing it and I was just crazy to ever think anything I wrote would ever become anything worthy of print.

So I tucked it away for ten years. My thoughts went back to it, all the time, this nagging sensation that I hadn't finished what I started. It was important to me and I wanted to complete it, but fear and excuses kept me away from it.

I said Life got in the way— I had relationships, work, laundry, etc and well, I'd pull it out and "finish it someday" when I had more time to devote to it.

Someday did eventually come, in 2006 after I'd moved away from my hometown, became a wife, a stepmom and a mother to a child of my own. Balancing the new life I had began to take it's toll and like so many young wives and mothers, I wondered when I would have things that were just for me, as it seemed everything I did was for someone else. There was an emptiness in me, personally. I mean, doing things for others gives you a great sense of pride, but when you don't take time for yourself, it does leave a void that makes you feel less than whole.

I knew what was missing. I didn't write in my journals anymore, I didn't write poetry even, but once in a blue moon and every time I got the opportunity to read a book, I found myself thinking more about my own stories that I once started but hadn't finished. It weighed on my mind, lingered in my thoughts as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep at night.

I honestly don't think my husband knew I wanted to be writer because I hardly ever talked about it to him in those first 5-6 years we were together. I'd doubted myself for so long, I wasn't even sure it was worth it, but the drive within me and the encouragement from a close friend and my mother, as well as other authors I had met online, pushed me forward. The inspiration from others became the driving force to shut down the doubt and lack of confidence that had plagued me for a decade.

This was the place- a crossroads in my life. There was no more "I'll get to it someday." Someday was NOW.

This is something I'm currently working back toward- because I wrote prolifically from 2006 to 2009. It flowed naturally from me like water from a tap. I wrote 9 manuscripts just in that time. I've only written one and a half since then. :( Of course, some of it could have probably used a filter, but it was there.

The well was overflowing. But then I burned out—ran dry—and I felt I was left emotionally drained, not only in my writing, but in my life. I have written a bit here and there, but it hasn't been anywhere near what I now expect from myself as a writer. I slug through any little sliver of progress I make. Since that time though too, there has been an onslaught of social media to pop up that I'm also trying to keep up with along with issues in my personal life so things have gotten overwhelming and sometimes I feel a bit lost from the core of who I am as a woman, a writer, a wife, a mother- all of it. The ebb and flow of Life alters and transforms.

I won't call it writer's block, but I do sometimes feel my neck in on the chopping block as I'm trying to claw my way out of the hole I'm in and get my writing groove back where it belongs so I can pour those stories onto the page and shake a tail-feather, while I'm at it.

Happy WIPlash Wednesday!
Write on!