Note to Self

“Note to self…” You’ve heard that saying before, I’m sure. Probably even said it, yourself. That’s part of what I’m going to talk about today. So, with that in mind, let’s jump in and start each of the next few paragraphs with the phrase “Note to self”.

If it seems too good to be true, then chances are it is too good to be true. A publishing company who will edit, format, distribute, sell and promote your book all for $999 is quite possibly trying to rip you off. After getting scammed by a publishing company back in 2009 and then self publishing three books with the help of a friend, I think I’d rather go with my gut here.

If you spend a lot of time talking to folks about their lives so you can write their story, chances are you will think about them all night long. This is not a hardship, BTW. It’s a great opportunity to pray. However, when you start talking about them all the time, then it’s probably best to back off so they won’t think you are a stalker. :)

If you drink caffeinated beverages all day, then you’re going to be awake most of the night, unable to shut off your brain.

If you don’t turn on the dryer, the clothes will remain wet. I know this is like duh, but I just thought I’d add it here.

If you want to feel God’s Holy Spirit moving, then open your mouth and praise Him. He is worthy to be praised. Amen?

If you don’t turn on the crockpot, your food will not get cooked. Again, I hear you saying “well, duh”, but stick with me; I do have a point to all this.

Talking about doing something is all fine and good, but it won’t amount to anything if I don’t get my hands in there and do it. We’re having homemade soup for dinner, hopefully. I cut up the potato, opened a couple of cans and mixed it all up with the left over roast we had Sunday. But, if I had sat on my couch and talked about it without doing anything, we would be hungry come dinnertime.

The same goes with doing laundry or writing a book. Talking about writing is easy. Writing the words down, now that takes some effort. Sometimes, I wish the words would go from my brain right to the page, but it never happens. I actually have to put my fingers on the keyboard and type out words. *gasp* LOL

Even after the words are on the page, most of the time they need edited. I misspell them, get them backward and often just plain get them wrong. But, thankfully there is a delete button.

Sometimes in life, there is no delete button. In fact, we only get one life to live. No do-overs. We can go back and apologize for hurtful words, we can ask the Lord to forgive us, and He will, but we can never go back and redo the past. Hindsight might be 20/20, but the future is uncharted territory, and our only guide is the one who is, who was and who is to come.

So, keep making those notes to yourself, don’t forget where you came from, but, more important, don’t be afraid to grab hold of God’s big, warm hand and step out into the future. It might be scary, but He has more out there for you than you have ever dreamed of.

Thanks for being with me today. I would love to hear from you, so drop me a comment. Y’all take care and remember to pray for each other.

Taking Out the Garbage

Last Tuesday I talked about the results of binge reading. Today, I’m going to talk about ways I get rid of the extra garbage in my brain after one of those reading binges.

Seeing as how we serve a mighty God who already has the answers to everything, I thought it best to look into the Word, first. Here’s what I found.

“Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto according to thy word” Psalms 119:9 KJV

After reading 7 books pretty much back to back, I can tell you there is a need for cleansing. According to the psalmist, taking heed to God’s Word is the answer. Yep, more reading, but this time, it’s the kind of reading that satisfies my soul. :)

Another way I expel the extras in my brain is to write about them. I keep a personal journal, in which I allow myself to say anything. Doesn’t matter if it makes sense or not, doesn’t matter if it matters or not. I let myself say whatever is on my mind. So, I write about the characters or how the story made me feel. I quote a passage from the book that either bothers me or sticks with me for some other reason. I make up my own version of the story, which, BTW, can lead to some very bad stories that I can’t bring myself to delete. LOL The key here is to give myself a chance to talk about what I’ve read to someone. It just happens, that someone is me and my heavenly Father. No use keeping secrets from Him, anyway. He knows all, sees all and still loves me, even when I’m being stupid.

Sometimes, if the books that I have devoured are especially clingy after reading, I stop reading completely. Except for my Bible, I don’t read anyone else’s work but my own. I listen to music or play music or crochet or knit or bake. I have gone months without reading any fiction but my own, which is probably why I go on a reading binge to start with. LOL

Books, especially the good ones with real characters and unpredictable endings are more than just something to read when I’m bored; they become part of me. I know that sounds loony, but characters stick inside my mind like real people. Usually, the only way to quiet them down is to write them out. So, as an author, understanding what makes real characters has become important to me. If an author can make a character pop off the page, then it doesn’t matter whether that character is male or female, werewolf, vampire, smoke jumper, doctor, ghost, shapeshifter, cowboy, gunfighter, beautician, soldier, police officer, preacher, time traveler, slave, pirate, Martian or whatever. Just make them real.

To add some humor and show you how my mind works, here are some story ideas from some reading binges from the past. Keep in mind, many of these  are too bad to share.

Young lady sets out on the Oregon Trail with her family and falls for the mysterious mountain man who is guiding the wagon train. (I did start this one, but can't seem to finish it.)

In 2117, a woman is given the task of teaching a man from Mars how to live on Earth and falls for him.

A blind woman’s werewolf husband changes to become her guide dog whenever she goes anywhere, scaring off anyone who would try to approach her. (This would actually come in handy) LOL

A woman travels back in time and finds not only the man of her dreams but her faith in God. (Oh, wait a minute, that one turned into a book, "A Moment in Time")

A young woman is on the run from the law and is captured by the one man who can teach her about God’s forgiveness. (Oh, wait, that turned into a book, too, "Wild Heart")

Female physician takes in a man wanted by the law and falls for him, all the while praying for his salvation. (Ok, that one is a book, too, "To Tame A Heart")

A wounded soldier comes home to heal and finds a book about her ancestors who fought in the Civil War. (Oh, dear, I think I’m starting a trend, because that one is turning into a book that hopefully will be published this year.)

To sum it all up, my way of taking out the trash in my head is to write it out. Some of these story ideas are just plain silly, but some of them work. The only way to know is to write them and see.

Thanks for spending your Tuesday with me. I hope you’ll come back often. Be blessed and remember God loves you.

Binge Reading

Binge: (according to dictionary.com) a period or bout, usually brief, of excessive indulgence, as in eating, drinking alcoholic beverages, etc.; spree.

The results of an eating spree would include the following:

an overload of food in my body,

a feeling of discomfort and sluggishness, especially if that food was full of carbs and sugar,

my system would take a long time to digest said food,

I would gain weight,

and last but not least,

I would be out of food.

If I over indulged in alcoholic beverages, some of the results might include the following:

a lot of liquid in my system,

impaired brain function do to the alcoholic content in said beverages,

a need to expel that liquid in my system,

and, if I went way too far,

death.

There was a time in my life when I would have said, the above speculation and facts had nothing to do with my excessive reading habits. Now that I have some experience behind me, I know that the above speculation and facts have a lot to do with it. Notice, faithful readers, I did not say I was wiser than before, just experienced. Wiser would imply that I do not make mistakes in this area. Alas, I do make these kinds of mistakes. Ergo, last week’s reading binge.

It started out innocently enough. Early on a Monday, I remembered a book I had started but hadn’t finished. Wanting to finish it, I downloaded it and started listening. I finished it, and found another that sounded good. And, another, and another, and… By the time Friday evening rolled around, I had listened to 5 audio books, which seriously depleted my credits on audible.com. A friend asked if I had got my fill. I told her yes, but then yesterday, I downloaded 2 more and finished them this afternoon.

Results of binge reading may include the following:

too many characters yapping inside my head,

too much information vying for space inside my head,

unfinished house and school work,

Manuscripts of mine still waiting around to be worked on,

Sleepless nights,

a feeling of disconnect with the outside world,

hearing my thoughts in the voice of the narrator of those audio books,

no blog post last Tuesday

less time spent in prayer,

less time reading God’s Word,

and, last but not least,

A sense of emptiness, because the books I read, while funny and full of action and good characters, cannot satisfy my soul.

To use the words of king Solomon in Ecclesiastes 12:13-14 “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.”

My conclusion, therefore, is this: just as binge eating has consequences, so does binge reading, and it’s going to take a while for my brain to expel the garbage of my over indulgence. As for what you can take away from this post, remember that little song from Sunday School? “Oh, be careful little ears what you hear. Oh, be careful little ears what you hear. For the Father up above is looking down in love, so be careful little ears what you hear.”

What goes in the ear most times comes out the mouth, so let’s sing another verse. “Oh, be careful little mouth what you say. Oh, be careful little mouth what you say. For the Father up above is looking down in love, so be careful little mouth what you say.”

Thanks for being with me today. Come back next Tuesday, when, Lord willing, I’ll talk about just how I usually expel garbage from my brain. No need for paper towels, either; this mess is usually harmless.

Be blessed, and pray for me. :)

Happy Mother's Day

_{Happy Mother’s Day to all moms out there! So glad you could join me. Today, I have a gift just for you, faithful readers. Excerpts. Yep, you heard me. Free excerpts of my books, all of them focusing on moms and mothering.}

_{The three ladies you are about to meet are as different as night and day, yet they have one thing in common; all of them take on the care of someone in need of a mother. Maggie Scott is a mom and an aunt. Dr. Faith Valentine takes on the responsibility of ten orphaned children who live next door. Lady Ann MacQueen Davidson is a widow living in her brother’s home with her teenager son. Now that I think of it, these ladies have something else in common; all are believers. Oh, and one more thing, all are fictional. They weren’t created with anyone special in mind, but as I read over these excerpts, I can’t help but remember what my life was like while I wrote about them and see characteristics of folks I either know or once knew.}

_{Living several miles away from her 18-year-old daughter, Maggie Scott from "Wild Heart"} is a seamstress. In the scene you are about to read, her nephew and former neighbor have just arrived unexpectedly in the night. Maggie first came West on the California trail back in 1850. In the 1860’s, she moved with her husband and daughter to Wyoming to ranch. Now, she is living in New Mexico near her ailing brother. She loves to feed people, and she makes no secret about being a matchmaker. She rather puts me in mind of my Papaw’s sister who insisted on feeding you every time you came to her house. Come with me to Maggie’s cozy kitchen.

Maggie reached into her cupboard and retrieved three mugs.  After pouring the coffee, she placed the hot mugs before her guests, and then began to slice the cinnamon cake.  When everyone was served, including herself, she sat down and asked, "So, what brings the two of you to Silver City?”

She watched with curiosity as the young people at her table looked at one another.  Shewana opened her mouth to reply, but Gage beat her to it.

"We were just passing through on our way to Cheyenne," he said.

Maggie gave him a look that said more plainly than words, "Sure you are.”

Gage met her gaze and tried to tell her with his eyes to let it alone, but apparently she either didn't understand, or she didn't care.

"Going to Cheyenne?" she asked.  "Well, that's nice.  Shewana, your brother's up there, isn't he?  Well, so if you're going to Cheyenne, where are you coming from?”

"Coming from?" Gage asked, not sure he understood her question.

"Yes, coming from," Maggie reiterated.  "Where did you two meet up?  In Texas?"  Then, as a thought struck her, she asked, incredulously, "You two aren't married, are you?”

Shewana choked on her bite of cake, and Gage's eyes grew wide.  Maggie enjoyed watching them, even though she knew it wasn't really all that funny.

After a silence that seemed to go on forever, Shewana managed, "Married?  Uh, no, Maggie, we are most definitely not married.  Whatever gave you that idea?”

"Well," Maggie said, "I've never seen the two of you together.  In fact, I didn't even know the two of you knew one another.  I just…”

"It’s ok, Maggie," said Gage, rising to his feet.  "Shewana's right.  We're not married; we're just traveling together.  I'm going to carry our bags upstairs.  I'll be back in a minute.”

Hurriedly standing to her feet, Shewana said, embarrassed, "I think I'll go up with you.  I'm sort of tired.  Thanks for the coffee and cake, Maggie.  I hope you will excuse me turning in so early.”

Knowing that there was more here than what met the eye, Maggie decided to wait until she had Gage alone to press further.  Aloud, she said, "No problem, Honey.  You sleep as long as you like.”

Faith Valentine from "To Tame A Heart" is a physician in a town where no one has ever heard of a woman doctor. The orphans who are her neighbors keep her hopping, but she wouldn’t trade them for a moment. If she could, she’d take them all in as her own. While I am eternally grateful the Lord only blessed me with two children, Faith’s busyness of always cleaning up after sick folks puts me in mind of myself when my girls were small. LOL Seems like I was always wiping up messes on the floor, changing diapers and walking the floors at night. Let’s go see what Faith and the children are into now.

When the door was opened, she stared in puzzlement at the four smallest children from the orphanage: Megan, Blake, Tracey and Kierstin.

"Good morning," she greeted.  "Is there something wrong?"

Why are they looking so serious?

Pulling her thumb out of her mouth with an audible pop, little Kierstin said, "There's a big fight down by the jail and Candace says you need to come."

"At this hour?" she asked, incredulous.  "But, who…  Why me?"

"Cause somebody beat Colbey up," the child answered before replacing her thumb in its customary place.

"Oh for pity sake!" Faith exclaimed, before slamming her door, lifting her skirts and running with the children toward the jail.

What kind of trouble has that boy caused this time?

Reaching the middle of town, all Faith could see was a crowd of people.  They were standing around something or someone, but she could not see over them, not at first.

"Let me through," she commanded, shoving shoulders aside.

The people moved apart, allowing her amidst them.

There was indeed a big fight, or rather, there had been.  Now all she saw were bloody faces and a motley group of boys and girls standing around a single figure who lay silent in the mud.

Kneeling at his side, Faith touched a finger to Colbey's neck and was glad to feel a strong, if rapid, heartbeat.  He looked awful, blood and bruises all over his face and his clothes all torn and muddy. But, he was alive.

Glancing up, she met Ruby's green eyes and commanded, "Go get me some water, Ruby.  Candace," she said to the teenager whose face was tear-streaked, go get my bag for me."

The children were not long in obeying; they knew her well and knew she meant for them to hurry.

"Colbey!" Faith called kindly, wiping away the dirt and blood from his face, "Colbey, wake up.  Come on, Son, open your eyes and talk to me."

Then, as Candace handed her the bag, she grabbed up a bottle of ammonia.  She uncorked it, passed it beneath her patient's nose and called out, "Colbey!  Come on, Colbey!"

Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up.

"Careful, there," she said, steadying him with a hand to his shoulder.

He turned his head and tried to meet her gaze, but his eyes were swelling shut fast.

Colbey," she began, gently, taking his hand, "Colbey, do you think you can stand up?"

He nodded, so she and Candace helping, he managed to get to his feet.  They steadied him and, glancing around at the staring faces, Faith asked, "Is anyone else injured?"

No one answered.  They just stood there like knot heads and stared wide-eyed at her.

"What?" she asked in exasperation.

"Ain't you even going to go in and check on your husband?" a male voice asked from somewhere in the crowd.

Her husband?

Glancing around, she looked for Deric, but did not see him.  Then, her eyes were drawn to the barred window near the corner of the jailhouse.  And there, looking out upon the scene in the street with troubled eyes was Deric Christy.  He was unshaven and still wearing the clothes he had worn the day before.  When their eyes met, she felt her face burn with shame and not a little anger.

"Uh, Miss…  Uh, Doctor, if you'd like, I'll help you get this young man home.  We can talk then.”

Lady Ann from "A Moment in Time" has lost her husband, and now her son is critically injured. The woman she is trusting to care for her only son has strange ways about her, but since her brother trusts this new person in their midst, Lady Ann must trust as well. I tried to think of someone who reminds me of her, but she is original, unlike anyone I know.  Come with me back to 15th century Scotland where Lady Ann’s son is being cared for by a 21st century American.

Even before my fingers touched the young man’s brow, I knew we were in trouble. I bit down on my bottom lip and ordered my face not to show any emotion.

"Mayhap he is in need of more of your wee rocks?”

The trembling voice of Lady Ann from somewhere behind me penetrated through the fear choking me and I turned to her.

She looked like she was about to cry. Twisting a handkerchief between shaking hands, her blue eyes implored me to do something.

"My lady," I said, having no idea how I managed to sound so calm and respectful, "If you could reach my hand bag over here, I’ll have your son resting quietly in no time.”

"Aye, Annie, get Mistress Bronwen her things.”

I flashed Himself a grateful glance, then turned back to the bed.

When Lady Ann handed me my bag, I tried to talk her and her brother in to leaving me to my work, but the expression in the laird’s eyes told me he knew there was reason for concern. Geordy’s mother and uncle were going nowhere.

I knew what I would find when I unwrapped the bandages, and I was right; the wounds were swollen, warm to the touch and reddened. One of the gashes was beginning to ooze yellow pus. Not taking my eyes from the affected area, I reached a hand toward my bag. This young man was going to need that codeine in order to make it through the coming ordeal.

Instead of the well-worn denim of my shoulder strap, however, my hand was grasped and a bottle placed in my palm. I glanced up only to see Colin’s somber face. He wrapped my fingers around the plastic bottle of pills and pushed it toward me.

"Nephew," he said, voice full of tenderness, "ye need to swallow more rocks, and Mistress Bronwen needs to fix up your wounds.”

"Aye, uncle, I know," came the whispered reply from the bed.

"It’s going to hurt, laddy.”

"Aye, well, she better get to it before I lose my courage.”

The difficulty was not the task of washing the wounds with whisky. No, that was the easy part. The difficult part was seeing Geordy’s pain. The codeine hadn’t had time to start working on his system, and, braw lad that he was, he had still needed his uncle to hold him down during the worst parts. Honestly, I don’t know who cried more, Lady Ann or me. By the time I had spread a thick layer of antibiotic cream on the wounds and wrapped clean bandages around them, all four of us were damp with perspiration and dragging with fatigue.

I slumped on to a stool and leaned my back against the stone wall, closing my eyes.

"Will... Will Geordy be all right?”

Clutching the shoulder strap of my bag, I wanted so much to lie to Lady Ann, but I couldn’t.

Opening my eyes, I met her gaze head on.

"Only time will tell," I said, then shut my eyes against her pain.

The sound of pouring liquid came to my ears and then Colin’s voice.

"Take a drink, Annie.”

"I dinna want it," she said.

"I dinna care what ye want. Drink it. Ye are no help to anyone if ye dinna take care of yourself.”

She must have obeyed, because the next time I heard him speak, his tone was more gentle.

I looked, and the MacQueen was lowering his sister to the pallet I had slept in the night before. He touched her cheek, told her to rest, then stepped away and faced me.

Any woman can be a mother, but it takes a real woman to be a real mom. I think it’s rather funny, sometimes when I look back at my own childhood. As a youngster, I thought my mom had it figured out. Then, I became a teenager and Mom didn’t know a thing. Now that I have girls of my own, I realize, we all have one thing in common; we are all just trying to do our best and figure it out as we go. A newborn will teach you that you don’t know anything. A busy toddler will teach you what it means to be alert. A preteen will teach you that only God can convict your child and know what and who they are talking to when you aren’t around. My oldest will be twelve in August, so I’m sure there’s more learning up around the bend, but for now, I gotta go on what I know. Only way I know to do that with any peace is to put my trust in the one who created us. He is ever faithful, and it is His will that my girls trust in Him.

I hope you have enjoyed this post, and i pray you’ll make Jesus the Lord of your life. Be sure and join me each Tuesday. I don’t always know what I’m going to say, but I post something each week. Take care, be blessed and hug your mama, if she is still living. If she isn’t, here’s a big ole hug from me. XX

On Teeth, Circus Trains, Editing and Writing

Teeth. Pearly whites. Chompers. Whatever you like to call ‘em, I got a drill taken to one this morning, and my youngest lost one of hers this afternoon. The problem? Food. Too many sweets caused my difficulty; Swedish Fish helped my daughter with hers.

The circus. No, not the one often taking place around here. The real one. The Ringing Brothers and Barnum and Bailey one. The one who, after nearly a century and a half of entertaining children of all ages is calling it quits has come to my part of the world. The train passed my house by the railroad tracks just a little while ago. My oldest daughter caught it on camera. When the noise of its passing had calmed down, my children were excited to tell me how the people on the train were waving and hanging out of windows. One guy even held out his GoPro on a selfie stick. When I listened to the video later, I could hear them hollering. The show is this weekend, and our tickets have already been purchased. As a blind person, I get very little out of it, but I do like the music. My girls are thrilled.

Writing. Well, writing and editing. Editing on the manuscript which is about 497 pages long and writing on a new story which is about 20 pages so far. From American Civil War to 18th century American colonies. Before that, it was Scottish time travel romance. Told a lady at the dentist’s office this morning, “I’m all over the place.” LOL But, I think I got off topic, because I was talking about writing and editing. So, for a while I edited the story that takes place during the Civil War. Then, I went to my 18th century story, the one I started here on this blog and wrote a few lines. My friend says I’m talented. I think I’m just crazy. :)

I wrote a post a while back about how I went from Westerns to time travel. Soon, I’ll tell you how I went from Scottish time travel to the Civil War. The road wasn’t long, but the research sure took me to some strange places…most of them online. :) The reenactment at Carnifex Ferry was awesome, though. Standing in the rain, the sound of the guns loud enough to be felt in my chest, friends with me who enjoy talking about it all, it gave me inspiration for one of the battle scenes. No, my characters are not at Carnifex Ferry, WV; they are at the battle of Shiloh, but I think it turned out pretty good. More to come later, so no worries. Just trying to wet your appetite.

The dryer is working away, the chimes on my porch are providing occasional music in the background, my kids are waiting for time to go to Youth Meeting at a local church, and I’m thinking that since I’ve been awake since 2:30 a.m., I might take a nap. Have a good week, and be sure to come back next Tuesday for some chatter about moms. There might even be a teaser from my up and coming book.

Blessings to you all.