There are too many external worries going on for me right now. Fortunately for me, I have my writing. When I write, I can go with my characters for a little while and the worries disappear. This world has enough worries and I think that is why people tend to read or watch television, or even go to the movies. Maybe too much. They can snuggle down in their comfortable chair or on their couch, and if you're a girl or a lady, I'd almost bet you have a warm blanket, no matter the time of year, to snuggle under as you read or watch in comfort, the words or the visual pictures allowing you to escape from everything stressful that is causing you to pull your hair out.
We might think that through these mediums we are able to experience great heights or lows, adventures or fantasies that could never take place in the real world. Even if to us it would be the coolest thing ever. How many kids wish they could do the things that Harry Potter and his friends are capable of? How many of you when you were younger wished you could wiggle your nose and make your bed, or sleep til the last minute and snap clean clothes on and arrive at your destination at a blink?
I myself have wished certain books could have been my life. Or that I was blessed with certain powers to clean my room. Now I am older and realize the impossibilities of this. Despite knowing this, there is a part of me that thinks being a dragon shape shifter or its rider would be exhilarating. Shall we say, "Pull our head out of the clouds." So even if we do, "pull our head out of the clouds," there are things we can do to enrich our lives, many that will take energy and desire to go out there and implement the ideas that come to us. Unfortunately, most of us lack the desire and determination to go and do. Especially those of us that seem to burn the candle at both ends.
My enrichment, besides my kids, has been my book. And, I hope I will continue to have the desire and determination to promote and push it until it is successful. And in the meantime, I hope my brain continues to desire to release my ideas to the computer so they will quit running around in my head. I'm glad to say my first book no longer does that. But until it was complete, my story made havoc until it was fully written.
So if you want to read, (shameful plug) read my first book in the Chasing Dragon's Saga, and then go out and make life full and fun. Read, watch television, or go see a movie, but all in healthy amounts. Don't let life pass by without the fullness and enrichment of living it. And when you're eighty, you can say "I did that." Or if you die before your time, others can never say, "He never..." No matter how my book does, I and others will always be able to say I did it, or at least I tried to.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
"Good Lands"
As my Ma used to say, "Good lands." And really that's all that is needed to say as I look back over the summer and think how it flew by. She used to tell me that the older you get, the faster time will speed by, and she was right. It does seem only yesterday that my kids came home from the last day of school. And now, today, all four are enjoying the new experiences of the first day of their next year of school. I am actually excited about it myself. I have missed the stories of their experiences with their friends and their world outside our own. Especially my fourteen year old daughter. She usually has us laughing at herself or her friends with the things that happen to them. I can only imagine how many more she will have as a freshman in high school.
I love the beginning of school. It is like a new year to me. While summer, with its swimming, gardening, running around in shorts and flip flops slowly come to an end, the beginning of football, new shows and warm sweaters and boots sprout the start of fall. And I know that soon I will be buying Halloween costumes for at least four. If my fourteen year old daughter gets her monster or dinosaur costume she is wanting, I might have to get one for her older brother. They are both in their own club: "Team Alpha Wolf Squadron."
I enjoy each new day with them, knowing as they grow older, so do I. I don't mind so much. I'm not big on the wrinkles that are slowly making themselves known around my eyes, but I am a huge fan of the 'wisdom' that I am accumulating. I wish we could have had that wisdom when we were younger, but then how else are we to grow if we aren't 'stupid' at some point of our lives.
I am a writer now. I think it was always there in the recesses of my mind, waiting to be let out. But my children, being younger, needed me more than my stories did. Now it is their turn. Besides my older son and daughter, I also have a younger son and daughter, ages 11 and 8, but they know what I do and also know that at any point I will stop and take care of what they need. It is because of them that many days I do not write, but it is also for them, and myself, that I do. And one day I hope to have all my books on a shelf and they can each proudly point them out to their own children and say, "Your grandmother, or your great grandmother wrote these." And by the time I am old and with grandchildren, I am sure I will say as my Ma did, "Good lands," knowing that time sped by way to fast.
I love the beginning of school. It is like a new year to me. While summer, with its swimming, gardening, running around in shorts and flip flops slowly come to an end, the beginning of football, new shows and warm sweaters and boots sprout the start of fall. And I know that soon I will be buying Halloween costumes for at least four. If my fourteen year old daughter gets her monster or dinosaur costume she is wanting, I might have to get one for her older brother. They are both in their own club: "Team Alpha Wolf Squadron."
I enjoy each new day with them, knowing as they grow older, so do I. I don't mind so much. I'm not big on the wrinkles that are slowly making themselves known around my eyes, but I am a huge fan of the 'wisdom' that I am accumulating. I wish we could have had that wisdom when we were younger, but then how else are we to grow if we aren't 'stupid' at some point of our lives.
I am a writer now. I think it was always there in the recesses of my mind, waiting to be let out. But my children, being younger, needed me more than my stories did. Now it is their turn. Besides my older son and daughter, I also have a younger son and daughter, ages 11 and 8, but they know what I do and also know that at any point I will stop and take care of what they need. It is because of them that many days I do not write, but it is also for them, and myself, that I do. And one day I hope to have all my books on a shelf and they can each proudly point them out to their own children and say, "Your grandmother, or your great grandmother wrote these." And by the time I am old and with grandchildren, I am sure I will say as my Ma did, "Good lands," knowing that time sped by way to fast.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Clara and Millie vs Ma and Pa
Most everyone who has read my book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance, has said they love the two old ladies. In that case, I have to say with much confidence, you would love my Ma and Pa Mallory. Millie and Clara are based on my grandparents and I lovingly wrote the two sisters with them in mind. I think Pa would get a kick.
When I was younger than four, my mother met a wonderful man who took my sister and myself in as his own. When I was four, they married. His parents gathered us and placed us with the others of the family and not one person could tell them we didn't belong. Those who knew them called them by name, Buster and Trisie Mallory. I called them Ma and Pa. They didn't have much money and spent their lives working hard, not forgetting to laugh along the way. When they lived in Iowa, their twin son and daughter died of pneumonia at the age of nine months. Ma's dad traveled from Missouri to Iowa and brought them back to Missouri for burial. With no money to return with them, they were unable to see them laid to rest. They eventually returned to Missouri and stayed till their dying day.
A large painting of Pa's childhood home hung on the wall, in a way contradicting the relationship between his parents and himself. He left home as a young teen, and to my understanding, he never spoke to his father again. I believe he did maintain a relationship with his mother. Ma was the opposite. Her father, Grandpa Calhoun, was a stand up man, marrying her mother and giving her son a name in a time when a woman with a child born out of wedlock was an outcast. I once asked Ma where her name came from. She said that Grandpa Calhoun got it from the Farmer's Almanac. He smoked a pipe, but never in the house because she didn't like it. When you look at the old black and white pictures, you see their love for each other, and when it came at their full time, Grandma Calhoun was the first to go, with Grandpa following three weeks later.
Ma and Pa were loved by all and in turn, they made us laugh. On Sunday's we would go to their house, sometimes skipping church, and most others, afterward. Ma always fixed dinner, my favorite being her homemade rolls. One Sunday, the women were in the kitchen (of course) washing dishes, and the men were in the living room watching football. Howard Cosell, a sports journalist, was commentating on TV when Pa said, "Look how long his nose is." Ma said, without missing a beat, "I wouldn't be talking, yours is splattered all over your face." Pa's nose was flat and wide, due to it being broken when he was young I'm guessing.
Other wise words of Pa: "I went to college. I walked in the front door and turned around and walked out." "I'm ready to meet Jesus, I'm just not ready to catch the bus."
Wise words of Ma: "Come back and see your fat ol Ma."
Ma would tell Pa and I to quit behaving like sniveling little girls when we would pretend cry when I left those Sunday evenings. They dressed like each other one Halloween party. I know of no one who could beat him at checkers. Ma liked to quilt and she liked to cook and make sweet, sweet tea. Some Sunday's we walked in the door and she would show us the different quilts she had finished. Laying on top of another, she would pull the top layer neatly back to reveal the next creation as we oohed and awed over each one, and they were worthy of the oohs and awes. And they both liked to play cards. I'm told that Pa is a good shot, that he could light a match. No joke. My dad will attest. He lost half his index finger to a saw blade, but told us kids a booger ate it. My nephew shot him with a toy gun, his teeth fell out and Adam cried and ran away until he realized it was a joke. Couldn't stop the boy after that. Ma always wore a dress that stopped at her knees with roll-up pantyhose and comfortable ugly loafers. I never saw Pa in anything other than overalls, unless he was in church, a wedding, or my graduation. And he isn't allergic to poison ivy and he collected hammers. ??? I don't know. I remember after he died in 1989, we went to his shed and rows and rows of hammers hung on the wall. Ma didn't die until 2002. The last few years of her life, every time I visited, tears would collect in her old eyes and she would say, "I don't understand why God won't take me home." And in the end, a tumor grew in her brain, leaving her speechless, but she could still wag that finger at you with a gleam in her eye.
When it was finally her time to go, I didn't cry. I did wipe a few teardrops away with my hand, but I understood she was where she wanted to be. She was home, with Pa, and God. I miss them. So I hope you see them when you read of Millie and Clara, because I put a little of them, inside.
When I was younger than four, my mother met a wonderful man who took my sister and myself in as his own. When I was four, they married. His parents gathered us and placed us with the others of the family and not one person could tell them we didn't belong. Those who knew them called them by name, Buster and Trisie Mallory. I called them Ma and Pa. They didn't have much money and spent their lives working hard, not forgetting to laugh along the way. When they lived in Iowa, their twin son and daughter died of pneumonia at the age of nine months. Ma's dad traveled from Missouri to Iowa and brought them back to Missouri for burial. With no money to return with them, they were unable to see them laid to rest. They eventually returned to Missouri and stayed till their dying day.
A large painting of Pa's childhood home hung on the wall, in a way contradicting the relationship between his parents and himself. He left home as a young teen, and to my understanding, he never spoke to his father again. I believe he did maintain a relationship with his mother. Ma was the opposite. Her father, Grandpa Calhoun, was a stand up man, marrying her mother and giving her son a name in a time when a woman with a child born out of wedlock was an outcast. I once asked Ma where her name came from. She said that Grandpa Calhoun got it from the Farmer's Almanac. He smoked a pipe, but never in the house because she didn't like it. When you look at the old black and white pictures, you see their love for each other, and when it came at their full time, Grandma Calhoun was the first to go, with Grandpa following three weeks later.
Ma and Pa were loved by all and in turn, they made us laugh. On Sunday's we would go to their house, sometimes skipping church, and most others, afterward. Ma always fixed dinner, my favorite being her homemade rolls. One Sunday, the women were in the kitchen (of course) washing dishes, and the men were in the living room watching football. Howard Cosell, a sports journalist, was commentating on TV when Pa said, "Look how long his nose is." Ma said, without missing a beat, "I wouldn't be talking, yours is splattered all over your face." Pa's nose was flat and wide, due to it being broken when he was young I'm guessing.
Other wise words of Pa: "I went to college. I walked in the front door and turned around and walked out." "I'm ready to meet Jesus, I'm just not ready to catch the bus."
Wise words of Ma: "Come back and see your fat ol Ma."
Ma would tell Pa and I to quit behaving like sniveling little girls when we would pretend cry when I left those Sunday evenings. They dressed like each other one Halloween party. I know of no one who could beat him at checkers. Ma liked to quilt and she liked to cook and make sweet, sweet tea. Some Sunday's we walked in the door and she would show us the different quilts she had finished. Laying on top of another, she would pull the top layer neatly back to reveal the next creation as we oohed and awed over each one, and they were worthy of the oohs and awes. And they both liked to play cards. I'm told that Pa is a good shot, that he could light a match. No joke. My dad will attest. He lost half his index finger to a saw blade, but told us kids a booger ate it. My nephew shot him with a toy gun, his teeth fell out and Adam cried and ran away until he realized it was a joke. Couldn't stop the boy after that. Ma always wore a dress that stopped at her knees with roll-up pantyhose and comfortable ugly loafers. I never saw Pa in anything other than overalls, unless he was in church, a wedding, or my graduation. And he isn't allergic to poison ivy and he collected hammers. ??? I don't know. I remember after he died in 1989, we went to his shed and rows and rows of hammers hung on the wall. Ma didn't die until 2002. The last few years of her life, every time I visited, tears would collect in her old eyes and she would say, "I don't understand why God won't take me home." And in the end, a tumor grew in her brain, leaving her speechless, but she could still wag that finger at you with a gleam in her eye.
When it was finally her time to go, I didn't cry. I did wipe a few teardrops away with my hand, but I understood she was where she wanted to be. She was home, with Pa, and God. I miss them. So I hope you see them when you read of Millie and Clara, because I put a little of them, inside.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
I find I like to write. It is the time I am allowed to write that seems to hinder me. The things in my life that take precedence over it, such as: sleep, kids, husband, family in general, cleaning, gardening, bills, work, migraines, broken ignition on the van (repair work), and the items of life that turn our world. I think it's in those moments that am finally able to sit down and my fingers move, creating the story that before long I reread and think I wrote that? It's in those moments I write and disappear into my unfolding world, that even if no one else takes the time to read and appreciate the characters, I at least was able to journey with them and be thankful that I could leave everything behind me if for just a little while.
But I can also leave the writing behind and appreciate the people in my life that keep me grounded and loved. Like my friend Kylie. She is one of my staunchest believers and one of the first to offer a hand, or car. She, like me, has her own problems in life. So I think its safe to say we understand each other. She has a wonderful man she will be marrying, (he's in the army in Germany and soon to come home for the wedding). She deserves the happiness that is coming her way. I hope it continues. No matter how far she goes, she will be my friend. We have to, because our daughters are also bffs. And it would be a tragedy if any of us lost the other. So, dear Kylie, I will wave to you and keep the security guard from escorting you off the red carpet. I love you.
But I can also leave the writing behind and appreciate the people in my life that keep me grounded and loved. Like my friend Kylie. She is one of my staunchest believers and one of the first to offer a hand, or car. She, like me, has her own problems in life. So I think its safe to say we understand each other. She has a wonderful man she will be marrying, (he's in the army in Germany and soon to come home for the wedding). She deserves the happiness that is coming her way. I hope it continues. No matter how far she goes, she will be my friend. We have to, because our daughters are also bffs. And it would be a tragedy if any of us lost the other. So, dear Kylie, I will wave to you and keep the security guard from escorting you off the red carpet. I love you.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Book bloggers are essential to an author and their stories. They are like a lifeline for book sales and the spreading of the word for the next best or worst book. Even those oh so, so ones. Rachel's Book Reviews has agreed to do a book review for my very own, Chasing Dragons:Vengeance. At this time, I am unsure if she has read it or not, or if she is in the making of preparing her own thoughts to my novel. What I do know, is no matter her like or dislike of it, she will tell you how it is. Her book review website is one of the most unique ones I have come across and she has put a lot of thought and effort into it. So, please, go and visit Rachel's Book Reviews at: http://www.rachelsbookreviews.com/#! and if you like it, spread the word. And I will let you know as soon as her review for Chasing Dragons: Vengeance is up. In the mean time, check out her site and see if she can lead you to another book that may pique your interest.
Friday, July 1, 2011
It's a new month, July 2011. This new road I am on is exciting. No matter how well my book sells, the imagination I am able to write down is fulfilling in so many ways. For one, I look at the words I type, reread and think 'wow, I just wrote that. No way.' But then all the hours I put in writing, reading, editing, and rereading, I know I did write every word and struggled over every idea and the direction it would take. Some days the writing flows and other days, the writing stands still. Sometimes I have to tell myself to set the computer aside and forget about it and enjoy just my family.
Speaking of family, we spent last week in Newport, AR with my husband's mother's family. The Madison's. Though Grandpa Hozie, died last year, Granny Madison is still alive and somewhat well. They were the proud parents to thirteen children (one did sadly die as an infant.) When these children were grown and had families of their own, they decided to meet every year. I have been going to the Madison reunion for eighteen years now. All cousins are grown and with families of their own. Each year, I have yet to see an Aunt or Uncle miss(most live in AR, one in MO, one in AZ, and one in Louisianna). Cousins (each scattered) who miss one year, will make it the next, and several never miss (there are about three that only come occasionally), and now the third generation is following in this tradition. How long it will continue is anyone's guess. Even after Granny Madison is gone, I think everyone will still get together. They are a close, God loving family. And I am proud to be a part of their heritage. It warms my heart to see a family this big want to get together to laugh and talk and just hang out together because they like each other. I hope my children are as blessed as they grow older and form families of their own, to stay in contact with each other just because they like each other.
My own family is stretched between OK and MO, one in KS, but there are no get togethers like the Madison's. I have asked for a Price reunion (my mother's side), but no one seems to want to or have the time. So I guess my memories will have to suffice. My sister lives in OK and I miss her very much, while my niece is set to take off for Europe for an indefinite time, I miss and will miss her too.
There are other, family members I haven't seen or spoken not quite a year now, but roads do go both ways. I won't say anymore on that. Some of you may be able to understand without knowing the particulars. I guess I shouldn't let hurt dig a cavern so deep that it doesn't heal. I know my children will miss out if I do. I wrote on my blog last year about my feelings on the situation, but I deleted it after awhile. I really don't know if betrayal is the right word to use in the situation.
I guess that in every family, there are times of good and bad. The good is easy to deal with while the bad takes some effort to try and heal. But no matter the size of your family or the type of family that binds you together, you are bound.
If only everyone would take my advise, even me: love each other, forgive each other, laugh with each other, repeat.
Speaking of family, we spent last week in Newport, AR with my husband's mother's family. The Madison's. Though Grandpa Hozie, died last year, Granny Madison is still alive and somewhat well. They were the proud parents to thirteen children (one did sadly die as an infant.) When these children were grown and had families of their own, they decided to meet every year. I have been going to the Madison reunion for eighteen years now. All cousins are grown and with families of their own. Each year, I have yet to see an Aunt or Uncle miss(most live in AR, one in MO, one in AZ, and one in Louisianna). Cousins (each scattered) who miss one year, will make it the next, and several never miss (there are about three that only come occasionally), and now the third generation is following in this tradition. How long it will continue is anyone's guess. Even after Granny Madison is gone, I think everyone will still get together. They are a close, God loving family. And I am proud to be a part of their heritage. It warms my heart to see a family this big want to get together to laugh and talk and just hang out together because they like each other. I hope my children are as blessed as they grow older and form families of their own, to stay in contact with each other just because they like each other.
My own family is stretched between OK and MO, one in KS, but there are no get togethers like the Madison's. I have asked for a Price reunion (my mother's side), but no one seems to want to or have the time. So I guess my memories will have to suffice. My sister lives in OK and I miss her very much, while my niece is set to take off for Europe for an indefinite time, I miss and will miss her too.
There are other, family members I haven't seen or spoken not quite a year now, but roads do go both ways. I won't say anymore on that. Some of you may be able to understand without knowing the particulars. I guess I shouldn't let hurt dig a cavern so deep that it doesn't heal. I know my children will miss out if I do. I wrote on my blog last year about my feelings on the situation, but I deleted it after awhile. I really don't know if betrayal is the right word to use in the situation.
I guess that in every family, there are times of good and bad. The good is easy to deal with while the bad takes some effort to try and heal. But no matter the size of your family or the type of family that binds you together, you are bound.
If only everyone would take my advise, even me: love each other, forgive each other, laugh with each other, repeat.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Sales in the Third Month
My week is about to get better. Officially at 10:45 am Saturday(tomorrow) I start my week vacation. Hoping to get enough sleep that I will have a writing boon and get loads of work done. An update for those who may or may not be beginners in the world of the author; sales: so far for the month of June, Amazon 0, B&N 2. Decided since I wasn't selling anything anyway that I should up my price. Have been told I should anyway. (good or bad strategy, only time will tell) I looked through the different ebook prices and decided to settle on $3.41. Don't have a clue why I chose that number. I am hoping something will change soon. As a writer, I do desire that people read my book. I also want them to enjoy them. Hopefully feedback will follow soon, have only seen one comment and I am happy to say it was a five star. I am writing this for those who are looking, as I have done, for that magic number of when sales will take off. For me, the first few months were okay, but they trickled to drips in the third month. I've read a couple of other authors that the fourth month was their take off. Can only wait and see, but I will let you know. This is what I am doing to promote: twitter, facebook, goodreads, scribd, and book blogs. Also looking for individuals to read and leave reviews. Do have one set up but at the moment, I am third in line.
Patience. God has them and since there is nothing for me to do but wait and work by promoting the best I can, I must have them too. I must trust that all is in good time. That being said, I also must be a good writer which I hope I am. And that being said, I can't help to be a little disappointed that people are not reading my beloved story. But again, all in good time. So for those of you searching and dealing with any disappointments or small let downs, know you are not alone. There are several of us all in the boat with you. Too bad we can't all be instant winners. Then again, where would the lesson be in that. How strong is your faith in yourself to keep pushing and striving for better. Life is full of lessons, the words 'that being said' and 'there again' and the knowledge that all does happen in good time. So keep pushing yourself. I will.
My week is about to get better. Officially at 10:45 am Saturday(tomorrow) I start my week vacation. Hoping to get enough sleep that I will have a writing boon and get loads of work done. An update for those who may or may not be beginners in the world of the author; sales: so far for the month of June, Amazon 0, B&N 2. Decided since I wasn't selling anything anyway that I should up my price. Have been told I should anyway. (good or bad strategy, only time will tell) I looked through the different ebook prices and decided to settle on $3.41. Don't have a clue why I chose that number. I am hoping something will change soon. As a writer, I do desire that people read my book. I also want them to enjoy them. Hopefully feedback will follow soon, have only seen one comment and I am happy to say it was a five star. I am writing this for those who are looking, as I have done, for that magic number of when sales will take off. For me, the first few months were okay, but they trickled to drips in the third month. I've read a couple of other authors that the fourth month was their take off. Can only wait and see, but I will let you know. This is what I am doing to promote: twitter, facebook, goodreads, scribd, and book blogs. Also looking for individuals to read and leave reviews. Do have one set up but at the moment, I am third in line.
Patience. God has them and since there is nothing for me to do but wait and work by promoting the best I can, I must have them too. I must trust that all is in good time. That being said, I also must be a good writer which I hope I am. And that being said, I can't help to be a little disappointed that people are not reading my beloved story. But again, all in good time. So for those of you searching and dealing with any disappointments or small let downs, know you are not alone. There are several of us all in the boat with you. Too bad we can't all be instant winners. Then again, where would the lesson be in that. How strong is your faith in yourself to keep pushing and striving for better. Life is full of lessons, the words 'that being said' and 'there again' and the knowledge that all does happen in good time. So keep pushing yourself. I will.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Thank You, Mark
I must show my appreciation to a friend of mine that I work with. Mark Sewell has been the behind the scenes fan of mine since he found out I was writing Chasing Dragons. He has supported me in many areas: given an ear, offered advice and pointed me in the direction of possible websites I might take an interest in. He has also told others of my book, helping to promote it by word of mouth. No matter how successful my book becomes, Mark will be at the forefront of its launch. And for that, I am very much appreciative.
So, I say thank you, Mark.
I must show my appreciation to a friend of mine that I work with. Mark Sewell has been the behind the scenes fan of mine since he found out I was writing Chasing Dragons. He has supported me in many areas: given an ear, offered advice and pointed me in the direction of possible websites I might take an interest in. He has also told others of my book, helping to promote it by word of mouth. No matter how successful my book becomes, Mark will be at the forefront of its launch. And for that, I am very much appreciative.
So, I say thank you, Mark.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The Joy I Have In Summer
My favorite time of the year is autumn. But the last few years, summer has come a very close second. I used to dread summer even thought that was the only way fall could come back around. But the last few years, summertime has been a great joy. Maybe I am more laid back the older I've become. While that is true, I think it is more that the older I've become, the more I seem to realize the little things beckon me to them. I love to sit and swing, watching everything around me as the wind blows through the leaves of the trees. Of course, that is on a good day. When the wind refuses to offer relief to the stifling warmth, I thank the Lord for air conditioning, that and our sub-division swimming pool. My home is situated at the beginning of our sub-division and the edge of the out of town where homes are scattered and spread out. If I look straight out, I can pretend we live out in the country. It does sometimes feel that way. Actually, the farmer who owns the land across the road from us has already said he will never sell. Hope he never does. Can't imagine seeing a home instead of trees and land when I look out my front door.This is what I see in my front porch. A street that ends in a cul-de-sac with no houses on the other side separated by a narrow creek. In my front yard, a large flat rock, with interesting craters and behind it in a semi-circle, yellow day lilies, a red tiger lily(sadly they lose their petals by the first week of June) and a double set of two perennials that are native to Missouri(have their names somewhere). I love to watch the bumble bees and butterflies lift delicately from flower to flower. I have trees and other shrubs, but it may become a little boring to describe every last detail of my yard. Know this, my eyes are well pleasured as they peruse my yard, ogling every plant, tree, bird, bee, butterfly and the occasional lizard.
My garden is a little bigger this year. We got a late start in the planting due to the rain, but some green leaves are peeking through the dirt. Will have to get back with results later in the summer. This is the other joy I have for summer. I also gained a great deal of appreciation for the hot days. My garden made me realize that without the hot and sun filled days, my vegetables would have no hope in growing and filling not only our bellies with fresh garden vegies, but also my freezer. I never cared to garden until a few years ago. Now I look forward to it.
Every season has something to have joy in. And I believe God made sure we would never be bored with them, even if some of the results are disastrous. Thankfully, most are worth a smile.
My favorite time of the year is autumn. But the last few years, summer has come a very close second. I used to dread summer even thought that was the only way fall could come back around. But the last few years, summertime has been a great joy. Maybe I am more laid back the older I've become. While that is true, I think it is more that the older I've become, the more I seem to realize the little things beckon me to them. I love to sit and swing, watching everything around me as the wind blows through the leaves of the trees. Of course, that is on a good day. When the wind refuses to offer relief to the stifling warmth, I thank the Lord for air conditioning, that and our sub-division swimming pool. My home is situated at the beginning of our sub-division and the edge of the out of town where homes are scattered and spread out. If I look straight out, I can pretend we live out in the country. It does sometimes feel that way. Actually, the farmer who owns the land across the road from us has already said he will never sell. Hope he never does. Can't imagine seeing a home instead of trees and land when I look out my front door.This is what I see in my front porch. A street that ends in a cul-de-sac with no houses on the other side separated by a narrow creek. In my front yard, a large flat rock, with interesting craters and behind it in a semi-circle, yellow day lilies, a red tiger lily(sadly they lose their petals by the first week of June) and a double set of two perennials that are native to Missouri(have their names somewhere). I love to watch the bumble bees and butterflies lift delicately from flower to flower. I have trees and other shrubs, but it may become a little boring to describe every last detail of my yard. Know this, my eyes are well pleasured as they peruse my yard, ogling every plant, tree, bird, bee, butterfly and the occasional lizard.
My garden is a little bigger this year. We got a late start in the planting due to the rain, but some green leaves are peeking through the dirt. Will have to get back with results later in the summer. This is the other joy I have for summer. I also gained a great deal of appreciation for the hot days. My garden made me realize that without the hot and sun filled days, my vegetables would have no hope in growing and filling not only our bellies with fresh garden vegies, but also my freezer. I never cared to garden until a few years ago. Now I look forward to it.
Every season has something to have joy in. And I believe God made sure we would never be bored with them, even if some of the results are disastrous. Thankfully, most are worth a smile.
Friday, June 3, 2011
SUMMER IS HERE
On my last posting, I made the statement that I would be writing everyday about a different character of my book Chasing Dragons: Vengeance and my thoughts about each one. Okay, so I need to make an amendment to that post. It's summer and my kids are home. I feel that the amount of time I have allotted to writing has fallen to a dastardly level of almost zero. So, here is what I really am going to do. When I have the time I will do my above statement.
My days have suddenly become, "Mom, take me here. Can you do this? Can we do that?" as soon as I walk through the door from work at 11:30 am. Six hour work days at six days a week, adding the hours of child care of my four kids and the upkeep of the house. Plus there is the fact that it is summer and yard work calls. Especially my garden. It took my daughter (who will be eight tomorrow) and I two days to plant all the seeds. I must mention the fact that my husband did till the ground for us. Which, I am sure was no easy feat seeing how we had been bombarded with so much rain that our garden was really late this year. I had to wait two more days for the ground to dry enough for us to even plant.
At fifteen and fourteen, my oldest two are stepping up and doing their responsibilities more often without my ordering them to. But again they are fifteen and fourteen and they do still need reminding.
This has been a busy start for the summer. I haven't watched television in over a week and the work on my new book has fallen behind. I am still on chapter four. And the only time I get to myself is in the car driving to and from work. But I smile because I think it would be a sin to complain. How many people wish they could have kids to whine about and how many people wish they had a job. I am lucky that my job, because it is six days a week, gives me the opportunity to spend the amount of hours with my family that I do.
So forgive me as my blogs may be sporadic this summer until school starts back up or I find a routine that is agreeable. I am smiling at those last few words. And while the writing may suffer, at least I will be watching my kids have fun and my garden grow.
And this is where I first started when I began my blog last year. With my garden.
On my last posting, I made the statement that I would be writing everyday about a different character of my book Chasing Dragons: Vengeance and my thoughts about each one. Okay, so I need to make an amendment to that post. It's summer and my kids are home. I feel that the amount of time I have allotted to writing has fallen to a dastardly level of almost zero. So, here is what I really am going to do. When I have the time I will do my above statement.
My days have suddenly become, "Mom, take me here. Can you do this? Can we do that?" as soon as I walk through the door from work at 11:30 am. Six hour work days at six days a week, adding the hours of child care of my four kids and the upkeep of the house. Plus there is the fact that it is summer and yard work calls. Especially my garden. It took my daughter (who will be eight tomorrow) and I two days to plant all the seeds. I must mention the fact that my husband did till the ground for us. Which, I am sure was no easy feat seeing how we had been bombarded with so much rain that our garden was really late this year. I had to wait two more days for the ground to dry enough for us to even plant.
At fifteen and fourteen, my oldest two are stepping up and doing their responsibilities more often without my ordering them to. But again they are fifteen and fourteen and they do still need reminding.
This has been a busy start for the summer. I haven't watched television in over a week and the work on my new book has fallen behind. I am still on chapter four. And the only time I get to myself is in the car driving to and from work. But I smile because I think it would be a sin to complain. How many people wish they could have kids to whine about and how many people wish they had a job. I am lucky that my job, because it is six days a week, gives me the opportunity to spend the amount of hours with my family that I do.
So forgive me as my blogs may be sporadic this summer until school starts back up or I find a routine that is agreeable. I am smiling at those last few words. And while the writing may suffer, at least I will be watching my kids have fun and my garden grow.
And this is where I first started when I began my blog last year. With my garden.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Character Evaluation of Chasing Dragons: Vengeance: Uncle Emmett
I've decided to give insights to the characters of my book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance. A personal view of how I see each one and the land they live. It may help you to see what I see, or it may be an interesting difference in how your perspective is compared to mine. I will be writing one a day until each character has had his or her moment in the light.
Who should be first? A main character or a secondary, or the least important. Actually, each one is important. The one who seems the least may find they are the most later down the road. We shall see.
I think I shall begin with Uncle Emmett.
Uncle Emmett is always the busy man. Details only matter after the fact. It is these details that help him decide how things are to be. He keeps a keen eye out to those who interest him. The sun blared bright at high noon the day Olivia Sanders and her three young children stroll down the dirt road that would pass by his home. He was waiting for them. He knew they would come. What he didn't expect was the love that he would have for this young family that would become his own. How could he? Love left him long ago when his wife died. He is different than other men. Most would forget the painful loss of a spouse, some might have even welcomed it. And most assuredly, most men would find another woman and fill their days with her and not pine over their loss. Not Uncle Emmett. Part of him died with the passing of his wife. It was only when Olivia and the children came into his life that he noticed the loneliness that had filled the long, empty hours over the years. A single man with no family vanished that day, reborn to a man who loved a woman like his sister and her children as his own. When I say 'he knew they would come,' it is meant he knew there would come a day when his past would be reconciled.
He has a love for old myths. Particularly, dragon myths. He feels a wonderful sense of satisfaction when the eyes of a child light and stare at him in awe as he tells his tales when there was a day in their history that dragons once roamed beside them. And not just any dragon, but shape shifters. His most beloved story of all the dragon myths: Bayden and Esa. An ode to an unhappy ending to a very happy love story. He shares a close affinity to these two. Retelling what happened to them helps him to express his emotions that are wrapped up in his own loss of his wife. It is the only time that one is aware at how sad his heart really is. Otherwise he is a pleasant, jovial man.
Physically he has a bit of a limp, an awkward gimp as he travels. His hair, even his beard, are aged to almost white, but his skin hints he is not as old as he seems. And at times, his eyes twinkle as if he knows a funny story that no one is privy to. And sometimes they sigh a dull tiredness that he wishes everyone knew.
And if he has to, he will let his hand fall, releasing the secret that is his. He almost had to when the gloomers threatened them. Can you guess what it is?
I've decided to give insights to the characters of my book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance. A personal view of how I see each one and the land they live. It may help you to see what I see, or it may be an interesting difference in how your perspective is compared to mine. I will be writing one a day until each character has had his or her moment in the light.
Who should be first? A main character or a secondary, or the least important. Actually, each one is important. The one who seems the least may find they are the most later down the road. We shall see.
I think I shall begin with Uncle Emmett.
Uncle Emmett is always the busy man. Details only matter after the fact. It is these details that help him decide how things are to be. He keeps a keen eye out to those who interest him. The sun blared bright at high noon the day Olivia Sanders and her three young children stroll down the dirt road that would pass by his home. He was waiting for them. He knew they would come. What he didn't expect was the love that he would have for this young family that would become his own. How could he? Love left him long ago when his wife died. He is different than other men. Most would forget the painful loss of a spouse, some might have even welcomed it. And most assuredly, most men would find another woman and fill their days with her and not pine over their loss. Not Uncle Emmett. Part of him died with the passing of his wife. It was only when Olivia and the children came into his life that he noticed the loneliness that had filled the long, empty hours over the years. A single man with no family vanished that day, reborn to a man who loved a woman like his sister and her children as his own. When I say 'he knew they would come,' it is meant he knew there would come a day when his past would be reconciled.
He has a love for old myths. Particularly, dragon myths. He feels a wonderful sense of satisfaction when the eyes of a child light and stare at him in awe as he tells his tales when there was a day in their history that dragons once roamed beside them. And not just any dragon, but shape shifters. His most beloved story of all the dragon myths: Bayden and Esa. An ode to an unhappy ending to a very happy love story. He shares a close affinity to these two. Retelling what happened to them helps him to express his emotions that are wrapped up in his own loss of his wife. It is the only time that one is aware at how sad his heart really is. Otherwise he is a pleasant, jovial man.
Physically he has a bit of a limp, an awkward gimp as he travels. His hair, even his beard, are aged to almost white, but his skin hints he is not as old as he seems. And at times, his eyes twinkle as if he knows a funny story that no one is privy to. And sometimes they sigh a dull tiredness that he wishes everyone knew.
And if he has to, he will let his hand fall, releasing the secret that is his. He almost had to when the gloomers threatened them. Can you guess what it is?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Me is a full time job
Typical day: Wake up, go to work, come home, clean, laundry, run errands, get kids, take kids, fix food, clean, interact with kids (since they are mine), send everyone to bed, go to bed, and in the midst of all that, find the time to write, edit, promote, research, and finally.... breathe.
See? It's a full time job. And hopefully one day I will look back and say I accomplished something big, whether it is in the satisfaction of my children enjoying a good life because they learned their morals and values from me, more so from God, or also in that my writing career has shown fruit by my hard labor. It is a daily thing and a good thing. Everyone needs a reason to go through the everyday grind. It is even a better thing when it is spurred on by a labor of love.
We don't sell ourselves by standing still. We never have. Even as children we stared at the people over our mother's shoulder, batting our beautiful lashes while smiling when they smiled and talked to us without a single word of understanding. As the years progressed, we learned that a step forward and a hand held out gained the trust and friendship to those we reached for. Today is nothing less. Only technology has helped in the promotion of self. Facebook, Twitter, Myspace, blog, blog this, blog that, email, gmail, thismail, thatmail, and on, and on. For some, it is for the self and the interactions of friends and people with like interests, while for others, it is the same with the exception of adding to the promotion of our own interests in the form of selling the world something we want them to have, intellectual or physical.
I'm sure in some form over the hundreds of years people have been around, this is nothing new, just the way we do it is. Tomorrow will probably involve even something greater and easier to share us with. So please forgive me as while I enjoy the interactions between friends and others of like minds, I will also benefit from exploiting my craft of writing and try to sell you something that while you may not need, in the end will be glad you have. Sit back and put up with my blogs, my twitter, my facebook and all the extras in order to communicate with everyone and sell you a story that I have spent much time with in between being me.
Typical day: Wake up, go to work, come home, clean, laundry, run errands, get kids, take kids, fix food, clean, interact with kids (since they are mine), send everyone to bed, go to bed, and in the midst of all that, find the time to write, edit, promote, research, and finally.... breathe.
See? It's a full time job. And hopefully one day I will look back and say I accomplished something big, whether it is in the satisfaction of my children enjoying a good life because they learned their morals and values from me, more so from God, or also in that my writing career has shown fruit by my hard labor. It is a daily thing and a good thing. Everyone needs a reason to go through the everyday grind. It is even a better thing when it is spurred on by a labor of love.
We don't sell ourselves by standing still. We never have. Even as children we stared at the people over our mother's shoulder, batting our beautiful lashes while smiling when they smiled and talked to us without a single word of understanding. As the years progressed, we learned that a step forward and a hand held out gained the trust and friendship to those we reached for. Today is nothing less. Only technology has helped in the promotion of self. Facebook, Twitter, Myspace, blog, blog this, blog that, email, gmail, thismail, thatmail, and on, and on. For some, it is for the self and the interactions of friends and people with like interests, while for others, it is the same with the exception of adding to the promotion of our own interests in the form of selling the world something we want them to have, intellectual or physical.
I'm sure in some form over the hundreds of years people have been around, this is nothing new, just the way we do it is. Tomorrow will probably involve even something greater and easier to share us with. So please forgive me as while I enjoy the interactions between friends and others of like minds, I will also benefit from exploiting my craft of writing and try to sell you something that while you may not need, in the end will be glad you have. Sit back and put up with my blogs, my twitter, my facebook and all the extras in order to communicate with everyone and sell you a story that I have spent much time with in between being me.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Whatever is on my mind is what you get.
Aren't you lucky. If you were waiting with abated breath for something ingenious to spring forth from my mind, well, you are out of luck. I think I am just blogging out of writers block, trying to crack the safe to that elusive word to start the story flowing. Then again, I haven't opened my word processor yet. It is a little hard to begin the first word that way. Surfing and searching is taking up a lot of my time. You see, I'm still looking for the key to the secret to getting my first book noticed. Is it working yet? Nope. But then it has only been a month. That is what I keep telling myself. So let's just give you a little taste of my book sales. You may be here searching how other self-publishers are currently doing or reading several blogs posts to see how their journey compares to yours. My own journey at the moment is frustrating. Where I had some strong sales last month(my first month), I am now at a standstill. In other words, I have only sold one book since May took over. I am confused why. I could joke and say that I ran out of friends who could be bullied into buying it. Actually, my friends weren't bullied. Several of them have told me they loved my book and are waiting semi-patiently for the next. I've joined book blogs, scribd, and goodreads where both readers and writers read and swap reads or interviews. This is really a sweet idea and it not only allows me to introduce my book to people who may never have been exposed to it, but it also allows me to meet new people who are authors like myself, traditional or self-published.
I hope you will find some use from this blog. Be sure to check back as I check back also on others in my own search for answers as I journey into the realm of self-publishing. I will tell you, that given the chance to have an agent who will help me travel that traditional road, I will hop on that train if, I mean when, it comes. As it is now, there is no way I will ever see my books in a brick and mortar store, and that really is my ultimate destination of my dream. There may be a little bit of pride in that hope, but that is just the way it is.
I just read another post on hash tags for twitter. #ya, #paranormal, #amediting, #amwriting. These are tags you can attach to your tweets. These tags lead to another twitter page where others with the same interests are tweeting hash tags themselves. Could be a bonus for promoting your book.
I'm still new to this, and everything and most everyone I search gives me hope for success. You may ask me why I went ahead and self-published. I did think about giving up after many rejections. The fact that I loved my story and several of my friends ordered me not to give in to the disappointment. The thing is, I didn't want to be eighty years old and wonder what could have happened if I would have just tried. I want to be eighty years old and know I tried whether I succeed or not. Hopefully succeed will be the word to tell my grandchildren and maybe great-grandchildren. Maybe I will be an example to them that they can do anything when they put their mind and determination to it.
Why do I write? These darn people won't leave me alone. I have been making stories up since I was a little girl. I always thought that in a few years, they would go away. These ideas that pop into my head can be pretty persistent. The next few years turned into the next few years and the next few years. Finally, I said fine, I will write you down. And wouldn't you know it, the people in the story didn't like how I was going and turned the story down a different road. No one told me they had a mind of their own.
So, there you have it. A lot of rambling about something and nothing about what's on my mind.
Aren't you lucky. If you were waiting with abated breath for something ingenious to spring forth from my mind, well, you are out of luck. I think I am just blogging out of writers block, trying to crack the safe to that elusive word to start the story flowing. Then again, I haven't opened my word processor yet. It is a little hard to begin the first word that way. Surfing and searching is taking up a lot of my time. You see, I'm still looking for the key to the secret to getting my first book noticed. Is it working yet? Nope. But then it has only been a month. That is what I keep telling myself. So let's just give you a little taste of my book sales. You may be here searching how other self-publishers are currently doing or reading several blogs posts to see how their journey compares to yours. My own journey at the moment is frustrating. Where I had some strong sales last month(my first month), I am now at a standstill. In other words, I have only sold one book since May took over. I am confused why. I could joke and say that I ran out of friends who could be bullied into buying it. Actually, my friends weren't bullied. Several of them have told me they loved my book and are waiting semi-patiently for the next. I've joined book blogs, scribd, and goodreads where both readers and writers read and swap reads or interviews. This is really a sweet idea and it not only allows me to introduce my book to people who may never have been exposed to it, but it also allows me to meet new people who are authors like myself, traditional or self-published.
I hope you will find some use from this blog. Be sure to check back as I check back also on others in my own search for answers as I journey into the realm of self-publishing. I will tell you, that given the chance to have an agent who will help me travel that traditional road, I will hop on that train if, I mean when, it comes. As it is now, there is no way I will ever see my books in a brick and mortar store, and that really is my ultimate destination of my dream. There may be a little bit of pride in that hope, but that is just the way it is.
I just read another post on hash tags for twitter. #ya, #paranormal, #amediting, #amwriting. These are tags you can attach to your tweets. These tags lead to another twitter page where others with the same interests are tweeting hash tags themselves. Could be a bonus for promoting your book.
I'm still new to this, and everything and most everyone I search gives me hope for success. You may ask me why I went ahead and self-published. I did think about giving up after many rejections. The fact that I loved my story and several of my friends ordered me not to give in to the disappointment. The thing is, I didn't want to be eighty years old and wonder what could have happened if I would have just tried. I want to be eighty years old and know I tried whether I succeed or not. Hopefully succeed will be the word to tell my grandchildren and maybe great-grandchildren. Maybe I will be an example to them that they can do anything when they put their mind and determination to it.
Why do I write? These darn people won't leave me alone. I have been making stories up since I was a little girl. I always thought that in a few years, they would go away. These ideas that pop into my head can be pretty persistent. The next few years turned into the next few years and the next few years. Finally, I said fine, I will write you down. And wouldn't you know it, the people in the story didn't like how I was going and turned the story down a different road. No one told me they had a mind of their own.
So, there you have it. A lot of rambling about something and nothing about what's on my mind.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Tired
I've spent the better part of the day surfing the internet, searching for ways to promote my book and even learn from others how they went about getting their book out. It's long, tedious, and tiring. I did take a break and take my kids to Taco Bell. Well, it wasn't healthy, but at least it filled their bellies. I have another book I need to get back to. But as I've said before, I get focused on perfecting and since Chasing Dragons is still in its infancy as far as being sold goes, I had to divert and find it some love. It's a lot of work. I didn't realize how much time I would spend not writing, but staring at the computer screen, trying to find some magic formula that will grab the masses and tell them about a book they should really check out. I've spent so much time in the Chasing Dragon's world, I want everyone else to visit and fall in love.
I've spent the better part of the day surfing the internet, searching for ways to promote my book and even learn from others how they went about getting their book out. It's long, tedious, and tiring. I did take a break and take my kids to Taco Bell. Well, it wasn't healthy, but at least it filled their bellies. I have another book I need to get back to. But as I've said before, I get focused on perfecting and since Chasing Dragons is still in its infancy as far as being sold goes, I had to divert and find it some love. It's a lot of work. I didn't realize how much time I would spend not writing, but staring at the computer screen, trying to find some magic formula that will grab the masses and tell them about a book they should really check out. I've spent so much time in the Chasing Dragon's world, I want everyone else to visit and fall in love.
Let the Not Perfect be Perfect
I'm a little bit of a perfectionist. When I start a project, usually I am unable to begin another until I am done with the original. Sometimes that may mean a delay because I am busy perfecting. I don't like things unfinished or out of place. Strangely, in my own home, I can handle a mess or an item or two out of place. But for only so long, then it begins to irritate me and I go into a cleaning frenzy. Example: My Kitchen. If it's a little messy, I may leave it while doing another chore or just lazing around. But come bedtime, I cannot turn in for the night unless the kitchen has been cleaned: dishes washed, counter, stove, and refrigerator wiped down, and the floor swept. The thought of my kids waking to a messy kitchen really bothers me. The worst part of my home is the laundry room. Items seem to slowly grow and then boom. I can't handle it. Sort of like ants crawling across your legs at a picnic. Your hands start slapping at the little critters in order to rid your blanket of the growing infestation. That is how it is with me and cleaning. At work it is a bit of the same. I work for the post office at a carrier station. I sort letters mostly, flats and parcels are secondary; I fill in to help if my letters run out. Where my co-workers don't mind mixing letters and flats, and yes, some smaller parcels too, this just drives me nuts. For me, letters go in the letter case, flats in the flat case, and parcels in the parcel tubs. When I see a mixture, it bothers me to no end and I have to tell myself to let it go, because in the long run, a few out of place parts are unimportant. But, at that moment, it is huge for me and I have to give myself mental pep talks to walk myself through. Maybe I'm slightly OCD. I don't really believe that, it's just a little a tiny quirk. Alas, when writing a book and I find mistakes after countless proofreads, it's needless to say, I'm irritated because I worked so hard to make everything perfect, and now it's not. Sometimes we have to let things go and allow the not perfect to be perfect.
I'm a little bit of a perfectionist. When I start a project, usually I am unable to begin another until I am done with the original. Sometimes that may mean a delay because I am busy perfecting. I don't like things unfinished or out of place. Strangely, in my own home, I can handle a mess or an item or two out of place. But for only so long, then it begins to irritate me and I go into a cleaning frenzy. Example: My Kitchen. If it's a little messy, I may leave it while doing another chore or just lazing around. But come bedtime, I cannot turn in for the night unless the kitchen has been cleaned: dishes washed, counter, stove, and refrigerator wiped down, and the floor swept. The thought of my kids waking to a messy kitchen really bothers me. The worst part of my home is the laundry room. Items seem to slowly grow and then boom. I can't handle it. Sort of like ants crawling across your legs at a picnic. Your hands start slapping at the little critters in order to rid your blanket of the growing infestation. That is how it is with me and cleaning. At work it is a bit of the same. I work for the post office at a carrier station. I sort letters mostly, flats and parcels are secondary; I fill in to help if my letters run out. Where my co-workers don't mind mixing letters and flats, and yes, some smaller parcels too, this just drives me nuts. For me, letters go in the letter case, flats in the flat case, and parcels in the parcel tubs. When I see a mixture, it bothers me to no end and I have to tell myself to let it go, because in the long run, a few out of place parts are unimportant. But, at that moment, it is huge for me and I have to give myself mental pep talks to walk myself through. Maybe I'm slightly OCD. I don't really believe that, it's just a little a tiny quirk. Alas, when writing a book and I find mistakes after countless proofreads, it's needless to say, I'm irritated because I worked so hard to make everything perfect, and now it's not. Sometimes we have to let things go and allow the not perfect to be perfect.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
FOR THE LOVE OF A BOOK
I know, it's crazy, right? I should have already sold thousands if not hundreds of thousands of ebooks and paperbacks. Right.... Well, it has only been a month. I sold enough to say maybe my friends and family bought them. Which does make me smile to think they are supporting me. What I really want is to do is to sell enough to compete with Harry Potter and Twilight. Don't think I'm not kidding. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to. Seriously, when it comes right down to it, I want readers to buy and fall in love with my books. I don't want any comparisons, unless they are with the others in the series. My favorite author is Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. The first book I read of hers was The Flame and the Flower. It is still my favorite and I have read it so many times I couldn't tell you a number. I still can visualize her scenes and words in my head as if I were reading it at this moment. That is what I want. For the reader, even ten years or more down the road, to be able to close theirs eyes and see the words they once read with such love. Even after I'm dead and gone.
I know, it's crazy, right? I should have already sold thousands if not hundreds of thousands of ebooks and paperbacks. Right.... Well, it has only been a month. I sold enough to say maybe my friends and family bought them. Which does make me smile to think they are supporting me. What I really want is to do is to sell enough to compete with Harry Potter and Twilight. Don't think I'm not kidding. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to. Seriously, when it comes right down to it, I want readers to buy and fall in love with my books. I don't want any comparisons, unless they are with the others in the series. My favorite author is Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. The first book I read of hers was The Flame and the Flower. It is still my favorite and I have read it so many times I couldn't tell you a number. I still can visualize her scenes and words in my head as if I were reading it at this moment. That is what I want. For the reader, even ten years or more down the road, to be able to close theirs eyes and see the words they once read with such love. Even after I'm dead and gone.
Monday, April 25, 2011
misspelled words
Unfortunately, I don't have the funds at the moment to fix a misspelled word in my paperback book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance. Hopefully it is the only one. I did fix it in the ebook file though. The word is, and I am embarrassed to admit this, dieing. My spell check on two different programs didn't reveal this slight overlook. But that is only because the word is spelled correctly. For the sentence I used it for, it is not. Dieing or dying. I wrote dieing: to cut, form, or stamp with or as if with a die. I intended (wink, wink) dying: to cease living; become dead; expire. How is it when you proofread something fifty thousand times, you can still miss the most obvious. Ridiculous to the point of mortification. Sorry, about that. And no, I will not tell you where. You will just have to find it yourself. I secretly hope you pass it and wonder where the word could have been.
Unfortunately, I don't have the funds at the moment to fix a misspelled word in my paperback book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance. Hopefully it is the only one. I did fix it in the ebook file though. The word is, and I am embarrassed to admit this, dieing. My spell check on two different programs didn't reveal this slight overlook. But that is only because the word is spelled correctly. For the sentence I used it for, it is not. Dieing or dying. I wrote dieing: to cut, form, or stamp with or as if with a die. I intended (wink, wink) dying: to cease living; become dead; expire. How is it when you proofread something fifty thousand times, you can still miss the most obvious. Ridiculous to the point of mortification. Sorry, about that. And no, I will not tell you where. You will just have to find it yourself. I secretly hope you pass it and wonder where the word could have been.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Chasing Dragons Book Release
I am very happy, and somewhat scared to death, to announce that Chasing Dragons is released. At this time you may purchase the ebook in the form of the kindle on Amazon.com and the nook on BarnsandNoble.com for only $0.99. The paperback will be available on Amazon.com for $8.99 in about a week. I will eventually have some on hand that I will sell, signed if you'd like.
What it takes: for sure prayer.
It amazes me that even when I am at my most tired, I am still able to dig deep and pull myself together to do the things I need to do. In the past few weeks, I have worked very hard on my book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance, (many nights past 10 p.m.) trying to finish the final details for its release. And, at the same time, go to a job six days a week that starts at 4:45 a.m, be a mother, a housewife and all the other hats that set upon my head. The process has been an eye opener to all that is required, (and it is a lot) to being a writer/editor/publisher. Word by word, line by line, page by page, chapter by chapter, until after studiously examining every little detail of every aspect in the hopes of having a story that people will read and love, and with many prayers without any grammar errors. This book is very much for me, but it is also very much for those of you who read it. I hope it is a story that as you read, the outside world disappears for a little while and you feel an affinity for the characters and their situations. So please know, as you read, the story is for you. I hope you enjoy.
It amazes me that even when I am at my most tired, I am still able to dig deep and pull myself together to do the things I need to do. In the past few weeks, I have worked very hard on my book, Chasing Dragons: Vengeance, (many nights past 10 p.m.) trying to finish the final details for its release. And, at the same time, go to a job six days a week that starts at 4:45 a.m, be a mother, a housewife and all the other hats that set upon my head. The process has been an eye opener to all that is required, (and it is a lot) to being a writer/editor/publisher. Word by word, line by line, page by page, chapter by chapter, until after studiously examining every little detail of every aspect in the hopes of having a story that people will read and love, and with many prayers without any grammar errors. This book is very much for me, but it is also very much for those of you who read it. I hope it is a story that as you read, the outside world disappears for a little while and you feel an affinity for the characters and their situations. So please know, as you read, the story is for you. I hope you enjoy.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Barbara Farquharson Scott: In the next day or two, Chasing Dragons:Vengeance ...
Barbara Farquharson Scott: In the next day or two, Chasing Dragons:Vengeance ...: "In the next day or two, Chasing Dragons:Vengeance will make its debut in the format of ebooks, followed shortly by its paperback counterpa..."
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Old memories and old friends
I was recently reunited with old elementary friends thanks Facebook. Many things I had forgotten and many of which I hadn't, are coming back in a rush; the gate to those memories are not just opening, but crumbling, falling to the ground fast, as if a barrage of boulders had been shot at them, shattering the old wood in tiny fragments as those dusty memories rush out. Life is an experience of memories, good and bad. There are some we want or choose to remember and there are those we want or choose, or can't forget.
For me, my elementary years were the best. But things do change. We go on, as I did. Junior high always follows elementary. Here is where my friends and I started to drift. We joined another world and were immersed into new things and new people. This is why I think I despised junior high, though my ego enjoyed the adage of age and being superior to those of the lesser grade. High school was a different matter. Freshman year warranted no different feelings than those bestowed from me in junior high, but my last three years were better, maybe because we moved and I was in a smaller school and everyone knew each other. All or most all of them had been together since elementary.
But the reason for this blog is my love for a time and place that has and will always hold a large piece of my heart: Oak Grove Elementary, the teachers, and most importantly, the kids who were and still remain to me, my friends.
Oak Grove was a small school. One teacher and classroom per grade, with the exception of fifth which had to be split between fourth grade teacher and sixth grade teacher. To go in meant you took the stairs up for classes, or down to where the kindergarten, bathrooms and the janitors closet was, or down again into the basement where all lunches, school assemblies, school plays, and raining outside p.e. were held.
Recess consisted of swings on either side of the building, a pole to twirl around by your knee, and a big shed where dodge ball and kick ball were held. And, we mustn't forget where the girls chased the boys. There was a large field that we walked the gravel road to, just a hop and a skip. At the very end was a large oak tree that we had to run down to and run back and to the left side of the field where more trees that we used for boundaries for a good game of dodge ball.
Friends were always there. I'm sure arguments were too and a few tears at those who were displeased with me at the time or maybe I was displeased with them. Third grade was a time when I found out I was adopted and not really my mom's child, but I was. Blue Birds and Camp Fire, and candy sales. Protecting a spider from the mean old boys, buying hot dogs at the seven 11 across the street. Cindy Morlan made the best mean witch of Hansel and Gretal our sixth grade year and lying on the basement floor coloring my drawing on a poster board, I think of a gingerbread man for the back drop of that play. Singing Christmas songs, yes Christmas songs, for the Christmas assembly and then again for our parents later that evening. And the Christmas tree decorated all nice and pretty. The library in the back of the stage, which really miffed me when I wasn't allowed to read older books, even though I could read about anything well. You see, I loved to read. You couldn't find a single book about horses that I hadn't read. I sat at the back in the first grade and could see into the sixth grade if I looked through the door. Sitting in the middle of the floor upstairs watching television (Captain Kangaroo) until school began, which I think was 8:15. And then there were the open houses with cake walks, movies in a room for five cents and put someone in jail, which I can remember we put Barry Kise in once. So many memories and more I am sure to follow as I and the other Oak Grove alumni converse. I am very thankful that my sixth grade teacher, Mrs Kraft, had us make memory journals. I have two since I was in her class both the fifth and sixth grade. I opened them and read with a smile many things which I have not put here. Best friends and friends.
Now, I am married and a working mother of four, a hopeful author and a sometime blogger. I have been blessed with many memories, good and bad, and I don't see that anything will change in the future, there is still more to come. Isn't that what life is all about? But first grade through sixth grade are the years that I smile and remember with a full heart. Bless you all my elementary friends.
For me, my elementary years were the best. But things do change. We go on, as I did. Junior high always follows elementary. Here is where my friends and I started to drift. We joined another world and were immersed into new things and new people. This is why I think I despised junior high, though my ego enjoyed the adage of age and being superior to those of the lesser grade. High school was a different matter. Freshman year warranted no different feelings than those bestowed from me in junior high, but my last three years were better, maybe because we moved and I was in a smaller school and everyone knew each other. All or most all of them had been together since elementary.
But the reason for this blog is my love for a time and place that has and will always hold a large piece of my heart: Oak Grove Elementary, the teachers, and most importantly, the kids who were and still remain to me, my friends.
Oak Grove was a small school. One teacher and classroom per grade, with the exception of fifth which had to be split between fourth grade teacher and sixth grade teacher. To go in meant you took the stairs up for classes, or down to where the kindergarten, bathrooms and the janitors closet was, or down again into the basement where all lunches, school assemblies, school plays, and raining outside p.e. were held.
Recess consisted of swings on either side of the building, a pole to twirl around by your knee, and a big shed where dodge ball and kick ball were held. And, we mustn't forget where the girls chased the boys. There was a large field that we walked the gravel road to, just a hop and a skip. At the very end was a large oak tree that we had to run down to and run back and to the left side of the field where more trees that we used for boundaries for a good game of dodge ball.
Friends were always there. I'm sure arguments were too and a few tears at those who were displeased with me at the time or maybe I was displeased with them. Third grade was a time when I found out I was adopted and not really my mom's child, but I was. Blue Birds and Camp Fire, and candy sales. Protecting a spider from the mean old boys, buying hot dogs at the seven 11 across the street. Cindy Morlan made the best mean witch of Hansel and Gretal our sixth grade year and lying on the basement floor coloring my drawing on a poster board, I think of a gingerbread man for the back drop of that play. Singing Christmas songs, yes Christmas songs, for the Christmas assembly and then again for our parents later that evening. And the Christmas tree decorated all nice and pretty. The library in the back of the stage, which really miffed me when I wasn't allowed to read older books, even though I could read about anything well. You see, I loved to read. You couldn't find a single book about horses that I hadn't read. I sat at the back in the first grade and could see into the sixth grade if I looked through the door. Sitting in the middle of the floor upstairs watching television (Captain Kangaroo) until school began, which I think was 8:15. And then there were the open houses with cake walks, movies in a room for five cents and put someone in jail, which I can remember we put Barry Kise in once. So many memories and more I am sure to follow as I and the other Oak Grove alumni converse. I am very thankful that my sixth grade teacher, Mrs Kraft, had us make memory journals. I have two since I was in her class both the fifth and sixth grade. I opened them and read with a smile many things which I have not put here. Best friends and friends.
Now, I am married and a working mother of four, a hopeful author and a sometime blogger. I have been blessed with many memories, good and bad, and I don't see that anything will change in the future, there is still more to come. Isn't that what life is all about? But first grade through sixth grade are the years that I smile and remember with a full heart. Bless you all my elementary friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)