Monday's Inspiration: What Are You Doing With Your Marbles?

Ah, New Year's. The time we make resolutions we probably won't keep, and then be disappointed in ourselves. Or maybe embarrassed because we told everyone what our resolutions were. Nothing like announcing you're going to lose thirty pounds this year and then being spotted slurping down a super-fattening dessert at a fast food place, while everyone knows that you've not lost an ounce - and why!
Many of us will make resolutions about working harder, seeking success - or more success - earning more money, or whatever seems to be necessary to help us get further, faster.
Have you ever thought that perhaps we neglect the fun experience factor? Sure, you may resolve to spend more time with your family, to exercise more, etcetera, and no doubt these are laudable goals.

But when put into the context of a Resolution, don't they sound just a little bit like work? Like an obligation? A duty? Lacking in the fun part of spontaneity? What about choosing a different route?
This blog by Lori Allen on Great Escape Publishing made me think. It's both sobering and inspiring.
What if you woke up every Saturday, knowing you were taking the day off from anything remotely like work, and just going to go out and grab experience quite spontaneously? Looking for fun without obligation?
Allen retells the story of the 1,000 marbles which, for the teller, represented every Saturday

remaining in his life if he lived to be 75 years old. Each Saturday he would take one of those marbles out of the jar, and seeing the dwindling number left behind, be inspired to have that one day as something he'd always remember.
Here's the link - read it. It may just change your attitudes. http://www.greatescapepublishing.com/1000-marbles-story-change-your-saturdays-from-now-on/
So, what are you doing with YOUR marbles?

A Writer's Christmas Prayer

DEAR GOD, Jehovah, Allah, Goddess - sorry, I know You have many names and it’s my journalistic soul that wants to cover all of them. Forgive me if I get it wrong – I’m rushing the research a bit here.  I do appreciate Your taking the time to listen, as You have done so many times in the past. You must be extra busy with deadlines at this time of the year, because fires, floods, famines, storms, droughts, wars and general stupidity do not stop even in this holy season. With all that going on, I hope You can also find the time to celebrate with us the joy and peace that belong to this season.

There have been so many times when You have pulled this tattered manuscript of my life out of the heavenly slush pile, and even when Your reply has been a gentle rejection note, there is always been encouragement to go on using the talents You have loaned to me. You have forgiven the times I have been grouchy on life’s deadlines, when I failed to appreciate the wonder of the opportunities in new contracts  You have offered, and the many times I have ignored Your submission requirements in hopes that You would see past my mistakes into the willing prose of my heart.

Having said all of that, I feel selfish even asking for more, but here goes:

1)     It’s a bit of a cliché, but I would join with so many, many others to ask You to give Mankind – and I say MANkind because the male of the species seems to be more inclined to conflict than we females, but maybe I’m biased – if You would just give them all a bit of a shake and tell them it’s time to make peace not war.

2)     Please ignore the mean things I said about the intellectual abilities of publishers or agents who rejected my work – I didn’t really want You to strike them. Honest.

3)      There are so many of Your people in need, hungry, homeless, afraid, in pain. Maybe You could inspire those of us who have so much to heed Your teachings and work towards a more equitable society. Perhaps You could even slip a little extra blessings into the Christmas stockings of those who have been courageous enough to stand up for what is right.

4)     Please forgive the times I’ve cursed at my computer; the technology You have given us is truly a blessing and it was just the heat of the moment;  I didn’t mean a word of it. Really.

5)     Of course, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t invest this prayer with a little personal self-interest. First, I want to thank You for all the people who have bought my books – the nice reviews always feel like a warm GodBreeze to my soul.

6)     Then maybe You could run to a dollop of forgiveness for all the times I left undone the things I ought to have done, and done those things I ought not to have done? Let’s not get into specifics now, eh? That would be a bit embarrassing and take up too much of Your time. We both know what they were. However, if you could see your way to making me a better person, and a better writer, and maybe, just maybe, a bit of help in getting through the edits for the next book, I would be very grateful.

 I can’t promise that I won’t screw up some more, but Dear Lord, I’m trying to be better.

Thank You. Amen.

Larry the Lump - More Famous Than Me? (Cancer Diaries)

It appears that Larry the Lump, that little knot of confused and disaffected cells that has nested in my left breast, is more famous than me. That is something I do hate him for.
Oh, I can accept that his appearance in my left breast is purely random. Sure, he doesn't actually mean any of the harm he has caused me. Nothing I or anyone else has done likely caused his existence.
I can live with the prospect of surgery soon; I can cope with the sometimes very debilitating side effects of the drug I am taking.
I can definitely enjoy the idea that Larry's estrogen receptoring little presence is being quietly starved of estrogen because of the treatment. Shrink and die, you little beast!
But what I hate him for is that he seems to have caught the imaginations of so many people.
Really? You ask.
Yes, indeedy.
My regular blogs, where I meander on about writing and life, usually enjoy the attentions of a few hundred readers.
But blogs where Larry is the star, we're looking into the four figure numbers of readers who log in to read his adventures. Yes, Larry is more famous than I!
Although there has been a kind of secondary benefit to me for blabber mouthing about this cancer, a lobular tumor that doesn't show up on mammograms.
I know that this concept, that there are breast cancers that the mammogram may not pick up, has been food for thought for quite a number of readers and friends. Indeed, some have sought further medical checkups. Sadly, at least one woman has been diagnosed with cancer after she insisted on a breast ultrasound after hearing about the symptoms that finally led to my diagnosis.
Strangely, many people have commented about my willingness to give Larry the Lump centre stage as I talk about this experience. The words courageous and brave have been used, and yet that's not how I feel.
For one thing, as a writer and journalist, I think that knowledge is power. If you know the possibilities, you can perhaps prepare or protect yourself from them. I know I was shocked to learn that all the mammograms I had had faithfully over the years had failed to pick up on what the oncologist says is a tumor that has been around for five or six years without detection.
I belong to a generation in which the word 'cancer' was never spoken. In my family home, if totally pushed, you might refer to the 'Big C', but never THAT word. It was as though mentioning it would bring the curse down on someone's head. Even the close relatives of people who had actually been diagnosed were advised by doctors not to tell that person he or she had cancer. It was such a scourge that people feared a victim - and that was the word used then - would commit suicide rather than face the odds of dying from the disease.
So I talk about cancer. Everyone I know knows, and hundreds more people who have never met me know. And there is a benefit for me, too - all the love and support, prayers and good thoughts I have received must surely be causing some kind of ripple in the ether, because so far my test results are looking good.
I can only repeat: if you have pain or discomfort in your breast don't assume that if the mammogram is clear there is no problem. Ask for further investigation.
And educate your doctor - mine told me there was nothing wrong because the mammogram was
clear. When I finally got a biopsy and MRI, the little beast was more than eight centimetres long and growing lustily on a diet of estrogen.
Even so, I still resent Larry's popularity. That he should be more famous than me!
Sometimes, even on his starvation diet, I think he's laughing....

NOTE: I was shocked to discover that there is actually another Larry the Lump mentioned in a blog by someone with throat cancer! And I thought I was so original! Here's a link to that other Larry: https://selfy0105.wordpress.com/

Saturday Snippets: The Bride's Curse, Paranormal Romance

Here's a snippet from The Bride's Curse, my paranormal romance from Crimson Romance. This is the first time wedding planner and owner of Wedding Bliss Kelly Andrews meets her match in the sexy Brett Atwell:

EXCERPT: 

Kelly blinked to adjust her eyes to the store’s interior after being

out in the bright sunlight. She pushed the old man on the bench out of her mind as she stepped forward to introduce herself to the young man who stood in the middle of the store as if he were
befuddled by all the lovely frilly, lacy, silky things.

     “Good morning. I’m Kelly Andrews. Can I help you find what you’re looking for?”

He turned and gave her a friendly smile. Kelly was momentarily dazzled. This guy was hot. Older than she first thought, probably thirty or so, with blond hair and the kind of tan you only get from working outdoors. Briefly she wondered if he’d been in the military like herself, but nothing else about him suggested military work.

      His eyes widened as looked her up and down and he gave a low appreciative whistle through his teeth. “Well, hello, there, Red!”

      The dazzle swiftly turned to irritation. No one had mocked her red Scottish coloring since she was old enough to make them wish they had never tangled with her. Tucking an unruly curl behind her ear, she sidled forward until they were almost nose to nose. Then she rose up on tiptoe, her mouth close enough to his ear that her breath tickled his skin and murmured: “The last guy who called me that is still in the hospital.”

     His deep brown eyes widened. Then he laughed a low, deep sexy sound. “Sweetheart, I love a woman with red hair and the temperament that goes with it.”

      She stepped back a pace and gave him a feral smile. Obviously he wasn’t intimidated by her threat. The fool.

    “So, all flirting aside, can I help you with something?”

     The slow, lips to feet and back again appraisal he gave her made her palms itch to thump him. She reminded herself of Rule #1 of business: Do not slap customers.

     “I’m looking for a wedding dress.”

      “Oh!” Laughter licked through her like a sudden rain. She returned the long, slow, head to toe and back again stare. “I’m not sure we have anything in your size. Maybe your partner … ?”

       He actually blushed. “No, it’s not for me—” He stopped when he saw her laughing. In fact, Kelly was laughing so hard she had to drop onto one of the chairs.

     “Oh, lord—you should have seen your face! Gotcha!” Revenge is so sweet.

       He grinned. “I suppose I deserved that, Red.”

      “Keep on with the Red, and you’ll see the nasty side of me.”

*

         Brett Atwell was tempted to say he’d like to see any side of her at all, this drop dead gorgeous woman who’d followed him into the store. His busy imagination conjured up images of all that lush red hair spread across his pillow like wildfire …

        “You’re staring.”

        Oops. He needed to shake himself out of the lust that had swamped him and to focus on the job at hand. It wasn’t like him to let his mind wander, but then it wasn’t every day he met a woman who appealed to him like this one did.

The Bride's Curse is available in ebook and print on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other good booksellers!

Wednesday's Writing: A Word About Dialogue....

Dialogue is the stuff your characters say (exterior dialogue) or think (interior dialogue), usually found in speech marks or italics. Dialogue is immediate, it is what your characters are thinking or feeling as the story unfolds. It helps strengthen the reader’s sense of participating in the story and helps the reader become attached to the characters and care about them. It is also a vehicle for putting across information and backstory.

Dialogue is an especially wonderful tool for introducing information without long and wordy passages of exposition that would lose your reader. Dialogue can be used to move the action along, inform the reader of backstory, explain the character’s actions, show their feelings, and show their character traits.

Never, ever use dialogue in the same way you might chitchat to the person next to you in the supermarket queue – like every word in your story, dialogue should have meaning, should take your story ahead. It should be woven into your story.Here's an example of how NOT to do dialogue.

        She:  Would you like a cup of tea?

        He:    Yes, please.

         She:  Would you like sugar?

         He:    Yes, please.

         She:   Would you like milk?

          He:    Yes, please

          She: Did you murder my sister?

See what an unlikely bit of dialogue that would be? But when we combine it with description: 

           Steve poured two mugs of coffee, holding one out to her. Kelsey struck the mug from his hand, snarling: “Did you kill my sister?”

That's better!

Dialogue is ingenious for giving backstory:  

Ted handed her a wad of tissues. “Kelsey, everyone’s worried about you. I know you’ve been upset since your sister died, but isn’t it time you pulled yourself together? You can’t go around accusing people of murder.”

 What do backstory do we learn from the above piece of dialogue?

* Kelsey’s sister has died.

*Kelsey is still very upset.

*She believes someone murdered her sister

*She’s investigating

*Her friends are worried about her

*Ted is very concerned about her

* Ted is close enough to her to be able to speak to her like this, possibly her boss, a close friend, relative, or lover.

 See how much information we’re able to get in using dialogue? To put this backstory, etc., in as narrative would have taken several paragraphs, whereas it’s very immediate as dialogue, and moves the story along without interrupting the action.

Dialogue properly and imaginatively used can deepen your characters, give backstory in tiny bites without boring your reader, move the plot along, add color...so very versatile!

This blog is an excerpt from my writing book, Naked Writing: The No Frills Way to Write Your Book! 

Monday Inspiration: Are You Shrinking Yet, Larry The Lump? (Cancer Diaries)

Cancer Diaries: Are You Shrinking Yet, Larry the Lump?

I haven’t posted for a couple of weeks, mostly because the anti-hormone treatment I’m taking for breast cancer makes me feel, frankly, lousy. And you know what? If it works as the oncologists says it should, it will be so worth the exhaustion, brain fog, muscle pain, etc. Let’s have a chat with Larry the Lump to see what he thinks….

As many of you who’ve read these blogs will know, I called my lobular cancer Larry the Lump. This is part of a pain therapy where you name your pain in order to find out what your body needs to be cured or at least pain-free. Larry is a type of cancer which doesn’t show up on the mammograms I had faithfully endured, but he has estrogen receptors, which means that the state--of-the-art treatment is to cut down on estrogen in my body so that the cancer is starved. For me, that could mean the difference between a simple lumpectomy and a full mastectomy. You see, Larry is a Very Large Lump, and surgery right now would be pretty complicated and radical….

The problem is, I hate waiting for anything at all. I’m the kind of person who refuses to stand in line for more than a few minutes. I’ll walk out and miss whatever I was waiting for rather than waste time in a queue.

So, let’s talk to that lump of confused and disaffected cells that is Larry:

“So, Larry old boy, how’s the diet going? Are you skinny yet?”

“Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know the answer to that? Maybe if you gave me my dinner, I’d tell.”

“That would be defeating the purpose of all we’ve been through together with this treatment.”

“Speaking of diets, did you know you seem to have gained a pound or two yourself?”

“I don’t think so.” Rushing to the bathroom mirror to check it out. Larry may be right.

“It’s a side effect of the medication,” I tell the little beast defensively.

I know by the wheedling tone of his answer what he has in mind. “We’d both be better off if you quit that lousy medication. There’s no proof that it really works and think how much better you’d feel. No more hot flashes, cold spells, sleeplessness, nausea, exhaustion, memory problems, foggy brain  – oh, and don’t forget that odd bit of bleeding you-know- where. Did you know the extra pounds make your butt look bigger?””

“Yeah, and all the rest. But no, Larry.”

“Well then, I know how it annoys you not to know what’s happening in my little nest in your left breast. Well, I’m not telling!”

“Why are you being so mean?”

“Because I know how much you hate having to wait for anything. Drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Not as much crazy as you do, Larry. Not as much as you.”

“If I don’t get some of that lovely estrogen soon, I don’t know what will happen!”

“I know, Larry. Sorry and all that, but it’s either you or me. And I think I deserve it more than you.”

And hopefully, when we see Dr. V. on November the 4^th, we’ll both know what’s happening and if this treatment is starting to work.

Until then, time for another anti-estrogen pill. J

Saturday Snippets: Another Man’s Son

I 

I was thrilled to have the chance to take part in the Lobster Cove series published by The Wild Rose Press. The series in unusual - at least to me – in that it features a group of writers with different genres, meaning that there is a wide range of styles and types of stories, from gentle romance to hot and spicy, and paranormal, shape-shifter, and lots more – something for everyone!

 My romantic suspense, Another Man’s Son, is part of this series and is available in both print and ebook. The idea for the book grew from these questions: In small towns there is still a need for people to keep secrets. So would a pregnant single woman marry to give her baby a respectable family? And what secret would make a man offer her a marriage of convenience when he could never love her? And how would a wounded soldier cope with discovering that the woman he loved had married someone else?

Here’s the BLURB:

Kathryn Morgan broke Ben Asher's heart when he returned from military service in Afghanistan to

Ben vowed he’d never return to Lobster Cove but now, seven years later, he is back as an undercover FBI agent sworn to expose the Morgan family’s criminal activities. Will his vow to bring down the notorious Morgans extend to the woman he still loves?

When Kathryn’s son is kidnapped, she is forced to swallow her pride and reveal the secret of another man's son. Can Ben protect Kathryn and her son from Ket and his sinister friends, or will old hurts and secrets destroy them all?

find she'd married her boss, wealthy banker Ket Morgan Jr.

EXCERPT:

Mesmerized, Kathryn moved into his arms as naturally as if she'd never been out of them, and he hugged her to him in a reflex action that spoke volumes about his feelings. They swayed to the slow and sentimental tune the band now played, neither of them speaking, neither of them surprised that their dancing steps carried them through the big French doors and out onto the shadowed terrace. No surprise, either, as their lips met and melded in remembered passion.

            She clung to him, her mouth drinking him in as all her other senses sang with the feel and scent of the man she'd loved so long ago – and came alive again with loving now. He groaned softly as her fingers smoothed the thick dark hair at the nape of his neck and then touched warm flesh beneath his shirt collar.

            Her own flesh burned with desire at his touch as long ago dreams began to stir and awaken. Dreams that were even more impossible now than they'd been when she was young and deliriously in love.

            The dream was broken when an icy voice spoke from the doorway: “Well, Asher, I see you've met my wife."

            They jumped apart like guilty things surprised. A feeling akin to physical pain flooded Kathryn as Ben pushed her roughly from him. And the pain intensified, squeezing her heart as she registered the sudden fury and contempt in his eyes.

            So when her husband moved to her side, taking her arm, she submitted dismally. Her head low, she heard the raw edge of anger concealed like a knife blade in Ketler Morgan Junior’s smooth voice as he said: "I must apologize for Kathryn's behavior, Acting Chief Asher. It would appear she's had a little too much to drink."

            "I apologize too, Mr. Morgan. I'd forgotten she was a married woman."

Another Man’s Son is available from The Wild Rose Press, from Amazon sites including Amazon.com, Amazon.ca. Amazon.co,uk , Barnes and Noble, and other good online stores.

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