Writing prompt Wednesday

A little motivation to kickstart your muse.

I give you the beginning of a sentence and you run with it. Write the first thing that pops into your head and see how far it takes you; a paragraph, a page, an entire chapter. Who knows, it may be the beginning to your next great novel.

Whatever you come up with, just have fun with it and enjoy the free writing time. If you feel like sharing then send your writing in the comments. If you feel like keeping to yourself then that's okay, too.

Have fun and write!


Writing Prompt: The body left drag marks...

Running is like Writing

You ever want something so bad that you become a Nervous Nellie about it? Or you become a Doubting Thomas, or in my case a Doubting Denise?

That’s me right now!

Does your stomach flip and flop? Do your palms sweat like a girl going out on her first date? Are you constantly asking yourself if you really want it or want to do it? Or maybe you question the sanity of it?

Yes to all of the above.

I had this same experience when I finished my first novel and was trying to find a publisher. You question and doubt yourself. And every time you send off a query you wring your hands as if they were part of the washing machine. But in the end it all worked out. Why? Because I refused to give up. Because I wanted it that bad.

Today and for the next four months, I worry about the Marine Corps Marathon. Not kidding! I want it that bad.

The farthest I have run to date is a half marathon. That’s 13.1 miles. And here I am thinking or wanting to run 26.2 miles. I must be nuts!

As a matter of fact, I think most distance runners have to be a little whacked. I mean seriously, who does that?

This year my one and only goal, well, okay, I have more than one. I have two important goals: Run the Marine Corps Marathon and finish, and finish writing my current novel-in-progress. Both are extremely important to me. I dread that without completing one I won’t complete the other.

Both goals have wormed their way into my heart and mean something very important and special to me. The book because it took a turn almost at the beginning and went in a direction I never expected and I don’t believe it’s coming back. Not that that is a bad thing. It’s just different and exciting and nerve-racking. But, I am determined to sit back and enjoy the ride as my characters drive me to the end.

The Marine Corps marathon is almost more plaguing. Not because I don’t think I can run or even walk 26.2 miles, but because there is a time limit on hitting two points in the race. I have to be at mile 17.5 within four hours and 20 mile marker in 5 hours. On a good day I can run a half marathon in three hours, a bad day in three hours and fifteen minutes. That leaves only 45 minutes to go another 4.5 miles to hit mile 17.5. Ugh!

See! Tell me that did not just scare the bejeezes out of you.

Oh, I have my good days. Those are the days where I finish a race in under an expected time and am ecstatic and I think, “Hey! I’m improving.” The other days the time is not as good as I hoped. It’s still consistent, but not what I want.

I guess it’s the same way in writing. Some days I can sit down and the story just flows and I end up with several thousand words or a couple of chapters. Other days I’m lucky if I can even correct a sentence or remember what color eyes my heroine has. (That’s actually true. I swear they change with my mood.)

Last weekend I ran a 5-mile race in one hour. That’s a minute per mile improvement from last year. Woohoo! Yea me!

Then I question why I can’t keep up that pace. Yeah, I know, practice and train. Practice and train.

I am!

But do you know how unexciting it is to go out and run on the streets for ten miles? Just me, my MP3 player, and hydration belt. It’s kind of like when you read or write a book but have no clue who your characters are so you write about stick figures.

Somehow though, the writer in me is able to picture those characters and bring them to life, make them real with personalities that make you want to learn more about them.

How do I make my running come to life?

So far, the only way I have found is the races. Ahh! All that energy, the music, the announcer, the runners and spectators. It’s like instant rush! How do I bring that to my training runs so it doesn’t feel like such a chore? Oh, to go run three miles is no biggie. I actually enjoy that. It’s short and sweet and kind of like a nice stretch at the end of the day.

Somehow I need to put character into my long runs and fall in love with them just like I do my heroes and heroines. Somehow I need to breathe life into a ten or seventeen mile run.

Writing and running really do have much in common. They both take hard work, dedication, and heart. They both require me to fall in love with something that is challenging, that may be out of my comfort zone and to not fret about the small setbacks or the character deciding to go left when you meant to go right.

With both running and writing I will have Nervous Nellie moments and Doubting Denise skepticism, but it’s the writer in me, the person who knows not to give up that will make me hit that 17.5-mile marker in 4 hours, I say with great hope and a roller coaster in my belly.

Or to quote Buddha: "The mind is everything. What you think, you become."

If that's true then this year I become a marathoner and an author of seven books!

 

Fun with Lists and Embarrassing Moments

This is going to be a good one! Write about your most embarrassing moments.

When I was just a kid I used to go to stock car races with my father. One time I went to use the girls' room and my sister was supposed to guard the door while I used the potty. As I'm squatting there at about the age of ten, someone jerks the door open and a flash goes off. Thanks to my sister, the worst door guard in the world, somebody got a very indelicate picture of me.

To stay with that theme, let me tell you about my airline incident. It was a late night flight from the West coast to the East coast. i got up to use the restroom. I'm there, sitting on the potty and you know it. The door is yanked open. I went white faced then blushed, and the guy who stood there apologized profusely before shutting the door again. Apparently, I forgot to lock the door that indicates the bathroom is occupied.

Next up is probably my most embarrassing moment. I was teaching a software development class and had to use the ladies' room. Do you see a pattern here?

At the time, I worked at a place that required women to wear dresses or skirts and stockings. All you women can see where this is going.

I finished up in the bathroom adn walked back to my classroom. Mind you, the bathroom was in the hall outside our offices and then my classroom was close to the end of our office. Class starts back up after the break and I turn to write something on the whiteboard.

Yes! That is when I learn, thanks to a very nice student, that my skirt was tucked into my panty hose. And yes, I have just 'bared' all for the world to see from one end of the building to the other and no one, not a single person bothered to tell me until I turned around and shared a very nice visual to a class filled with fifteen men.

Needless to say, I got the best teaching scores ever!

Fun with Lists and Place to Visit

Tell us about all the places you would like to visit. Local or far away!

Scotland (The area where my ancestors came from)
Guinness brewery (Just because I like the beer)
New Zealand
Block Island, Rhode Island (This summer! Where the first Cohoon (ancestor) helped found.)
Quantico Behavioral Science Unit
Navy SEAL training facility
DARPA (To see what else they are doing research on that we don't know about.)

Fun with Lists and Winning the Lottery

What would you do if you won the lottery?

List the things you would do.

Quit my day job (Anyone who says otherwise is crazy.)
Become a full-time writer
Hire a book publicist (Let's face it, I'm a writer, not a marketing person.)
Go to Scotland (Visit my ancestral home of the Clan Colquhoun)
Open a beach bar in Florida (Right on the water! Every evening drink a margarita while watching the sunset.)
Buy a cottage in Ireland (Yup, the green grounds, the mild climate, and of course, the pubs...who wouldn't want a vacation home in Ireland.)

I'm certain there are way more things I would like to do!

What about you? What would you do if you won the lottery?

Fun with Lists and Guilty Pleasures

Last weekend I was in a bookstore. GASP! Can't imagine that, can you?

While at the bookstore I found this cool book about your life in lists. It wasn't anything fancy, just a little notebook that asks you to make different lists.

That listography book gave me an idea that we could have some fun with lists.

Today's List: List your guilty pleasures

My guilty pleasures:

Ice cream with hot fudge AND caramel sauce
Chick Flicks
Books!! (Did I need to mention that?)
Sexy underwear (Okay, what female does not like this? I, however, bought one new pair for the 14 days for my upcoming Irish vacation.)
Flowers (I go crazy in the summer. I plant new flowers every weekend and order an outrageous number of bulbs. I look for any bare spot in the garden to fill. I'm obsessed!)
Margarita (Not just any margarita...The perfect margarita! I savor every sip, salt lick, and drop of tequila.)
Veuve Cliquot champagne (When I sell a novel, I celebrate with champagne.)

I'm certain I have more, but some may be a tad risque to share here. [WINK]

What are your guilty pleasures?

Writer's Chatroom - Talking Writing and Books

Join me Sunday, January 15, 2012 between 7 to 9 PM at Writer's Chatroom to talk about writing and books.

There will be a gab session and a giveaway!

Stop by, ask some questions, and just have fun. There's no registration necessary. Just hop on in and chat.

Click here to join me Writer's Chatroom.


Writer's Digest voted Writer's Chatroom one of the 101 Best Websites for Writers for the 5th time.

Preditors and Editors voted Writer's Chatroom #1 Best Writing Resource.

Writing Goals - Do you have them?

Do you have writing goals? Are they daily or weekly goals?
Do you measure your goals? How?

Me, I am a writer who writes by the seat of her pants. Therefore, for me, setting a goal doesn't work. My goal is to write when I can.

For the most part this works. If I have more free time I write more. Less free time equals less writing. Gosh darn day job!

Of course, this is also why it takes me various times to complete a book. I've written a book in as little as three months to as long as a year (not including my first novel, which took forever). Can you say perfectionist?

This week, however, I have decided to make my self a goal. GASP!

Yup. My goal is to go home every evening, except Thursday, and write in my work-in-progress. Or maybe I'll go out to dinner and do some writing. Heck! I'm even going to do writing before my hair appointment on Wednesday. Now that's dedication.

I haven't lost my complete noodle so I am not setting a word count goal or any such thing. Instead, I am just going to write whatever pops into my head. If I write 100 words or 1000 words I will be a happy camper.

What about you? What's your writing goal?

Trapped!

I cannot think of a better way to be trapped than this.

Trapped!

Once more she inserted her foot in mouth and now she is trapped. Trapped against a wall with tall, dark, and too damn handsome pressed against her, his mouth mere inches from hers.

She closed her eyes and cringed. What had she been thinking? Oh! That’s right! She hadn’t been thinking. She just blurted!

When a man you despise asks you if you want him, the correct answer is “No” she berated herself. “No, I don’t want you, you arrogant son of a …..” Or “No, I like my men humble and subservient.” She had to stifle the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape. That probably would have sent him scurrying on his way.

Instead, when her back was against the wall, quite literally, and she saw the heat in his intense blue eyes, and the seductive grin at the corner of his lips, she said, “Yes.” Yes!

It wasn’t as if she lifted her chin and told him flat out, “Yes, I’d like to do you right here, right now, against this wall.” No, she of course, flushed a hot shade of red and answered in a meek voice, “Yes.” Her. Meek. What was this world coming to?

Now here she was. . .Trapped! Pinned between this gorgeous hunk of a man’s arms, her back against the wall and no escape in sight. From her nemesis.

She hated this man. Hated his know-it-all, I’m better than everyone, every woman wants me attitude.

His warm breath brushed against her throat. A shudder of desire feathered up her spine and her already weak knees trembled.

Oh, geez! His mouth was only a breath away from hers. All she had to do was pucker up and their lips would connect. As her eyes connected with his, her heart beat a rhythm she had never experienced. It fought for escape, but like her it was fenced in.

Blood rushed through her veins in anticipation of the kiss. OH-MY-GOSH! She wanted that kiss. Realization struck her like a two-by-four to the head.

A slow grin slid across her lips and her chin lifted a tad higher. She wanted this man. She meant to have him. Now.

Should your hero be flawed?

Is your hero a man? Then duh! He is flawed.

It is fun to fantasize about ‘Mr. Perfect’, but when reality meets fantasy let’s face it, perfection is a pain in the butt.

As women we come pretty dang close to perfect so we should know. To compete against Mr. Perfect would truly put a crimp in our lives.

So yes, your hero should be flawed.

How is he flawed? Does he have a scar on his cheek or his chest?

No, that’s not a flaw. That just adds interest or character to your otherwise rugged and/or good looking physique.

Is your hero flawed because he drives a non-descript beige sedan instead of a Mercedes convertible, a bright red sports car, or ride up on his black stallion he raised from a colt?

This is not a flaw. It just means your hero has terrible taste in transportation.

What is a flaw?

A character flaw is a limitation, imperfection, perhaps a phobia, or some kind of deficiency in your fictional (and real) character’s personality. A flaw may be a fear of commitment, a jealous temper, arrogance, or a gambling addiction.

Why is a flaw good?

Well, as I stated above who wants to compete with Mr. Perfect. Other than that, the reason for a flaw is that a flaw adds depth to your character, makes the character seem more human and someone the readers can relate to.

Let’s revisit our hero with the scar on his face or chest. Perhaps he is ex-military and while overseas he got into a fight with a man who was physically abusing a woman and saved her from a fate worse than death. The scar is a badge of honor so to speak. But, underneath that badge he is a man who cares for all women and whenever he sees a woman in distress he is compelled to go to her aid.

Now this is not necessarily a bad thing…except he forgets that women can also take care of themselves and has a tendency to step in where he is not wanted. Not a good thing when the heroine is an independent woman who has taken self-defense and can verbally out maneuver any man within fifty feet of her.

At some point this hero has to learn self-discipline and let loose of his over-protective attitude. He’ll have to wait to be asked for his help.

This could prove to be a long and interesting journey for our hero and heroine.

Writing at the edge of a grave

I've never stood at the edge of a grave or at a funeral, but if I did this is what I would imagine.

Sean stood at the edge of her parents’ grave with a stiff spine, an empty shot glass in his hand, and recited the Irish funeral prayer. “May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.”

When Sean returned to her side, she reached out and touched his cheek. She saw tears swimming in his eyes. He was burying his second family and saying goodbye to the folks who helped raise him. She let her hand drop and took his hand in hers as Mrs. Doyle, her mother’s best friend stepped forward and gave her prayer. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on the snow. I am the sunlight that ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush; Of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the soft star that shines at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.”

Then Diego stepped forward surprising her. Tears immediately welled in her eyes as she held her breath and waited for him to speak. His misty gaze on hers, he recited the words, “Death leaves a heartache no one can heal; Love leaves a memory no one can steal.”

Oh, jeez! She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, they came flooding out and streaming down her cheeks. She dropped her gaze from his and willed the tears away. Then she felt a hand lift her chin. He brushed her face with the back of his hand then kissed her cheek.

“There won’t be a dry eye in the house when you finish singing,” he whispered so only she could hear.

Her mouth dropped open. How did he know?

“Your father told me.” He stepped next to her, placed his hand at her lower back and gave her a gentle yet forceful shove.

Taking the hint, she stepped forward, holding her mother’s favorite flowers, Stargazer lilies with their bright pink petals smiling up at her in her hand. Sean stepped up next to her, pressed the butt of the fiddle to his chin and gave her the nod. Ready when she was. She took a deep breath, nodded back, and waited for the first note of the fiddle’s strings. Then the words to One More Day tumbled out low and gentle. As the words moved her, her voice grew strong and loud, clear as the day and echoing off the river. The river that was her father.

Her voice moved into a sweet and powerful lilt as she sang the Irish lyrics of the song knowing her father would have loved to hear her sing “the Irish,” as he would say. Waves lapped along the rocks of the river as she moved into the last chorus.

Dry all your tears
Come what may
And in the end the sun will rise
On one more day
Hey
The sun will rise on one more day. . .

She looked up, across the graves and out to the river. As she did, she pictured her Mum and Da standing before her smiling in the sun and waving goodbye. Hand-in-hand they turned to walk away when her father paused and glanced over his shoulder. Over the movement of the people, the breeze, and the gentle waves of the river, she could have sworn she heard her father’s words.

“Tá grá agam duit.”

“I love you, too, Da,” she breathed then turned and tossed the flowers into the graves. “Goodbye.”

Rainy day ideas

What do you do on a rainy day?

Perhaps you sing the song you learned as a kid "Rain, rain, go away. . ." Maybe you curl back under the covers and hide, tuning the pounding of the rain on the roof out.

How about some ideas that might be a tad more interesting? Here are some rainy day ideas.

Go bowling. Yeah, I said that. When was the last time you called a couple of friends up and said, "Let's go bowling." You can't beat throwing a ball down some wooden alley and watching it crash against ten pins. And you'd probably lean this way and that trying to help the pins tumble. Not to mention that a bowling alley usually has pub food and beer. This is a great way to blow off rainy day steam.

See a movie. Take your best friend or that special someone and check out the latest chick flick or romantic comedy. A good laugh and a bucket of popcorn will chase those rainy day blues away.

Go to the mall. No, I did not say go shopping. I said go to the mall. Get out of the rain by going into the mall and walk. There is nothing so entertaining as people watching in a mall. Seeing a man with a flat top cut wearing black horn-rimmed glasses dressed in red dockers, green polo, beige sadal shoes will put a smile on your face. Or perhaps you see the woman with five pigtails in her hair all dressed up with colorful bows and ribbons wearing a rainbow sweater, sweat pants, and a tutu. Actually, I see this everyday and it always makes me grin.

If you're a writer, why not write. Take that laptop, a cup of flavored coffee (maybe spiked) then curl up in your favorite chair and write. Don't just write anything. Write a scene that takes place in teh rain. I picture a scene with a killer stalking his prey through the woods while she runs, heart pounding in her chest, wet bangs blurring her vision while she tries to stay upright and not slip and fall on the wet leaves. Or maybe it's a rainy day love scene. The hero shows up and sees the heroine standing out on her deck in a white T-shirt, the rain dropping down in heavy rivulets, the shirt sticking to her body. Now words are needed. Just a look. . .

Whew! I might have to go write that love scene.

Have a wonderful rainy day!!

What's makes a good writing day?

As a writer you sit down with pen and paper or your computer and you start to write. How do you measure whether it was a good writing day?

Is it the amount of words you write or the number of pages that come from the words? Do you sit down and target a number or do you let the story and the words flow and stop when the creativity halts?

Me, I just write. I don't force it. I let the characters takeover and write whatever they tell me to.

You think I am kidding?

Any author will tell you that you can plot as much as you like, but when push comes to shove it is the character who will drive the story and inevitably, he or she will shift it on you.

Maybe the number of words or pages is not your measuring stick. Perhaps you measure by the story itself and where you've gotten to in your storyline or how well you feel the characters and story have developed at that point in time?

I rather like this idea. I love feeling the story geling and the characters coming to life. As a writer you absolutely know if what you've written works or if it's just trash. And if you don't, your critique group will. [grin]

I mean how many times have you written something and then afterwards determined that although that was some really great writing it does not fit in the story?

No big deal, right? You save it for another story on another day, right? I do. Never, ever throw any writing away. For every story I have written I have a "cut" document.

The "cut" document consists of all the words, sentences, paragraphs, and yes chapters that I have chopped from a story then saved in case I want to use it in the future. It's like having your own slush pile.

Perhaps a good writing day is a day in which you just simply write. Maybe it's a blog post like this, or maybe it's a poem, or maybe it's writing a letter to a friend.

How do you measure whether it was a good writing day?

Writing “The End”

Is there any more heady feeling for an author than writing the words, “THE END” at the end of a manuscript?

Since I wrote those words on my fifth manuscript this past Monday evening, I can honestly say, “No!”

It’s the best. You get this warm, fuzzy feeling inside you that kind of worm itself around inside your body until it bubbles up to the surface. Then you want to shout your giddiness to the world.

Yes, I did just that. I opened up my back door and yelled, “I did it! The End!!”

Who cares that it was only ten degrees outside and that I was standing in my yoga pants and a tank top yelling this into the cold night air at the top of my lungs. Who cares that my neighbor called to see if I was okay. All that matters is that writing THE END was well worth getting a little frost bite on my tiny tootsies. Not to mention other places that I won’t mention. [wink-wink]

It does not matter how many days or months an author labors over the writing of a story. It could be three or thirty months. It is all a labor of love, rather like being pregnant for nine months and then pushing that baby out. It’s all in reaching the end target of producing that wonderful child or story that will not happen until the words THE END are written on that last page or you’re holding your squirming, beautiful child in your arms.

I say rejoice in your ending, shout it out to the world, and celebrate.

Because tomorrow, the next story will come and you will have no choice to start your another labor or love.

An authors loves to hear

I love weeks like this!

The other day when I was at breakfast a woman who is reading NEVER TEMPT DANGER told me, "The book is getting really good. I was still reading at 2 in the morning."

HA! That's my idea of being hooked.

A couple who have read all my books (yes, both of them) introduced me to their kids as "their favorite local author."

Love the warm and fuzzy feeling that gave me.

A blogger contacted me and said she is just waiting to see my name on the list of attending authors for the Authors After Dark.

Then another reader emailed me to let me know she is loving my books (She's read NEVER TEMPT DANGER, CONNECT THE DOTS, and has KILLER BUNNY HILL) and is going to give one of them to the local library and convince them to carry the others.

I love hearing these things. I am feeling the author love.

OH! Wait! One more. A friend of mine called me from Minnesota and the first thing out of his mouth was "My family wants to know when the next book is coming out?"

Is he kidding me? NEVER TEMPT DANGER came out less than two months ago.

What do I have to say about that. Double arm pump and "Yippee! I'm one of those authors who can't write fast enough for her readers."

I have authors I love that can't write enough for me so that is an amazing feeling.

What does all this do for me? Makes me want to write and write and write some more. I've written 2500 words this week just by writing a little each morning.

For those of you that read my books and send me messages, "Thank you. You are great inspiration."

Procrastinating Sunday

With the way people's lives are nowadays it seems that Sunday is the only day we can relax. If even that day. I don't know about you all, but because I work over 40 hours per week and have a 90 minute commute each way every day I cannot get some of the things I want or need to do during the week. Most evenings by the time I arrive home I am too exhausted to get back in the car and run more errands. If I don't stop on the way home the chances of me going back out are slim to none.

When Saturday rolls around instead of chilling out on your deck or in front of a cozy fire with friends, what do we do? We run those errands or do those chores we were too tired or too busy to do during the week. When the work week was invented (who knows when) I don't believe this was the idea of the weekend. Sure we do yard work because, hey, that's what weekends are for. But we do yard work Saturday mornings so we can BBQ with neighbors in the afternoon or evening. And we do yeard work because it gives us an opportunity to commune with nature. For me, I like to just play in my garden.

The problem is that it's no longer just yard work on Saturdays. It's running errands to the grocery store, picking up and dropping off dry cleaning, making trips to the post office, and doing all those other pesky chores that should have been/could have been done if our work week wasn't consumed by 50 to 60 hours of work and commute that we don't even get paid for.

Then we have Sundays. Now Sundays for many are spent getting up and getting ready for church and then having a family breakfast after that. But then what? Do you get to sit on your hiney and enjoy a day of rest? Isn't that what Sundays were meant to be?

Or do you procrastinate on Sunday because you really do have chores that need to be done, but your heart is saying, "Please, please can we just chill out?!" At least that is what my heart is saying.

So how do you procrastinate? Maybe you have a really LARGE cup of coffee. You know, a cup that's three times your normal kickstart in the morning.

Perhaps you listen to icky Sunday radio? I mean I swear this is the one day of the week that the radio stations forget that radio producers forget that people are listening and want to be entertained. I don't want to hear about how to raise my child in a green world, how to tune my car, or hear for the umpteenth time about some idiot politician screwed up. On Sunday the last thing I want is boring stuff. I want something that's going to make me laugh and forget that tomorrow is Monday and that the week starts all over again.

Maybe you watch the Sunday shows where some pompous opinionated person gives you his or her take on the world, economy, foreign politics, or whatever other topic there is that will blow your mind away on a Sunday. Instead, your heart is now pounding out of your chest because for 60 minutes you have listened to people who tell you they are smarter than you tell you how we can make everything better. But have they done anything about it? Nope. They just argued on national television about how it could or should be done.

How do you procrastinate?

Me, I should be writing on my latest novel. This is the one day a week I try to put aside for just my writing. So how do I procrastinate?

I get up, go for a cinnamon roll and Mountain Dew. Yes, I need caffeine, just not the coffee variety. I write a blog post like this one just because it popped into my head. I will then do a small amount of writing before the place I'm sitting in gets too busy and loud. And, of course, that's usually when I get on a roll in the story.

Then I get in the car and run more of those errands that I should have, would have run during the week if I hadn't worked so much. Or I decide I need silk flowers in my living room and I go to the little shop in Bedford because it's the only time I can make it to the place since it closes at 5 PM during the week. Occasionally, I get in my car and go for a drive. It doesn't matter where, just drive and stop wherever I want. Sometimes I head to Kittery to walk around the outlets and get some fresh air. I might even drive up to Gilmanton to get those terrific apple cider donuts I may have mentioned before. And yes, I will make that 45 minute drive just for those donuts.

After doing those things, I go home and look around and realize I need to vacuum or I need to put that floral arrangement together that I bought the flowers for. By the time I sit down to finish the chapter I started in the morning I am exhausted and my mind is already on work for the next day. Dang! Is that sad or what?

What do you put Sunday aside for and how do you procrastinate?

PS - I'm off to start writing. :-)

Thought provoking question...that will make you write

If you could put a thought or sentiment in a fortune cookie, what would you write?


Now if that doesn't make you think or write an idea down, I don't know what will. Come up with an idea and share it.


Here is my fortune cookie sentiment:

Happiness comes from the heart, not the mind. Follow your heart.

Wasted Time

Wasted Time


Time is wasted in a 90-minute commute
When technology gives us the ability to work from home

Time is wasted working overtime
When we could spend those hours with family, friends, self

Time is wasted regretting decisions made
When life is happening now

Time is wasted watching television
When there’s a world waiting for exploration

Time is wasted talking about writing a book
When you can put pen to paper and write your story

Time is wasted not sharing your self
When others are waiting to share themselves with you

Time is wasted not expressing feelings
When a word, a look, a touch can lead to endless possibilities

Time is wasted on unhappiness
Decide what you want and go after it

What are you waiting for? Time is wasting.

Cars, Hero, and Personalities

What does the car your man, boyfriend, or hero drive say about his personality?

Every once and a while I look out my car window, okay, more than once and a while, but the point is I look out the window and notice the driver inside a car next to me. Or when I'm out and about I meet someone and notice what they drive. Yeah, admit it, you’re checking out the car they drive as much as the guy’s ass in the faded jeans. If you’re a man maybe you’re checking out the woman’s assets.

What does that car tell you about that person? How does that relates to your hero/heroine in your story?

It depends on what they drive. Now, this is not a scientific survey, but something that swishes around in my mind. In fact, this started when I was younger when a girlfriend (older friend as I was not driving or dating at the time) of mine used to only date guys who drove "hot" cars. Seriously. She firmly believed the car told her a lot about the guy. Now at age ...oh never mind that...I would have to say that I somewhat agree.

For example, if a man drives a white Oldsmobile Cutlass what does this say about him and does it make good hero status? Here’s my example of how this guy fits or doesn’t fit the hero mold.

My thought on this granny mobile driver is that he doesn’t have a set of you know…balls, gonads, cojones. One of the engineers I work with shot back, “Or they’re hanging too low to the ground they get kicked.” This is the type of guy who would ask you out. Wait! He wouldn’t actually ask you out himself, he would have one of the waitresses at the little local restaurant you visit ask you out on his behalf.

How about a man who drives a Hummer? Not the baby Hummers they came out with, but the original behemoth. What does this say to you?

First, if the guy has to jump out of the Hummer instead of gliding his feet to the ground after opening the car door then he is too damn short to be driving the Hummer. Is your hero an accountant who wears a suit every day to the office, but drives a Hummer?

Then honey, what the heck is he overcompensating for and do you really want to find out?

Let’s say you run into this gorgeous hunk of a man at the gas station, he introduces himself and asks you out on a date. Odd scenario, but it could happen. When you watch him walk away, cuz of course you do, you see that he hops into and drive off in a mini-van. What is the first thing that runs into our heroine’s mind?

The dude is married! He has a wife and 3.2 children at home along with a dog and a mortgage he can’t afford. His “real” car is a ten-year old Chevrolet sedan. You know what this says? This tells you that the dude probably has minimal education and has a job that pays him too little.


Oh! Here’s a good one. You’re standing on the street waiting for the street light to change and a little red sports car zooms by and zips over to the curve. Tipping your sunglasses down on your nose, you take a closer look at the little red Honda S2000 two-door sports car?

Sports car? This is not a real sports car! This is a wanna-be sports car. It makes all the right VROOM VROOM noises, but under the hood does not beat the heart of a Corvette or Porsche. The man who drives this toy is a guy who wants to be perceived as a player when in reality he drives the Honda because it’s safe and cost-effective. This is a guy who takes no risks and is all flash with no action.

What about a truck driver? Hm…this depends on the truck. Are we talking about a Ford Ranger or Nissan Frontier or are we talking about a F-150? How to put this nicely…If a man is tooling around in a 4-cylinder truck, he is not a man, he’s a boy trying to mirror his father only his nuts haven’t dropped yet so he has to wait before he can get a big boy’s toy.

Now, if the man is driving a F-150 and you see a gun rack hanging on the back window and a Confederate flag hanging from his pole…no not that kind of pole, the antenna pole on the truck then darlin’ you better not run for the hills because that is where this hillbilly is heading. And he’ll be hanging out with his cousin, his other cousin, and his cousin’s cousin…it’s a very close family – if you know what I mean.

Note: Beware of the man who drives a truck with a cab on the back…he may be a serial killer in disguise of a local fisherman.

SUVs are for people looking for adventure or maybe they drive off-road, backroad, or any kind of dirt, bumpy road in the boonies. Okay, the living in the boonies can be a scary thing but in the end if you want some quiet time alone with your hero a little bumpy ride to the sticks will get you there. Besides, the man who drives a Jeep Wrangler not the Jeep Liberty sissy mobile (come one, chicks drive that SUV) is likely to go surfing, snowboarding, or off-roading in the mountains for a picnic by a stream.

Whew! This is just a small list of automobiles and the personalities that they portray about the driver, but you get the idea. My girlfriend from long ago was right. Only date guys with the right kind of car.

What are you afraid of?

This little blog post stemmed from something that happened Saturday morning at breakfast.

Everyone has a fear of something. Maybe it's a fear of spiders or public speaking, of drowning, or technology. Not everyone let's a fear become a phobia. What exactly is a phobia?

A phobia is defined as:

A persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous.

A strong fear, dislike, or aversion.

I fear and hate spiders, but I don't run and hide or have panic attacks when I see one. Instead, I find the biggest shoe I can and while screaming, "Die! Die! Die!" I squish it like a bug. Then I wait a few hours before I clean it up cuz I really do not want to see it. And even when I clean up the now dead bug, I am making faces, holding it as far away from my body as possible, and gagging.

What seems innocuous to some may be debilitating to others. Some fears can cause a series of adverse reactions from increased heart rate and sweating, inability to speak, to full-blown, crippling panic attacks.

What are you afraid of? Is it a phobia?

Me, I'm afraid of beards. No laughing. This is real fear/phobia called Pogonophobia and I have it. As evidenced by an event that took place Saturday morning.

I was at my favorite bagel shop, Big Easy Bagel in Manchester for my usual Saturday breakfast and in walks a friend who almost always joins in the early morning gathering. It had been two weeks since I saw him and in he walks with a full beard. Not only could I not speak, but my heart took off in a speed race, and I broke out in hives.

I quickly gathered myself together, but by that time everyone had seen my ridiculous and irrational behavior, and I had made my friend uncomfortable.

What's worse is that I had just seen this friend a few weeks back and he had barely a whisper of a beard and I had no reaction to it at all. A mustache and goti beard do not affect me. In fact, I have a couple of friends who have beards. How odd sounding is that? If the beard gets too long though, I freak out.

I do not go out of my way to avoid people with beards as I used to when I was a child. When I was little I had an uncle who had a beard and whenever he visited, I would run upstairs and hide. Kind of like my cats do when a stranger comes into the house. Never to be seen again until that person has left the building.

One day my uncle decided he couldn't take me being afraid of him so he shaved off his beard and has never grown it back. For which I am most grateful. I love him very much.

I have never even sat on Santa Claus's lap. I have no proof, but I would bet this irrational fear stems from the whole sitting on Santa Claus's lap thing.

Now that you know my fear/phobia, what are you afraid of?