She aimed the loaded weapon. . .

How creative did you get with this Wednesday's writing prompt?

Wednesday's writing prompt was: She aimed the loaded weapon. . .

What did you come up with? Here's mine.



She aimed the loaded weapon toward her face then moved it so it pointed at her mouth and stared at it expectantly as if it would explode in her hands at any moment.

You can do this.

Her hands shook and she tightened her grip. Eyeing the cocked and loaded weapon held in her shaky grip, her mouth suddenly went dry. She swallowed, trying to gain her courage.

The rush of blood echoed in her ears and pulsed against her fingers as her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest.

Come on. You can do it.

Just get it over with.

Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, she ordered herself to close her eyes and pretend it was a lollipop.

Writing Prompt Wednesday...

Writing prompt Wednesday is an exercise in creativity without thinking. Well, that's how I describe it. [GRIN]

I give you a partial sentence and all you have to do is finish it. Or you can write more! Write a paragraph, a page, a chapter. Whatever your creative mind comes up with and your fingers can type.

It's a terrific way to break writer's block or get your creative juices flowing.

When you do this exercise don't think, just write what pops into your head and have fun. And don't forget to share what you come up with.

Today's prompt is: She aimed the loaded weapon. . .

Firing up your Fiction

Have you ever read a book where it is obvious that the writer did not do his or her research? Did it turn you off from reading further or did you get past it?

There are many editors that will do the research to verify something mentioned in a novel is fact or fiction. Even if the novel is a work of fiction publishers and readers prefer to see some string of fact in the writing. This is why we, the authors, do our research.

My latest research has engaged me in the "right to bear and keep arms" as afforded us in the Second Amendment of the Constitution. (okay...I had to look that up)

On Saturday mornings for about 8-weeks now I have been getting up and packing what can only be termed a small suitcase, and driving to Weare, NH for pistol shooting lessons with Gunnery Sergeant Mike Stevens, USMC Force Recon Retired otherwise known as 'Gunny'.

Seriously, could you ask for a better instructor?

Mike is is the owner of Classic Armorer and a no holds bar, tell you like it is instructor who is very serious about what he teaches and who he teaches.

My very first class Gunny taught me how to handle a pistol, how to tear it down, how to clean it, and how to put it back together.

It wasn't until after those first lessons of the day that we walked down to his outdoor shooting range. There, Mike coached me on 'range etiquette'.

I have to wear protective eyewear, a shirt that covers my upper body so a hot bullet doesn't hit and burn my skin, and protective 'ears' that muffle the gunshot sound but allow me to hear his instructions, and always keep the weapon aimed down range.

With the weapon unloaded, the magazine loaded with target ammo, and all safety gear in place, I walk to the 21-foot line in front of a paper target.

Why a 21-foot line?

According to Gunny and the FBI, the average distance in a gun fight is 21-feet.

With my unloaded .380 Bersa held at my side and the clip in my opposite hand, I wait for Gunny's command.

The first command is "Ready on the line." This phrase tells me to load my weapon and stand in the shooting position he taught me with the gun aimed at the target.

"What is the shooting position?"

Your feet are about shoulder-width apart, your upper body is tilted slightly forward in what Gunny describes as "arrhhhhh", and your shooting hand is up at eye-level. Then you take your free hand and place it under and wrapped around your shooting hand so it acts as a pedestal to help control the weapon. This is known as the pedestal hand. The arm attached to your pedestal hand is slightly bent at the elbow for cushioning the recoil. Your head is tilted enough to site down your shooting arm and eye the site at the end of your pistol to the target. At this point, your finger is NOT on the trigger.

Now I wait for the next command.

The second command is "Fire on the range." This phrase is the command to fire when ready and for me is usally followed by Gunny saying, "Squeeze and breathe." Apparently I hold my breath. Not a good thing as it makes my muscles bunch up and therefore my aim will be off and the recoil will not be cushioned.

How am I doing?

Shooting takes practice to be able to hit the target in a skilled and consistent manner and an instructor with integrity to teach you how to not only shoot the pistol, but to teach you how to care for and handle the weapon in a safe and responsible way. This is why a friend of mine recommended Gunnery Sergeant Mike Stevens, USMC Force Recon Retired.

Stay tuned as I continue my lessons and research with Classic Armorer.

Never Tempt Danger has a cover

This morning I broke my usual mode of staying away from my computer and decided to check my email. When I did, I received a wonderful surprise. The cover art for my next novel was at the top of the list. Woot!

Not only did my publisher send me the art work she designed, but she also sent me a wicked nice compliment. I hope Linda forgives me for sharing it with you all, but I can't resist so read the next line.

"PS - I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed this story the most of all your books!"

Isn't that a terrific warm and fuzzy to wake up to?!


Short blurb for NEVER TEMPT DANGER:

She never thought of her “gift” as special, more like a curse.

As the one man who accepted her “gift” slid the diamond ring onto her shaky finger, Maureen saw his death flash in her mind an instant before the bullet struck. With his blood on her hands and a government research project in the balance, Maureen (Gilly) Gillman does the only smart thing she can. She disappears. If there was one thing Maureen had learned, it was Never Tempt Danger.

Special Agent Lucas Danger knows Maureen Gillman better than any other man. Assigned to find Gilly and her military robot prototype, Lucas discovers that his past has caught up with him. When the woman he loves collides with his secretive past, Lucas has to open his mind as well as his heart to save Maureen.

Who will get to her first?

Researching the family history. . .is it fact or fiction fodder?

As a writer if you want to write a realistic story (even if it is fiction) you do your research. You research clothing of the 18th century. You investigate military black sites when writing about the CIA and human intelligence. Writing a story on baseball? Then you’ll probably find yourself at a baseball game, maybe even trying to sneak into the dugout to sit on the bench with one of the hotties hugging wood.

I recently began doing research on my own family’s history. Let me tell you…there are a whole lot of story ideas that can come from your own family closets. Heck, the freaky names alone will give you a good laugh. I have an Antipas Gilman in my family tree. Antipas? Is that short for antipasta? What about Minnie Moon Markusen? Seriously! Does that not sound like a woman who would sit across the room and spit into a spitoon?

My great-grandparents on my father’s side helped build the town of Anthon, Iowa and even had a run-in with Frank and Jesse James. How cool is that?

OH! Anthon, Iowa is also the town where the tallest man is buried at 9 feet 2 inches. What a great tidbit you could throw into a story or tell your children one day.

So how do you do this family research?

In the case of family history, and that is the focus of this little blog post, it is a lot of talking with family members and internet research.

Whatever you do, don’t believe everything your family states unless they have it in writing. That sounds so terrible, but it is true. For the longest time, I understood my great-grandfather on my mother’s side to be Tom Gillman. Well, when my grandmother did a little digging into paperwork, we discovered that his full name is Joseph John Thomas Gillman.

Back to family history exploration. First, let’s start with where can you create your family tree as you go along?

There is a website called http://www.geni.com that is absolutely free. Yes, you can pay for the professional version but it is not necessary if all you want to do is input names, dates, relationships, images of the relative. One nice feature of this site is that you can share it with your relatives so they can add other relatives and information to help your project along. You can, of course, purchase family tree software like Family Tree Maker.

Now for the actual research. Many people have asked me which sites I joined or subscribed to, which equates to fees. Are you kidding me? No, you can do this without a cost.

There are websites such as http://www.familysearch.org that allow you to put in a name and possible dates of marriage or birth, the location of where they may have lived, who their spouse or parents were and then hit search and check the results. If other people have been doing research on the same line you will sometimes find that the family and/or pedigree information is available.

Note: Be cautious of giving too much detail because you could be absolutely wrong. For example, my great-grandfather’s last name has always been spelled Gillman, but in fact the name has been modified or misinterpreted down the line from what it was when the family came from England. In the states it started as Gilman. In England it was spelled Gylman or something like that. Use soundex when possible.

Remember I said don’t believe it until you see it in black and white? Well, perfect example is a birth date or place. Be open to the fact that the year could be plus or minus a couple of years.

Other sites you can use for researching family history. http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/ Search the surnames, the trees, the archive lists, the forums, message boards. None of those require you to pay a fee to do your investigation.

What you will find is a string of other people asking the same questions as you about the same people and who may have actually found the answers. If you’re real lucky, as I was, you may actually find someone who has half of a family branch already documented. If that happens, be sure to send them off an email and thank them for their effort. I sent Fred Cohoon an email thanking him for identifying so many of my relatives on that branch and offered to send him more information from my family that he did not have documented at the time. What a great way to meet long lost and/or unknown relatives.

http://www.ancestry.com/ is great for searching names and getting an idea of when someone may have been born or died, and where if you are unsure, and even possibly tell you the name of a parent or spouse. To go any further will cost you a fee. I have not gotten that desperate yet.

A truly wonderful site that will lead to other sites is http://www.usgenweb.org. The USGenWeb Project is a group of volunteers working together to provide Internet websites for genealogical research in every county and every state of the United States. Part of my family is from Iowa so I went to http://iagenweb.org/. USGenWeb is non-commercial and fully committed to free access for everyone. There is even a WorldGen project so you can search across the globe. http://www.worldgenweb.org/.

USGenWeb is a where I found some very good information about relatives because I could search by state. I could search obituaries, state census data, old newspapers like http://iowaoldpress.com/. Talk about great fodder for fantastic fiction!

Don’t forget that these long since deceased family relations have to have been buried somewhere. Yeah, a tad morbid I know, but. . .it’s a starting point to find names and dates and another point for searches. Try http://www.findagrave.com/ to search for a grave. Most states have a grave site for you to search such as http://iowagravestones.org/ and http://utahgravestones.org/.

http://www.genealogy.com/index_r.html is another site that you can do name searches on and has some great forums where you can once again follow other people’s efforts in tracking families. Link for forum searches is http://genforum.genealogy.com/.

I will tell you now that this kind of research is addictive. You will find yourself in front of your computer with 5 minutes to spare before you have to pick up the kids from school doing any number of search combinations to find that one name that has eluded you. Watch out! You may just forget the kid at the bus stop.

Ultimately, when you find out that your family branch came from Barbadoes and helped build a town in Iowa, or that a bunch of them sailed over on a ship from England to be early settlers and the family behind Gilmanton, NH then all sorts of ideas will start to run through your head. If nothing else, you will learn way too much about your family along with reading some very interesting stories of not so well known relatives.

Have fun and happy hunting!

A sense of accomplishment

There is nothing like stepping back from a project, taking a deep breath, and letting the air whoosh out of your lungs as a sense of accomplishment slides into your heart and a wide grin tugs at the corners of your mouth in satisfaction.

Late last night I stood back from my front porch after three days of physical labor and felt this rush of pride swell in my chest as my eyes focused on what I had accomplished. I transformed my porch from this plain wood thing to a place I want to sit after work with a cool drink and watch the world go by.

What do you think?



I stained every piece with this beautiful mahogany flame color and all the spindles and kick plates are a white primer followed by a white stain. Gorgeous if I do say so myself. Now my deck and porch have similar looks and I feel a symmetry going on.

Next up is to finish sanding and staining the driveway retaining wall.


What gives you a sense of accomplishment or satisfaction?

Catch me TODAY!. . .if you can

Catch me and 49 other local authors, poets, illustrators at a BOOK SALE!

TODAY (August 26) from 4 PM until 8:30 PM

The Johnson Auditorium
HAVERHILL PUBLIC LIBRARY

99 Main Street
Haverhill, MA 01830


Can you imagine so many local area artists in one spot? You won't want to miss it!

See you there.

Wishing my nephew a happy birthday

My youngest nephew, Brandon, turned 21...oops! I mean he turned 12 yesterday. Don't want him to grow up too soon.

With red hair, blue eyes that glitter with mischief, and a grin that makes you forget your words, Brandon is a nephew any Aunt would wish for and love dearly.

This Aunt has loved Brandon since the moment my sister told me she was pregnant with him. I remember sitting around with my sister and brother-in-law and other friends and family tossing out baby names. When we hit on Brandon it was as if he reached out from his mother's tummy and snapped up the name because we all knew that he was Brandon.

Isn't Brandon a great name for an Irish bartender who I cast him as in my fourth novel? :-) Wait until you meet him in print!

Brandon loves to read a good book, but can't sit still for very long either. Hmm...that must be a family trait. He's an active guy who right now is into baseball.

Brandon is the next writer in the family. How cool is that?!

I am so proud that he wants to draw pictures with words and put them on paper for others to read and enjoy.

Please give a big birthday shout out to Brandon!

The little things make us smile

I don't know about you but it's the little things in life that make me smile. You know, the things that you don't think about until it happens and then a grin spreads across your lips and your heart trips a little lighter.

Perhaps you come home from a long day at work and find your trash cans pulled up next to your garage so you don't have to trek back down to get them.

One of my favorites is when my neighbor hollers down the road and yells, "Chocolate pie!" Yes, Donna makes the best sugar free chocolate pie ever. I will literally and did this past Saturday drop everything and jog up the street to get some pie.

It's someone holding a door open even when your hands aren't full. It's a complete stranger offering to share his umbrella so you don't get soaked walking into the office.

Maybe you receive a quick phone call from a friend just to say "Hi."

As a writer, one of the things that makes me smile is when someone I gave a book to tells me her mother stole my book from her and is halfway through it and loving it.


What little things put a smile on your face?

What childhood adage or diddy do you remember?

As I pumped gas into my car this morning, I glanced down and noticed a penny lying on the ground. The first thought that ran through my mind was a childhood adage.

Do you remember "Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck"? Do you pick it up?

Do you ever take an evening stroll and find yourself avoiding cracks in the sidewalk? Is it because of the phrase "Step on a crack, break your mother's back"?

What other childhood sayings do you remember? Which ones do you swear are true?

Merlot, Murder, Mystery, Mayhem

All of those M's describe the wine mystery event that took place at Zorvino Vineyards last Friday, August 13th.






Thanks to authors CJ West (wrote the mystery for the evening), Vincent O'Neil, Stephen Rogers, the staff at Zorvino Vineyards, and Sandown Chief of Police Joe Gordon, the 200 plus people who attended Mayhem Over Merlot Mystery event had a blast!



The event consisted of great food, a terrific wine tasting, a mystery or thriller book, and a fun-filled, interactive mystery where the patrons had the opportunity to play sleuth for an evening.






Check out some of our wannabe detectives in action!








Yes, that is a real police officer interrogating the suspects. Check out that guilty look on Ken's face as Chief Joe puts the screws to him.






Do you see the way Chief Joe is turning up the heat when he interrogates me? I tell you I was feeling the pressure.






Our murder victim - CJ West in his ghostly look.






Do you see the guilty looks on the faces of our murdering criminals? Yup, they are wearing real handcuffs.


If you missed this event, don't worry. There will be another!

Friends joined me on a morning walk

I have recently fallen in love with walking the Windham Rail Trail. This morning I decided to walk it from Salem to Windham then have breakfast at Windham Junction.

At about 2 miles into my walk I had to slow my pace because I ran into a few friends.

Can you think of a better way to start your Sunday than to walk on a path through nature enjoying the sights and sounds and encountering a few geese?

On my return walk I didn't run into new friends, but I did see the geese left their calling cards all over the trail. Wasn't that nice of them?

I didn't run into any more feathery friends. I did, however, listen to a couple of ground squirrels AKA chipmunks having a rather heated argument. Of course, they stopped chattering when I chuckled.

Then I heard this strange noise in the pond/swamp that was a tad eery. It sounded as if the Loch Ness Monster or a Slestak was rumbling beneath the lillie pads, moss, and brown water.

I kept looking for the creature that made the fire-breathing dragon noise and made the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention, but alas, I did not find the culprit. Maybe next time.

Writing runs in the family

I've recently been doing some research into family genealogy and as part of that my parents have pulled out a few newspaper clippings, letters, etc. to help me find more information. Yesterday, as my father rummaged through papers, he found a poem he had written when I was 2 years old.

I hope it touches you as it touched me. I'm glad to know writing runs in the family.


D is for all the Devine joy that she has brought to us

Or the Devil in her eyes.

E is for all the Eternal happiness that we can only hope she can have

Or Every mischievous deed she can do.

N is for how Naïve all children are

Or how Nice her mother wants her to be.

I is for all the Intensity she puts into her playing

Or how Inviting she is to hold.

S is for how Shy we all want our little girls to be

Or how silly they really can be.

E is for Everything that little girls are to their fathers

Or Everything that my little girl, DENISE, is to me.

Do clothes make you sexy?

This is a great topic for a Thursday morning and one I couldn't resist. As I dressed for work (blech!) I riffled through my closet and stared at the garments hanging around like tormenting critters teasing, "Pick me." "No, you don't want to wear that." "Dang! You have no clothes to wear."

Yes, my closet houses talking clothing.

After sifting through the sweaters, shirts, blouses, etc., the prefect top jumped out at me and screamed, "Are you kidding, I am the sexiest thing!"

How could I resist the peachy-colored silk, sleeveless top? I mean seriously, I've got this great tan going (if I do say so myself) and when I slid the silk over the top of my head, saw the color against my bronze skin, I thought, "Wow! I like this."

I finished dressing in a pair of jeans and heeled-sandals then to top off the look, I added a little lip gloss that is the same peachy color as my top. Can I just say, I looked at myself in my mirror and definitely thought, "I look hot!"

Is it because of my clothes?

Let me see if I can show you more. I get in my car to drive to work (way too early), flip in a Keith Urban CD I recently picked up and bopped all the way into the office. Sitting in my car in typical Boston traffic on a hot, hazy morning, I could not help but sing at the top of my lungs, do a couple of shoulder shimmies, and drum the steering wheel. Okay, maybe I even did a little upper body boogie. You could not see my butt shake.

Is it my clothes? If this were winter and I was dressed in a sweater, jeans, and boots, would I still feel sexy?

What do you think?

Is there any outfit that you put on that makes you feel sexy?

When a writer goes radio silent. . .

Is it because her computer died, her network went haywire, she has nothing to write about, or because she is a magnet for mishap?

My father claims that if I didn’t have bad luck, I would have no luck. I am inclined to agree. About a month ago, disaster struck at about midnight on a Monday night/Tuesday morning.

The smoke detectors woke me up and sent me flying through my house like a mad woman. I ran up and down stairs while the shrill sound of those alarms rang in my ears, telling me there was a fire somewhere. I just didn’t know where.

While the cats bolted for the highlands, I searched every nook and cranny of my home for fire. It wasn’t until I looked in the basement twice that I noticed smoke coming in from between the garage door and the door frame. When I finally managed to get the door unlocked, I swung it open and was greeted by a wall of black smoke.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I was not supposed to open the door. But when you are in a panic you kinda don’t think like a sane, rational person, you kinda go with whatever will prevent you from losing your home. You see, the garage is directly under the main part of the house.

My first response was to gasp and suck in the toxic dust…which would later prove not a good thing. I tried the light switch and nothing happened. I thought the power had gone out. Nope, that’s how thick the smoke was. I reached around and hit the garage door buttons. One of the doors went up and that’s when I heard but still could not see the fire.

I turned and ran back upstairs to the third floor for my cell phone and on the way back down dialed. As my bare feet hit my back deck, I was screaming into the phone, “Fire! House is on fire!”

“What?” the groggy voice asked on the other end of the line.

“Fire! My house is on fire!”

Then I heard CLICK and the line was dead.

No, I did not dial 911. I called my neighbors, my heroes. AGAIN. They called 911.

It wasn’t until I rounded the corner of my yard that I saw the 8-foot flames then heard my neighbor Kenny hollering for me as I ran into the garage, opened the other door and tried to pull out anything flammable and explosive. Gasoline cans, push mower that was already burning, riding lawnmower, snow blower, etc.

Kenny was helping me pull stuff when I looked up and said, “Hose!”

I ran and got the hose, which of course, was attached to a plant chemical. Sheesh! I managed to get that off and handed Kenny the hose.

I won’t give you all the details, but suffice it to say in spite of 8 foot flames and smoke as dark and thick as mud, Kenny, Donna, and I got the fire put out before the fire trucks, EMT vehicle, fire chief, and police cars arrived with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

My lecture for the evening came from a firefighter who asked, “Who called 911?”

I pointed a finger at Donna. “She did.”

“Who did you call?”

“Her.”

“Next time, little lady, you dial 911 first.”

“Um, she is on speed-dial and you never even crossed my mind.”

The firefighter gave a little chuckle then sobered and narrowed his gaze on me. “Next time dial 911 first.”

“Yes, sir.” I wanted to salute him, but I held back.


Physically I am fine. My neighbors and I all burned our hands, but those healed quickly. Ice is an amazing medicinal treatment. That and a cold beer bottle. The smoke inhalation affected my lungs for a period and made my voice sound a little like Kathleen Turner, but alas, that sexy, raspy voice has gone away.


For those of you wondering, “Where the heck did Denise go?” Now you know.

Thank you for the phone calls, the emails, and the notes. I appreciate everyone’s caring and concern. Please know that I have not fallen off the face of the earth, that every day I want to write, but this little calamity has kept me busy.

Instead of life imitating art, art will imitate life. Think of the fodder for my fiction.

Saturday's sweet surprise

I am an author and I have to keep reminding myself of that. No, seriously. Yes, I love to write. I'm a writer. It's because of the words and the images you can draw on a page.

Then I receive an email from a reader who expresses her joy in my story and my heart does this little leap, bounce and quick spin before thudding back into place. Yippee! This is when I know I am an author.

Earlier in the week, I received a message about a great book review from Intense Whisper (Robin K) on my first novel, IT HAPPENS IN THREES, which I shared in a previous blog post.

On Saturday, I not only received an email from a reader, but a reader who is also an author. Joyce Sterling Scarbrough, sent out an amazing review of the very same novel that Robin just reviewed.

I just have to say I was floored to read her review and honored she took the time to share her words, not just with me but with my publisher's loop and on Amazon. It's an amazing, squishy feeling that makes your tummy quiver inside like a bowl of jelly when another author heartily endorses not only your story, but you as a writer.

I emailed Joyce Saturday morning and asked her if she would mind if I shared her review and posted about it on the blog and here is her response. "Post it anywhere you want to, Denise. I will be proud to have my name associated with such a great book and great writer!"

So, without further lip-smacking by me, take a look and see what Joyce had to say about IT HAPPENS IN THREES. Tell me if this wouldn't make you feel like there was more than one Santa Claus.

"This book is like an action flick, erotic love story, romantic comedy and crime drama all rolled into one! I love it when it's obvious that the author knows what she's talking about, and that's definitely true in this case. The technical and procedural details are spot-on and startlingly realistic, and the sex scenes are white hot! Throw in vivid descriptions of to-die-for locations and some of the snappiest dialogue around, and it makes for one enjoyable read. Looking forward to more!"

Can you believe all that?! Joyce must be a writer.

Wait! I'm not done yet. Add to that Gina Leuci's (author of A Lesson in Love) comment to Joyce's review.

"Joyce

Your review of Denise's book is spot on. Eloquently said."

Here is the thing you need to know about Gina. She is one of the few people who read and critiqued pieces of the manuscript before it was published.

Check out Joyce and Gina's books and tell them I sent you and while you visit their blogs, tell them I said, "Thanks."

Picture this . . .

Picture me, yes me, the funny redheaded blonde who loves to write and can barely squeeze it in unless. . .wait for it. . .she goes to her local watering hole, Margaritas, with her laptop and no WIFI, has a couple of "girlie" beers as a friend refers to them, and writes her fanny off. Okay, I wish it was that easy to make a fanny disappear.

Wait! That's not it. I get home, decide to log onto the computer and the first thing I see is a Facebook posting of a review by Robin K of my first novel, It Happens in Threes. And WOW! Now picture said redheaded blonde doing a dance around her house with every dang window open for the world to see.

Yes, all my neighbors, that's a dancing girl in that fishbowl of a house.

The truly funny part is that I had literally just hung up the phone with my longtime friend who has been the inspiration behind my stories and the person who Connect the Dots is dedicated to. Talk about timing!

Could there be a better compliment than this? "I do not know if a book could be written more perfectly for an easy escape of reality. Denise writes so eloquently. Her characters flow across the pages, enriched by well written landscapes and interplay. I loved being able to experience the paradise of Florida and Hawaii through the heroines eyes. The setting so entrancing I could taste the salt of the ocean and feel the warmth of the sun. I actually approached my husband about vacationing where we could scuba dive."

Robin ends the review with this. "This book is vacation anyone can afford!"

Okay, yes, I love knowing someone has enjoyed my stories. What can I say? I'm an author. OH! I can say that.

Thank you Robin for the wonderful review and I hope the winner of the bookgiveaway loves it just as much.

See Robin's full review and enter to win a copy of IT HAPPENS IN THREES at http://intensewhisper.blogspot.com/

Please drop by Robin's blog and leave her a comment.

Writing Prompt Wednesday

Prompt: The bigger man. . .


This is an interesting prompt because you know right away that there is more than one man in the character's line of site. Will you mention the other guy or will you just show us the big man? I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

The sight of granny...writing prompt response

The other week I posted a writing prompt: The sight of granny. . .

Here is my attempt.

The sight of granny tied to a chair, a purple bruise the size of a fist on her cheek, her lower lip bleeding, made Jane's blood boil with anger and fear. Reflexively, she curled her fingers into tight balls ready to pound either of the two goons, whichever one harmed Granny Pearl, both of them. Into the ground like moles in the Whack-A-Mole game at an arcade.

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.

Writing Prompt Wednesday

This morning's prompt is inspired by my current WIP and a particular scene I am working on.

Writing Prompt: The sight of her granny. . .


Remember, it's not how much you write, but the quality of the words. Have fun and feel free to share what you come up with.

Great way to end the week!

You ever have one of those weeks where you just don’t get to do the things you want to do because the job and life takes over? That has been my week or last two weeks.

On the other hand, this has been a week of great enjoyment for me as a writer. On Monday, I posted about the guy who yelled out his truck, blocking traffic, to tell me he liked my latest book, CONNECT THE DOTS.

Monday night I came home to find a message from Heather Bishop of WZID who said, “I’m not a cute guy, but I REALLY like Connect the Dots!”

One of the guys who work for me out of New Jersey sent me an email on Wednesday sent me an email telling me that he started reading Connect the Dots and is with him so he can read during lunch. Mike claims, “It is non-stop movement and action.”

Friday morning, I decided to get some breakfast and ran into Scott who works for the postal service and is reading Connect the Dots during his lunch break. According to Scott, “I’m really enjoying it and it makes me want to turn the page.”

The piece de resistance is after a very long week, I come home and at 1 AM I see a Google alert in my email. I click the Google alert and it takes me to Intense Whisper’s blog where I see she posted a review and book giveaway of CONNECT THE DOTS. Not just a review, but a wonderfully worded and high-praise review that immediately put a smile on my face and made me send the link to my family at one in the morning.

Thank you all and especially Robin for making me feel loved as an author. It's always nice to hear someone say they like your story and want to read the others. What a compliment!

Please click the link above and show Robin/Intense Whisper some love by leaving a comment and entering her book giveaway.

Intense Whisper AKA Robin K and I met on Twitter and send quick quips back and forth. She is hysterical, and a great follow on Twitter.

Now, would you say this was a great week to be a writer or what?

Time to go celebrate the 15th Anniversary of my favorite bagel shop, Big Easy Bagels, in Manchester, NH. Hope to see you there.

Do you have a favorite breakfast joint?

I do. Almost every Saturday I visit Big Easy Bagel in Manchester, NH for a great bagel, a soda (not a coffee drinker but they have it), and terrific company and atmosphere.

You remember that show Cheers and how "everyone knows your name"?

Big Easy Bagel is that kind of place. You go there the first time because you notice it on the way to the Manchester airport. You go a second time because you love a good bagel and the food is delicious. After that you find yourself returning again and again not just because of the food but because you feel like family.

Lori and David (the owners), along with Cathy and Deb, and sometimes Amanda make you feel like you're a part of their family so you find yourself visiting them every Saturday for a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel sandwich, and if you have a carb craving you order the spicy fries.

Help Lori and David and the gang down at Big Easy Bagel celebrate their 15 year anniversary this week. They have lots of wonderful food and good giveaways so stop by, grabbing a bagel and a cup of coffee, and see what's going on.

Date: April 15, 2010 to April 17, 2010
Time: 6:00am - 3:00pm
Location: Big Easy Bagels
Street: 2626 Brown Avenue
City/Town: Manchester, NH

Tell them Denise sent you.

This is one way of hearing how someone likes your book

Remember a month or so back how I posted about a guy giving me his card and asking me to call him one morning while I was pumping gas at my local gas station?

This morning I had to fill-up and as I stood there freezing my tail off at the pump someone honked the horn. Figuring it was some car honking at another on the street, I didn't look up.

My mistake. The next thing I know, someone is yelling my name from the road. I look up and there is the same guy sitting in a big truck on the road. He blocked traffic to shout, "I read your book."

Cool! My response was, "Well?"

To which he replied, "I really liked it!"

"Excellent!" I hollered.

Then before he rolled away, he shouted for me to call him.

Good start to a day!

Thursday's writing prompt response

Last night as I relaxed, I sat down and came up with this little snippet to yesterday's writing prompt.

Prompt: She sat down at the counter and everything was fine until. . .

She sat down at the counter and everything was fine until the man with a moustache and the smell of her stalker sat down next to her. Then her nerves went haywire. Her stomach pitched, bile pushed at the back of her throat, and the fork slipped from her sweaty palm and dropping on the plate of scrambled eggs with a clatter.

“Are you okay?” Dawn, the waitress she’d seen once a week for almost three years asked.

“I, uh, yeah,” she lied and tossed a twenty onto the counter.

“I’ll get your change.”

“That’s okay. You keep it,” Jane said as she slid off the red vinyl stool.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll get your change.”

As soon as Dawn walked off with the uneaten plate of food, check, and the twenty dollar bill, Jane shoved her garden magazine in her bag and bolted for the door and safety. If not for the fact that people would be watching her go to her car, she would have run. Instead, she calmly, but briskly strode to her car with keys in hand. Aiming the key fob at her SUV, she unlocked the vehicle, and rushed to the door. She grasped the handle and tugged. The door opened an inch then slammed back in place. When she reached for the door handle, she gasped and jumped. Her back met the hard wall of a chest as two large hands splayed along the top of the door frame, pinning her in.

A deep voice spoke into her ear. . .


What did you come up with?

See what author JD Webb wrote for Writing Prompt Thursday. See his website at www.jdwebb.com

Writing prompt Thursday

This morning I decided to go have breakfast at this little place around the corner from me and everything was just fine until. . .

Today's writing prompt: She sat down at the counter and everything was fine until. . .


Have fun with this. Write as little or as much as you can and don't forget to share what you write.

Grandmas are the greatest

I had originally planned on posting a writing prompt this morning. . .until I checked my mailbox this morning.

Inside my large white mailbox I found a package from my grandma who is known affectionately to my father as 'Mad Max'. Her real name is Maxine and she's my mother's mother.

Okay, so you know what happens when you receive a surprise package? You cannot wait to rip it open and see what is inside!

Of course, you're in your car driving and can't rip open that gosh darn tape meant to keep a 500-pound gorilla out so what did I do? I went to the little breakfast place around the corner from me, drug the box inside, and immediately asked for a pair of scissors.

After finally getting the tape off and ripping through the paper, I found a set of kitchen towels. Now these aren't just any towels. These are hand-embroidered kitchen towels that my grandmother stitched herself. They have little doggies on them doing various things and each one has the day of the week spelled out on it.

How cool is that?

Grandmas are absolutely the greatest and I am all over anything that is made by hand.

Thank you Grandma! Hugs and kisses...and lots of love!

BTW - Can I have a set of towels with kitties on them? :-)

What scary movie do you remember?

What things that go bump in the night made you afraid of the dark when you were a kid?

When I was a kid I saw this movie where these creatures/monsters came out of the fireplace in a basement only at night because they didn't like light. They would steal people.

I used to think that the movie was called The People Under the Stairs, but today I finally figured out that the movie that made me never want to sleep in the same room with a firplace was a made-for-TV horror film titled Don't be Afraid of the Dark.

The plot surrounds Sally and her husband Alex who inherit a Victorian mansion from Sally's recently deceased grandmother. Sally, exploring the house discovers a sealed and locked fireplace in the locked basement, which she thinks would make a lovely addition to her home. Little does she know why it’s been sealed up.

Despite ominous warnings from the estate's handyman, Sally opens the sealed fireplace that holds a hideous family curse. The curse comes in the shape of three little creatures, who want Sally’s soul to join them down the furnace. After seeing the creatures several times, and witnessing just what they’re capable of, Sally decides she wants to get out of the house. Her only protection is when she finds out the monsters are terrified of the light.

What movie had a huge impact on you as a youngster?

As a writer, I strive to build the kind of tension that this old film and many others and to have the reader not want to turn out the light or have to continue reading until they know they heroine is safe. . .or not.

Shopping at hardware store

I had to share this experience because it made me laugh and shake my head.

I have been waiting to trim my apple tree until it was a tad warmer outside, dreading climbing the thing and snipping off every tall spiky limb with my loppers. Last year my arms hurt for three weeks afterward.

This year, a friend of mine recommended I go get a limb saw. I wasn't exactly hot on the idea for the pur fact that the last time I tried to use a saw it did nothing but frustrate me. But what the heck.

I stopped at Home Depot on the way home from breakfast to check out a limb saw. I, of course, walked into the store and went to completely the wrong section (TOOLS) then asked a Home Depot person for directions. He walked me down to the aisle, located the limb saws and pulled one out.

Then he turned to me and said, "Is this what he was looking for?"

He? He who? Was I not standing there asking for this tool?

I replied, "The saw is for me. I'll be the one using it and climbing up in the tree to saw some limbs."

The look on this poor man's face when he realized his mistake was one of slack jaw, wide eyes, and pink cheeks.

"I'm sorry. That really was a stupid thing to say," he offered.

I gave a small laugh and smiled. "No problem. Happens all the time."

The sad part is that it really does happen all the time. If you're buying a tool you must be buying it for a man to use. Now, you're talking to a woman who has framed a wall, put up sheet rock, hung cupboards, replaced light fixtures and switches, painted every wall in her house, gutted and re-planted her own garden, built her own walking trail with more than 400 pounds of flagstone.

You should see the horrified look on the guy at the stone yard's face when I stick the flagstone and rock in the trunk of my BMW. It's similar to the young guy's faces at the nursery when I shove dirty plants in the truck. I have to explain to them, "It's just a car." Then they stutter and I laugh.

Oops! Back to the story.

Anyway, why does the fact that a woman wants to buy a tool surprise so many male salespeople?

Honestly, my ex-husband who is wicked smart when it comes to computers couldn't put together a desk without assembling it backwards, nor could he change a light switch. His version of a tool is a wire crimper for CAT-5 cabling and a mini-screwdriver for all those tiny screws on the cases of computers.

Writing Prompt Wednesday

Today's prompt idea comes from a writer friend, Michael Jensen. His blog is Miked Up and you can find him on Twitter at @mmj5170.

Instead of writing this past weekend, he went fishing. GASP! Can you believe that?

Today's writing prompt: She reeled in. . .


Have fun with this and share what you come up with. No matter how little or how much as long as you write it's all good.

And the winner is. . .

Scott Romanski!

Scott is the winner of our Boston Red Sox water bottle filled with M&Ms and a copy of my latest techno-romantic thriller, CONNECT THE DOTS.

There were some wonderful guesses to our Spring has Sprung giveaway, but Scott's guess of 757 came closest to the 934 actual M&Ms that filled the Boston Red Sox water bottle.

HOWEVER, any of you who have played games with me or participated in giveaways in the past know that I always like to do better. So, for all of the others who joined in the fun, you still have an opportunity to receive a copy of CONNECT THE DOTS.

Here's the catch . . .

You have to either come back here and tell everyone how much you loved the story, because of course you will. Just ask April of Cafe of Dreams, she'll tell you. OR, you have to blog about CONNECT THE DOTS on your own blog.

That's it! See how fun this is. Now all you have to do is email me your address/contact information along with who you would like the book signed to and I will send everything out this weekend.

April - I certainly don't want you to do without so how about a book for another giveaway or for a friend or your local library. Just email me.

How many people can say they've played a cow bell?

What does a writer do on a Saturday night?

This writer went out with some friends. . .notice the picture. Don't be frightened by the scary looking guy sitting on my left. That's David, the owner of Big Easy Bagel in Manchester and on my right is his wife and partner, Lori. She is obviously the brains and the beauty behind Big Easy, but shhh! Don't tell David.



Saturday morning, I went for my bagel sandwich and while chatting with Lori, she invited me to hang out with them at Whippersnappers to listen and watch a band called Mama Kicks.

Picture below is lead singer Lisa and in background is drummer David.



If you ever need inspiration for a story, go watch Mama Kicks. Not only was the music fantastic, but they were great entertainers. Every had a terrific time and yours truly got to people watch and take mental notes.

Seriously, someone tell the guy wearing the Boston Bruins hockey jersey that he is so NOT hot. Go put a real shirt on.

The older guy who wore a red t-shirt and a sweat jacket that was way too small should get a grip.

The woman who wore this ugly black lace top that showed basically everything, not to mention the way she danced pretty much gave you the impression that she did everything. . .should maybe get a room some place.

Then there was Nana Nancy. I call her Nana because she was by far the oldest person in the place. Let me tell you this woman had fun. She shook her polyester clad booty along with her gray hair. Go Nancy!

As for me, I sat at my front row table drinking and grinning like a fool, tapping my toes all night long while I mentally catalogued the events and the people of the evening.

Until the end that is. Then when I had just returned from the ladies' room and found myself being summoned on stage by David the guy playing. He was a blast to watch, but yeah, no, I did not want to get up on stage. Are you kidding me?

Like I had any say.



To my complete embarassment I got up on stage and was handed a cow bell and a drum stick. A cow bell? Seriously?

Now, I've had voice lessons, even worked with a musician to write a song, but no, I have never played an instrument. No laughing!

Luckily, Lisa, the lead singer of Mama Kicks coaxed Lori up on stage to play the tambourine. The Pink Boxes as Lisa so named Lori and I, played back up to the group on the last song of the night.

Do we look hot or what?

Okay, maybe not hot as in sexy, but hot as in those lights are bright.

We had a blast and we will be back to Whippersnappers to see Mama Kicks on April 10, 2010. Mark your calendars and join the fun!

Spring has sprung so let's have some fun!!

Here's your chance to take a trip down memory lane, celebrate spring and baseball, and possibly win a free copy of CONNECT THE DOTS.

When you were a kid and in school, do you remember a game your teacher would play with the whole class where you had to guess the number of jelly beans that were in a jar and the person closest to the actual number won the jar of jelly beans?

First, let me digress for a second. Didn't you ever wonder who in their right mind would actually sit there and count the jelly beans one by one?

Now you know. Some crazy author who wants to have some fun. Only, just so you know, I know why someone would volunteer to count the jelly beans that fit in a jar. The answer is simple. One for the jar, POP, one for me. One jelly bean for the jar, two jelly beans for me.

On with the fun!

Let's play jelly beans in a jar...or in this case, M&Ms in a water jug. Not just any water jug, but a Boston Red Sox water bottle. Wanna see your jar and your prize?

Here you go.

Here's how to play:

Post a comment here with your guess as to the number of M&Ms you think are in the Red Sox bottle.

Whoever comes closest to the actual count will win the jug and a copy of my latest novel, CONNECT THE DOTS.

You have until Thursday to place your guess.

The winner will be announced on Friday.

What word or words best describe you?

When I was a kid, one word best described me – SHY. Here is where most people who know me now give a choked laugh. Yes, I was one of those kids who wouldn’t shake the preacher’s hand after church, who wouldn’t pay for her own apple pie at McDonald’s, and who would rather squeeze her legs shut and pray that she could hold the gallon of water she just drank than ask a salesperson where the ladies’ room was located.

Today, the last word anyone would ever use to describe me is shy, even though I really am.

One word that has always stuck with me, even from childhood is INDEPENDENT. My parents taught me that if I wanted something or needed something done to not wait around for others, do it yourself. Here I am at the wise age of never you mind, and I am still independent. Perfect example is that while I could have hired someone to paint the interior of my house and it would have been done a lot sooner, I am just as capable and could get the satisfaction of saying, “I did it.” Every day I wake up and see my Caliente Red dining room walls and I smile because I painted those four coats, painted the bright white baseboards, arches, and crown molding, and even caulked afterwards.

Starting a few years back, I heard the words ENIGMA, PARADOX, RENAISSANCE WOMAN as the prevalent descriptors for my personality and me. I’ll be honest, I looked at these people with my brows furrowed in complete disbelief and thought, “Are you kidding me?” These are people I know well and they think I’m a mystery, a contradiction, and a woman with a wide-ranging intellect. It’s funny, but I hear these three words even more often today.

While I still believe “what you see is what you get” when it comes to me, I can see where some of these words may apply. Here’s this little blonde woman who by day manages a team of software engineers and is considered kickass at work then she goes home at night to write fiction curled up in her favorite jeans either sitting on her deck listening to the roller coaster or sitting in front of her fireplace. Then on the weekends, she tucks her mass of blonde hair underneath a Boston Sox cap, throws on the ugliest shorts or trashiest jeans she owns just to go outside and get her hands dirty by playing in the garden or attempting to do things in the house that many people either would leave be or would hire someone.

To this end, I tell you that I am all of the above and am the better for it because I have reached a balance…or almost. Sometimes the scale tips one way more than another, but it also always tips back.

So – what words best describe you? Why?

What’s your sign?

I’m a Virgo, but that wasn’t necessarily the sign I was talking about. Every day we see signs, on the street corner, on buildings, hanging on a door or wall. Then there are those signs that aren’t posted for the world to see and notice, but for the individual. If he or she is open to seeing them or even hearing them.

Perhaps the sign is a symbol to you. Something that whenever you see it makes you smile or lets you know that something is going to occur, or that you need to call someone.

There are and have been several of them in my life. They change just as I do, but they are there if I pay attention. Not all of them have been good, but more times than not they are positive.

A simple example is seeing a truck with a name of a business on it drive by me every day for a week. I kept seeing the truck and it drove me nuts because it always reminded me of a person I hadn’t talked with for months. Then bam! I heard from him. The truck was a sign.

Three years ago, I was in Kentucky on a business trip and told everyone that I was going to buy a house that weekend when I returned to New Hampshire. The people I worked with thought I was nuts. Little did they know.

The night I returned home, I sent my real estate agent 3 places I wanted to see. I had very little to go on but pictures, but I chose 3 that looked the most like what I was looking for. My real estate agent emailed me back and asked me if I could have everything in a house what would it be. I told her I wanted an open floor plan, wood floors, granite countertops, a yard (this was most important to me), and on a whim I said I wanted an apple tree and a rock wall. I have no clue where that thought came from but I threw it out there.

The first house we saw Saturday morning was my house. I knew it the moment I crossed the threshold, but my fate was sealed when I walked out onto the back deck. The first thing I heard was the rattle of the old, wooden roller coaster at the amusement park behind the tall trees followed by the screams of happy people as they zipped down the ride. While standing on the deck, I saw this big old tree so I asked what kind it was. An apple tree! The whole area had been an apple orchard about 50 years before. My heart did a little trip in my chest. Then I looked to the right of the house and what did I see? You guessed it, a rock wall. The moment my real estate agent and I walked out of the house, I told her I didn’t need to look any further. I’d found my house. Apparently, even the builders knew I was the one. The piece de resistance was when my friend who had been overseas calls me and tells me that he was back in the states and I told him I was buying a house. The next day he was here and was the first person to see my new home.

What about the signs we don’t see, the ones that while doing the most inane, day-to-day task strikes you and you know. Some might call it intuition, premonition, or déjà vu (if you’ve seen it before).

About six years ago, I was doing the spring-cleaning thing, standing in the spare bedroom folding clothes to give away when out of nowhere came a thought about my sister. I picked up the phone, called my sister, and without preamble told her, “You’re going to have a girl.”

My sister laughed and said, “What?”

Just so you know, in my family we do not have boys and girls. We have all boys or all girls. My sister already had two sons so everyone assumed the third would be a boy. It’s how my family works. But for some reason on this day, my mind said different.

We both laughed, but she told me she would know in two weeks. Two weeks later, my premonition was confirmed. Now I have a little niece who is the spitting image of my sister, right down to the button nose sprinkled with freckles.

This type of sign actually happens quite often with me. A little over a year ago, I was hanging out on my hammock drinking a beer or two waiting for a friend of mine to show up. While lazing on the hammock, swinging back and forth, I had this odd thought cross in my mind and it stayed. As soon as Rick walked over to where I was, I looked up and said, "You're moving."

Thank goodness the move was only temporary, but I knew without him saying a word. He hadn't even mentioned it as a possibility.

Almost seven years ago, I was unemployed like many others when the economy took a nosedive. I decided that there had to be more to life than technology and that I wanted something more. At first, I was depressed and all I did was read, look for a job, and clean the house. I practically ate books. I couldn’t read enough. The more I read, the more I started looking into the new things that I read about.

I tried glassblowing, cake decorating, and even chocolate making. The chocolate making stuck, but at the same time, something else happened – I started writing my own book, my first book. I became a writer and six years later, I became an author. The book was and is a huge symbol for me. It symbolizes balance in my life. The balance between left and right brain, the logical and the creative.

What signs do you see or hear? Do you pay attention?

Writing Prompt Wednesday

Yes, it's that time again. Time for a little creative writing push. This is your chance to free write whatever pops into your head, let your mind go and your fingers travel across the keyboard.

Today's prompt is wishful thinking on my part.


Writing Prompt: TGIF. . .


Have fun! Write as little or as much as your fingers allow and share what you come up with.

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.

Make a Pillowcase, Make a Difference

In my family my mother is the artistic talent. Since I was a child she sewed everything from doll clothes, our clothes, curtains, placemats, wall hangings, and the list goes on and on. In the past few years, she has made countless quilts. Thank goodness for her talent, otherwise my walls would be quite bare and I wouldn't have any cozy quilts to snuggle up in during the New England winters.

Now, mom is part of the One Million Pillowcase Challenge making pillowcases to make a difference.

Bernina and other vendors have partnered with American Patchwork & Quilting to sponsor the One Million Pillowcase Challenge a year-long national challenge to create and donate one million pillowcases to local charities.

Every pillowcase can help someone in your community. A pillowcase can provide comfort for a cancer patient, hope for a foster child, encouragement for a battered woman, or beauty for a nursing home resident.

Check out some of the pictures of mom's pretty pillowcases.
This one is full of sunshine.

I'm a scuba diver and I found this material a while back, fell in love with it, and picked it up for mom. Now she's made it into something that will have a kid dreaming of scuba diving.

Or how about these for a wanna-be firefighter.












To find out more about this year-long event and how you can help, visit this link http://www.allpeoplequilt.com/millionpillowcases/.

To find a participating Bernina dealer follow this link. http://www.berninausa.com/dealer_search2-n99-sUS.html

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?

Funny thing happened on the way to work...

I stopped at the gas station. Okay, that's not the interesting part, but what happened to me at the gas station put a smile on my face.

While standing at the pump in my funny lime green hat with pink and brown flowers on it trying to keep warm while the pump did its thing, a guy I had seen at the gas station before walked over to me, introduced himself, and gave me his business card. We shook hands as I introduced myself and he told me that if I ever needed any plumbing or heating to give him a call then he moved off to finish up at the pump.

I didn't have a business card handy, but let's not forget that I am a writer so what do you think I gave this man with the nice smile?

When I finished with the gas, I reached into the trunk of my car and pulled out a copy of Connect the Dots then walked over and handed him the book. The wide-eyed expression on his face made a little spurt of laughter bubble up inside my chest. I love seeing that surprised look on people's faces.

Then this tall, smiling man asked me if I was single and if I would have dinner with him sometime. Now who was grinning ear-to-ear?

That's right, me. I walked away from our brief encounter with a kick in my step and a smile on my face that warmed me more than any hat or jacket could.

All this this took place before 6:30 in the morning and set the tone for a very nice day.

New dictionary entry

Under the terms Girl and Woman in the dictionary, part of the definition should read:

I want what I want when I want it.


This is what I tell the engineers who work with me whenever they claim I am nagging them or that I have no patience.

Who am I to disagree. [GRIN]

Writing Prompt Wednesday

Need a little writing inspiration, a little spark to get the creative juices flowing? That's why we have writing prompts.

You don't have to write a lot, but write as much as what flows out of you when you read the beginning of the sentence.


Prompt: She flicked the ...

Size Doesn't Matter

I wrote this story in my children's writing class for my neighbor's granddaughter who was frustrated with her petite size. Hope you enjoy!

Size Doesn’t Matter

In class at Wildewood Elementary, Cara laid on a large piece of drawing paper. Her friend, Mary, traced the outline of Cara’s body with a black marker.

Then it was Cara’s turn to trace Mary. Cara had to tape together two pieces of paper in order to outline all of Mary.

When all the kids were done, the teacher, Ms. Kopera, tacked everyone’s paper body to the wall so they could finish coloring them in.

“Bet I can guess whose short body that picture belongs to,” Billy said aloud, pointing and laughing. Then others laughed too.

“Billy, you apologize this instant. It’s not nice to tease,” scolded Ms. Kopera.

Embarrassed, Cara felt her face flush hot. She groaned, and ran for the girls’ bathroom. Cara was in one of the stalls crying when she heard Ms. Kopera.

“Cara, don’t cry. Believe me when I tell you being big isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Cara sniffed. “Easy for you to say. You’re big.”

“Believe me. There will come a day when you’ll be happy to be petite.”

Petite, Cara scoffed. That is just a polite way to say small. But she knew Ms. Kopera was trying to make her feel better so she wiped her eyes and nose, and opened the stall door.

Saturday, Cara went shopping with her mother to get some new clothes. Cara was excited about the new clothes, loved hanging out with her mom, but she dreaded the effort it took to find clothes that fit.

In the dressing room trying on the eighth pair of jeans her mother had picked out, the first seven pair were all too long. Cara snapped the top snap, and then looked at herself in the mirror. The jeans had flowers embroidered on the bottom of the pant legs.

“I really like these jeans, Mom. They’re sooo cute.”

“Are you going to let me see them on you?” her mother asked.

Cara opened the dressing room door to show her mom. When she twirled around the pants slid down past her hips.

Cara moaned, turned to go back into the dressing room, and tripped over the jeans. She managed to get to her feet, pull the pants up, and lock herself in the dressing room before she started crying.

“Cara, honey, don’t be upset.”

Cara sniffled. “Everyone saw my bright pink underwear with the purple flowers.” Then she cried even harder.

“Honey, no one saw. They were all too busy doing their own thing. Besides, you were too fast.”

“You know,” said a voice unfamiliar to Cara, “she could try our children’s section. You might have better luck there.”

“See, someone did see.” Cara cried even harder.

“Um, thanks,” her mother told the strange lady.

“I really liked those pants,” Cara said from behind the closed door.

“Then we’ll get them and alter them in the waist and the length.”

Her mom always had to sew on her clothes before she could wear them.

“Come on, Cara, let’s get some ice cream.”

Lip quivering, Cara came out of the dressing room with her own clothes back on. “Trying to fatten me up so the jeans fit?”

Her mom laughed. “Nope, but ice cream always makes me feel better when I’m upset.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Cara’s lips. Her mom was the greatest.


Monday morning came and Cara arrived at school dressed in the new jeans her mom had altered, and other new clothes, including a special pair of shoes. She looked good and she felt good. She felt tall, not small, or petite.

“Hey, Cara! You look great. Something different?” asked Mary.

“New clothes,” Cara told her, smiling.

“You look different,” said Jane.

“New clothes.”

“Cara, did you get a haircut? It looks fantastic,” said Steve.

Cara smiled to herself. The whole day was like that. Cara felt like she was walking on cloud nine. All day everyone had said she looked good, like there was something different.

When the final bell rang indicating the end of the school day everyone ran for the buses.

That’s when Cara’s fabulous day ended. Running like everyone else to catch the bus home, Cara tripped over her shoes and fell. One of the shoes slipped off her foot and Billy picked it up.

“Whoa! Get a look at her shoes,” Billy yelled. “Cara’s wearing platforms.”

While Billy bent over in a hysterical fit of laughter, Cara snatched her shoe from his hand and took off.

Tears running down her cheeks, Cara ran home instead of taking the bus, unable to face her classmates and friends.


When Tuesday dawned, Cara dreaded going to school, afraid of her next humiliation. Would she never get big?

Knowing she had gym on Tuesday, Cara did not wear her special platform shoes, she wore regular, old sneakers.

At eleven, her chin lifted high, Cara prepared herself to be teased one more time as she walked to gym class.

“Today, class,” said Mrs. Perigny, “we’re going to move on to the next phase of gymnastics and teamwork.”

“What’re we going to do?” asked several of the students.

“We’re going to build a pyramid. I have the mats all set up, and elbow and kneepads for everyone to wear. Put them on and split up into two groups.”

As usual, Cara was chosen last for a team.

Mrs. Perigny told the class how to build a human pyramid, showed them how they had to get on their hands and knees, put themselves should-to-shoulder, and then the next level did the same until one person was at the top.

“Ouch!” Mary whined.

“You’re too heavy!” yelled Jimmy.

“You’re too big to be on top of me!” complained Billy.

All the kids grumbled. Then Mrs. Perigny spoke. “This is why it takes teamwork, and thinking,” said Mrs. Perigny, pointing a finger at her temple.

After a few more minutes of painful protests, the class finally got it together. Cara’s team watched the other team build their human pyramid. The last person started to climb up, got between the second and third level, and then the whole pyramid crashed to the floor. Everyone whined and blamed each other.

“Okay, team two, you’re turn,” said Mrs. Perigny.

“Come on guys, let’s show them how to do it,” said Billy.

Cara stepped forward. “I’ll go last.”

“No.”

Throwing her fists on her hips, Cara leveled a tough stare at Billy. “Listen, Billy the Bully, I’m the smallest person here, and it makes sense that I got last. The lightest should go on top. Otherwise, we’ll end up squished under each other just like the other team.”

“Yeah,” exclaimed her teammates. “Cara’s right.”

“Fine,” Billy grumbled. “Let’s do this.”

Everyone got in place. The human pyramid was ready for its top. Cara started to climb. She got past the first level and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Once she made it to the second, the other team cheered.

“Go, Cara! Go, Cara!”

She went to the third, and her own pyramid teammates quietly cheered Cara on. “You can do it, Cara. Keep going.”

On the fourth level, the pyramid started to wobble, but held steady.

“Come on, Cara! You can do it! Only one more level!” everyone shouted.

She made it to the top, and sat on Mary’s and Sarah’s shoulders and hips.

“Yea!” Cara’s classmates cheered. “Way to go!”

When the pyramid finally collapsed, Billy walked up to Cara. Ready for his teasing, Cara tilted her chin up.

“Good job, Cara. I guess there are times where it pays to be small.” Billy offered her a hand to shake.

“Just like there are times when it pays to be big.” Cara took Billy’s offered hand and shook. “But I prefer the term, petite, not small.”

Billy laughed, hugged her, and said, “Yes, ma’am. Petite.”

Cara walked away smiling, knowing that from this day on, she would not feel bad about her size. Big or small, um, petite, Cara realized size doesn’t matter



~ I can totally relate to Cara's situation. When I was kid none of the clothes were small enough to fit me. Thankfully or not, I don't have that issue today. :-)

I lose power and get a great review of Connect the Dots

One bad turn deserves a good one.

The day New England is hit by a powerful rain and wind storm and half of New Hampshire loses power, including me, I find out that April of Cafe of Dreams posts a terrific review of Connect the Dots. Of course, I don't find this out until I'm sitting at Panera Sunday morning because while I have power back, I still have no Internet access. What a terrific surprise!

April starts the review with "The queen of techno thrillers, Denise Robbins, once again graces readers with her clever talent in Connect the Dots." How's that for cool title? "Queen of techno thrillers." [HUGE GRIN]

Please stop by April's blog to see the review, leave a comment, and enter to win a signed copy of Connect the Dots. Cafe of Dreams

Keep your fingers crossed that my Internet access is returned on Friday. In the meantime, I will try to check in while I am at the office or make more stops at Panera.

April - If you see this post, I hope you know I wish I had had access to see your review sooner, but it was a much needed pleasant surprise. Thank you!