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It may not have been extravagant but it sure was memorable!

3/6/2012

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Original Post Dec. 30, 2011
Today is my 31st wedding anniversary. Please bear with me as I revisit last year’s blog and take you back in time to share in our elopement.  

Don, my soon to be husband and I, had devised a plan only a few days earlier to elope. There was no reason for a rushed ceremony; it was simply a plan we had devised in order to have a small nest egg saved up before we had a big ceremony.  Don was in the Navy and if he was married he would get married pay. Our plan was simple. We were going to get married, not tell anyone we were husband and wife, and save a little extra money.

 Don was on leave and due back to the ship right after the first of the year, so we decided we would get married before he left. We chose December 30th. We had worked out all the details; we would drive to Tennessee, get married and be home by early afternoon, what could possibly go wrong?

I woke early on that Friday morning as Don was supposed to pick me up by seven for our secret rendezvous.   I was ready on time but Don was nearly an hour late picking me up. Apparently unbeknownst to us another couple was having a house moved to its new location on that very morning, choosing to do so early so as not to inconvenience anyone. Yes, I am talking about a whole house. A single story, dark brown, brick ranch that was to be moved to its new location on that very day. The good news is the house is still there and every time we pass it we remember the day it found its new home atop the hill. After that minor delay we were on our way.

We had told my mother that we were heading to Bardstown to see Don’s father and would be gone most of the day. We had arraigned for my then sister-in-law to join us as a witness. We drove to her house, waited across the street for my brother to leave, then picked up her and my nephew who was just a baby at the time. We dropped the baby off at his great aunt’s house and were on our way to Tennessee to become husband and wife.

The drive was uneventful, and we all arrived in high spirits. There was a line at the courthouse; apparently several other couples had hopes of getting married that day as well. When it was our turn, we told the lady at the desk we were there to get married. She smiled and said she needed our birth certificates. This was the second thing that nearly derailed our plans, as we had not thought to bring them. Before you chastise us for not being prepared please remember we were very young. I had barely turned eighteen and my husband to be was twenty one. This was way before the Internet was invented, so we had not been able to research what was involved.  After a very tense moment it was decided that we could use our driver’s licenses since they had our pictures on them. We were lucky because at that time Kentucky was one of the few states that actually required photos on their driver’s licenses.

After our identities were established she then requested the paperwork for blood test results. Glitch number three.  Of course we had not thought to have any blood test taken. Things like this must happen on a regular basis as the lady was able to direct us to a clinic where we could get our blood drawn.

We drove across town and finally found the clinic in rather run down section of the city. After arriving, and feeding yet another parking meter that seemed prevalent in the large city, we entered to find a sea of patients waiting to be seen. As we entered the building every person turned their head to watch us. I was very scared as all of those eyes followed us across the room and continued to stare even after we had signed in and took our seats.

At the time I felt it was because somehow everyone in the room knew of our secret mission, but now as I type, I think it was more because we were highly overdressed for the area. Don was looking pretty dashing in his leisure suit.  My sister-in-law had donned a nice dress for the occasion and I had on a new outfit, the first one I had ever purchased on my own. Purchased with my very own money from the new job I was working. I had on new blue jeans with a soft fur trim that lined the back pockets and a stunning black velour angel sleeve top. It was 1980 and this was very fashionable. Having just turned eighteen it never occurred to me that fur trimmed blue jeans and a black top may not have been the best choice of wedding attire.  Besides, this was just our pre-wedding wedding.

Luckily we were only there for a blood draw and we were called back within a few short moments. They put us in separate rooms across the hall from one another where we each sat on an exam table and waved to each other like a couple of kids. The nurse came into my room first, asked a couple of questions and then tied the tourniquet around my arm. As she was lowering the needle toward my arm I asked her when the results would be back. As the needle approached the crook of my arm she replied “oh not long, we should have them back in the morning.” I jerked my arm away just before the tip penetrated my exposed vain. “But, we are getting married today”, I exclaimed pulling at the rubber vice that still gripped my arm.

After a few moments of chaos we were sent across town yet again to a blood draw center that could accommodate a same day blood draw. After arriving and paying yet another parking meter, we made our way to a nice waiting area where we were met by a very friendly lady who assured us it would not take long to complete the process.  After only a few minutes our blood was carted away to the testing area with the word stat clearly labeled across each glass vile. We were told it would take about an hour and since it was now nearing lunch time it was suggested we take this opportunity to go and get something to eat.

I am not sure how much Nashville has changed since then, but in December of 1980 it was not easy for three highly stressed and very hungry people to find something to eat. We drove for a very long time before finally finding a Burger King. We ate burgers and fries and hurried back to the lab to get our test results. We had been gone for over an hour but when we returned the results had still not come back. After waiting yet another hour the receptionist finally called down to see what was taking so long. It turns out that our blood had been misplaced and no-one could find those two tiny glass tubes of blood. A trace was placed on them and we had no choice but to wait for them to be found.

After nearly two hours of panicking the blood was found and the results finally arrived. Don paid the fifty six dollars and we were on our way. Unfortunately, instead of being on our way to the courthouse we were once again headed back to the clinic so the resident doctor could verify the results and declare us fit to be married.  We arrived back at the clinic, walked back through the gauntlet of gawkers and spoke with the receptionist who in turn called the nurse who took our paperwork to the doctor. Forty minutes and Thirty six dollars later, we exited the building, paperwork in hand which attested that we were in good health and genetically fit to become husband and wife, all signed by a doctor which we never saw.

By the time we returned to the courthouse it was late and all of the judges had left for the day. Feeling both physically and mentally exhausted I blinked in order to keep the tears at bay. Seeing my distress the clerk took pity on us and offered to call over to the night court and see if there was anyone who could perform the service. Luckily there was a judge there who agreed to see to our joining.

We made our way to the courtroom and opened the door. We were more than surprised to be met with a room full of people who turned to stare at the people who had suddenly disturbed the proceedings. We quickly closed the door without entering, fearing we had unknowingly arrived at the wrong court room. Within seconds the door opened and we were greeted by a distinguished man, with incredibly large ears, who assured us we were indeed in the right place.

The man introduced himself as Judge Doty and beckoned us to follow him. I was a bit scared being led through that sea of faces in the court room and into a back chamber of the building. Judge Doty was a sturdy, kind older man, with dark eyes that looked as if they had witnessed many years in the judicial system. He seemed rather pleased to be doing something as mundane as performing a simple marriage ceremony. When he asked which one of these pretty ladies was the bride, Don clutched my hand possessively and proudly stated that I could cook too. He knew this for a fact as I had made him a spaghetti dinner only a few short months earlier when he was home on leave. What he neglected to say was that I had used boxed noodles, sauce from a jar and he never even touched the homemade meatballs that I had slaved hours to cook.

As Judge Doty began the ceremony he was interrupted by a phone call. After answering and assuring his wife he would bring home a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk he continued. A few seconds later a second call had been answered. This call was of greater importance as it ended with the promise of a fishing trip to take place the following day. When the service continued Judge Doty got to the part where a ring was needed and in one smooth motion without exchanging words, My sister-in-law slipped her wedding ring off her hand and passed it to Don who then slipped it onto my waiting finger. Apparently in our haste to get married we had overlooked this minor detail. At long last, and without any further interruptions, we were finally pronounced husband and wife. It was official after we handed over a forty dollar ceremony fee.

Upon surrendering the borrowed ring and returning to the van the first major test of our marriage was soon at hand. The van was nearly out of gas, we were over a hundred miles away from home and Don was nearly out of money. Between all the parking meters, blood test, doctors signatures and ceremony fees, his cash was nearly depleted. He had a bit of money in an account at home, but that was way before the invention of the universal debit card. I had not thought to bring any money and my sister-in-law only had a couple of dollars on her, so we were frantically trying to figure out how we were going to get back home.

As it turns out Don had a money order in the van for the amount of six dollars which he had yet to fill out. He took the money order to a bank across the street, went into the bank, walked up to the teller, slid the money order under the window and told her he needed money. It was at that time that the guard saw him at the window, watched him pass the note and assumed he was robbing the bank. Apparently the bank had been closed for several minutes and somehow no-one had remembered to lock the side door. After a few tense moments my new husband was able to convince everyone he was not a bank robber, had just gotten married and needed to cash the small money order in order to get his new bride safely back home. The teller, who had already closed out her drawer, took pity on him and gave him cash for the money order out of the money she had in her own purse.

With the funds from the money order and the small amount of cash on hand, Don was able to purchase gas which he prayed would be enough to get us all safely home. During the drive home, I having reached my limit, proceeded to crawl into the bed in the back of the van and sleep most of the way home.

Needless to say we arrived back at the aunt’s house to pick up the baby much later than we originally intended. As we reached the back door my brother greeted us humming the hymn to the funeral march. As it turns out the baby had gotten sick and his aunt had called my mom looking for us. When my mother questioned why we would take my sister-in-law with us to visit Don’s dad her aunt had jokingly stated “maybe they eloped.”

After gathering my nerve I called my mom, who demanded to know where we had been. There was no reason to lie so I told her Tennessee and when she asked why, I said “why do you think?” The next thing I heard was a dial tone. At that point I was very glad I had taken that much needed nap. My brother congratulated us, we had a celebratory glass of wine and we left.

After once again gathering the courage to call my house my younger brother answered the phone and wanted to know why mom had been crying ever since hanging up the phone with me. She refused to answer and told him to tell me if I wanted to speak with her I knew where she lived. An hour later we parked at the church next door to our house and, feeling as if we were facing the firing squad, slowly made our way across the yard and up the incline to our house.

My mom was still crying. My dad, not typically known for his patience, was so calm it was frightening. He wanted to know why we had eloped. Don spoke up and simply said “because we love each other.” Dad then asked the million dollar question, which was whether or not I was pregnant. We of course told them no, which was the truth. Dad visibly relaxed, slightly, at that point and left the room. Many years later I was told by my brother that he had seen dad with a loaded pistol in his waist band before he himself had been ordered to leave the house. I do not know for certain if this was true but I think it was a very good thing that an impending pregnancy was not the reason for our hasty elopement.

When dad returned to the room, both he and mom then attempted to make us see the error of our ways and get an annulment. They claimed that neither of them objected to the marriage, just the way we had gotten married. They wanted us to get an annulment and then go back the following weekend to get re-married with them beside us. I was afraid if we agreed to this they would find a way to keep us from a second ceremony. Dons refusal was because he was not about to relinquish his well earned prize. He had nearly been shot at the bank just a few short hours earlier and he was not about to let that experience be for naught.

After a stalemate it was decided that I would retire to my room for the night and Don would go home and all parties involved would discuss it further the following day, when hopefully calmer heads would prevail. I know there are some that would think it utterly absurd to sleep alone on ones wedding night but by this point Don and I were so exhausted it seemed like the right thing to do.

The final agreement was that we would follow our initial plan to keep the marriage a secret and plan for the big wedding in the summer. As with our elopement, things did not go as planned. We never had the big wedding nor did I get the white dress. I am happy to report that I did get a wedding band that was eventually replaced with a lovely diamond set. When we first got married several people expressed their disapproval telling us it would not last six months. I am happy to report that their predictions did not hold true and today marks our 31st wedding anniversary.

I guess, truth be told, one does not need a fancy dress, a shinny bauble or even a lot of money to get married.  You only need perseverance, a trip across the state line and enough money for gas to get you home….

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I still believe in Santa Claus!

3/6/2012

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Original post Dec. 25 2010 and revisited Dec. 23, 2011
It was just a few weeks before my seventh Christmas. My three year old brother and I were coloring paper Christmas ornaments we had cut from a coloring book. My mother was out on an errand. My dad was working on something under the house that had broken.

One minute we were innocent children excited with the thoughts of Christmas, the next, chaos broke out. My father ran into the room shouting for us to go outside. We balked at the idea of leaving our unfinished projects and going out into the frigid air. It was a short standoff after which we were both tossed unceremoniously out into the night and ordered to run to the neighbor’s house to call for help. The house was on fire!

The rest of the night has remained a vivid memory all of these years. I stood listening as the neighbors kept voicing concern in elaborate detail, saying how the house was a total loss and burning to the ground. I still remember how terrifying it was staring out the window, watching helplessly as the flames flickered high in night sky, knowing our Christmas tree was in there and feeling just a tinge guilty that I had not gotten out when first told.

Fortunately the house did not burn to the ground. The only real damage was in my bedroom. It was bad enough my room was destroyed, but what I did not know at the time was that the top of my closet was the hiding place of the much awaited Christmas presents. Presents, which were burned beyond recognition.  My parents, having little money to begin with and now faced with major home repairs, did not have the money to get new ones. As it was my dad was working two jobs and barely making ends meet so this was an added stress that left them feeling even more helpless. No parent wants to let their kids down, especially at Christmas time.

Mom and Dad sat us down and explained to us that we would not be getting presents this year. I was not worried.  I knew Santa would bring us presents. They tried to tell me that Santa was struggling this year and could not visit but I wasn’t worried. Santa always visited so I didn’t think he would stop now.

We moved into my grandparent’s home while Dad worked his two jobs and then went to the house to work on it. It was not a happy time. We were a family of six cramped into a house that was really only big enough to comfortably fit my grandparents. Not being a close nit family to begin with the tensions were high and we were all ready to return to our home or at least what was left of it.

We returned before the work was completed, but it was livable and again the only real damage was to my bedroom. I slept in another room while dad continued the repairs to my room. I did not know at the time how helpless my parents felt with Christmas fast approaching and knowing there was nothing they could do about the lack of presents under the tree.

Christmas day arrived and sure enough Santa had not left any presents under the tree. I was confused as I had really thought he would make it, especially since he knew we really needed some presents. I had seen him, sat on his lap and made sure he knew he really needed to come.  While we did not have any presents we were greeted by a white Christmas, with lots of snow white fluffy snow. Saddened by the lack of presents my parents encouraged us to go out and enjoy the freshly fallen snow.

Upon opening the front door we were greeted by a small array of toys sitting on the front porch with a note that simply said Merry Christmas, from Santa Claus. I do not remember what everyone else got but I enjoyed my gift for years. My present was a wonderful little table with four chairs. It was painted the color of denim and had the alphabet printed around the edges. It was a simple gift, only a single present on a cold Christmas morning, but it was mine, Santa had not forgotten me.

My mom and dad were brought to tears that Christmas morning so very long ago. Presents were found where there was supposed to be none. They never had the opportunity to thank that anonymous Santa for the joy he brought to four very grateful children but he is remembered to this very day by one grateful girl who truly believes in Santa Claus.

Merry Christmas to all!!

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Where is the sequel?

3/6/2012

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Original Post December 15, 2011
When my book was first released my publisher, being the business man he is, made sure everyone knew that I am working on a sequel. The word sequel gets people excited as they always want to know what is going to happen and if they will indeed have their happily ever after.

While I am glad people are excited to see what happens next with Amber and Dalton I think they are expecting the sequel to be the next book released and seem a bit disappointed when I tell them otherwise. Let me be clear, I am working on a sequel; I’m just taking my time with it so as not to disappoint. How many times have you seen a sequel and been disappointed when it does not live up to its predecessor? I have read books that way and I must admit, it leaves me pretty upset when it happens. No one wants to be let down, me included.

I will be making at least three trips to Kentucky next year for book signings. These are scheduled events with firm places and dates. One of those trips is to Lexington Kentucky where the second book is set. While I have visited the place on numerous occasions I want to explore the area with a fresh set of eyes and look for places I can use to help the story come to life.

If you have read the book and have thoughts of what you would like to see in the sequel. I would love to hear what you have to say. I am not guaranteeing I will use your ideas as I do have several definite things I plan to include but, then again, you never know you could just be responsible for taking the story in a whole new direction!

For now I ask that you remain patient and bear with me a while longer. I have several key “happenings” within the sequel but the key point is getting there. No the key point is to make you, the reader want to make the journey, and more importantly enjoy the ride without asking are we there yet!

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Welcome Back!

3/6/2012

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Original Post Dec. 8, 2011
Our beloved cat Bobby returns to life in my next book, The Scars Between Us. While reading through the story I can see him clearly and it fills my heart with joy. He may be gone from us in real life, but now he will live on forever in the hearts and minds of the readers that get to know this wonderful stubby tailed cat.

 I feel that is one of the best things about being a writer. Unlike most jobs where if you do not like something you don’t have a lot of choice, in my job if I don’t like something I get to change it.

With the cat, Mr. Bob I was able to recreate a very important member of our family. Mr. Bob or bobby, as he was known to us, shared our home for fourteen wonderful years, after I rescued him from the SPCA. I briefly described that first meeting in my book. What really happened was I was looking for a kitten and when I first saw him he was nothing like the kitten I was looking for. I had my heart set on a calico, like the one I had owned as a child. So here is this scrawny little grey and white tabby kitten. Nothing unusual, as there were at least a half a dozen kittens with the same coloring that day. But then he turned around and there was his tail. Or at least what was left of it, as it was only a nub. That little tail gave that tinny kitten a very big presence. He was like a little Jimmy Cagney, just a tough little guy that stole my heart with one twitch of the tail. He came home with me that very day and changed our family’s lives forever.

When my daughter was two Bobby woke me, something he never did, and was persistent enough to get me to follow him down the hall to my daughter’s room. When I checked on her I discovered she had a dangerously high fever, something I would not have known if he had not woke me. He and my daughter always had a special bond after that. When she was older she would dress him in her baby clothes and carry him around. He never complained and always tolerated being her living baby. Every night Brandy would fall asleep with Bobby Kitty curled around her head.

Over the years he would patiently lie there while my children and the many children I watched over the years would use him as a pillow. We never had him declawed however I cannot remember any instance where he used his claws to harm any of the children.

At the age of fourteen he developed cancer and we made the difficult decision to have him put to sleep. Bobby may be gone from our lives but he will never leave our hearts. And now as he springs back to life within the pages of The Scars Between Us, I hope you will grow to love him as much as we always have. I have said it before and I will say it again. I love my job and I love getting to spend time with my friends, real or imagined and in this case newly resurrected…

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Hello Dolly!

3/6/2012

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Original post Dec. 2, 2011
This week finds us in the final editing phase of my soon to be released novel, The Scars Between us. We are doing the final read through after which time it will go out to the proofers for a new set of eyes to look for any inconsistencies. After that time it will be whisked off to my publisher for him to work his magic.

During the last few weeks it has been amazing to see the story really come to life. My editor ordered me to make some changes in order to have the story flow better. Re-writing is never easy but when she says hey you need to flesh this out a bit or have more conversation here I tend to listen to her. I assure you the end product is well worth the added effort and will be worth the wait for you the reader.

I have spent the last couple of days reading through it and should be finished by Friday Afternoon. I know some of you are questioning what is taking so long as I hear time and time again how many of you can read through a book in a single day. I agree when you put your mind to a task it is easy to do that, but in this phase of the editing process it is very important to take things slow as you are looking for problems. You are looking to make sure the story flows, that the names are spelled right from one chapter to the next. It would not look good if Sylvia suddenly became Silvia or if Anthony is mistakenly referred to as Joseph.

During this time I also get to see the full range of how the story is flowing and suddenly realized that things in my private life are running parallel to something going on in the story.

Without giving too much away Elizabeth, the main character in the book, keeps hearing references to the name Dolly. To find out the significance of this you will need to read the book. Anyway this afternoon I was listening to Christmas music and every time I turned the channel it seemed as though there was a Dolly Pardon Christmas song on. Now I love Dolly but I don’t think she is as current as she once was so I find it very coincidental that she kept visiting me today. In my novel Elizabeth is looking for a sign. Something telling her that everything is going to be okay.

I have heard Dolly so much today that I started wondering if maybe Dolly is giving me a sign of my own. Dolly has had to contend with a lot in her life. She has had a lot of people who have not approved of her for one reason or another yet she is still here and still doing what it is she loves to do.

Could it be she is telling me to stay the course? That no matter what life throws at me I can overcome it?  I got the pleasure of seeing Dolly in concert many years ago. I loved her then and I love her now. She has always done things her way and not caved in to popular opinion.  Maybe it is mere coincidence. Maybe it is truly a sign just like in my book. All I know is the lady has what it takes to survive and if she wants to lead the way I am more than happy to follow!




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Editing, never fun but always necessary!

3/6/2012

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Original Post Nov. 18, 2011
Someone asked me recently what the editing process is like. I responded that it is a lot like getting your teeth pulled without the benefit of anesthesia. Okay, maybe it is not physically painful but it is painful all the same.

My first manuscript was a lot easier but to be fair I spent a lot of time throughout the years tweaking and making it better. My second manuscript, Somewhere in My Dreams, was not as lucky. I wrote it last year over a three month period and only revised it once before sending it away to editing boot camp. I think the novel got a culture shock as it thought it was pretty darn good. Okay I was the one with the reality check but again, that is not easy to admit.

The good news was I had a great storyline with a good flow and story arch. Basically meaning the manuscript had good bones but unlike TOB, this story has needed a bit of re-writing. Apparently I wrote a lot of what is called back story meaning that I told the reader what had happened or what was happening instead of showing them and allowing them to see for themselves. That is where the phrase “show don’t tell” comes from. A phrase I have come to know intimately.

Another thing I have learned is I tend to get fixated on a word. That is the only explanation I have for the fact that my editor points out how many times I use certain words within a chapter. This is a no-no in the literary world.  

I also got a bit aggravated in one chapter when my editor said she did not understand something I had written. Actually she said it did not make sense. My first reaction was “what do you mean it does not make sense?” I was really upset wondering why I had to change it as it made sense to me, but then I realized if it did not make sense it must have been because I did not write it properly. It was not her fault she did not understand, it was my fault I did not make it clear. I think that was one of those epiphany moments we hear about. Another lesson learned. Just because I can see it does not mean the reader can.

I think re-writes are my least favorite part of the editing process. Not because of the work involved but because my mind was wrapped around how it was and it is sometimes hard to see how it should be. In the end it starts coming to me and things tend to work out.

The thing with the editing process is this, it is not fun, but it is needed. As a writer it is not always easy to look at your work objectively. Unlike painting a picture, which can be abstract and open to interpretation, writing must be clear and decisive. If it is not then it will leave the reader cold and since being cold is not something most people enjoy they are highly unlikely to keep reading.

My editor, Michelle, is my drill instructor. She is the one that tells me that is not good enough, give me more.  She is the person who is helping me to make my writing the best it can be and in turn making me a better writer. While I have the original vision for the story she is the one who truly helps make that vision clear. And in the end isn’t that what it is really all about?

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Veterans Day 2011

3/6/2012

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Original Post Nov. 11, 2011
Today is Veterans Day and I would like to take this opportunity to thank the veterans, both past and present, who have defended this great country of ours. I am a proud Navy wife. I have two sons that went through Marine Corps boot camp and earned their eagle, globe and anchor. I have had other family members who have also served our country, in the Army, Navy, Air force and Coast Guard. My husband also comes from a military family.

When our kids were growing up, while other classmates were talking collage, they were talking military. I guess that stems from having a dad who was proud of his service. Even my daughter once thought of joining the Air Force however her eyesight kept her from enlisting. As you can tell we are a very military orientated family. Today however I also want to take a moment and thank the other side of that spectrum. Those wives, husbands, mothers, sisters, brothers and of course the children of the service members, the ones that do not have a say in the matter but who still support the ones they love.

Don’t get me wrong, I fully appreciate that the service member is making the sacrifice and “doing the time” so to speak. I know they work long hours and see things that others cannot imagine but still, in my mind, the family left at home carry a heavy load as well. We have the “luxury” of being able to watch the news, of waiting on word of some unforeseen tragedy. Only when the news post that a bomb went off, a plane went down or troops were killed, they do not always follow up immediately with the details. That means on a daily basis we have to wait with baited breath to find out if our loved one was involved.


If our service member is on a ship it is a bit less likely that something will happen but still accidents do happen and when the e-mail does go down that can be the longest day, week or yes even a month of our lives. There really is no such thing as a safe zone when it comes to war.

Still, all of the situations listed above speak mainly of the military of the present. While the wars are ugly and yes, even deadly, the bottom line is every service member that is serving our country today made the choice to do so. This was not always the case. The veterans of years past had no choice and in my opinion their families are also the true heroes. They did not have the internet, Skype, Tango or even continuous news coverage. They had letters which were few and far between and chaplains coming to the door, which as you can imagine. was never a good thing.

I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to all the veterans both past and present for sacrificing your time, your families and yes unfortunately for many even your life. I also want to thank the families that support them during their quest for freedom. May your lives be blessed and may your loved ones return to you with nary a scratch.

God bless America, and God bless Military families, both past and present!

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Freedom of Speach!

3/6/2012

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Original post Nov. 4, 2011
I saw a post on Facebook recently where a person was laminating on and on about the post she saw on the site. She stated that she comes to Facebook to see pictures and see what the other people have been up to. She further stated that she did not go on there to read all the sad stories or see the drama and she did not care what people have for dinner. She asked people to re-post if they feel the same way. The thing is, this particular person has had her share of sad and drama filled post in recent times.

 At first I felt her current post to be a bit hypocritical but then I realized it was her right to post anything she wants. Our first amendment gives us all that right. Sure we have to be mindful of the actual rules of the site and make sure not to use offensive language but then again I myself have seen some words on the site that I do not feel were very appropriate for a public venue.

 The thing is it is not really up to one person to govern the site and tell others what they should or should not be posting. In my opinion Facebook is your own personal venue. It is your podium. It is a place for you. A place where you can tell the world how you are feeling, what you are thinking or yes even what you had for breakfast. Will everyone like it? Probably not. Will everyone find the content interesting? Most likely that is also a no but it is not for others to condone. A feeling is just that, a feeling. No one can tell you how you should feel but in the same vain no one can tell me what I should like or find accepting. That is what the delete button is for. Simply click on the little arrow, hide the post and move on. If you really find the person’s post so highly offensive do yourself and yes even them a favor and delete them as a friend because if you find their post so offensive that you have to re-post something yourself to validate your feelings then you probably are not really their friend anyway…

Of course this is only my opinion, my blog, and my right to say what is on my mind.

God Bless American and God Bless freedom of speech…

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I get by with a little help from my friends!

3/6/2012

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Original Post Oct. 28, 2011
If you have read my blogs before you know I feel that I have a team of helpers around me that give me the ideas and subject matter for my books. I know this to be true as I have no doubt that I had help with both my first novel, Tears of Betrayal, and also with my second, Somewhere in my Dreams. There were too many instances where the words just appeared out of nowhere. There are also times when I am writing and a word will come to me; in most cases I have no idea what the word means much less how to spell it. When that happens I find myself on a quest to find out the spelling and meaning of the word. It has happened so many times now that I no longer question whether or not to use it. 

The first time I knew I had help was when I was working on Tears of Betrayal. Back then I did all my writing in long hand, via sharp pencils, clean white paper, and a red clipboard. So there I was sitting on the couch writing when all of the sudden I wrote something that I had never thought of before. It was a place in the manuscript where there was a major revelation and I found out that two other characters also knew about this. In theory, if you think about it, that means the two characters knew about this bit of information before I did. The thing was it made perfect sense that they knew what was going on but that was not the point. The point was I did not know. I was so freaked out at the time that I put my clipboard down and just walked away for a few moments to collect myself. I tried to explain what had happened to my husband but I do not think he totally grasped the point I was trying to get across. This was true at the time, but he has since come to tell me that he gets it now. He actually “got it” while he was reading the book as he told me “you don’t talk like that.” He said I must have had help as a lot of what he read sounded like someone else was writing it.

Having a team of writers to work with is wonderful. Having a team of writers that I don’t have to pay is even better. They are still with me so it seems as though seeing their words in print is the payment they are after. That is a good thing but then this week we had a bit of an issue, as it seems like my team of helpers do not understand copyright laws. All week I have been working on a new romantic comedy which deals with a clown and an Elvis impersonator who is afraid of clowns. Okay, yes, I realize it sounds crazy, but the story is really coming to life and, in my opinion, it is really cute. This week they wanted me to have Elvis sing and while I can use the title I am not allowed to use the lyrics without paying for the privilege. Yea, so explain that to whoever is helping me write.

I am currently working on five separate manuscripts; however I do not choose which one I work on. They do. Okay I know I probably sound crazy and I sometimes think that myself, but I am very serious. I will think I am going to work on a certain manuscript and yet another one will literally take over and demand to be next. I once tried to fight it but it didn’t work, as they will not stop feeding me the information until I write it down. After realizing I am not the only one writing, I decided to give in to the eccentricity and let the voices show me the way. After all, they have not let me down yet…

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Finding my voice!

3/6/2012

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