I'm Just Sayin'

I've officially joined the group. You know. The group that has senior parents. Let me say I love my father, and I am blessed to still have him with us. I've mentioned it before, but will repeat it here. Mother passed away four years ago this month.

So, yes. I'm glad Dad is still here. But I'm just sayin' people of his generation and just a little younger should not have electronic devices. Now if it was my mother, there would have been no problems. She was just as handy with computers and cell phones as me and my son. But some (men) should not own a computer or cell phone.

Why men? My husband comes to mind, but we're not talking about him today. It's my dad who worries and calmly panics over these things. Yes, he stay's calm, no hurry, but if you knew him you'd know that when it comes to electronic devices that calm is a false front and any problem with them calls for quiet panic.

First let me give you some information on my dad. He's handy with tools. He can do electrical work, he's great at plumbing, and can fix an air conditioner, refrigerator and ceiling fans. He works on the pump motor for his pool and the salt water filter as well. He can repair many problems on his car, well he could before computers were installed.

See where I'm going with this. Dad is a handy guy. Mr. Fix it if you want to give him a title. He's the one we call when we need work done on most problems around the house. My husband, the carpenter, who builds houses for a living won't even tackle things my dad does for us.

But give dad a cell phone or a computer; and don't even get me started on the Kindle problems I've encountered this past year, dad just cannot figure out how to find and fix the problems. The simplest thing and he's on the phone with me or my son telling us the device isn't working. He's also that way with the remote control to his TV, stereo or satellite dish, but we'll save that for another day.

So when my son gave his grandfather a new cell phone for Christmas a lot of thought went into it. I take the blame here and now. I called my son after I'd received 10 dropped calls from my father early in December. Dad was in a well populated area where his old cell phone should not have had problems. But that day (not the first time this has happened) the phone would not keep a call. I must say his cell phone was over 10 years old and needed to be retired.

We knew the new phone had to be similar to the old one. You know the flip type with just the number keys and the few function bars above them. Dad does not text, take pictures or browse the internet with his phone. He calls people and talks to them. What a novel idea using a phone for its purpose. Sorry I got carried away for a minute. Not harping at dad, but the need for people to text one another instead of, oh let's say call them or talk to them face to face. Texting in my opinion is a waste of time.

Anyway, I'll get back to my dad's story now. It took my son weeks to find just the right phone. He had to pay a fortune for it because dad already had his own contract and there was no need to purchase one, just the phone. It was similar to the old phone, but it is a lot more advanced in technology and is military grade. That means he can stomp on it, drop it from a plane or in the water and it will still work. Not sure why dad needed those features, but one never knows these day.

On Christmas day, dad opened his gift and was excited. He then promptly handed it to my son who spent the morning putting the old SIM card into the new phone and making sure his number and contacts transferred. They transferred without any problem. He's had the phone for three weeks now and suddenly it's acting up. Now acting up to him is nothing to us.

For example one of his problems is that he has to hit the phone, you know the green phone button twice to actually make a call. Well for us, or me anyway I'd either ignore this minor problem or go into the phone, complete a search and see where to change settings. I suspect that when he opens it, the phone is ready to dial and then hit the green button. I believe by pushing the green button he's deactivating it. Dad doesn't know this nor would he understand the first time I explained it. To dad, this is a major deal and the entire phone needs to be reprogrammed.

Next his contact list with tons of numbers on it disappeared. You would not believe how many people he talks to on a daily basis on that cell phone. There are neighbors that just call. He has old friends from work that just want to see how he's doing. He has women friends, not that kind; they're women friends who are married to his old buddies from work who call just to make sure he's doing okay living alone. Not like he hasn't been living by himself for the past 4 years, but then maybe at their age they're really calling to make sure he's not ill or still living. I'm just sayin'.

Back to my story. So he said his phone contact list was gone. In fact it was just hidden in phone land when he tried to make a call that he couldn't remember the number for. While he didn't say it; when he was on the phone with me asking me to look at the contraption and fix it for him, I could hear his thoughts loud and clear. "I have the numbers programmed into the phone, so I don't have to remember them in my head."

I calmly told him I'd fix it so he could call his buddies, or my sister or my son when he needed. He told me he'd be by in a few hours and I went back to my writing. When the time came for him to get here. I waited. Now mind you, I'd already closed my Word document, so he couldn't see what I was writing. Yes, I keep it a secret that I write erotica, smut, sex. That's just between me, my husband and my readers. Well my son knows, but he doesn't read my work. Thank goodness. That would mean years of therapy for both of us, but that's another story.

So I'm waiting for dad to come by. After about fifteen minutes of me waiting I'm beginning to wonder where he is. He's never late. In fact he's usually fifteen minutes early. When I'm thinking he's gotten into a mess with the new fridge, he had to buy one. He couldn't fix the dead compressor. He calls.

His earlier panicking was all for nothing. He turned the phone off and back on and his list magically appeared. . . . You can't see me now, or the other day when this happened, but it goes something like this.

On my end, silence. My eyes blink a few times and I wait for the explanation.
Dad: Not sure what happened, but after I turned the phone off and back on the list's back.
Me: silence and more blinking. I clear my throat and say something lame like, "It just reprogrammed itself."
Dad: Well I guess I'll go now. If it happens again I'll let you know.
Me: blinking, blinking and more blinking, another pause. "Okay dad, luv ya."

I'm just sayin

Deviating from the Norm

Okay, I know this blog is about writing, my writing in fact; and to be honest all about me and what I'm doing,  giving updates and going off the deep end about things in general. However, today I've taken that left turn at Albuquerque and guess what Bug bunny? I found The Alabama Crimson Tide!  

Let me explain. I am a college football nut. Every October; yes I know college football begins in September, but I don't watch anything new until after I've returned from my last beach vacation in October. So every Saturday and Thursday and the occasional Friday or Monday beginning in October my eyes are glued to ESPN, CBS, ABC and NBC watching college football.

I think it may have something to do with seeing guys in skin tight knee pants, but I am certain it is all that muscle, stamina and skill showing who can take the most beating and still come out a winner.

Let me say here and now I don't wish anyone to ever get hurt. But let's face it, football depends on taking down the guy with the ball; and I love watching a three hundred pound defensive player (of the team I'm rooting for, of course) take out the passer or receiver. I believe it is the beast in me that I keep hidden from society that enjoys the *choreographed violence of the sport. (*by choreographed I don't mean staged, but following the set of rules of the game).

So today, I celebrate with all other BAMA and SEC fans throughout the U.S.

Congratulations to the players, coaches and University of Alabama; their students, alumni and fans on another great season and victory.

ROLL TIDE!!!!

New Year, New You?

Happy New Year everyone. Now that the rush of holiday parties, gifts, family and tons of food has settled in the pit of your gut is over we can all get back to doing what we love best, WRITING!

If you're like me the holidays with family goes overboard. It was bad when my mother was alive. (Please don't take that the wrong way. I would be happy if she was still alive only if she was cancer free, so I am certainly not saying I am glad she's gone). But when she was alive, we began planning Christmas at Thanksgiving. An entire month was dedicated to planning the menu for Christmas dinner. Now that she's gone and I'm in charge, well somewhat. My father holds on to all the things my mother used to do with an iron fist. But I refuse to think of Christmas dinner until the week before the day arrives.

Anyway, as I was saying we still go overboard, and with my husband's family and then Christmas after Christmas with his daughters and their 8 children; yes my husband has 8 grandchildren. (Truly, I'm not old enough yet to be a grandmother). So Christmas usually isn't over until the 30th of December and just in time for New Year's Eve and New Year's day.

Yes, we have 2 family get together's. 1 on New Year's Eve where we all converge at my uncle's with his 6 children, their spouses, children and grandchildren plus my aunt and us, which makes a grand total of 65 in one large room, laughing, loving and eating.

Our festivities will culminate this evening with dinner at my dad's house, along with his sister and brother eating Hoppin' John, Mexican cornbread, sweet potatoes, ham and cole slaw.

I hope you see the pattern here, and I'm sure your holidays also are centered around food and family. Yes, food is the operative word here. My holidays remind me of Mickey's Christmas Carol; the ghost of Christmas present surrounded by so much food it would feed a small country. And, I've gained a few pounds back, (I do not look like the ghost of Christmas present I assure you); no more than 5 pounds have returned and all on my hips.

But am I going to make that silly New Year's resolution to slim down. (I lost fifty pounds last year, all between May and September, and didn't need a resolution to do it). The answer is no. I don't need some diet guru telling me how to change myself to become a new me.

Frankly, I like who I am. I finally have a published book. Thanks for those who've purchased it, and please note I am revising it. As an independent author I write and edit my own work. I don't have a network of friends who help me edit my book. Mainly because no one knows I write erotica. And I like it that way. Please know I am striving in the latest version to remove all errors. Thanks in advance for your patience.

Sorry, I digressed. Let me get back on track. If you believe a new you is needed in your life in this New Year then go for it, but let me just say that for all my venting about spending every waking hour with my family since Thanksgiving, I am blessed to still have them. Do I want them around all the time, NO.

But my family, the things we share are what shapes me. So to think about shedding that part of my life to become a new person is out of the question. With that being said, I guess I am going to make a resolution after all.

My New Year's resolution is to continue being me; to stay focused on my writing using life experiences, my network of friends and family to continue to shape me and my writing. If I lose the last fifty pounds I want to this year, then great. If not, I'll press on to be the woman I've been working towards all my life. I don't plan to give that up just because outside forces think I can be better, or the best I've ever been by changing this and that in my life.

They don't know me, so some expert does not get to decide what's right for me. Keep in mind they don't know you when you're trying to do it their way.

My New Year thought to you is be true to yourself, whatever that may be. Go for your dreams your way.

God Bless.

Merry Christmas

Here's my Christmas wish to everyone. May God bless you and your family this time of year. It may be difficult because of the loss of a loved one (I've lost several close family members), but remember the good times and the heartache will lessen.

I want to wish all our soldiers a Merry Christmas. I know their sacrifice is more than we can imagine. I also know their families are making sacrifices as well. Children not being with parent, spouses taking care of things at home alone, while soldiers are away.

I pray for safety of our soldiers fighting and working out of the U.S., and for your families here at home.

Thank you and your family for your sacrifices.

God bless you.

Military Poem,
by Marine Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt
(original and revised verses)

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, I strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
and on the wall pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.
This was the home of a U.S. marine.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, a floor for a bed?

I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like this one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;

I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent so still,
and we both shivered from the cold evening's chill.

I didn't want to leave on that cold dark night,
this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a Good night."


Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I'll see you in 2013. Look for my next novel early next year.

Being an Indie: Curse or Blessing?

Being and independent publisher as well as a writer has its ups and downs. I write my stories, edit them, publish them on places like Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc. using Smashwords or Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) then market myself. For instance I spend at least 2 days a week promoting my books on places like facebook; check out my facebook page Siera Stone and you'll see what I'm talking about. But don't stop there. If you'll view some of my friends pages you'll see how they also promote themselves.

By marketing myself that leaves me just 2 days writing. Sometimes I get 3 days, but that depends on the amount of time I've already spent on the earlier 2 days. It's hard to change hats. If I have a great idea and it is a day I've decided to work on marketing then I jot down those ideas in my notebook and work on them later that day or the next day.

As an aside, it doesn't help that my husband no longer works. So if you have distractions like that get an office. Oh I have an office, but it is full of research, books, printer, magazines, etc. that there is no place for me. So the office needs to be big or if you can get your husband a man cave. (Here I'm playing on your sympathy to purchase my books). If it's working then I won't apologize.

So is publishing my books as an independent writer the best way to go? For my first book it was. I'm sure that some erotic romance publisher like Ellora's Cave or Samhain might have looked at it, but the plot of Christmas in July didn't fit their categories.

Christmas in July was meant to be a witty fantasy and nothing more. Sure the main character Julie Monroe is in a long term relationship and that relationship is in jeopardy due to not getting her Christmas present from Santa. But all in all it was intended to give Julie a chance to be a naughty girl, and get Santa in the sack and back on his nice list. Yes we all have fantasies and one of Julie's was to boink the big guy. She has a thing for  long white beards and a hairy chest. Sorry I'm getting off my point.

But the story I'm working on now, working titles are The Merger or 3rd Times the Charm is intended to be sent to Decadent Publishing. I'm writing it to fit into one of their most popular series 1Night Stand. Go to Amazon or Barnes and Noble or other publishing companies and type in the words 1 Night Stand. You'll find titles from different authors all using that same premise. See a previous blog for some editing I did on my new book.

Yes, I'm using this series to get my foot into the door of a publishing house.While Decadent is a publishing house for erotic romance, it has some of the qualities of Indie's. Decadent's requirements would be that of my own if I was self-publishing this book. It must be tight and the copy clean. They don't have agents, Per Se that holds your hand, works with you to edit the story to the publisher's liking.

So again, is self-publishing a curse or a blessing? I believe a little of both.

Next week I'll expand on this introduction of being an Indie.

What could be better?

What could be better than a trip that includes imbibing? (You know the S word and chocolate come to mind, but traveling and drinking is 3rd on the list).

I just reconnected with a friend of mine and her lens on Squidoo about America's history on Whiskey making is fascinating.


Below is a peek. Check out the entire lens at www.squidoo.com/whiskeytrail

The American Whiskey Trail is steeped in our country's history. We owe our whiskey making today to the Scotch-Irish heritage that immigrated into the United States hundreds of years ago. American whiskies came from those immigrants
.

Whiskey's origins mainly came from Scotland. One can tell they are drinking American whiskey or Scottish whiskey just by the spelling. But just like bourbons and whiskies the Scottish whiskey has a distinct flavor all its own. This lens is dedicated to the American heritage of those immigrants that settled into the USA and brought their whiskey making skills with them.

While prohibition may have curbed the whiskey industry for a short time, it is up and running strong. It is a part of American history, the history of those who immigrated into this country at its birth and during its foundling years. Therefore this tribute is not just to the alcohol industry, but to a bit of Americana.

George Washington, our first president, has ties to the roots of making American whiskey. Others who held to developing us into a nation also were a part of this history, but not as prominent as the 1st president.

The Trail runs through 5 states and can be a an exciting road trip or several weekend getaways for the history and travel enthusiast.

Well?

This is day 7 on antibiotics and I swear it's killing my creative brain cells as well as the infection. Here's the problem. I've worked on MRU's this last week and got about 1400 words using that formula. (Below is an example). And all I can say I'm learning the process. (slowly)

But it isn't going well. With a stuffy nose, scratchy throat, coughing and some pressure, (I sound like a Nyquil commercial). I'm just not feeling the love of the new direction of the story.

Let me show you my progress/process and see if you notice MRU.

Original: 

Rebel Tyler was so far outside her comfort zone when she opened the door to her bungalow, all she could see was the king sized bed along the left wall sticking out like a giant clown trying to stuff his body into a kiddie car at the circus. Never taking her eyes off the bed, she teetered in the doorway unable to make her feet take the first step inside. She needed courage, something she knew she didn’t normally have, but then she purposefully dwelled on her parents and Mr. Michaels waiting for her at brunch tomorrow morning, and the thought of them getting angrier and angrier by the minute when she didn’t show up was all the momentum she needed to take that first step across the threshold.

Revised:

As the bungalow door swung open, all Rebel Tyler could see was a king sized bed consuming every inch of an already cramped space – like one of those fat clowns that try to stuff themselves into the tiny cars at the circus. Seeing the bed, her heart skipped, and she froze on the step. “Just breathe girl,” she muttered and began to fan with her palm. She closed her eyes, her thoughts dancing in a thousand directions, she tried to concentrate on what brought her to this place. She began to imagine her parents and Mr. Michaels waiting for her at brunch in the morning. She could picture them in her mind fidgeting impatiently in their seats, their expressions growing more and more angry as they realized she wasn’t coming. The image made her smile, if only slightly, but the thought of standing them up emboldened her to go forward. Filled once more with singular intent she took a deep breath, wet her lips, and stepped purposefully across the threshold. 

The paragraph above is great. But I can't take credit for it. My son, Computer genius and writer extraordinaire gave it the oomph it needed. But more importantly demonstrated MRU. I must qualify that my lack of creating a picture with my words is I am on antibiotics and I wrote my paragraph on day 4 while sinus pain the size of a boulder was pressing against my cheeks and forehead. And my son has been using MRU and the Snowflake Method for years. I'm a newbie.

I have revised to fit my story. You can see below. 

Staring, but not really seeing anything, Rebel Tyler wondered if she could call the whole thing off. She still had time. She was certain Madame Eve could find her date, and she used that term loosely someone else. But then she remembered she had no phone and other than room service there would be no contact with Cayo Espanto, as she’d requested, until Monday. So focusing on the here and now, she let go of those thoughts. Letting her eyes drift along the horizon where blue sky met blue green water she searched her surroundings. Palm trees and lush green forest were to her right. In front and to her left was the ocean. Waves gently lapped against the shore and rocks placed at the edge of the sandy pathway, signaling the end of the island.

. . . . . . . . . 

Taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse, Rebel hesitated slightly before pushing the door wide. She stood there, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Her accommodations were made up of just two rooms; the bedroom directly in front of her and bath to her right. Looking around the room, she immediately noticed the colors outside continued inside. There was pristine teak flooring, wood paneled walls and tongue and groove ceiling above exposed beams. Another glass door trimmed in turquoise, like the one she’d just opened stood opposite her; the windows were in the same style. Her eyes traveled to her right, taking in cream furniture, a matching plush rug and silk shears. The color broke up the variant shades of brown and turquoise, giving the room a soothing tropical feel.

Making to step into inside, Rebel froze and her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the monstrosity posing as a king sized bed along the left wall. Suddenly the spacious room felt cramped – like a fat clown stuffing himself into one of those tiny cars at the circus. Her wide eyes were riveted to the four poster metal bed, her breath caught in her throat, blood pumped through her veins roaring in her ears. When her chest constricted and ached, she realized she wasn’t breathing.

 . . . . . . . . . 

“Oh, God,” she moaned, squeezing her legs together. Her nipples pebbled and her sex became wet. Rebel closed her eyes, her thoughts dancing in a thousand directions. She tried to concentrate on what brought her to this place. Instead of dwelling on tonight. So she imagined her parents and Mr. Michaels waiting for her at brunch in the morning. She could picture them in her mind fidgeting impatiently in their seats, their expressions growing more and more angry as they realized she wasn’t coming. The image made her smile, if only slightly, but the thought of standing them up emboldened her to move. Filled once more with a singular intent she took a deep breath, wet her lips, and stepped purposefully across the threshold. 

I hope you see the MRU's. And take note of the editing process. Hopefully this story will be out by the New Year and you can read it in its entirety then. 

See ya next week.