http://feelingnosey.blogspot.com/2012/02/me-thinketh-plot-does-thicken.html
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
More trouble for Nosey
http://feelingnosey.blogspot.com/2012/02/me-thinketh-plot-does-thicken.html
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Time to Love Again
We were just adjusting when Rose’s husband passed away suddenly. Poor Rose fell apart, not that I blame her. I would have reacted the same way if it had been my husband. I was just getting Rose to come out of her shell when bam, I was gone.
That did Rose in. She went to pieces and to make matters worse, her kids moved three thousand miles away. She ignored all of her friends, except for Louise. Louise wasn’t about to let Rose ignore her. But everyone else gave up. Heck, you can only call people so long and have them ignore you, not return your calls and won’t talk to you before you give up. So that’s what everyone did. Louise didn’t give up. She marched right over to Rose’s house and read her the riot act until Rose gave in and at least went to the store.
At least now Rose visited Louise and came to grips with life. Not that she had much of a life. Stephen Daniels the guy next aimed to change that – or so it seemed. Good looking guy, too. Anyway he moved in to take care of his granddaughter while her parents did their tour of duty in the Mideast. He kind of took a shine to Rose.. Rose wouldn’t give the poor guy the time of day. Most she did was nod at him.
Well, that’s all she did until that day. I can’t help but giggle thinking about it. She fell on the ice and splat, groceries went flying everywhere. Stephen came to her aid – or tried to. Rose true to form tried to ignore him. That’s where I come in again. I showed up to talk some sense into Rose. Of course, she tried to ignore me, too, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. It was time Rose started to live again. She was much too young to waste her life away.
Now it seems his granddaughter, Sarah, saw the whole thing and had other ideas. She didn’t care for the way the old lady ignored her grandpa. Yeah, all kids think anyone in their 40s is old. What can I say, we thought the same things.
But I digress. Sarah devised a plan to get Rose to talk to her grandpa. She talked her friends into building a snowman in Rose’s front yard. You’d think that wasn’t a big deal right? I mean what harm could a snowman do?
Of course, Rose, being the neighborhood grouch –at least that’s what the kids pegged her as – had a fit.
After that things got real interesting. If you’d like to find out more about Rose, you’ll have to buy the book available from Amazon at http://amzn.to/timetoloveagain
To learn more about me and my books check out my website at http://www.roseannedowell.com/.
EXCERPT
Rose set her groceries on the counter and rubbed her hip. Gonna be sore as hell
tomorrow. Bet it turned black and blue already. Stupid klutz! Talk about the epitome of
embarrassment. Bad enough she fell, but why did he have to see her. She made a fresh pot of
coffee, picked up the rose and smelled it. Something about the fragrance of the flower made her
think of Frank.
"You could have been nicer to him," a voice whispered.
Rose jumped back. What the hell? "Who's there?" She spun around the small kitchen.
Shivers ran up her spine. She didn't see anyone, yet sensed a presence. Cold air brushed past her
and settled over the room. She gripped the counter. What the hell's going on here? "Who's
there?" she yelled again.
"It's only me." A shadowy figure appeared in front of her.
Rose backed up and bumped the refrigerator. "Ouch, damn it." She hurt badly enough
without making it worse. "Who the hell are you?" Damn, it sounded like ....
"It's me. Don't you recognize me?"
Rose peered at the shadow. "Recognize you, I can hardly see you." She rubbed her eyes. This was ridiculous.
"He did help you, Rose. You could have invited him in," the voice went on.
"I didn't ask for any help. I could have managed on my own. Besides, I don't like the feelings he arouses in me." Somehow she couldn't help answering aloud. Good grief now she was talking to herself.
"Why not? Frank used to stir those same feelings. Quit acting like you're dead. Wake up,
live. You've become a recluse. There's a big world out there that you used to love. You enjoyed
people. The man was only trying to be friendly." The voice didn't let up.
Something about the voice sounded like her sister, Emma. But Emma had been dead for several years. She wished it would leave her alone. She poured a cup of coffee and pulled her sweater tight, trying to block the cold rushing through her.Rose hurried into the living room, set her coffee on the table, and turned on the
television. Winter weather advisories crawled across the screen. She glanced out the window.
Already a thick blanket of white covered the trees and bushes. She used to love snowstorms, but
it seemed like ages ago.
Memory of when her kids were little and she went outside and helped build snowmen or had snowball fights made her smile. Those were the days. They had loved the first big snowfall. But time passed and kids grew up. She sighed. Grew up and moved away. Now snow was nothing more than a nuisance. She hated driving in it, but at least the road crews kept the main roads pretty clear. They even salted and plowed her street more frequently than normal.
A thumping noise against the house interrupted Rose's thoughts. "What in the world?"
She got up and limped to the door, rubbing her hip. Damn, already it hurt. Just as she pulled it open, four little pairs of legs raced around the bushes into the next yard.
"Little monsters," she mumbled. "Go throw snowballs at your own house." Shaking her head, she slammed the door. What's wrong with kids now days? Her kids had been taught to respect people's property. Not that they were saints by any means, but they showed adults proper respect, or she'd know the reason why.
If any neighbor had corrected her kids, they damn well better have listened. Today, kids acted like they owned the world. Don't give a darn about people's privacy. And for God's sake, don't tell their parents. "My little Johnny would never do that," they said. Yeah, right, their little Johnny was usually the ring leader.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Rose," Emma's voice returned. "What's the matter with you? People have been like that for ages. Even back in your day there were a handful of people that believed their kids could do no wrong. You were a teacher, you ran across that all the time. That's not the norm, and you know it. You're not that old. Can't you remember what it was like to be a kid, you certainly were no angel."
Rose jumped at the sound. Where was it coming from? Suddenly a shadowy figure appeared on the chair opposite her.
"Emma?"
The shadowy form didn't move. Rose put on her glasses and looked closer. Nothing. Damn, now she was imagining things. No angel, "harrumph". No, she guessed she wasn't. She chuckled at the memory of childhood days. Oh, how she, her sister and brother had prayed for snow so they could earn money to buy Christmas gifts for their parents. They shoveled snow, but they fooled around a lot too.
"And threw snowball at the neighborhood grouch's house," the voice said.
Rose looked at the chair. Again the shadowy form presented itself. It looked sort of like Emma. Rose peered closer, and it disappeared.
"Okay, we did, so what? And if you're going to talk to me, at least have the decency to show yourself."
Dear God, is that what she'd become, the neighborhood grouch? Rose stood up and went to refill her coffee cup. "Well, so what if I am a grouch? I'm not hurting anyone. Why can't everyone just leave me alone? I'd have nothing to bitch about." Rose wanted to get rid of the voice, even if it was Emma. Besides, she didn't believe in ghosts. Her imagination that's all it was.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
I.B. Nosey’s Invite for Participants
I.B. Nosey, that “official unofficial” cyber reporter is one busy fella! If you haven’t visited his blog, (and why haven’t you?), at http://feelingnosey.blogspot.com/ you’ll find that he’s pursued by one crazed attorney by the name of O.G. Whattapayne, plus a host of other similarly wild and crazed characters!
But…if you’re blurry-eyed glued to your computer screen every Wednesday morning to be the first to click on that blog link and discover the latest “whazzup” with our ever fleeing hero…well, now…do I have some exciting news for you!
Want to become a star? A guest star that is, appearing in a future Nosey segment?
That’s right. Now is your chance to jump/hop/leap/dive into the zany and hilarious melee of the whole Feeling Nosey gang! http://feelingnosey.blogspot.com/
How does it work?
Simple. Follow the rules! (Don’t groan, yes, there must be rules! Why, I don’t know, but M.M. of the ‘she who must REALLY be obeyed’ fame ordered me to list them.)
So, Rule 1:
You gotta be crazy too! Gotta love fun, gotta love hilarity, gotta be able to laugh at yourself. Sourpusses need not apply.
Rule 2:
The FeelingNosey blog is a G-rated blog and M.M. is a G-rated author. Nosey can only link back to either G-rated, or PG-rated blogs. If you’re an erotic/horror/paranormal, etc. writer who might also have a zany alter ego with a less mature blog/site, then you’re in!
Rule 3:
Join Nosey’s blog as his follower, which makes you a…*drum roll, please*…member of his Fan Club! BE SURE to snatch Fan Button and display on your site/blog. (link back to FeelingNosey, please)
Rule 4:
You DO NOT HAVE to be an author. Readers, editors, cover artists, publishers, reviewers, couch potatoes, bad-mannered-belchers -- you’re welcome IF you feel you can hold your own against the brilliant (?) Nosey.
Rule 5:
Tell your friends! Hey, tell your enemies too! Once they learn you’re starring with the famous, the magnificent, the original, the one-and-only ‘official unofficial’ I.B. Nosey, they’ll become your biggest fans! (Nosey respectfully states a disclaimer if you’re mobbed while standing in front of the pickle shelf at your local supermarket)
By now you’re wondering why should you offer to take part in a scheme that might portray you as a wacky, offbeat idiot?
To which I answer, if it made sense, then it wouldn’t be fun!!!!
Your name will be added on a blogroll at FeelingNosey, and that link will be viewed and readily clickable by innumerable worldwide visitors. You will be connected to I.B. Nosey for infinity!!! And whatever could be better than that, people?
If interested, send your name and the URL of your blog to: ib_nosey AT rocketmail DOT com (of course you know how to read this addy, M.M. said I had to type it this way to deflect spam. ‘she who must REALLY be obeyed’!!!!)
And now, over to you Gander in the control booth.
Now Available
Designed for Love
Fate, kismet, or whatever you want to call it, it turned Interior Designer, Wendy Seidel’s world upside down. From a chance meeting at the airport to Florida and back to Ohio, she can’t believe the strange circumstances that throw her and Bill Johnson together, after he literally knocks her off her feet at the airport.
~ Find my titles at: http://amzn.to/tnqgR2
Excerpt:
“What the hell?” My carry-on bag slid across the floor and slammed into the wall. My feet slipped out from under me, I landed flat on my back, and someone fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor. The breath knocked out of me, I lay still a moment.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I finally caught my breath and pushed him off. “Everyone’s always in such a big hurry.”
“Why’d you slow down? You darned near stopped in front of me.” He stood up, brushed himself off and held out his hand to help me up. “Sorry.”
I knocked his hand away, got to my knees and stood. I didn’t need his help. Not his or anyone else’s for that matter. What I needed was to find my bag and get on to my gate.
“Look, I’m sorry. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He held his hand out to me again, but I ignored it. “Here, let me get that for you.” He hurried to pick up my bag, but I grabbed it first.
“Look, Mister, I have a plane to catch, so excuse me if I don’t have time to chat.” I straightened up my bag, grabbed the handle and started toward my gate. Good looking in a rustic sort of way, I had to admit. Probably worked outdoors or at least spent a lot of time outside. Not that it made any difference. I didn’t have time for him. Or any man for that matter. I had a career to build, and men didn’t figure into it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like men. I did. Even dated occasionally. Eventually I’d like to have a relationship, even get married. But relationships and marriage took time, not a priority right now. My career came first. Something about him, though.
I couldn’t resist looking back. Great. He stood watching me with a silly smirk on his face. Nice eyes, soft gray. I loved gray eyes. Maybe because my grandfather had gray eyes. He lifted his hand and waved at me. Heat burned my face, and I hurried off in the direction of the gate, looking at the signs above. Only at Gate 2. Not even close. Of course my gate was at the farthest end of the airport. Thankfully, there was plenty of time to get there.
I avoided a heavyset man, hell bent on his mission. I hated this time of year. Everyone was in such a big hurry.
To make matters worse, my butt hurt but I resisted rubbing it. Didn’t need to look like any more of an idiot. Ah, Gate 11, finally. Now I could sit down and relax, since there was still forty-five minutes before my flight. I took a book out of the side pocket of my carry-on and settled back to wait. Not that I could concentrate, anger at my boss raged inside me. Who in their right mind set up a meeting with a client right before New Years? And in Florida, no less. Obviously, Nick didn’t care that I had plans for New Year’s Eve.
So I was getting out of Ohio, big deal. Sure, my friends thought I was lucky, especially with the predicted snowstorm. Didn’t make any difference to me, I liked snow.
I glanced out a window. Already it was coming down pretty heavy, and there was still a good half hour before my flight.
Damn it, I hated flying. I could have sent the samples just as easy. What was so important they required me to personally bring them? I thought we’d settled everything before the client left. Why the sudden change? They could have at least waited until after the holidays.
Nick, my boss, promised I’d be home by New Year’s Eve. Yeah right. I knew how these things went. First this problem, than that one. I’d be lucky to be home in time for my nephew’s birthday on the sixth. Nick better not have any funny ideas. This was strictly business. I’d heard about his reputation with women. So far he hadn’t shown an interest in me, and I certainly didn’t have a problem with that. Good-looking though Nick was, nothing about him attracted me. Definitely not my type. Not that I had a type.
“Looks like we’re on the same flight,” a masculine voice said.
I looked up and almost groaned out loud. This couldn’t be happening. What were the chances we’d be on the same flight? I tried to ignore him, but something drew my eyes to his.
“Bill Johnson.” He extended his hand toward me. “I really am sorry about knocking you down.”
I shrugged and shook his hand. “No problem.” A quiver started deep in my stomach when he held my hand a bit longer than necessary. Rough, calloused hands. Does hard work. Maybe construction. I pulled my hand away and turned my attention back to my book. I hated talking to people at airports. Lord, please tell me he doesn’t have the seat next to me. I couldn’t be that unlucky, could I?
Of course I could.
Taking a peek at the ticket sticking out of his coat pocket, I groaned. Seat 16A. No way, what were the chances? I hoped he’d take the hint and leave me alone.
“Are you staying in Fort Myers?” He sat down next to me.
Figured, no such luck. I nodded. Maybe if I didn’t contribute to the conversation, he’d go away. I kept my eyes on my book but couldn’t concentrate. I had the irresistible urge to look at him, but ignored it. What was it about him?
“Visiting or business?”
I looked up from my book. He just wasn’t going to quit. “Business, no time for pleasure.” Maybe that would shut him up.
He smiled. “Everyone has time for pleasure. All work and no play...” He let the rest of the saying hang.
I put the book in front of my face. “I guess I’m a dull boy then.” Why didn’t he just let me read in peace. I couldn’t be much ruder. Some people just couldn’t take a hint.
Bill laughed. A big hearty laugh that caused people to stare. I wanted to crawl under my seat. “What’s so funny?”
“Honey, you look like anything but a boy.” His gaze took me in from top to bottom and came to rest on my breasts.
Okay, I’m well endowed and wished I had left my jacket on. Not that there was much to see through my bulky sweater, but enough. Heat rushed to my face again. Crap, why did I blush so easily? My face was probably as red as my hair. “Okay, so I don’t look like a boy. Just finishing the saying. And DON’T call me honey!” I put the book in front of my face, turned away from him, and tried to read. Lord, spare me friendly people. Especially men.
The last thing I needed was a man trying to pick me up. I wished he’d just go away. I could call airport security, but didn’t want to cause a scene. He’d done enough of that.
“Since you won’t tell me your name, I don’t know what else to call you.”
“Don’t call me anything.” I slammed my book shut, stood, and walked to the window. What more did I have to do to let him know I wasn’t interested? I stared out the window. Things didn’t look good outside.
“Full blown blizzard.” Bill’s deep voice came from behind.
I felt his breath on my neck and shivered from the warmth of it. Or was it from his nearness? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I looked at my watch. Still almost a half hour before take off. So far they hadn’t cancelled the flight.
As if my thoughts magically conjured it up, a voice came over the PA system. “We regret to inform you that all flights to and from Cleveland Hopkins Airport have been cancelled until further notice. New flights can be rebooked as soon as we resume our schedule. Sorry for the inconvenience. Airport shuttles are standing by to take you to a hotel. If you can’t get a room, you’re welcome to stay at the airport. Concession stands and restaurants will remain open for your convenience.
Great, just great. What more could go wrong? At least I could go home. If I could get a cab, that is. With the way it looked outside, I had a feeling most of the roads were closed, too.
I moved away from Bill and took my cell phone from my purse, got the number for the cab company from information, and punched it in. Crap, a recording. “No cabs due to weather.” Terrific. I punched in information for the number of the Sheraton Hotel. Hopefully, they still had a room. Spending the night sleeping in an airport wouldn’t improve my mood.
“Sheraton Hotel, how can I help you,” a female answered.
“Yes, I’d like a room for the night.” Please don’t tell me they’re all booked, I prayed. I didn’t care what kind of room as long as it had a bed.
“Yes, I have one room left. Two double beds. One hundred and fifty dollars.”
I let out a low whistle. A bit more than I cared to spend, but no matter. “I’ll take it.” I read my credit card number, grabbed my bag and raced to the exit while I spoke. Now to find an airport shuttle. Talk about luck, a shuttle parked just outside. I pulled the door open, and someone bumped into me.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
I turned and looked into familiar soft, gray eyes. “Are you following me?” This was beginning to feel creepy. What was with this guy?
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Bill let out a low chuckle. “We can share a ride if you don’t mind. Give the driver a break.”
He followed me into the car. “Sheraton Hotel and...” He looked at me. “Where to?”
What were the odds he’d be going to the same hotel? This was getting scary. “Sheraton.”
“No kidding. Hey, maybe we can get together for a drink or something.”
Like I couldn’t guess what the or something was. I shook my head. Jerk. What made him think I’d even want to have a drink with him? “No thanks, I have work to do.” I looked out the window. How the driver managed to see where he was going was beyond me. All I could see was white. Thick, white, blowing snow. This was by far the worst snow storm I remembered. I just hoped it let up by morning like the weatherman promised.
~ Find my titles at: http://amzn.to/tnqgR2
Excerpt:
“What the hell?” My carry-on bag slid across the floor and slammed into the wall. My feet slipped out from under me, I landed flat on my back, and someone fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor. The breath knocked out of me, I lay still a moment.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I finally caught my breath and pushed him off. “Everyone’s always in such a big hurry.”
“Why’d you slow down? You darned near stopped in front of me.” He stood up, brushed himself off and held out his hand to help me up. “Sorry.”
I knocked his hand away, got to my knees and stood. I didn’t need his help. Not his or anyone else’s for that matter. What I needed was to find my bag and get on to my gate.
“Look, I’m sorry. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He held his hand out to me again, but I ignored it. “Here, let me get that for you.” He hurried to pick up my bag, but I grabbed it first.
“Look, Mister, I have a plane to catch, so excuse me if I don’t have time to chat.” I straightened up my bag, grabbed the handle and started toward my gate. Good looking in a rustic sort of way, I had to admit. Probably worked outdoors or at least spent a lot of time outside. Not that it made any difference. I didn’t have time for him. Or any man for that matter. I had a career to build, and men didn’t figure into it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like men. I did. Even dated occasionally. Eventually I’d like to have a relationship, even get married. But relationships and marriage took time, not a priority right now. My career came first. Something about him, though.
I couldn’t resist looking back. Great. He stood watching me with a silly smirk on his face. Nice eyes, soft gray. I loved gray eyes. Maybe because my grandfather had gray eyes. He lifted his hand and waved at me. Heat burned my face, and I hurried off in the direction of the gate, looking at the signs above. Only at Gate 2. Not even close. Of course my gate was at the farthest end of the airport. Thankfully, there was plenty of time to get there.
I avoided a heavyset man, hell bent on his mission. I hated this time of year. Everyone was in such a big hurry.
To make matters worse, my butt hurt but I resisted rubbing it. Didn’t need to look like any more of an idiot. Ah, Gate 11, finally. Now I could sit down and relax, since there was still forty-five minutes before my flight. I took a book out of the side pocket of my carry-on and settled back to wait. Not that I could concentrate, anger at my boss raged inside me. Who in their right mind set up a meeting with a client right before New Years? And in Florida, no less. Obviously, Nick didn’t care that I had plans for New Year’s Eve.
So I was getting out of Ohio, big deal. Sure, my friends thought I was lucky, especially with the predicted snowstorm. Didn’t make any difference to me, I liked snow.
I glanced out a window. Already it was coming down pretty heavy, and there was still a good half hour before my flight.
Damn it, I hated flying. I could have sent the samples just as easy. What was so important they required me to personally bring them? I thought we’d settled everything before the client left. Why the sudden change? They could have at least waited until after the holidays.
Nick, my boss, promised I’d be home by New Year’s Eve. Yeah right. I knew how these things went. First this problem, than that one. I’d be lucky to be home in time for my nephew’s birthday on the sixth. Nick better not have any funny ideas. This was strictly business. I’d heard about his reputation with women. So far he hadn’t shown an interest in me, and I certainly didn’t have a problem with that. Good-looking though Nick was, nothing about him attracted me. Definitely not my type. Not that I had a type.
“Looks like we’re on the same flight,” a masculine voice said.
I looked up and almost groaned out loud. This couldn’t be happening. What were the chances we’d be on the same flight? I tried to ignore him, but something drew my eyes to his.
“Bill Johnson.” He extended his hand toward me. “I really am sorry about knocking you down.”
I shrugged and shook his hand. “No problem.” A quiver started deep in my stomach when he held my hand a bit longer than necessary. Rough, calloused hands. Does hard work. Maybe construction. I pulled my hand away and turned my attention back to my book. I hated talking to people at airports. Lord, please tell me he doesn’t have the seat next to me. I couldn’t be that unlucky, could I?
Of course I could.
Taking a peek at the ticket sticking out of his coat pocket, I groaned. Seat 16A. No way, what were the chances? I hoped he’d take the hint and leave me alone.
“Are you staying in Fort Myers?” He sat down next to me.
Figured, no such luck. I nodded. Maybe if I didn’t contribute to the conversation, he’d go away. I kept my eyes on my book but couldn’t concentrate. I had the irresistible urge to look at him, but ignored it. What was it about him?
“Visiting or business?”
I looked up from my book. He just wasn’t going to quit. “Business, no time for pleasure.” Maybe that would shut him up.
He smiled. “Everyone has time for pleasure. All work and no play...” He let the rest of the saying hang.
I put the book in front of my face. “I guess I’m a dull boy then.” Why didn’t he just let me read in peace. I couldn’t be much ruder. Some people just couldn’t take a hint.
Bill laughed. A big hearty laugh that caused people to stare. I wanted to crawl under my seat. “What’s so funny?”
“Honey, you look like anything but a boy.” His gaze took me in from top to bottom and came to rest on my breasts.
Okay, I’m well endowed and wished I had left my jacket on. Not that there was much to see through my bulky sweater, but enough. Heat rushed to my face again. Crap, why did I blush so easily? My face was probably as red as my hair. “Okay, so I don’t look like a boy. Just finishing the saying. And DON’T call me honey!” I put the book in front of my face, turned away from him, and tried to read. Lord, spare me friendly people. Especially men.
The last thing I needed was a man trying to pick me up. I wished he’d just go away. I could call airport security, but didn’t want to cause a scene. He’d done enough of that.
“Since you won’t tell me your name, I don’t know what else to call you.”
“Don’t call me anything.” I slammed my book shut, stood, and walked to the window. What more did I have to do to let him know I wasn’t interested? I stared out the window. Things didn’t look good outside.
“Full blown blizzard.” Bill’s deep voice came from behind.
I felt his breath on my neck and shivered from the warmth of it. Or was it from his nearness? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I looked at my watch. Still almost a half hour before take off. So far they hadn’t cancelled the flight.
As if my thoughts magically conjured it up, a voice came over the PA system. “We regret to inform you that all flights to and from Cleveland Hopkins Airport have been cancelled until further notice. New flights can be rebooked as soon as we resume our schedule. Sorry for the inconvenience. Airport shuttles are standing by to take you to a hotel. If you can’t get a room, you’re welcome to stay at the airport. Concession stands and restaurants will remain open for your convenience.
Great, just great. What more could go wrong? At least I could go home. If I could get a cab, that is. With the way it looked outside, I had a feeling most of the roads were closed, too.
I moved away from Bill and took my cell phone from my purse, got the number for the cab company from information, and punched it in. Crap, a recording. “No cabs due to weather.” Terrific. I punched in information for the number of the Sheraton Hotel. Hopefully, they still had a room. Spending the night sleeping in an airport wouldn’t improve my mood.
“Sheraton Hotel, how can I help you,” a female answered.
“Yes, I’d like a room for the night.” Please don’t tell me they’re all booked, I prayed. I didn’t care what kind of room as long as it had a bed.
“Yes, I have one room left. Two double beds. One hundred and fifty dollars.”
I let out a low whistle. A bit more than I cared to spend, but no matter. “I’ll take it.” I read my credit card number, grabbed my bag and raced to the exit while I spoke. Now to find an airport shuttle. Talk about luck, a shuttle parked just outside. I pulled the door open, and someone bumped into me.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
I turned and looked into familiar soft, gray eyes. “Are you following me?” This was beginning to feel creepy. What was with this guy?
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Bill let out a low chuckle. “We can share a ride if you don’t mind. Give the driver a break.”
He followed me into the car. “Sheraton Hotel and...” He looked at me. “Where to?”
What were the odds he’d be going to the same hotel? This was getting scary. “Sheraton.”
“No kidding. Hey, maybe we can get together for a drink or something.”
Like I couldn’t guess what the or something was. I shook my head. Jerk. What made him think I’d even want to have a drink with him? “No thanks, I have work to do.” I looked out the window. How the driver managed to see where he was going was beyond me. All I could see was white. Thick, white, blowing snow. This was by far the worst snow storm I remembered. I just hoped it let up by morning like the weatherman promised.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Just for Fun
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Available Now
Fate, kismet, or whatever you want to call it, it turned Interior Designer, Wendy Seidel’s world upside down. From a chance meeting at the airport to Florida and back to Ohio, she can’t believe the strange circumstances that throw her and Bill Johnson together, after he literally knocks her off her feet at the airport.
~ Find Roseanne's titles here http://bit.ly/t62esi
Excerpt:
“What the hell?” My carry-on bag slid across the floor and slammed into the wall. My feet slipped out from under me, I landed flat on my back, and someone fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor. The breath knocked out of me, I lay still a moment.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I finally caught my breath and pushed him off. “Everyone’s always in such a big hurry.”
“Why’d you slow down? You darned near stopped in front of me.” He stood up, brushed himself off and held out his hand to help me up. “Sorry.”
I knocked his hand away, got to my knees and stood. I didn’t need his help. Not his or anyone else’s for that matter. What I needed was to find my bag and get on to my gate.
“Look, I’m sorry. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He held his hand out to me again, but I ignored it. “Here, let me get that for you.” He hurried to pick up my bag, but I grabbed it first.
“Look, Mister, I have a plane to catch, so excuse me if I don’t have time to chat.” I straightened up my bag, grabbed the handle and started toward my gate. Good looking in a rustic sort of way, I had to admit. Probably worked outdoors or at least spent a lot of time outside. Not that it made any difference. I didn’t have time for him. Or any man for that matter. I had a career to build, and men didn’t figure into it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like men. I did. Even dated occasionally. Eventually I’d like to have a relationship, even get married. But relationships and marriage took time, not a priority right now. My career came first. Something about him, though.
I couldn’t resist looking back. Great. He stood watching me with a silly smirk on his face. Nice eyes, soft gray. I loved gray eyes. Maybe because my grandfather had gray eyes. He lifted his hand and waved at me. Heat burned my face, and I hurried off in the direction of the gate, looking at the signs above. Only at Gate 2. Not even close. Of course my gate was at the farthest end of the airport. Thankfully, there was plenty of time to get there.
I avoided a heavyset man, hell bent on his mission. I hated this time of year. Everyone was in such a big hurry.
To make matters worse, my butt hurt but I resisted rubbing it. Didn’t need to look like any more of an idiot. Ah, Gate 11, finally. Now I could sit down and relax, since there was still forty-five minutes before my flight. I took a book out of the side pocket of my carry-on and settled back to wait. Not that I could concentrate, anger at my boss raged inside me. Who in their right mind set up a meeting with a client right before New Years? And in Florida, no less. Obviously, Nick didn’t care that I had plans for New Year’s Eve.
So I was getting out of Ohio, big deal. Sure, my friends thought I was lucky, especially with the predicted snowstorm. Didn’t make any difference to me, I liked snow.
I glanced out a window. Already it was coming down pretty heavy, and there was still a good half hour before my flight.
Damn it, I hated flying. I could have sent the samples just as easy. What was so important they required me to personally bring them? I thought we’d settled everything before the client left. Why the sudden change? They could have at least waited until after the holidays.
Nick, my boss, promised I’d be home by New Year’s Eve. Yeah right. I knew how these things went. First this problem, than that one. I’d be lucky to be home in time for my nephew’s birthday on the sixth. Nick better not have any funny ideas. This was strictly business. I’d heard about his reputation with women. So far he hadn’t shown an interest in me, and I certainly didn’t have a problem with that. Good-looking though Nick was, nothing about him attracted me. Definitely not my type. Not that I had a type.
“Looks like we’re on the same flight,” a masculine voice said.
I looked up and almost groaned out loud. This couldn’t be happening. What were the chances we’d be on the same flight? I tried to ignore him, but something drew my eyes to his.
“Bill Johnson.” He extended his hand toward me. “I really am sorry about knocking you down.”
I shrugged and shook his hand. “No problem.” A quiver started deep in my stomach when he held my hand a bit longer than necessary. Rough, calloused hands. Does hard work. Maybe construction. I pulled my hand away and turned my attention back to my book. I hated talking to people at airports. Lord, please tell me he doesn’t have the seat next to me. I couldn’t be that unlucky, could I?
Of course I could.
Taking a peek at the ticket sticking out of his coat pocket, I groaned. Seat 16A. No way, what were the chances? I hoped he’d take the hint and leave me alone.
“Are you staying in Fort Myers?” He sat down next to me.
Figured, no such luck. I nodded. Maybe if I didn’t contribute to the conversation, he’d go away. I kept my eyes on my book but couldn’t concentrate. I had the irresistible urge to look at him, but ignored it. What was it about him?
“Visiting or business?”
I looked up from my book. He just wasn’t going to quit. “Business, no time for pleasure.” Maybe that would shut him up.
He smiled. “Everyone has time for pleasure. All work and no play...” He let the rest of the saying hang.
I put the book in front of my face. “I guess I’m a dull boy then.” Why didn’t he just let me read in peace. I couldn’t be much ruder. Some people just couldn’t take a hint.
Bill laughed. A big hearty laugh that caused people to stare. I wanted to crawl under my seat. “What’s so funny?”
“Honey, you look like anything but a boy.” His gaze took me in from top to bottom and came to rest on my breasts.
Okay, I’m well endowed and wished I had left my jacket on. Not that there was much to see through my bulky sweater, but enough. Heat rushed to my face again. Crap, why did I blush so easily? My face was probably as red as my hair. “Okay, so I don’t look like a boy. Just finishing the saying. And DON’T call me honey!” I put the book in front of my face, turned away from him, and tried to read. Lord, spare me friendly people. Especially men.
The last thing I needed was a man trying to pick me up. I wished he’d just go away. I could call airport security, but didn’t want to cause a scene. He’d done enough of that.
“Since you won’t tell me your name, I don’t know what else to call you.”
“Don’t call me anything.” I slammed my book shut, stood, and walked to the window. What more did I have to do to let him know I wasn’t interested? I stared out the window. Things didn’t look good outside.
“Full blown blizzard.” Bill’s deep voice came from behind.
I felt his breath on my neck and shivered from the warmth of it. Or was it from his nearness? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I looked at my watch. Still almost a half hour before take off. So far they hadn’t cancelled the flight.
As if my thoughts magically conjured it up, a voice came over the PA system. “We regret to inform you that all flights to and from Cleveland Hopkins Airport have been cancelled until further notice. New flights can be rebooked as soon as we resume our schedule. Sorry for the inconvenience. Airport shuttles are standing by to take you to a hotel. If you can’t get a room, you’re welcome to stay at the airport. Concession stands and restaurants will remain open for your convenience.
Great, just great. What more could go wrong? At least I could go home. If I could get a cab, that is. With the way it looked outside, I had a feeling most of the roads were closed, too.
I moved away from Bill and took my cell phone from my purse, got the number for the cab company from information, and punched it in. Crap, a recording. “No cabs due to weather.” Terrific. I punched in information for the number of the Sheraton Hotel. Hopefully, they still had a room. Spending the night sleeping in an airport wouldn’t improve my mood.
“Sheraton Hotel, how can I help you,” a female answered.
“Yes, I’d like a room for the night.” Please don’t tell me they’re all booked, I prayed. I didn’t care what kind of room as long as it had a bed.
“Yes, I have one room left. Two double beds. One hundred and fifty dollars.”
I let out a low whistle. A bit more than I cared to spend, but no matter. “I’ll take it.” I read my credit card number, grabbed my bag and raced to the exit while I spoke. Now to find an airport shuttle. Talk about luck, a shuttle parked just outside. I pulled the door open, and someone bumped into me.
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
I turned and looked into familiar soft, gray eyes. “Are you following me?” This was beginning to feel creepy. What was with this guy?
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Bill let out a low chuckle. “We can share a ride if you don’t mind. Give the driver a break.”
He followed me into the car. “Sheraton Hotel and...” He looked at me. “Where to?”
What were the odds he’d be going to the same hotel? This was getting scary. “Sheraton.”
“No kidding. Hey, maybe we can get together for a drink or something.”
Like I couldn’t guess what the or something was. I shook my head. Jerk. What made him think I’d even want to have a drink with him? “No thanks, I have work to do.” I looked out the window. How the driver managed to see where he was going was beyond me. All I could see was white. Thick, white, blowing snow. This was by far the worst snow storm I remembered. I just hoped it let up by morning like the weatherman promised.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Did you ever have a feeling something bad was about to happen?
We’ve all experienced ESP, haven’t we? You know, you even finish each other’s sentences. Nothing unusual in that, is there? Not at all. At least I never thought so. My friend, Allison, and I do it all the time. We just laugh about it. When we were growing up we used to do the jinx thing.
But this is different. I’m experiencing something with a stranger. Oh, by the way, I’m Rebecca Brennan, can’t expect you to know that, can I? I have this rare connection to someone’s mind. Seriously, I hear what he hears, feel what he feels, and sometimes I even know what he’s thinking. It’s pretty scary. Sometimes I feel his contentment or pride in an accomplishment. Those things aren’t too bad, but when I woke up in the middle of the night with severe pain and even felt like I was bleeding, well let’s say I wasn’t too thrilled.
So, Allison talked me into seeing a parapsychologist. I was pretty leery. I just didn’t believe in these things. But something was happening to me, and I wanted to know what. Actually, what I wanted to know was who shared my mind.
Under hypnosis I kept saying the name Morris and came up with the name of a boot factory. I thought that was odd, but it gave me a place to start. My search led me to a small Victorian town.
All of this happened to me in Connection of the Minds. I have these strange visions about someone else’s life. Some might think it’s a unique gift. Believe me, it’s not.
Connection of the Minds is available at
http://bit.ly/ConnectionoftheMinds
You can find out more about my author, Roseanne Dowell, at http://www.roseannedowell.com/
Here’s an excerpt from the book.
Rebecca eased off the bed. Her feet felt like lead weights as she walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. After a big gulp, she hurried back to bed. Shivers racked her body even with the blanket pulled up to her chin. A minute ago sweat soaked her skin. Now she couldn’t get warm. Someone’s life had invaded her mind. She didn’t know who or where they lived. And she sure as heck didn’t like it. These were more than dreams. Most of her visions happened while she slept, but they were real. Besides, too many occurred during the day.
The pain eased, but fear and danger lingered. Curling up, she pulled the blanket tighter, closed her eyes, and willed herself to sleep. Strange visions played in her mind. Red, white, and blue flashing lights, fire engines, and ambulances, and police rushed around calling instructions, trying to control panic and hysteria at the scene.
Rebecca rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the visions.
“If only I knew how to find this person. Maybe then I’d find out what these dreams and visions mean.” Her voice startled her in the quiet room. Snuggling deeper in bed, pushing the thoughts away, she tried to sleep.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind wouldn’t be still. The visions persisted. Was she going crazy? Maybe Allison was right to force her to see a parapsychologist.
"I think you’re experiencing a psychic phenomenon." Allison had suggested. "Like ESP or something."
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Super Bowl Sunday
Finally, it's here. The big game. The day football fans have been waiting for. The race to the championship.
Unfortunately, my hometown team isn't playing today. But that doesn't stop me from watching the game. Heck no. I love football.
Today, we're joing other family members at my daughters for chili and the game. Of course there will be other snacks. Everyone is bringing something. My daughter is providing the chili. There will probably be more eating and snacking than watching the game.
We all look forward to the commercials, too. Maybe more so than the big game. Of course if our hometown team was playing, we'd all have a different mind frame. I'm sure half of us will be rooting for the Giants and half for the Patriots. It really doesn't matter much to me, one way or another, who wins. I lean toward the Patriots because their head coach used to coach our home team - before they left town that is. We all feel he was the fall guy for a losing season, planned by the owner so he could move the team and we, the fans, wouldn't care. Boy did that backfire. Losing or not, we were football fans and taking our team to another city didn't sit well with us. It took several years before we had a team again. We still watched the games, but football wasn't nearly as much fun - except rooting against the team who left us. Since then, they've become rivals, for obvious reasons.
So, no matter who wins, we'll enjoy watching the game. Go teams! LOL
Unfortunately, my hometown team isn't playing today. But that doesn't stop me from watching the game. Heck no. I love football.
Today, we're joing other family members at my daughters for chili and the game. Of course there will be other snacks. Everyone is bringing something. My daughter is providing the chili. There will probably be more eating and snacking than watching the game.
We all look forward to the commercials, too. Maybe more so than the big game. Of course if our hometown team was playing, we'd all have a different mind frame. I'm sure half of us will be rooting for the Giants and half for the Patriots. It really doesn't matter much to me, one way or another, who wins. I lean toward the Patriots because their head coach used to coach our home team - before they left town that is. We all feel he was the fall guy for a losing season, planned by the owner so he could move the team and we, the fans, wouldn't care. Boy did that backfire. Losing or not, we were football fans and taking our team to another city didn't sit well with us. It took several years before we had a team again. We still watched the games, but football wasn't nearly as much fun - except rooting against the team who left us. Since then, they've become rivals, for obvious reasons.
So, no matter who wins, we'll enjoy watching the game. Go teams! LOL
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Welcome, Lianne Simon
Thank you so much for being here, Lianne Simon.
It's my pleasure.
1: So, first question, what genre do you write?
I write young adult fiction dealing with social issues.
2: That sounds interesting. How long have you been writing?
In August of 2010 I woke with a story running through my mind. Since then I've been trying to learn how to write.
3: Yes, it’s a continuing process. We’re always learning. So, what do you like the most and least about writing?
The process is cathartic. It allows me to see how I might have handled life under different circumstances or as other people. The down side is I tend to feel everything my characters experience, so sometimes my mood has more to do with what's going on in the story than in my life.
4: Yes, it’s difficult sometimes to separate our lives. Tell us, what do you do for fun and relaxation when not writing?
I enjoy shopping, cooking, and reading. I try to walk every day to work out the stress.
5: I think all authors love to read. So, which authors do you like to read?
I enjoy history, fantasy, and science fiction. My favorites include JRR Tolkien, Neal Stephenson, Branden Sanderson, and CJ Cherryh.
6: What’s the one thing you’d most like people to know about you?
I'm a Christian and try to write in a manner that glorifies God. I'm not sure how well I succeed, but that's my goal.
7: Okay, tell us about your current novel, where can we find it?
CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE HERMAPHRODITE is the coming of age story of a child with a genetic condition resulting in short stature, a pixie face, and a sexually ambiguous body. When Jamie was five, her ethereal face and small size convinced her she was an elven princess. Her parents assured Jamie that minor surgery and a few years on testosterone would make him a normal boy. At sixteen, the four-foot-eleven soprano leaves a sheltered home school environment for a large university. The elven princess can live in the books Jamie reads and nobody in the dorm has to find out he isn't like other boys. When a medical student tells Jamie he should have been raised female, he decides to be a girl for a single day to see what her life might have been like. CONFESSIONS is scheduled to be released as an e-book by MuseItUp Publishing in September and a paperback by FaieMiss Press shortly thereafter.
8: Do you have any tips for aspiring authors?
Lay aside your dignity and pride, share from the heart, and risk as much as you dare for your story. Write first and worry about the rules later.
9: Do you base your characters on real-life people?
They say you write what about you know. I draw personality traits for my characters from the people around me, blending them to build a new character. Jamie's personality traits are based on people I know with that intersex condition.
10: How did you come up with the idea for this book?
I was already familiar with intersex conditions, but I was kind of blind-sided by the whole book thing. I wrote down the story in the hopes I'd be able to shake it. When I quit my day job to work on my writing full-time, my husband encouraged me to see it through until someone published my novel.
11: What are you currently working on?
I have a couple of story ideas brewing, but I'll keep editing CONFESSIONS until someone slaps my hand.
12. Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?
My writing flows from a concern for the kids about whom I write. I spent more than ten years answering inquiries on behalf of a support group for the parents of children such as Jamie. I'm hoping, in some small way, to contribute to their welfare.
13. Where can we find you? Website? Blog?
My blog is at www.liannesimon.com.
1: So, first question, what genre do you write?
I write young adult fiction dealing with social issues.
2: That sounds interesting. How long have you been writing?
In August of 2010 I woke with a story running through my mind. Since then I've been trying to learn how to write.
3: Yes, it’s a continuing process. We’re always learning. So, what do you like the most and least about writing?
The process is cathartic. It allows me to see how I might have handled life under different circumstances or as other people. The down side is I tend to feel everything my characters experience, so sometimes my mood has more to do with what's going on in the story than in my life.
4: Yes, it’s difficult sometimes to separate our lives. Tell us, what do you do for fun and relaxation when not writing?
I enjoy shopping, cooking, and reading. I try to walk every day to work out the stress.
5: I think all authors love to read. So, which authors do you like to read?
I enjoy history, fantasy, and science fiction. My favorites include JRR Tolkien, Neal Stephenson, Branden Sanderson, and CJ Cherryh.
6: What’s the one thing you’d most like people to know about you?
I'm a Christian and try to write in a manner that glorifies God. I'm not sure how well I succeed, but that's my goal.
7: Okay, tell us about your current novel, where can we find it?
8: Do you have any tips for aspiring authors?
Lay aside your dignity and pride, share from the heart, and risk as much as you dare for your story. Write first and worry about the rules later.
9: Do you base your characters on real-life people?
They say you write what about you know. I draw personality traits for my characters from the people around me, blending them to build a new character. Jamie's personality traits are based on people I know with that intersex condition.
10: How did you come up with the idea for this book?
I was already familiar with intersex conditions, but I was kind of blind-sided by the whole book thing. I wrote down the story in the hopes I'd be able to shake it. When I quit my day job to work on my writing full-time, my husband encouraged me to see it through until someone published my novel.
11: What are you currently working on?
I have a couple of story ideas brewing, but I'll keep editing CONFESSIONS until someone slaps my hand.
12. Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?
My writing flows from a concern for the kids about whom I write. I spent more than ten years answering inquiries on behalf of a support group for the parents of children such as Jamie. I'm hoping, in some small way, to contribute to their welfare.
13. Where can we find you? Website? Blog?
My blog is at www.liannesimon.com.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Books We Love Valentine's Contest
VALENTINE CONTEST
Drawings will be February 14 - Valentine's Day
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BOOKS WE LOVE READERS
ENTER TO WIN THESE FABULOUS PRIZES
Books We Love will be sending one lucky winner a gift certificate to a local Spa where they may choose a maniucre and pedicure or a 60 minute massage.
One lucky winner will win a print copy of Erin Quinn's new romantic suspense Web of Smoke.
One lucky winner will win a box of chocolates from Godiva's Valentine Assortment.
Two lucky winners will choose their choice of any Books We Love Spice ebook.
Enter at: http://bookswelove.net/contest.php
Drawings will be February 14 - Valentine's Day
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BOOKS WE LOVE READERS
ENTER TO WIN THESE FABULOUS PRIZES
Books We Love will be sending one lucky winner a gift certificate to a local Spa where they may choose a maniucre and pedicure or a 60 minute massage.
One lucky winner will win a print copy of Erin Quinn's new romantic suspense Web of Smoke.
One lucky winner will win a box of chocolates from Godiva's Valentine Assortment.
Two lucky winners will choose their choice of any Books We Love Spice ebook.
Enter at: http://bookswelove.net/contest.php
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Stacy Verdick Case talks about Getting Past Writer's Block
HELP! I’m stuck in a dry well!
Getting Past Writer's Block
Whenever I write, inevitably I get to a place where my creative well seems not only to dry up, but cave in on me. This is usually around page one-hundred; right after my story has gone off like a shot.
I’m not alone in this discovery, am I?
Many other writers have experienced this phenomenon. That’s why we come up with artful ways to describe what happens – the sagging middle, muse-go-bye-bye, and worst of all. . .Writers Block.
The problem, as I see it, is far simpler and less traumatic than those phrases make it out to be.
Writers frequently sit down to write because we had a brilliant idea for a story. In actuality, what we had was a brilliant idea for a scene. We rush to our keyboards or paper frantic to begin the process. After you have expended all your energy on the brilliant scene you realize, you have to tie that scene to a beginning and an end.
My friends a scene does not a story make.
At this point is where the real work of being a writer begins. Anyone can create a scene only writers know how to craft those few ideas into a masterpiece.
When you reach the “I’m stuck” place, ask yourself these questions:
• Do I know where to begin?
• Do I know where to end?
• Do I have one notable climactic scene to anchor all the others?
• Do I have several smaller climax scenes leading to the big scene?
My guess is the answer to at least one of the questions will be, no. In addition, I bet the question most frequently creating obstacles is the last.
We know we have to open by introducing the characters in their natural habitat. We know we have to wrap everything up at the end. The monumental crisis scene is what set us off on this adventure in the first place. What’s left are the foothills leading to the mountain.
The foothills are the trickiest because they have to do with motivation and conflict. What drove the person who kills twelve people in the final spectacular scene to that point? Motivation is straight forward. On the other hand, conflict seems to be the most difficult part for authors. After all, you’ve spent a lot of time giving birth to these characters, and making them decent people, now you want to torment them? What kind of a monster are you?
It’s okay. It’s your job to torment your characters, and their job to suffer.
If plot is a four-letter word to you, then mull over the dilemma, let it simmer until you know all the scenes that build your story. If you’re a plotter, send your charting skills into high-gear, and map out what you need to do to get from a to b to c.
Whether your process is organic or mechanical, don’t force the answers. If you do, the results will ultimately be stale and predictable. Take your time and wait for the answers to come.
Getting stuck happens, but we don’t have to treat it like it’s the end of the world. Instead, redefine being stuck as not yet ready to create, or an opportunity to dig deeper and discover you’re not in a dry well but a mineshaft full of gold.
Stacy Verdick Case is in the middle of her gold mine digging for pieces of the third book in her Catherine O’Brien mystery series. The first book in the series A Grand Murder is available in paperback, eBook, and now audio from Before the Fall Books. Visit Stacy on her blog, http://sostacythought.wordpress.com for more information on her writing and general musings.
Note from blog owner - Jsut wanted to say I read this book and enjoyed it. I look forward to reading more from the series.
Getting Past Writer's Block
I’m not alone in this discovery, am I?
Many other writers have experienced this phenomenon. That’s why we come up with artful ways to describe what happens – the sagging middle, muse-go-bye-bye, and worst of all. . .Writers Block.
The problem, as I see it, is far simpler and less traumatic than those phrases make it out to be.
Writers frequently sit down to write because we had a brilliant idea for a story. In actuality, what we had was a brilliant idea for a scene. We rush to our keyboards or paper frantic to begin the process. After you have expended all your energy on the brilliant scene you realize, you have to tie that scene to a beginning and an end.
My friends a scene does not a story make.
At this point is where the real work of being a writer begins. Anyone can create a scene only writers know how to craft those few ideas into a masterpiece.
When you reach the “I’m stuck” place, ask yourself these questions:
• Do I know where to begin?
• Do I know where to end?
• Do I have one notable climactic scene to anchor all the others?
• Do I have several smaller climax scenes leading to the big scene?
My guess is the answer to at least one of the questions will be, no. In addition, I bet the question most frequently creating obstacles is the last.
We know we have to open by introducing the characters in their natural habitat. We know we have to wrap everything up at the end. The monumental crisis scene is what set us off on this adventure in the first place. What’s left are the foothills leading to the mountain.
The foothills are the trickiest because they have to do with motivation and conflict. What drove the person who kills twelve people in the final spectacular scene to that point? Motivation is straight forward. On the other hand, conflict seems to be the most difficult part for authors. After all, you’ve spent a lot of time giving birth to these characters, and making them decent people, now you want to torment them? What kind of a monster are you?
It’s okay. It’s your job to torment your characters, and their job to suffer.
If plot is a four-letter word to you, then mull over the dilemma, let it simmer until you know all the scenes that build your story. If you’re a plotter, send your charting skills into high-gear, and map out what you need to do to get from a to b to c.
Whether your process is organic or mechanical, don’t force the answers. If you do, the results will ultimately be stale and predictable. Take your time and wait for the answers to come.
Getting stuck happens, but we don’t have to treat it like it’s the end of the world. Instead, redefine being stuck as not yet ready to create, or an opportunity to dig deeper and discover you’re not in a dry well but a mineshaft full of gold.
Stacy Verdick Case is in the middle of her gold mine digging for pieces of the third book in her Catherine O’Brien mystery series. The first book in the series A Grand Murder is available in paperback, eBook, and now audio from Before the Fall Books. Visit Stacy on her blog, http://sostacythought.wordpress.com for more information on her writing and general musings.
Note from blog owner - Jsut wanted to say I read this book and enjoyed it. I look forward to reading more from the series.
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