Welcome to my blog and sneak peek pages!

 

 

   We can’t hear you!

 

       I’m a mystery writer–read my ‘about me’ page to find out more.   Feel free to check out the excerpts from my Doggoned Mystery series and take a look at my favorite pictures of our pond.  The Bull Pen page has pictures of our bullies and friends.

 

     I lost a sister to breast cancer in 2001.   Please click on the Keep a Breast site below my blog lists.  With one click, you can aid in funding early detection of breast cancer.  Help us beat this beast.   It’s free and only takes a minute of your time.

 

    

Bad TV commercials

 

     Is it me or are the TV commercials getting worse?  It’s bad enough when we’re assaulted by one bad erectile dysfunction medication commercial after another, but now it’s Christmas shopping commercials.  Does anyone else find that blond lady on the Target commercials downright psycho?  She’s enough to give you nightmares.

     And don’t get me started on the mannequin with her jazz hands.  Give me cute.  Like the Armstrong Floor commercial with the skate boarding Bulldog.  Give me snappy and witty but please don’t tell me to have a happy period.  If Mother Nature ever showed up here to hand me a ‘present’, I’d slap the crap out of her.

     It’s no wonder parents go broke at Christmas.  Little Johnny and Janie are inundated with commercials for expensive toys they must have!  Excuse me, but what child NEEDS a $30.00 cell phone?  Children lose things!  Heck, they lose mittens that are strung through their coat sleeves around their necks or hermetically sealed to their coat cuffs.  Guaranteed you’ll be hearing about how they lost that phone within a week.  You might as well go flush the money down the toilet, or go lose it at the gambling tables.  It all amounts to the same thing.

     There are no limits to the insanity.

Writer’s guides: Yes, they are useful

 

     I can’t mention any writer’s guides books without first giving Lee Lofland’s book, Police Procedure & Investigation a guide for writers, a plug.  Hey, what can I say?  I know the guy and the book is a valuable resource, as is his web page.  (Take a note Lee; you might be getting a few more sales here.  Or, at the very least, some fact checking E-mails from me.)

     Writer’s Digest Books puts out tons of fantastic books for writers.  Right now, I’m making heavy use of Lee’s book and one written by Hal Blythe, Charlie Sweet, & John Landreth, Private Eyes a writer’s guide to private investigators.

     Also, thank heavens, I have to two real life PIs I can use as resources.  One of them I met at a writer’s conference and the other one Dear Hubby knows.  Not everything I write comes from books.  I do check my facts with the real McCoys. 

     Both of the books I’ve mentioned are from Writer’s Digest Books Howdunit Series.  They also put out The Elements of Fiction Writing Series and the Behind The Scenes series.  I think I’m missing one or two from that last series.  Hmmm, I think I need a shopping list.

Bath day for the pups…Oh no!

     I dread it.  Gavin and Patty are long over due for baths.  Why?  Because every time it’s a struggle to bathe them.  Well, the bath itself isn’t the struggle.  It’s getting them to the tub.

     Take Gavin, he will do anything for a cookie except follow you upstairs.  He hates baths.  He knows all the signs that there’s a bath in his future.  He knows that if you are on the stairs offering him a cookie this is not a good sign.  If you’ve taken the dog towels from the basement laundry to the bathroom, he knows someone is getting a bath.  He hopes it is Patty. 

     It isn’t, he goes first.  I put a leash on him, fill my pocket with cookies, and spend 15 minutes coaxing him upstairs and into the tub.  Once he’s in the tub, things go fast.  He’ll sit in the middle of the tub with his ears flattened to his head but he doesn’t fight it.  Once the bath is over with, he loves the drying part.  Then he dashes downstairs to pounce on DH and show him how clean he is.  I think he also tells Patty that she’s next.  Neener neener neener.

     Ah, Patty.  Patty weighs 65 lbs, as does Gavin.  She hates, hates, hates getting wet.  She makes bathing Gavin easy.  When she gets wind of a bath in her future, she hides in the back of her crate.  There aren’t enough cookies in the world to convince her that a bath is a good thing. 

     Have you ever tried to pry a 65 lb, stiff legged, dead weight dog out of a crate?  It isn’t easy.  Nor is it easy to drag that stiff legged, dead weight dog up a steep flight of steps, into the bathroom, and lift her into the tub.  Whereupon she goes into her ‘you hate me, poor pitiful me’ act as soon as the first drop of water hits her.

     Meanwhile Gavin giggles downstairs because he’s already had his bath and has a tummy full of cookies.

How many ways can you say crazy?

     Tonight a friend of mine (Jackie) and I were discussing the many ways you can say crazy.  There were the old stand bys of one sandwich shy of a picnic, his elevator doesn’t go to the top (some even say it hasn’t left the ground floor), the lights are on, but nobody is home.  Then she hit me with ‘her cheese has slid off her cracker’ and I fell on the floor.

     It was downhill from there.  We got worse.  They came swiftly nuttier than a fruitcake, one step short of Bedlam, and answering the cuckoo.  He’s one taco short of a combo plate, one brick short of a load, one egg roll short of a PuPu platter.  His rocket is not working on all thrusters. 

     And worse.  She’s such an air head, that the only thing that keeps things from going in one ear and out the other, is the “For Rent” sign in the middle.  He is a few fries short of a happy meal.  He has verbal diarrhea and mental constipation.  I think her sewing machine is out of thread.  Some drink from the fountain of knowledge, but he just gargled. 

     Have you any to add?

Writing, using others as soundboards

 

     I am fortunate to have a husband, a critiquing group, another mystery writer (Dave), and a good friend (G) to bounce ideas off when I need to.  Without them, I’d probably be stuck in some dark padded cell neatly decked out in a white coat that buckles in the back.

     Granted Dear Hubby will sometimes roll his eyes when the idea I have makes no sense, but he will help me work through it until it does.  He has also come up with some ideas I didn’t think of and they have been great.

     When I’m in the throes of writer’s block, Dave will ever so kindly get online and have a long BS session with me in IM.  He never fails to help me find new angles, red herrings, or scenes.

     When I hand my finished chapters to my critiquing group, they will catch things I didn’t see.  Boy, do they catch them.  They will let me bounce ideas off them on chapters I’ve not yet written. 

     Don’t be afraid to use others as a soundboard.  However, be aware that some people aren’t going to be helpful.  Then there will be other ones, where you will wonder how you ever did any writing without them.

It’s time to accentuate the positive

     For many people this time of the year is the most depressing.  I know it has been so for me for a long time.  However, I am determined that THIS year I will work towards a more positive and happy attitude. 

     I will remember to make myself feel happier.  Smile and the world smiles with you, it is true.  When you wear a smile, people tend to smile back.  Once they’ve smiled at you they will smile at the next person they meet and so on.  Pass along a smile today.  It’s uplifting and such a small thing to do.

     I will listen to others.  Everyone needs to talk but finding a willing ear to bend is often a problem.  How was your day?  I’m listening.

     I will take time to play.  Yes, I said play.  Everyone should play.  Bring out that inner child and let him/her have some fun. 

      Hmm, there’s still one big, fluffy pile of leaves in the yard I think it’s time I joined the dogs in a good dive in the leaves.

Rewriting, or why doesn’t that editor on my shoulder shut up?

 

     “There that chapter is fixed.”  I stretch and let out a satisfied sigh.

     My little editor taps me on the shoulder.  “Why did you take out that scene?”

     “Because it didn’t work with the changes I made.  Besides, the new scene is better.”

     “But I liked that scene.  It was a good scene.”  The editor kicks me in the temple. 

     “Ouch.  Shut up.  It’s not going back in.  It doesn’t work.”

     “And yet you kept that awful dialogue on page sixty one,” he says with a sneer.

     “That was good dialogue.  What makes you say it was awful?” 

     “Would anyone truly say that?  Is it realistic?”

     Beads of sweat break out on my forehead.  I pop up the page and read the dialogue aloud.  “I think it’s realistic.  I don’t see any problem with it.”

     “Okay, I’ll let that slide, but—“

     “No buts.  It’s time to move on to the next chapter.”

     “Okay.  In the first scene, you need to—“

     “Shut up!  Let me do it.  I know what I want to do here.”

     The editor flops onto the back of my chair and whines, “You never listen to me.”

     “Do too.”

     “Do not.”

     “Have it your way.  Now, chapter thirteen, page seventy seven.  Scene one stays as it is.”

     “Are you sure about that?”

He is my rock and I am his

 

     When I was very young, someone told me I shouldn’t dream.  The same someone always laughed and sneered at my ideas and me.  I believed that someone for a long while.  For many years I hid my dreams, buried them deep inside me, until they came close to dying. 

     If you do not attempt to reach for your dreams, you are not living.  One day, my dreams and I began to live again.

     That was when Dear Hubby came into my life, he told me I could and should always dream.  He encouraged me to explore my ideas.  He’s supported me, defended me, and is always in my corner.  He has never once told me I couldn’t or shouldn’t.  He tells me he is proud of me in whatever I do.

     When I made some tough decisions in life, he stood beside me. 

     When he needs me, I am there for him.  When he falls, I’ll pick him up.  When he dreams, I encourage him.  When he makes tough decisions, I stand beside him.

The Idas

 

     Hurricane Ida is throwing a lot of wind our way.  It hasn’t rained much although it’s been overcast for days.  It did begin to rain a bit around 3 a.m. though.  How do I know this?  Because the pups wanted to go out.  Not a peep out of them all night until it began to rain.

     Hurricane Ida is feisty and makes me think of another Ida I knew.  She lived with us.  She had white hair, wore glasses, was under five feet tall, and was almost as round as she was tall.  Ida was a lively woman who loved to walk.  She could walk all of us grandkids into the ground on any given day.  She learned to do the twist when she was in her seventies.

     Oh, that woman could bake!  The cookie jar was always full and the house was scented with baked goods for as long as I can remember.  My baby sister loved peanut butter cookies and she often made them for her.  I loved her chocolate drop cookies, oatmeal and raisin, and Snickerdoodles.  She had a true weakness for chocolate, dark chocolate being her favorite.  I know she passed that obsession on to me.

For what are you thankful?

 

     I promised Dave, that sometime this month I’d do a post on what we are thankful for, so here goes.

     I’m thankful for every moment with my Dear Hubby, the love of my life, may we have many more years ahead of us.  I’m thankful that I’m healthy.  I’m thankful that we have a roof over our heads, our mortgage is paid, and we have food on the table.  I’m thankful for the love of two silly dogs.

     I’m thankful for the love and support of my wonderful Aunts and Cousins.  Have I told you all lately how much I love you? 

     I’m thankful for all my wonderful friends who never fail to lift my spirits.  I love you guys too.

     I’m thankful to be able to follow my own path in life.

     I’m thankful to be who I am, all I’ve experienced—the good and the bad, who touched me, who I’ve touched, and for those who have gone before me.  I’m thankful for the joys of living and the lessons of loss and grief.

     I’m thankful for the people who take time out of their day to read what I write here.