Yesterday UPS delivered my author copies of my July Blaze time travel, Highland Fling. I’m still just as goofy with this book as I was with my first. I’d seen the cover art and the back copy and well, heck, I’m the one that wrote the rest, but I couldn’t wait to pull out the finished product. :)

I know some writers who never read their work again once they’ve turned in the revisions and gone through the edits and galleys. Not me, baby. After I got Girl to bed and I showered last night, I sat down and stayed up ridiculously late reading the book from cover to cover. Maybe this is weird but I need to do that, give it a read-thru after I’ve had some distance from it. I’m usually reading to check myself. Am I happy with it? Would I/should I have written something differently, handled it another way? Are there any typos or errors that were missed?

I have a tendancy to be just a wee tad critical, particularly with myself, but I’m happy to say I love this book. Given the chance, and there is none so this is just as well:p, I wouldn’t change anything about the characters or the story itself. There is one word error and one pov blip but I think I’m the only one that will notice. Hopefully.:)

So, for a moment, last night and this morning, I have a sense of satisfaction, of a job well done. Uh-huh. And now it’s back to my WIP and, well, that’s another story.:[

Satisfaction is all too fleeting….;(

Some of my writer buddies at a conference.

Me at a conference.

What’s wrong with this picture?:s

Several years ago my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. After a mastectomy and radiation, she’s been cancer free. Earlier this year, a good friend’s mother went through the same thing. For many of us, more than I’d like to think, our lives have been touched by breast cancer, either directly or through someone we know.

A lovely woman in my kickboxing class is a fit, beautiful breast cancer survivor. Penny invited us to join her in a breast cancer fundraising walk, so on September 17th I’ll log in 10 miles to raise money for breast cancer. If you’d like to be a part of this by making a donation in memory of someone or simply because you think it’s a worthy cause, here’s the link that you can cut and paste into your browser.

https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=140092&lis=1&kntae140092=07752844318841EB9DE4637A222351EF&supId=131094000

Often what I need manages to find me. I opened a book last night and this was on the page. Compliments of Swami Sivananda.

The best thing to give
your enemy is forgiveness;
to an opponent, tolerance;
to a friend, your heart;
to your child, a good example;
to your father, deference;
to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of you;
to your self, respect;
to all men, charity.

So, there seems to be a buzz over books that are “hot” or “not.” I’m not jumping into this fray because I don’t have the time, energry, brain cells, or patience to devote to it. However, because I can’t manage to walk away from contention, I think I’ll have to dip my toe into it.:[

Quite frankly, I don’t get it. :s I don’t get the references to pornography or lack of character development or lack of emotion. I’ve read pornography, I’ve viewed pornography and I’m well-versed enough to know the difference…and there’s a huge difference.

If someone doesn’t like the sex, then read the lines without it, but don’t dismiss the books with as having no merit. I like Steak-n-Shakes chocolate shakes. If someone is lactose intolerant, well, they shouldn’t order that chocolate shake…but don’t tell me it’s not any good. Especially not when sales figures reflect a whole slew of people buying up those chocolate shakes.

I dare say that a well-written book with strong character development, deeply emotional, touching on a wide variety of issues can…gasp…include sex. Not fade-to-black but real between-the-sheets or :d on-the-table sex. I’d like to think that’s what I offer readers with each book. But then again…perhaps I’m delusional.

I’m dashing out the door to work at Field Day at my daughter’s school. My butt needs to be planted in this chair since I’m so behind schedule that I could cry…except crying isn’t going to do any good. Not sure how this happens. I’m not out having a good time or doing things I shouldn’t. For the most part, I’m here at my desk. But then a little story/writing block slaps me up side the head. I was LOVING this book. Having a good time writing it. It was going well and then screech the brakes jammed on. The longer I’m blocked, the more frantic I get because I see myself slipping further behind and even when I’m sitting at Mother’s Day brunch with my family it’s weighing on the back of my mind and…well, it’s not a pretty mental state.:[ Yesterday, however, I think I wrote a scene that broke through the block. I certainly hope so.

But I’m going to work at Field Day today because it’s my daughter’s last year at elementary school. And next week I’ll go to Lunch on the Lawn and Honor’s Day and the Fifth Grade Picnic and I’ll be there for their final walk through the halls and then we’ll have an after school party and I’m going to try very hard not to hyperventilate in the interim.

Trust me, I know there are a whole lot of other things in the world, nay the universe, to ponder, but this morning I have to give voice to the question, “Why do people leave their shopping carts strewn about the parking lot?” There can be a perfectly good cart return five cars down and I’ve seen people leave their cart standing. I’m not talking about the elderly, mothers with young children, or handicapped people. I’m talking about your average Joe or Joelene.

It really bugs me and rather than think that possibly I’m obsessing about something fairly trivial, I’ve decided it’s symbolic of facets of our society as a whole. It’s disregard and disrespect for other people’s property, i.e. the store’s cart and even more importantly, the cars it could damage in the parking lot. It’s a fundamental lack of courtesy. It’s slothfulness — leaving it for someone else to pick up after oneself. See, it is no longer simply an errant cart abandoned in a parking spot — it is the manifestation of societal ills making themselves known in a public forum.:o

Okay, so maybe I am obsessing :)…just a little, but does this bug anyone else?

We went to a wedding on Saturday afternoon — the prettiest wedding I think I’ve ever attended. It was outside and the backdrop was an 80-foot waterfall with the ruins of an ivy-covered stone building to the left. The day was flawless with fluffy white clouds punctuating a blue sky. Sunny but not hot. It was a couple of miles down a side road so you didn’t hear highway traffic. It was beautiful. I told my husband that’s where I was going to get married the second time around. :p He pretended not to hear me. I think he was terrified– not that I was going to dump him for Husband #2 but that I was going to start bugging him for a vow renewal and he was seeing dollar signs add up. :$

Anyway, on the way there, Girl asked, “Mom, are you going to cry?” Nope. I usually cry because it breaks my heart to see young girls who are essentially starry-eyed and clueless vowing to love, honor, and OBEY. It’s usually all I can do not to stand up and yell, “Don’t do it. Give it a couple of years and then marry him if you still want to, but you don’t have to do this now.”;( But that wasn’t the case this time. The bride is in her late twenties, the groom his early thirties. They’ve been together a couple of years.

And then I had that theory shot to hell.

I thought I was going to be fine…and I was until the best man escorted the matron of honor down the aisle, along with the ring bearer who was their two-year old in a little tux. It was so sweet, I teared up. And then it’s always so touching when the bride appears on the arm of her father. She was stunning in an elegant gown with a five-foot train and you could feel the father-daughter bond between these two. Who could fault me for shedding a few tears? And when the vows didn’t include OBEY, well, heck, I had to cry for joy.

The food afterwards was fabulous and everyone was having a great time. Then it was time for the couple to have their first dance together outside on the stone patio. Yeah, it was nice. They should’ve stopped there.:) Next the bride danced with her father. It was a country-western song about how the daughter’s always had the father wrapped around her finger. Well, that started the waterworks up for me again, even though the bride and her father were both smiling.

I still would’ve been okay, a little teary but okay if they’d stopped there. Heck no. How about the groom dancing with his mother to Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable? Let me take a minute to explain that I’ve known the groom for eight years. He’s a dirt track race driver and I’ve seen him in lots of different situations on and off the track but Saturday, I saw a new side of him. During that dance with his mother, he cried unashamedly in front of all his friends and family. Not just a few tears, but real crying. It was one of the most touching things I’ve ever witnessed. And of course, at that point, I was boo-hooing to beat the band, as was the woman standing next to me. Girl couldn’t even stay dry-eyed at that point.

So that’s it. So much for my previous theory as to why I cry. I guess I’m just a sucker, an emotional train wreck. I’m investing in water-proof mascara before I go to another wedding.