Friday, April 7, 2017

Fifty Shades of Cray-Cray

I haven't posted an anti-Trump rant in over a month. This one is way past due. To those of you who still support him, you might want to skip this post. It's not going to be pretty.

Yep, he's cray-cray. And for those who can't figure out
the author's name, "T.M." is for "Two Middle"

Some people think he was sent by God. Some of them are actually pastors, so they have no excuse for making such a claim. They should know better. Yes, Saul of Tarsus did kill Christians before his conversion to the Apostle Paul--but when it happened, he changed so profoundly it was clear to see God's hand at work in his life. Those used by God have been broken, damaged people--that's how everyone knew it was God working through them. Trump, on the other hand, has broken most, if not all seven deadly sins and shows no sign of having changed at all.

Some think he's the antichrist. I must admit, I've entertained this possibility. I did think the antichrist would be smarter, though. He's supposed to be a master manipulator. Okay, Trump seems to have manipulated a lot of people into buying his load of crap, including some I've always considered to be intelligent people. I can't quite figure that out. It's not as if he's an unknown, a white knight riding out of nowhere with claims of being able to save the world, fooling people with his charm and good deeds. And it's not like he's changed--he's still the same old blowhard he's always been, bragging about himself at every opportunity and spending too much time trying to convince himself and the rest of the world that he won the 2016 election by a landslide (he didn't) and that he would have won the popular vote, had it not been for illegal votes cast (he just can't stand to lose, which just might be this country's downfall).

This guy is no savior. He's no champion of the people. He got elected because people were desperate for change. In that respect, both parties failed us. The Democrats gave us the candidate they wanted us to have, who was part of the problem we had with our political system, not a possible solution. They may indeed have been hacked by the Russians, but their hands aren't clean, either. They manipulated things on their end without any help. The Republicans couldn't come up with anybody who could beat Trump in the primaries, which says a lot about the state of their party, too--or had the hacking to win him the election already begun?

Trump may not be a career politician, but he's no outsider, either. He's one of those billionaires who owns the politicians. Like any seasoned politician/snake oil salesman, he told the desperate people what they needed to hear, and used them to rise to power. He's still playing them, while he and his family and cronies use our treasury as their personal ATM. He spends all of his time tweeting nonsense or playing golf, much like Nero was supposed to have fiddled while Rome burned. Nero lived lavishly and behaved inappropriately. He executed his opponents. A Trump role model?

During the 2016 campaign, Trump suggested throwing Hillary Clinton in prison if he were elected. The taxpayers are picking up the tab for his frequent trips to play golf in Florida, Secret Service protection for his children when they travel on Trump family business, and most recently, one hundred Secret Service agents protecting the Trump extended family vacationing in Aspen. Yet he says the government can't afford to cover social programs like school lunches and Meals on Wheels. Healthcare for all is too expensive, he says. He thinks the office he holds makes him above the law. Sounds familiar.... 

In the end, the people who gave him their unconditional support will be the biggest losers. I predict they'll turn on him, and may even try to do away with him. To them, I say don't. He's not worth prison, execution. Anyway, it can't be done without a silver bullet.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Decisions, Decisions...Maybe I Should Just Flip a Coin!

I grew up on a farm, and I'd love to live on one again--with more animals than people around, no kids hitting my front door with their soccer ball, no noisy neighbors, little traffic. But apartment living is much more practical at this point in my life for a number of reasons--for one, I can't drive. Intractable epilepsy makes having a driver's license impossible, along with a number of other activities most people take for granted. Two, arthritis--not only can I not drive, most days I find walking requires a monumental effort. You should see me trying to get off my couch! A small place, easy to keep up with on the cleaning front, makes much more sense. So while I yearn for the solitude of farm life and a good place to set up a telescope and do some serious stargazing, I settle for noisy neighbors and the frequent wail of police sirens. I'm a little fed up with people coming in while we're not home, though. Collin and I both work at home, so we're here 95% of the time. Can't they come while we're here? The day we came home to find our shoe rack rearranged and a strange device on the wall behind our TV, we bought a security camera so we could see what's going on in here while we're out. (It's cool. We can watch what's happening at home from Collin's phone.)


As I grow older, it's also more difficult to read. Cataracts and glaucoma are a nasty combination. Fortunately, my current favorite authors, Janet Evanovich and Jim Butcher, are available through Audible. These days, though, I find myself choosing nonfiction more often than not. Go figure. Ten years ago, it was all fiction all the time--or almost all the time, anyway. I usually steer clear of my publisher's Facebook page these days, as most of the authors there are looking for reviews--you know, "I'll review yours if you review mine." With my vision problems, it would take so long to read just one book for review, I don't volunteer, and I don't ask for reviews. Wouldn't be fair to ask if I can't reciprocate.

I have the same ambivalence as a writer. The ideas are there. The motivation isn't. I can write something funny and it comes as easily as breathing. Mysteries and romance, not so much. What once came effortlessly is now a daily struggle. Eventually, I'll finish something.

Eventually. Maybe.

I hate doing promotion and marketing, though. That's one of the few things I miss about traditional publishing--they did all of that for me. I refuse to do it now, even if it means lower sales. No offense to my fellow authors, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who finds the tsunami of Buy My Book posts on social media annoying. There's promotion, and then there's taking it way too far. Authors are fast replacing proud new parents and grandparents armed with baby photos as the people everyone goes out of their way to avoid. (Have any of you ever seen the episode of I Love Lucy in which Lucy and Ricky are at odds with Fred and Ethel over Ricky's nightly showings of his home movies? I don't want people throwing rocks at me.)

I know self-promotion is a necessary evil for authors trying to build their careers, whether they're self, indie or traditionally published (unless, in the latter case, they're lucky enough to be in one of the top spots on a Big Five publisher's list and the recipient of a portion of their publisher's promotional budget). It's not easy. I've known talented authors who would rather give up writing than have to do their own marketing. Some of them actually have.

Whatever happened to word-of-mouth being the best sales tool? I guess I'll find out....

Friday, March 3, 2017

The Best Day Ever...38 Years Ago Today

Today is Collin's thirty-eighth birthday. Boy, am I feeling old!

Funny, I can't always remember what I had for breakfast or what day it is or whether or not I took my meds...but I remember every detail of the birth of my only child. I guess it's a mom thing.

I thought I was prepared for childbirth. I didn't take the classes, but I read every book I could find. I had a lot of friends with children who told me their stories. But when I went into labor, I was clueless.

My due date was Saturday, March 3, 1979.  That Friday, I was feeling great, full of energy. That night, when I went to bed, I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary--but I woke around 1:30 a.m., feeling what I thought was cramps. I went to the bathroom. Back in bed, everything seemed fine again. A while later, the cramps returned. Another trip to the bathroom. I tried to go back to sleep, but the pain returned soon after. I couldn't get comfortable in bed, so I went into the living room and tried to sleep in the recliner. It didn't help. Slowly, reality started to sink it. I got my LED watch and started timing the contractions. Seven minutes apart.

I went to wake Mom, but Dad had already taken care of that, telling her, "I think it's time to go to the hospital."

It was raining when we left, a cold rain. My feet were swollen. I couldn't put my shoes on, so I went barefoot. I must have looked pretty silly in a coat I could no longer button and no shoes. Fortunately, St. Anthony's Medical Center wasn't very far away. It was a fairly new hospital back in 1979, not nearly as big as it is now and had no valet parking at that time. Mom drove up to the emergency entrance, helped a nurse get me into a wheelchair, then went to park the car.

"Left in a hurry?" the nurse asked as she wheeled me to the labor room. "You forgot something."

She was talking about my shoes. "I didn't forget," I told her. "I couldn't get them on."

Mom caught up with us in the labor room. We were told my obstetrician would be called when I was closer to delivering. It seemed to take an eternity, bur was in fact only a couple of hours. I wanted Mom in the delivery room, and she wanted to be there, but we were told that wouldn't be possible because we hadn't taken the classes. They didn't want the new grandmother freaking out during the delivery. 

"You don't have to worry about her," I insisted. "She's delivered a lot of puppies and pigs."

For some inexplicable reason that didn't seem to impress the nurse.

She asked Mom how much I weighed at birth. "Six pounds, one half ounce," Mom told her.

"This baby is going to be quite a bit bigger than that," the nurse predicted.

I was two weeks premature. Of course I was little.

My doctor finally arrived. As he started to examine me, the nurse told him she'd just examined me and I wasn't ready yet. He looked up at her. "She is now," he said. "Get her to delivery."

You hear stories about women in labor behaving like angry wild animals. I can tell you it must be true, because after I took a swing at a nurse in the delivery room, I was knocked out. The next thing I remember was waking in recovery. Mom was on the phone, telling Dad the baby had arrived. She was crying. Was something wrong?

"And he has hair!" Mom wailed into the phone.

Hair? She was crying because my baby had hair? I wanted to choke her! Her crying had scared me. Thankfully, it was at that moment the nurse placed my beautiful baby boy on my chest.

Most first babies are born either before or after the due date. Collin was born on the date at 7:56 in the morning after just over six hours of labor.

Best day ever.

Monday, February 20, 2017

The Mystery of the High-Pressured Sales Pitch

The mystery is why the salesman thinks it's always going to work.

Collin and I have been thinking about joining a gym/workout club/health club, whatever they're actually called these days, for a while now. I used to have a lifetime membership at one--until they went out of business. So call me skeptical. Fitness fads come and go. For a time, everybody seemed to be squeezing in exercise during their busy days of multitasking, with no time to drive to a gym, change, work out, shower, and drive home.

Maybe that's why the one I belonged to went out of business. I don't know.

I wish it were still around. When I was a member, it was a good distance from my home. Now, I live within walking distance of that location. There's a new one in the same plaza, but it lacks all the things I loved about the old one: steam room, sauna, whirlpool, pool. Still, Collin and I thought about joining. We both have arthritis and our doctors recommended exercise. We have equipment at home, but you know how that goes. 

At least we're not using them for clothing racks. Not yet, anyway.

The neighborhood club advertised free seven day passes, so we decided it would be a good time to try it out, see if they could help us, if we could stick with it. I made an appointment for us to get signed up last Friday. We were shown around by a pleasant young man who told us about the equipment and the classes offered. Not only do they not offer all of those wonderful things I miss about my old club, they also don't offer the massages advertised for other locations in the chain. If we wanted just the basics, we can do that at home!

After the tour, instead of giving us the seven-day passes, he pulled out a list of membership options. No matter how many times, I tried to steer him back to the passes, he kept pushing for a commitment--which we were not willing to make without trying out the facilities. Finally, frustrated, we left--and I voiced my opinion of the sales tactics on their Facebook page. I got an apologetic response and an offer of the promised passes, but we had already decided it would be  a waste of time.

I confess, this isn't the first time I'd had the same experience at other locations in this particular chain. Fortunately, I have no problem saying no.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

What's Better Than Getting Something for Nothing?

Two of my novels are currently free (ebook editions only) at Amazon. If you haven't read them but would like to, now's the time!

Angels at Midnight Complete

From Publishers Weekly
Set primarily in the glamorous art milieus of San Francisco and Manhattan, Beishir's (Dance of the Gods) novel makes exciting stopovers in Monte Carlo, Venezuela, Big Sur and other exotic locales. The pages are rife with sizzling sex, suspense and conflict, expertly paced, as both hero and heroine are motivated to bend the law by a powerful need for revenge. Abby Giannini, who has changed her name to Ashley Gordon, loses custody of her son in a vicious court battle with her deceased husband's parents. Collin Deverell, heir to an oil fortune, trades his share in his late father's company for the rights to his mother's art and jewelry estate. But when his ambitious twin Justin defrauds him of his inheritance, Collin too has a score to settle. Collin and Ashley's joint quest for justice and lusty romance make for compulsive reading.
Copyright 1989 Reed Business Information Inc.

Amazon review by William Kendall on Aug. 10 2016

Format: Kindle Edition
The author published the book during her days with Berkley, and gives us two very sympathetic protagonists we can immediately connect with in an intricately plotted, well paced novel that explores themes of love, family, loss, revenge, and how far people will go for their own measure of justice. While our protagonists don't actually meet until halfway through the book, that's a good thing, as we get to follow them along parallel lines for more then a decade, getting to know them, sharing their triumphs and their despair.

Collin Deverell is one of two twin sons, heir to a fortune that his father, an oil tycoon, expects him to take part in. While his brother Justin readily involves himself in the family business, Collin has little wish to tie himself down to an executive life, preferring a carefree life of adventure and his love of fencing. With the sudden death of their parents on a business trip, Collin takes the chance to live life on his own terms, turning over shares in the family company and all responsibility to his brother in exchange for the family mansion, the art collection, and his mother's jewelry. He lives abroad for some years, rarely settling down, living his carefree life, seducing whatever woman crosses his path. When he returns home, he finds that the valuable paintings and jewels have all gone missing, sold off by his devious brother. Collin vows to take back what's rightfully his, even if it means breaking the law and going after some very dangerous people to do it.

Ashley Gordon is an artist from the Napa Valley in California who establishes a career for herself in San Francisco. After becoming a success in the art world and on the social circuit, she falls in love with Brandon Hollister. They're happy together, and Brandon wants to marry her, though she's puzzled by his complete estrangement from his parents. When we meet them, it's not hard to understand: Bradley and Claudia Hollister are downright nasty to the core. Ashley and Brandon marry, have a son, Robert and are happy together, until Brandon is killed in a plane crash. In the wake of her grief, Ashley is hit again when her in-laws launch a custody battle for their grandson, using bribery, lies, and their connections to take him away from Ashley. Ashley is, understandably, devastated.

It's into this mix that Ashley and Collin meet. Collin's been busy recovering what was stolen from him by becoming a thief himself, learning the trade from a master who saves his life. What started out for him as a mission to take back what's his becomes something more, as he discovers his father's company has been mismanaged by his brother, and is falling into the hands of a criminal syndicate who are readily dismantling it. The syndicate are made up of the same people who have possession of his property, and what began as thefts to recover property gradually shifts, as Collin realizes he does, in fact, have a responsibility to save the company his father built. And since Bradley Hollister is a member of the syndicate, Collin decides to enlist his former daughter-in-law as a partner to bring down the syndicate, save his family company, and restore Ashley's son to her custody.

It's a wise decision to keep the two from really meeting until mid way through the book. We, the reader, get to see both characters develop fully on their own, so we care about them and what happens to them (Ashley's loss of her husband and her son are particularly painful, which is one of the reasons the book works so well). When Collin and Ashley start working together, we see a growing connection between them, an emotional intimacy that comes across as very real. This is a testament to how human the two characters feel. They have depth, quirks, and flaws. As Ashley learns the tricks of the trade, of sleight of hand and the use of disguise, she and Collin find themselves drawn closer and closer. The bond and growing love between them comes across to the reader as the real thing. We come to root for them to achieve all they're after, and it's because of how well both of them have been written.

In every heist story, to root for the person pulling off the heist, it requires that the target be unsympathetic. Certainly having the target be a criminal syndicate is a very good way of having the reader dislike the target. And the primary targets, Bradley and Claudia Hollister, are more then worthy of our dislike. Both of them, particularly Claudia, are cruel and malicious. It's not hard to understand why their son broke ties with them, and as readers, we want to see them brought down, broken, and defeated.

Justin Deverell is another interesting character in the book. Early on it felt like he'd be the primary antagonist of the book, but as things go on, it's made clear that he's the dupe, the tool for the syndicate to dismantle the family company after they're done using it. I enjoyed the premise Norma used that Collin and Justin aren't the kind of twins we're used to in fiction... they have nothing in common but blood, barely speak for years, and ultimately are so far apart that it's doubtful they'll ever bridge that gap. There's no closer then blood mental connection sort of bond between these two twins, and it's a refreshing change.

There is a wild card sort of character I thought I'd make mention of. Anton DeVries, an insurance investigator, lurks in the background of the story. He first comes into the picture after Collin discovers the theft of his possessions. Through the rest of the book, he suspects Collin, looks for proof, and takes part in a pivotal moment towards the climax. He's an interesting character, something of a bloodhound, or a Javert to Collin's Valjean. DeVries is a good adversary, conflicted by catching a man who he knows to be morally right.

The attention to detail throughout the book is spot on, and perhaps never as much as during the various thefts that take place in the book. From training sequences in which both Collin and Ashley learn how to become thieves to the heists themselves, each act feels intricate, and brings a lot of variety to the table. An escape from a time lock safe and a judicious use of a mirror stand out particularly for me during the theft sequences. And the attention to detail also reflects itself in the early sequences featuring fencing and the artistic process.

Angels At Midnight is a beautifully written book that you'll enjoy reading. The plot and pacing of the novel keeps the reader on the edge. The details drawn out in the book about technique, places, and situations give it a very real world sensibility. And the characters really make the novel. Collin and Ashley are a winning couple that we can't help but sympathize with, to root for, and to cheer.

And who knows? Perhaps Robert has siblings... and all of them have grown up to take after Ashley and Collin's habit of breaking into high security vaults....

Final Hours cover - new
Amazon review by Mark R. Hunter on November 14, 2013

Final Hours fooled me: Despite the title, it isn’t really about the giant asteroid that’s about to wipe out human civilization. On the contrary, if there was ever a story that’s all about the journey, it’s this one.

Jamie Randall has to make a decision in the hours leading up to the apocalypse: Retreat to a secretly built bunker, where he might survive to continue his loveless marriage, or seek out the woman he’s loved for the last fourteen years and die with her? We soon know his decision – the story is about why he made it, and as we wait to know his fate the story flashes back to the events that led him there.

It turns out Jamie is – let’s face it – a jerk, although as we learn more about his history we get to know why. He married his wife to get ahead, to get revenge over those who once had power over him. The events that keep him in the marriage are believable, if tragic.

He’s rescued in every way when Kate appears, quite literally saving his life. The rest of the book is a love story, as Jamie woos Kate but is stymied again and again in his attempts to make her more than “the other woman”.

The truth is, Jamie probably doesn’t deserve either of the women at first, and by the time he starts trying to do the right thing he’s dug himself into a hole deeper than the one the asteroid’s going to make. Kate is practically a saint, while Jamie’s wife is trapped just as much as he is, and I kept rooting for a way for them to all get away happy.

That says something about the story – that we want to know how it all comes out, even though we already know it from the very beginning.

on July 14, 2009

Final Hours is a good book to spend an afternoon curled up with. The story follows a man named Jamie, who has heard that the end of the world is coming, and because his wife is the daughter of a senator, he and his family are secured a spot in a safehouse, where they will be most likely to survive. But Jamie does not want to go. Instead, he realizes that he must face up to his mistakes and do the one thing he's been wanting to do for the last fifteen years: spend his final hours with the woman he loves.

Forced to choose between his own happiness and the happiness of those he cares about, Jamie spends most of the book torn between the woman he loves and the woman he needs. His wife, the mother of his sons, was able to give Jamie everything he thought he wanted out of life, but when a free-spirited photographer named Kate saves his life, he begins to realize that maybe his priorities were wrong all along, and it's time to start living the way he now knows he needs to.

Despite some bad choices all of the characters make, they really are what makes the story golden. Everyone makes bad choices, and these characters are all willing to face up to their mistakes, which makes them all the more admirable. They're doing what they think is right in the current situation, and that's really what sets them apart. The story really makes you think about life and love, and what it really means to be alive. And most importantly, when everything is stripped away, what truly is important enough for us to spend our final hours doing?

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

And Now For Something Different....

It's a cover reveal!

My friend/fellow author/blogger, Hilary Grossman, has a new book being published soon. Hilary's a wonderful author, and her newest, Plan Cee, is a sequel to Plan Bea. (She's also doing a giveaway--a $10 Dunkin Donuts gift card! I've never done Rafflecopter before, so check it out at her Facebook page (listed below)....

Plan Cee:

Would you abandon your present for a second chance at your past?

Cecelia Reynolds has spent most of her life trying to forget the commitment-phobic man who broke her heart. It wasn’t easy, but eventually she did it, or so she thought…

As Cecelia and her husband gather for a friend’s wedding, her perfect world is thrown into complete turmoil. Even though it’s been twenty years since she last laid eyes on Keith Emerson, all it takes is one glance for her to feel emotions she thought were long gone. When Keith ends up officiating the ceremony, she quickly realizes his message of love is directed at her, not the happy couple. But can she believe him?

We live our entire lives thinking we know ourselves. But do we ever really?

As secrets and lies cause Cecelia’s world to spin completely out of control, she is forced to seek advice from the most unlikely ally. In the process, she must confront the demons of her past and the events that shaped her into the woman she is now. Will she finally learn the real meaning of love, friendship, and family?

While this book is a sequel to Plan Bea, it also reads as a standalone.
About the author: 

By day, Hilary Grossman works in the booze biz. By night she hangs out with her "characters." She has an unhealthy addiction to denim and high heel shoes. She's been known to walk into walls and fall up stairs. She only eats spicy foods and is obsessed with her cat, Lucy. She loves to find humor in everyday life. She likens life to a game of dodge ball - she tries to keep many balls in the air before they smack her in the face. She lives on Long Island. 

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Enough, Already!

Anybody who's read any of my posts from the past year knows where I stand with regard to the presidential election and the circus currently going on in Washington DC. I've made no secret of it. However, I've confined my opinions to my own blog, Facebook and Twitter pages--and exchanges with others on the same side of the political fence. It became clear early on that neither side would change the other's minds, so why waste time and effort trying?

Despite this, I haven't been able to completely avoid the trolls. I've had to block a few from my Facebook page in recent weeks. (Makes me wish I had only accepted friend requests from actual friends.) One scolded me for posting a particularly funny photoshopped magazine cover. That lecture was from someone I actually do know--that woman's been sticking her nose where it doesn't belong since the day I met her, so no, I don't have any regrets about blocking her.

The other two were people I only knew from Facebook, and not very well at that. I rarely interacted with either of them. It makes me wonder why they felt the need to make asses of themselves on my page. Why didn't they keep their opinions on their own pages? Didn't they realize that if they sound off on someone else's, there's a 99% chance that person really doesn't give a rat's ass what they think?

William and I have talked about this. He's the veteran of many Troll Wars (and multiple Facebook suspensions). It's best to just ignore the other person's attempt to engage you. That's easy when the person trying to start a fight is someone you have no real connection with--not so much so when it's a friend.

I've seen other posts on this, so I know I'm not the only one dealing with the BS. Apparently, somebody's mothers never taught them if they couldn't say something positive, just shut up and move along.

I guess the argument could be made that I asked for it by posting the stuff. Not true. I don't start fights with people who post things that I don't like. I just don't comment at all. We all have the right to post our political positions, pictures of our kids, detailed descriptions of what we had for breakfast, funny memes, anything we want (except maybe porn--there are kids on social media, after all), no matter how silly it might seem to everyone else, without being harassed.

Stepping off the ol' soapbox now....

Thursday, January 19, 2017

(For Once We're Not) TGIF!

Doomsday is fast approaching. 

In less than twenty-four hours, the Orange-tufted Republican Moron will take the oath of office and we'll all be doomed. As for his supporters, I guess the fact that most of them think the Affordable Care Act and Obamacare are not the same thing says a lot about how the loon got elected. 

Upon hearing that all of the major television networks and a number of radio stations plan to stick us with all-day coverage of the coronation inauguration, Collin and I decided we'd do something NOT celebrating the biggest mistake the United States has ever made (at least in my lifetime). We're going to the movies. In the morning, we'll be seeing The Resurrection of Gavin Stone, a Christian comedy about a bad boy actor (Brett Dalton, Agents of SHIELD) who does community service at a church and finds himself and his true purpose. Afterward, it's going to be lunch at TGI Fridays (there's irony in that choice, given that this is one Friday we're NOT thankful for!). Then, in the afternoon, we're going back to the theater to see Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. I'm pretty sure no one needs to be told what that one's about!

That is, I hope we're going.

Still dealing with arthritis. It started in my knees, then moved to my hips, arms, hands and spine. My back has been killing me the past few days (not literally). Early this morning, I had to go to the bathroom--but I couldn't get out of bed. My left knee was bent and wouldn't straighten out. So here I was, trying to figure out how to get from my bed to the bathroom. My cane was in my backpack. Collin was asleep, and there was zero chance of waking him. He's slept through a house explosion in the past--no exaggeration! Our weather radio is quite loud when a warning is issued. He's slept through that, too, so I was pretty sure he wouldn't hear me calling to him.

The table next to my bed is a glass-topped table with a metal frame and is on casters. I finally decided to use it as a walker. Obviously, I couldn't put my weight on the glass--I've already cracked it accidentally. But I could use the frame to balance myself well enough to get to the bathroom door, and from there I could lean on the sinktop.

By the time I got to the bathroom, my knee had finally relaxed enough for me to straighten my leg, but I am definitely going to talk to my doctors about approving me for an electric scooter....


Tuesday, January 10, 2017

No New Year's Resolutions, But Maybe, Just Maybe....

I don't make New Year's resolutions. I gave up on that a long time ago. I'd make a long list of things I was determined to do in the coming year...and I'd inevitably blow it before January 31st. But this year, there will be change. Some of them will be necessary.

2016 wasn't my best year, and not only because of the presidential election (though that was definitely not something to celebrate). No...there were multiple health issues. My blood pressure wasn't being controlled by the medications I was taking, so there were changes to be made. I already take so many different meds that if pharmacies qualified for government bailouts, I'd apply.

My eyesight is getting worse. I've dictated material off and on in the past, but the time came to finally get serious about it. We have a 40" TV. I told Collin it's time to start shopping for a bigger screen. And the arthritis in my knees has taken up residence in my hips, hands, shoulders and spine. The spine issues are complicated. My doctor tells me the nerves are being affected by that, which is causing certain areas of skin to feel like they've been soaked in Novocaine. No fun.

Arthritis has also visited Collin--but in his case, it was a blessing in disguise. Settled in his feet, it was no longer possible for him to continue working at IHOP, on his feet all day. He now works and takes his college courses at home. And I have him back as a collaborator! We've already started working together on Sucker-Punched, which will no longer be serialized.

Serialization doesn't work for me, anyway.  I should have realized it wouldn't. I have never written any of my books from page one to The End in any kind of order.  I write like I'm making a patchwork quilt, piecing a book together once I have enough scenes to make it work. Oh, well.

Where does that leave An Army of Angels? I honestly don't know. I want to finish it, but as a serial, there are still a lot of gaps. As a series of novels, I'd have to figure out how to deal with overlapping chronologies. 

I now have three blogs--two here at Blogger and one at WordPress. Not easy to keep up with three blogs and do three posts a week at two of them, especially with blog readership declining. But I'll maintain this one...and post when I have something to say. As for the other two, we'll see.

And on a final note, Creativia is now doing free ebook promos! The Unicorn's Daughter is currently available! 

Monday, January 2, 2017

Obituary: 2016. Good Riddance!

2016. Died a painful death at midnight on December 31st. Left as its legacy fear, unrest, racism,  bigotry and all of the other evils released from Pandora's Box. Survived by Sadness, Uncertainty, Nepotism, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Mourned by none.

Birth Announcement
2017. Entered this world at midnight full of hope for the future, until its true identity comes to light and the Unholy Trinity rises to power....