Saturday, April 18, 2015

Selling Houses and Dating Boys Part Deux

This week, I threw it back to a post on selling houses and dating boys. In it, I wrote about how I felt that "I don't get perfect," in either real estate transactions or in dating gentlemen callers.

At the time I wrote that post, I was actually seeing someone quite lovely. Like, "Oh my god, where have you been" kind of lovely. Like "Came over and helped me get my house ready for sale, mowed my lawn twice, cleaned my kitchen, helped me put a door on my cabinets" kind of lovely. Kind of looked like Sage Teon kind of lovely.

And it fizzled out in the way that most of my relationships nowadays usually do: he just stopped calling and texting about two weeks ago.

Womp womp.

Interestingly, I actually have a little bit different opinion about things now as February. What I have since realized is that I tend to hold onto what I have versus taking a risk on the unknown. And when I lose something, my initial reaction is that I won't ever get something that good again so I hold onto it in my mind.

What I am beginning to understand is that "Holding onto the past because I'm afraid of the future is no way to live."

This is not a new discovery, because I wrote that in Empath almost six months ago. But it's taken a while to sink in.



So bringing it back to the TBT post, I did end up getting another offer on my house. The funny thing is, if the first had gone through, I actually would have made less money overall because I would have had to do a rent-back agreement and pay for two months of their mortgage so I could stay until May. Even now, the deal includes a 1.5% assistance on closing, but I still walk away with more money.

With the guy who stopped calling, while he's a lovely human being, I also know that the right place for me is in Pensacola. And if you aren't from there, it's really hard to adapt to that lifestyle. Yeah, beach and sun and fun, but it's also a small town with rednecks (I use that term with love). I couldn't ask anyone to be miserable on my account.

Honestly, the hardest thing for me to do is to accept that the universe has better things in store for me. Nothing, it seems, happens to me because of pure luck or happenstance. My career, my books, everything happened because I did the work. And I always feel like the universe is out to get me, so I'm always working extra hard to keep ahead of Plethegon it. So for me to accept that the universe is taking away something because there's something better down the road is hard, because it would mean that I'd have to accept that the Great Creator universe doesn't hate me.

Yet the proof is in the pudding. None of this - S. Usher Evans, Razia, Empath, any of it - would have happened had I not let go of my old relationship. I wouldn't be moving home, I wouldn't be happy, not really. There is always something else down the road - maybe not better, but different.

A lot of this boils down to perspective, as well. If you described the person I am right now to the person I was in June 2013, Whitney of 2013 would never have believed that this lifestyle would have made me happy. And yet, it does.

Perfect, then, is in the eye of the beholder.

Namaste.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

TBT Update - Staying the Course

For today's TBT, I highlighted a blog I wrote back in August that talked about staying the course and keeping to my intention. I threw out a bunch of ideas an expectations and now I'm just laughing about how little (and much) I knew. It's so comforting to see that I have, in fact, made significant progress since last August.

So I thought I'd go through, one by one, and showcase where I am and where I'd thought I'd be:

By not going with Amazon's Select program, I am unable to offer my book for free (without a whole bunch of hullabaloo) and I can't enroll it in Kindle Unlimited. Beyond that, because my book is not included in this program, I am penalized in their ranking system.

For someone who lives and dies by metrics, being in the three digits (instead of the six) would be monumental.

Not only did I get in the three digits, I got in the one digits. Since making Double Life permafree, it's been in the top 100 nearly every single day since December 31st. And when I promoted it via Book Barbarian, it shot to #1.

I've sold less than twenty books using Smashwords (which includes iBooks and Barnes and Noble), and now almost twice that on Amazon. Does it make sense to pull out of Smashwords completely and go to Amazon?

I ended up going this route for Alliances and while the free book day was a nice way to get both books in the series noticed (see quote #1 above), the exclusivity and Kindle Unlimited doesn't seem to be helping me at all. I decided not to go with KDPS for Empath, so we'll see how my opinion changes.

I've made twice as much money selling books out of the back of my car. I'm attending Baltimore Comic-Con next weekend, and bringing 50+ books. Same goes for Annapolis and then ShatterdomeCon. I will have unfettered access to hundreds of nerds my target demographic, and be able to unload a bunch of books (I hope).

This amused me on several levels. First, yes, I have made (also lost) a shit-ton of money at conventions. I've sold a shit-ton of books (coming up on 700 paperbacks). But what amused me more is that the two conventions I mentioned - Annapolis and Shatterdome - were almost abject failures. But other conventions - Baltimore, Tidewater, Pensacon, Indianapolis - I did very well.

My intention is not to be a "bestseller." If I see my name atop Amazon's top Science Fiction novels, fantastic - but it's what I want out of jealousy, not because it's what I need.
I can't technically call myself a bestseller because my book only showed up on the top free novels, but hitting #27 on all Science Fiction wasn't the worst thing in the world.
When I really sit down and think about it, these are the things I want to achieve: 
1. I want to explore my soul, my neuroses, my anxieties, and my fears so that I may accept myself exactly the way I am.
Hello, have you heard of this book I wrote called Empath?
2. I want to use my creative energy to please myself first, then others.
In the past month, I have gotten away from this. I was forcing myself to write when I wasn't feeling it. But when I let go of control and just let the muse do what she will, she performs. For some reason, I keep forgetting how my own head works.
3. I want to earn enough money to secure food, shelter, internet for me and my dogs so I don't have to do anything else but be creative.
This is the big one, and probably why I got so far away from #2. Right now, my focus is to get SGR-P in the black, and it's going to take us a little while to get there. In the meantime, since I won't have a mortgage at the end of the month (YAAAAAAY), I'll be able to sock away more cash in the event that this happens.

By next June, I may have three (!) books published, with a fourth in October, and perhaps a fifth (!) in December.

This still blows my fucking mind that I wrote three books in a year - Double Life, Alliances, and Empath. Considering I hadn't finished anything in probably 10 years, finishing not one, but three is incredible. I have to give myself and my creativity a break here - we've done a lot in a short amount of time and it's okay to feel wrung out.

 I'm on my way to achieving my goals.
It's all perfect.

Just breathe.

Be patient.

Return to your intention.

And go write a book.
I need to paint this on a canvas and hang it above my computer so I can stare at it every day.  Erry. Day.

ERRY DAY.


Thursday, December 11, 2014

#TBT With Meradeth Houston

Thursday Post


In attempting to come up with a post for today, I spent a LOT of time coming back though my blog. Wow did I have some random posts back in the day :) Anyhow, I came across the one that announces my first book contract for Colors Like Memories, and I thought I'd share it here:


ACK! OMG! LOL! (AND MANY OTHER 3-LETTER EXCLAMATIONS, LIKE WOW!)

(Okay, maybe I should have calmed down a bit more before writing this post, but hey, I'm allowed
some seriously excitement here!)

Colors Like Memories is going to be published!!! Release date is tentatively set for May 2012! *faints*

(Honestly, who really does faint at stuff like that? I've always wondered. Maybe if I were wearing a tight corset or something, but otherwise, really?!?)

Okay, so, here's the deal: I was lurking over at the Blue Boards (as I am want to do, instead of working) and found some people discussing an e-publisher in Canada called MuseItUp. I decided, hey, this is interesting, and spent a good while combing through their website, reading their blog, checking them out. They looked pretty sweet! And, see, I have this manuscript. I adore it. Like, it's my child. And I didn't want it to go the way of all the earth (as I was seriously beginning to fear it might). So I pulled it all together and decided it was worth sending it to Muse. Yikes! This was a big step for me. I've always kind of thought that I would go the more traditional agent route, but quite frankly, that route is changing. Publishing is changing. And seeing as how I've read quite a few e-books this past year, and the trend is only getting stronger, I thought this was a really awesome opportunity for my book-baby. Anyhow, I'll cut out the couple of weeks of anxious email-checking, but this morning I got an EMAIL of AWESOMENESS! Said EoA was an acceptance. Followed for a contract, and some other information.

*Insert skipping and jumping around my little apartment here* (I'm sure my neighbors downstairs officially think I've lost it at this point.)

Anyhow, my book-baby is going to get published! It's going to hopefully be read by other people! I mean, that's what I really wanted from this whole publication-hunt thing in the first place. And now I get to work with real editors and real cover designers, and holy cow, this is really happening.

(I'm fairly certain my excitement is coming through here, right?)

So, yeah. It's been a crazy journey. So many highs and lows and stretches of utter blah. And now? Now the real work starts! I can't wait!

Haha! This just made me laugh :) I was a little excited, can you tell? Do you ever go back and read old posts sometimes?

Thursday, November 13, 2014

#TBT with Melissa Petreshock

Today, Mel's throwing it back with an old blog post. Check it out! /S.

HOW I TAUGHT MY MS A HANDSTAND



Originally posted August 12, 2013



Yesterday, Nat Russo posted on Twitter "Your first idea is often cliche. Keep asking "what if". Change things. Brainstorm." This was one of his many #writetip posts that I often enjoy and retweet. To this particular one, I replied, "I turned mine upside down."



Literally. I turned my manuscript upside down. I taught it to do a handstand.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Guest Blog Wednesday with Melissa Petreshock

It's getting kind of hot on the ol' Ramblin' Blog. I need my smellin' salts. /S.

A WORLD ON FIRE: EXPANDING BEYOND FOSAD

"When the stars are the only things we share, Will you be there? I've got a plan. I've got an atlas in my hands." - "Atlas Hands" by Benjamin Francis Leftwich 

FIRE OF STARS AND DRAGONS is the first book in the Stars and Souls Trilogy. Now, I'm probably telling you something you already know. A quick glance on Amazon, my website, or most any of my social media will tell you that. The news has been out for a while that BLOOD OF STARS AND GODS (Book #2) is coming, and the publication date has finally been set for May 2015. (Title and publication date on book #3 are TBA.)

Thursday, October 23, 2014

#TBT with Allie Walker

Allie's sharing with us a short story featuring a character that inspired another in On My Way Home. Below are some TBT photos of the adorable author before she was grow'd up. *Pinches cheeks" /S.


She woke early in the morning to sounds of birds chirping, bacon sizzling, and butterflies bouncing around in her stomach.  She was dreading today, she was excited for today, and she was scared of today.  Today was the first day of school.  To her the school was alien, she had only been there once, and it was bigger than anything she had ever attended.  She had never been to a school where she had to change classes or move about the halls freely, and she had never had to catch a school bus.  Today was going to be the many firsts for her, and being somewhat new to the area and behind the times in fashion and hair.  She had feeling it was going to be a long day.

She told herself, “Paige, It is going to be a good day.”  However inside she did not feel confident at all.  She didn’t know what to expect.  She had just moved to a new town, everyone would already know each other, and no one would know who she was, and they probably wouldn’t care.  Her mind swelled with worry and despair.  She readied herself to the best of her ability, and headed out for her first day of 7th grade.

The walk to the bus stop was about a mile, or at least it felt like that, and she passed the small farms she lived close to, and the ratty houses that filled the empty spaces.  She was nervous very nervous, when she finally reached the bus stop, she would have her first interaction with other kids her age.  When she finally got to the end of the road, no one was insight.  She assumed she must be very early, as she did give herself plenty of time.  The sun rose higher and time passed, and still no appeared.  She must have went to the wrong place, or the bus must not have shown up.  That was the only explanation. Paige decided to walk back home, and try to make it to school on time.

The first day of school was never easy, and always full some sort of issue or mishap, and perhaps this why Paige’s mother only laughed and drove her to school.  Paige arrived at the school she had only visited once for registration.  The halls were clear, it was a ghost town.  There were cars in the parking lot, had she gotten the first of school wrong too?  She would have said the day was going downhill fast but it had never really gotten up any hills to begin with.  She sighed deeply to herself, and read her schedule. “First Hour Drama, A202,” she said to herself.  What did that mean?  She was so confused.  She wandered the halls for fifteen minutes before finding someone to help her find her class.  Mistake one she was in the wrong building, mistake two she was very late, and mistake three she was honest when her Drama teacher introduced her to the class.

“Sorry I’m late, my bus never showed up,” Paige said, and truthfully thought that’s what happened.
A boy from the back of the class said loudly for all to hear, “Maybe you missed it dumbass.”
Paige instantly turned bright shade of red, and held her head down low.  The teacher motioned her to an open desk towards the back of the room. She sat down more embarrassed than ever in her entire life. That was it she thought my first impression ruined.  My life is ruined.

“He’s a jerk, don’t worry about him,” a girl whispered to her.

Paige turned to look and smiled weakly.  Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.  Maybe just maybe she might make a friend.  She was so excited she could hardly stay in her own skin.
The teacher had the boy who was jerk pass out worksheets.  When he reached Paige he said,”So you missed your bus huh.”

Paige only managed a nod, and was more embarrassed because it turned out that the boy who was a jerk was pretty cute and a football player.  The worksheet was supposed to be done with partner, and Paige looked around, but nothing looked promising.  However the nice girl who had spoken to her before asked her to partner up.

“Hi, I’m Lucinda, but people call me Lucy,” she said.

“Hi, I’m Paige,”  She was so grateful to Lucy for being her first what Paige interpreted as friendship. They worked together and talked quietly the rest of the class.  The bell rang and everyone left the class in a hurry.

Paige’s day was not getting much better, and the next class wasn’t any less embarrassing.  She went to the wrong class got laughed at, finally figured out that the letters meant what building, a principal thought she was skipping class, and showed her to her second hour class Literature.  Paige was excited because she like literature and english.  There was another class full of alien faces she had never seen before, and of course no one talked to her.  She sat across from a girl, named Shirley.  Shirley did not acknowledge her much only with a fake smile, and front of her sat a girl named Michelle who was her partner in the “get to know you exercise” for that class.  Paige thought they had hit off, and she was feeling pretty confident.

So the next hour went and she found her class with no problem.  No one spoke in this class of history it was mostly lecture.  Fourth Hour came around, and Paige recognized Michelle from her second hour class and waved to her.  Michelle rolled her eyes and looked disgusted that Paige would dare talk to her.  Paige found out quickly that kids were not nice.  That just because you were friends in one class did not mean you friends in any other class at all.

Paige found that her first crush was to the boy who was a jerk, and he was in three of her classes, and stuck to making fun of her most of the year.  She didn’t have any real friends except for Lucy, but Lucy secretly thought that Paige waved like a fool, and only talked to her in their first hour.  She received a note from people that she ate lunch with stating that they did not like her anymore, and Paige was heartbroken.  She was an outsider.  She had small number of friends that she would speak with during class, but nothing that carried over into the all important lunch time.   Paige was alone, but she remained optimistic.  She told herself that this year was a learning curve.  She told herself it’s not cool to shop at Walmart, and if you do try to hide.  Just talk my mother into a few name brand things, and I should be fine, and get not so dorky gym clothes.  Next year will be better she told herself.

Eighth grade was not better, it started out better.  She had a friend who wanted to be friends with her because she was new, and Paige was so excited.  It would be her first real friend or so she thought.  Everything was going ideally until one weekend.  Her friend named Ruth came back with highlighted hair and new clothes and no longer wanted to be Paige’s friend. It was another blow for Paige, but even after all of the Rumours that Ruth started about her, Ruth finally moved away, and Paige was able to reclaim a little bit of dignity.  She occasional saw Lucy in the halls and spoke to her, but Shirley was oblivious to her existence, and Paige told herself High school will be better.

High school was much better for Paige.

Where is Paige now?

Well Paige was the maid of honor at Lucy’s wedding and Shirley’s wedding.  Shirley to this day claims she does not remember Paige from 7th or 8th grade, and Lucy thought that Paige waved funny so that’s why she kept her distance. She has a close tight-knit group of friends now, and everyone loves her.  They love how funny she is, and so much in fact that Paige has an application to be her friend.  That of course is an exaggeration.

Moral of the story:  If though you don’t fit in, maybe you were meant to stand out.

Disclaimer:  If you find this to be familiar then you are most likely depicted from a certain person point of view.  All names have been changed for their protection.

--



Thursday, October 16, 2014

#TBT with Aoife Marie Sheridan


Today, Aoife is sharing an excerpt from her book, Hunters! 

Hunters – Taken from Chapter One – The Possession (Abigail)


***

“Where is she?” I asked as I laid out my roll of equipment on a hall table; it was the only piece of furniture in the hall so it had to do.

Taking a cross out of my pack, I poured holy water over it, splashing some on the hall table and the carpet. A small price to pay for us saving his daughter’s soul. Rolling the rest back up, I placed it back into my jacket and tucked the bible under my arm.

“This way,” the man said looking ready to bolt but thought otherwise.

He stood at the third door down the hallway. Zee placed his hand on the door, and then gave me a nod, letting me know that we had the right house. I moved towards the door, but before I turned the handle, I turned back to the man.

“How long has she been like this?”

I asked as Zee got himself ready.

Father Peter didn’t give many details, he just needed me to get there as quick as possible.

Tears filled the man’s eyes. “A week, maybe two.” At least, it didn’t have a long time to fester.

I gave Zee a nod just as I turned the door handle and entered the darken room. Light hurts them so I switched it on and let it flood the space. It was a standard sized bedroom, nothing special about it. A wardrobe rested against one wall, it once had been white but with time, it had faded. My eyes moved to the locker that was pine. It was bare of any ornaments and sat tightly against the single bed that the girl lay on. Her body was partially naked and her long blonde hair was stuck to her neck with sweat, I couldn’t make out her features as her face was no longer human looking than the hands that rested on her swollen abdominal. I turned to the man to give him a piece of my mind for leaving such a small detail out, but he had bolted, leaving us here with his pregnant and possessed daughter.

Words of another language and another time came out of the girl’s mouth, more than likely cursing us into the ground or into hell.

Zee’s hands moved robotically, taking items out of his trench coat. He placed two small white candles on the window sill, but didn’t light them - they were a just in case. He stayed close to them, but leaned against the wall. He looked so large in the small room.

“Do you want to do it or shall I?” I asked.

I always gave him the option; he did most of the work, but I hated tiring him out.

He gave me the once over, considering if I was strong enough. “You go ahead. I’ll observe,” he finally answered.

Moving towards the girl caused the demon inside her to rev up, making the girl’s body move at all the wrong angles.

I splashed her with the holy water. It bubbled up on her skin, the vapor rising and disappearing. A hiss left her mouth and more words followed. Taking out the bible, I turned to the page where the most powerful prayer lay, holding the cross steadily in my hands I started,

We drive you from us,
Whoever you may be,
Unclean spirits,
All satanic powers,
All infernal invaders,
All wicked legions,
Assemblies and sects.
In the Name, and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ,
May you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God,
And from the souls made to the image and likeness of God,
And redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.

The sound of laughter made me stop. As the demon overtook the girl’s face completely. My heart rate elevated. Zee, quick to act, lit two candles, knowing what was to come as the light bulb brightened, casting a blinding light in the room before it exploded and small shards of glass flew across the room. I covered my face, protecting it from the onslaught of the flying glass. Small cuts across my hands stung and warm blood slid slowly across my fingers. I took my hands away, ignoring the pain. The flames from the small candles that Zee had lit danced across the room but gave little light. Not being able to see fully, always made a possession more frightening, no matter how many times I did it, it never got easier.

“Aaabbbiiigggaaaiilll,” the demon hissed inside the girl, slowly stretching my name, but I heard it. My body responded, causing me to stumble back, never before had a demon or spirit spoke my name. I stood paralyzed.

“Abigail,” this time it was Zee who called my name and I could hear the warning in his voice.

I needed to continue. I sucked in a deep breath and wiped the blood from my hands onto my jeans. I started the prayer again, saying it faster, and louder. My voice trembled slightly. I felt shook up after hearing that thing say my name. The demon inside the girl roared to life and squirmed with a voracity that shook the bed savagely. The bed’s thin, wooden legs slammed into the carpet, the noise drowning out my words, but I didn’t stop, I couldn’t stop for fear of what might happen. I continued as a few pictures fell from the walls, their frames snapping with the impact and the glass shattering across our feet. The curtains billowed now from an unseen wind. The bed continued to move rapidly. And the large wardrobe shook violently. Its doors swinging open and closed, the sharp bang lifting my heart every time. Zee stood protecting the candles from the breeze that raced through the room, carrying the foul stench of an unwashed body. I spoke louder closing my eyes, forcing myself to stay focused, even against the activity in the room. I clung to the cross. As my grip tightened it caused my cuts to bleed, coating my hand once again. I could feel the cross slipping and soon my hand was empty. The slamming of the wardrobe doors was getting faster and louder. The bed hit the floor harder, the wood snapping against the strain, small splinters of wood breaking free, and scattering across the floor.

Then everything ceased, silence fell upon the room, my breathing moved in and out of my nostrils, sounding so loud in the dead silence.

“Dad?” The one word was filled with fear and confusion and had come from the young girl; her voice broke through my numbness and fear.

I moved towards her slowly, looking at her face. She looked normal again, pale yet terrified, but normal. I smiled the best I could at her confused face, hoping to give her comfort. She met my eyes with big blue ones of her own, ones she must have inherited from her mother as her father had those muddy brown eyes, a ray of freckles covered her nose and cheeks making her look like she was only about sixteen. She was so young to be pregnant.

“Hi, my name is Abigail your dad called us, you were sick,” I said.

She looked around the room for her father. I gave Zee a nod to go get him and he hesitated, looking at the girl for a moment.

“It’s fine, Zee. She’s okay,” I assured him.

He left hesitantly at my words.

“What’s your name?” I asked, moving closer, trying to halt all the questions that I knew must be going around in her head right now. Once someone was possessed, they could never remember the ordeal. It was for the best or lots of people would never sleep again.

“Lucy,” she said, still looking around the room that was only lit now by candle light.

“Lucy, that’s a pretty name,” I said, she was looking at me as if I was crazy.

“What are you doing in my room? And why is everything such a mess?” she asked, looking at all the frames and shattered glass on the carpet. A logical question, yet I had no logical explanation.

“How far are you gone?” I asked, looking at her stomach, trying to distract her until her dad got there and he could come up with whatever story he wanted to. She looked down at her belly after hearing my question and her cheeks lit up when she realized she was half-undressed. Fear and confusion filled her face.

“It’s okay, Lucy.” I didn’t get to finish as she started to scream while kicking her legs and pulling the remaining blankets off her, blood started to soak the sheets.

“My baby!” she screamed as Zee and her dad entered the room. I rushed forward, grabbing the blanket; I needed to stop the bleeding, her stomach rippled and I had to blink twice to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. A hand formed, pushing its way against her stomach, reaching out to me, stretching her skin almost to breaking point. I fell back off the bed, away from the hand, while pulling the blanket with me. The bed started to levitate.

Lucy’s screams and her father’s pleas to save his daughter made the room swarm around me. “Abigail, Abigail,” the voice danced around me, I covered my ears. “No. No!” Zee’s feet rushed past me and he jumped up on the bed, fighting the hysterical flailing arms that Lucy threw around as her stomach stretched and moved at abnormal angles. The demon had attached itself to the child’s soul. I snapped out of my daze. The cross lay on the ground, its gold surface now tainted with my blood. I grabbed it and jumped up while holding onto the cross for dear life as Zee placed his hand on Lucy’s stomach, a gust of air ripped through the room, throwing everything into chaos. The candles hit the carpet and distinguished almost immediately, leaving us in darkness. I couldn’t move for a moment, but could only watch as light poured from Zee’s fingertips, blinding all of us. Sound ceased to exist at that moment, while everything around us continued to shake. I could feel the ground under my feet vibrate. Through the light, I could see Lucy was still alert, her mouth open as she screamed in fear and agony. Her eyes wild, the veins bulged in her neck as she continued to scream soundlessly. It was like watching a movie with the sound on mute. A large crack raced down the wall behind the bed, just stopping at the skirting board, and then the room went dark. The world stopped shaking.

“Lucy, sweetheart, talk to me,” her father’s frightened whispers reached my ears. I opened my eyes as Zee came to me and his strong arms pulled me into a tight embrace. His smell, his warmth calmed me. His heartbeat pounded against my ear, bringing me back. I looked up at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded, but I was anything but okay.

I pulled away and stood on trembling legs, making my way to the bedroom door. Once I opened it, light flittered into the room. I looked at Lucy, her body lay still. She looked snow white against the blood soaked sheets.

The father’s face turned to us tears stricken and red with anger. “What have you done to my baby girl?”

I didn’t reply, but took out my phone, ignoring the trembling in my hands, pausing before making the call. I turned to Zee. “Did we lose the baby?” I asked, he nodded his head, and a pang twisted my heart. “The girl?”

“She’s alive,” he answered and left the room.

I pushed the button and made the dreaded call.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

#TBT with Katie L. Carroll

 Throwing it back to May 26, 2008 to my first ever blog post: 

I figured, everyone else is doing it, so why not me? No, that's not true. I never really do anything because "everyone else is doing it" (Thanks, Dad!). Seriously, while my puzzle-editing career is on the rise--I finally got that promotion to Associate Editor--I'm still trying to do that whole be-a-writer thing. 
What better way to make my web-writing debut than to start a blog? Notice the title is "Observation Desk." This is a place for my (almost) daily observations on life, straight from my desk to yours. It will definitely be a little sarcastic, but I also hope it will be witty, evocative, and perhaps even occasionally educational. We'll see how that goes. 
I recently returned from London, so my first posts will focus on that. Check back every few days for new posts. Be sure to tell your friends if you like what you read (or even if you don't). Oh, and thanks for visiting my desk.
The Observation Desk has changed a lot since I started. First of all, I was still on blogger back then and it was more of a personal journal than anything else. I wasn’t always consistent on posting either. And, yeah, I was a puzzle magazine editor then...not the mom/author/book editor I am now.

Since switching to a full WordPress site in June of 2012, the Observation Desk has definitely moved in the direction of being a place for other writers to come and share their thoughts and experiences in addition to my personal journal. I try to keep a nice balance of the two with one of my posts early in the week and one guest post later in the week. I’ve really enjoyed my couple of blog series: Confessions of an Author and Females in YA. Plus, I'm much more consistent in my posting with a standard two a week most of the time.

Looking back on that first post, though, I notice my goals are still kind of the same: observations on life, a little sarcastic, but also witty, evocative, and occasionally educational. What do you think of my Observation Desk

Thursday, September 18, 2014

#TBT with Erin Rhew!

Erin's throwin' it back today with some adorbs baby pics, adorbs pics of her totally amazing hubster, and some photos from her release party for her first book, The Prophecy. /S.

1) Four-year-old Erin, who wrote the “Cars” poem (see the post from Wednesday more information).



2) Part of poem I wrote back in da day! ;)
    War paint, strategically placed
    Upon my world-weary face
    Those eyes you think so mysterious
    Their truths hidden behind inky lashes
    Cheeks flushed with color, just for you?
    No, those roses bloomed with a pink tipped brush
    Luscious, luring lips, an irresistible temptation
    Drawn to perfection, specifically to distract
    Sweet submissiveness, or so you think…

3) Me with my Dream Team at the Breaking Dawn midnight premiere. These ladies are my friends who contributed to my novel in a significant way. You can learn more about them here. From left to right: Danielle Craver, Dawn Ward, Ginny Hunsberger, Kim Sharp, and I’m the one kneeling.



4) Funny story, I met the love of my life on…Twitter! No, I’m not kidding! Here is a picture of us when we met in person for the first time as well as our engagement picture! He’s also a writer, writing under the pen name Deek Rhew. Keep an eye out for him in the future—he’s a BRILLIANT writer! 






(S's note: HUBBA HUBBA. Where can I find me one-a those?)                                


5) My friend Danielle made crests for all the people groups in The Prophecy before its release in November 2013. The first one we released was the Vanguard crest. I plan to get a tattoo of this crest.



6) Here are some pictures from The Prophecy release party with The Dream Team!




The Dream Team made me a plaque!