If you’ve been following my blog, you may remember my January posts about my weight, writing, and life. You’ll also recall my comments on the weather, family, and planned vacation. At the time, I mentioned that 2024 wasn’t being too kind to me. That’s an understatement. Other than the amazing eclipse, things had not met my expectations.
Our cruise to the Caribbean was awesome, even if the weather didn’t cooperate and we saw more rain than ever. As predicted, I regained 4 lbs, putting me up to 168.
I got back to work following the diet and got down to 167.5, not huge, but since I developed new aches and pains, which impeded my ability to exercise, it could’ve been worse. The weather was cold, damp, and miserable, which didn’t help, and the temperature roller-coastered all over from 17 C one day to -8 and colder. It was the warmest February on record for us, but I didn’t care. It was also the hardest, least productive month ever for me. Why? Because my mother died on the 5th, and I was tossed into depression.
Suddenly, I had all this extra time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. I couldn’t focus on writing, reading, or anything productive. I played games on my phone, went where I needed to go with my husband or my sister, and let the world roll over me. Watching the world news depressed me even more. If we were truly civilized, there wouldn’t be all of the cruelty going on in the world today. We’re no better than the barbarians; we just have more efficient weapons.
My sister and I attended to estate matters and placed her ashes inside the niche with my father’s ashes on February 29. I thought the fact that it was a leap year and the date only comes around every four years would make it special, and Mom loved being special. It turned out to be the coldest day of 2024 here. Needless to say, the graveside service was short.
February morphed into March without any noticeable change to the crazy weather pattern. We had a couple of snowstorms, but everything would melt within 48 hours. Unfortunately, the heat was erratic, with more cold days than warm ones.
We didn’t celebrate Easter on 31. Instead, we waited a week since my son who lives in Norway was coming for a flash visit. That’s when my spirits started to rise. Having all three of my children here at the same time was wonderful.
To kickstart my writing again, I dove into the A to Z Challenge Blog again this year and continued working on Listen to the Stones, well aware that I intended to have it finished by now–the best-laid plans of mice, men, and authors.
My aches and pains are receding although they are far from gone. The needle on the scale is heading back in the right direction and I’m back down to 164. It seems I’ve done nothing on that front but spin my wheels. Hopefully, I’m heading in the right direction.
Let’s hope April showers bring May flowers and that the weather improves.
This is the last post of the third week of this year’s challenge and incidentally, the last one with video music.
Today’s letter is R. There were a few R words I could’ve used that are all critical to my current WIP: reflection, reincarnation, reality, and recall, but the one I chose to focus on is remembering.
Memories are what give meaning to our life’s experiences and the ability to remember times, places, events, and people is what makes us who we are. The saddest part of growing old is forgetting things–not just why the hell did I come into the kitchen, but significant things like names. I have never been good at remembering names, but I do recall faces. Sadly, Mother Nature and Father Time aren’t always kind to us. Other than the color of her hair, my sister hasn’t changed. She’s always looked the same. My brother-in-law is a different matter.
In her later years, my mother remembered things that had never happened. She took a strand of truth and embroidered an entirely different life for herself. Working on my newest book, I’m wondering if those memories weren’t past life experiences. Memories of all kinds are important. Here are today’s songs about remembering and memories.
When I got to this letter, I was tempted to write about the mischievous, god-like character Q in Star Trek, the one forever getting the crews of the various ships he visits into trouble. I’ve given my latest anti-hero a few of his qualities–after all, the book is paranormal– but I’ve chosen to write about another q word.
I considered quest, quiet, qualities, even quintessential, but decided on questions–rhetorical questions that is, questions the characters ask themselves as they search for meaning in what happens around them.
Everyone know that a plot must answer the 5 Ws plus 1: who, what, where, when, why, and how. I am a huge asker of questions. I think some of that comes from my years of teaching when so much revolved around my asking the questions and students providing the right answers. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t.
In my personal life, I’m always questioning the things I do, the things I don’t do, and more importantly, the things I should’ve done and failed to do. I don’t expect anyone to answer the questions, but usually asking them brings me a greater understanding of life around me.
And so, in my novels, part of my voice, my writing style involves my characters asking themselves questions about motivation, other characters, situations, and what to do or not to do. Rhetorical questions aren’t asked to get information but rather to get someone thinking or to make a point.
For example, Am I being an idiot? I don’t expect an answer, but you get the gist.
Today’s songs are all about questions.
That’s it for Q and questions. Come back tomorrow for the letter R
Here we are again. Penny for your thoughts? I’ve rather enjoyed going down memory lane with music to add a touch of pizzazz to my posts this week, and today will be the same. As a romance author, regardless of the subgenre I’m writing, there comes a time when the main characters in the story have to meet their love interests. There has to be something that draws them to one another, something that makes them connect, and something that says he or she’s the one.
It doesn’t always work that way in real life. You know what they say about first impressions … real-life meet-cutes are sometimes ugly. I met my husband in the second week of my first year at university. I was living in residence, in a double room that shared a bathroom. I’d just washed my hair, something more involved in the late sixties than today, and was wearing an oversized quilted housecoat with my hair wrapped in a towel. We had divided up the chores, and it was my day to empty the garbage. I knocked on the connecting door and walked in, not expecting to find anyone there but Dee-Dee, my can-mate.
I can’t say exactly what I felt–embarrassment, confusion, interest, and maybe a little ‘Oh my God, how do I get out of here?’ He had short brown hair and was clean-shaven with gold-rimmed glasses. He wasn’t the jock type, but he had a gorgeous smile. He sat at her desk, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt with Bullshirt printed on it, a university jacket, and loafers. She introduced us while I prayed for the floor to swallow me, and mortified as I was, all I could say was “I’m here for the garbage.” I escaped as quickly as I could. Two weeks later, we would meet again. That time, he would drop a beer bottle on the floor, and I would step on it and get glass embedded in my foot. It would get septic, and I would end up in the residence infirmary for two weeks. Dee-Dee brought him over for a visit, and he apologized. I accepted graciously. What else could I do? It wasn’t as if he’d put me in the hospital on purpose. Two weeks later, he called the room looking for Dee-dee but she was away. I was the only one there, so he asked me if I would like to go to a party. I knew Dee-Dee had her eye on another guy, so I said, why not?
I made sure I looked a lot more polished when he came to get me. At the time, side ponytails were all the rage and I frequently wore one. Back then, I was a standard size 12 with a generous bust. Oh, to be a 12 again! Here I am in a Wonder Woman pose. LOL
It was an interesting evening. We talked, we danced, and we kissed. I met people that night who would go on to be good friends, and the next day when Dee-Dee came back, I told her, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.” Within a few weeks, we became an established couple.
Here we are 8 months later, going to the Spring Ball. We cleaned up nicely. Two years later, we married. The following year we welcomed our first child and we’re still together, going strong. Why? Because we weren’t blinded by physical appearances but let the physical attraction we felt grow into something more.
Today’s letter is P, and it stands for physical attraction. There’s no point in arguing the point. Physical appearances are important, and people, like magpies, are attracted to the best and the brightest. We have been indoctrinated to believe that tall, slender women, usually blonde in my part of the world, are the epitome of beauty, just like tall, muscular men are the ideal. Other aspects vary according to cultural and social norms. Some men are bearded, others aren’t. Some have long hair, others don’t. Some men are inked, others aren’t. But finding the right match shouldn’t be based solely on appearance. That plain guy who saves you a seat in the library could be the one you’re looking for. Lifelong commitment should be based on more than physical appearances or sexual proclivity. People need to get to know one another, develop shared interests, and enjoy each other’s company. If they can’t be friends, they probably shouldn’t be lovers. Time changes everything including appearances.
When you go fruit or vegetable shopping, you’re attracted to the plumpest, tomatoes or strawberries, the whitest cauliflower, the firmest cucumbers, and the bruiseless bananas. In 1924, when someone discovered the Jamaican tangelo, a combination of orange, grapefruit, and tangerine, he named it ugli fruit, and that’s the name it goes by, but the fruit is delicious.
I think it’s time that we as authors get away from the stereotypes and stop using physical attraction as the main focus of our guy meets girl situations. In my latest novel, Marina has two suitors, both almost identical in appearance, and each one stirs something in her, but until she gets to know them, she will never be able to choose between them.
Here are today’s songs for your enjoyment. Olivia Newton John’s video had me laughing out loud.
That’s it for today. Come back tomorrow for the letter Q when it’s all about questions.
Welcome to today’s blog post. I’ve tried to stick to my theme of writing about things that help and hinder me from succeeding as an author. I’ve touched on various things that motivate me and my characters, and I’ll give you another one this morning. Why do people behave the way they do? I talked about human nature yesterday. Today, I’m going to discuss one of the uglier traits.
O is for OBSESSION, and that’s never a good thing. When people become obsessed with anything or anyone, they go overboard. A few ideas include being so obsessed about weight that someone becomes anorexic or bulimic. For an athlete, it might be being so desperate to win that they’ll take anabolic steroids or anything else that will give them an edge. For someone obsessed with beauty, it might mean countless surgeries to look perfect and end up looking anything but. But, without a doubt, the worst kind of obsession is the one that involves another human being and leads to stalking and other negative activities, going so far as murder because, if I can’t have him or her, no one can. The stalker is a common theme in murder/suspense stories.
In my Harvester Files series, I use obsession in two ways. I have a crack team of FBI and Boston police officers searching for a man who kidnaps pregnant women and steals their babies. they will do anything to find and stop the monster. That’s one obsession and while not healthy, it’s at least understandable. The second type of obsession in the first book in the series, The White Carnation, is that the heroine has a stalker, one determined to make her his no matter the cost.
His obsession leads to kidnapping and several murders.
Now, since I’m making these musical posts this week, here are four songs about obsession.
As much as I might love The Police and that song, the lyrics are downright creepy. Come back tomorrow for a look at my choice for the letter P.
We’re exactly 2 weeks away from the letter Z. It’s hard to believe that means we’re more than halfway through the alphabet and the challenge. In between posts, I’m working on my contemporary, paranormal, romance suspense novel, Listen to the Stones. I’m about two-thirds through the plot and things are starting to come together although I hope the reader has begun to put the clues together, too.
Today’s letter is N, and I’m going to talk about NATURE and HUMAN NATURE and how they influence my writing.
Nature is easy. Whatever goes on around me can end up in a book. I have numerous books set in the winter, especially if we’ve had a terrible snowstorm and I can build on that. I’ve set stories in the middle of tornadoes, rain storms, and the fall with its changing leaves. I can use whatever nature is tossing at me to add atmosphere to a story–bad storms on dark nights? Who doesn’t like working with those?
The other kind of nature reflected in my writing is human nature.As one source put it, Human nature comprises the fundamental dispositions and characteristics—including ways of thinking, feeling, and acting—that humans are said to have naturally.
To that definition, we can add the four basic personalities: pessimistic, optimistic, trusting, and envious. To these add the universal traits: Intuitive, Self-Centered, Emotional, Motivated, Social, and Hopeful. Of course, you have the theory of ID, Ego, and Superego, but I’m not going there now. Suffice it to say I try to create well-rounded characters with both qualities and flaws. My pessimist may grow to be motivated and hopeful. My envious person may become less self-centered and more social. My optimist may need to realize the importance of emotions, and my trusting individual may have to accept that not everyone serves blind trust and needs to listen to his intuition.
Trust, love, envy, jealousy…they’re all part of human nature and since I started the week with music, here are a few songs dealing with human nature!
Well that’s all I have for you today. Tomorrow we’re going to look at the letter O
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Things are starting to come together. Our word prompt this week is BUTTON. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones.
The moment he’d seen MacNish standing so close to her, implying that she was his, he’d seen red, the pain in his chest adding to his anger and discomfort. Keeping himself under control had been a monumental feat.
Heart pounding, Jerome removed his scarf and undid the first button at the neck of his shirt, hoping to force air into his constricted lungs. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, praying that everything that had just happened hadn’t been a dream.
The agonizing pain in his chest that had struck him the moment he’d seen MacNish, a pain he hadn’t felt since that morning in his trailer on the film set, had disappeared, but the fact that he’d had it at all was worrisome. Maybe he should’ve had a doctor look at him the first time it had happened. While he’d dismissed it since the redness had vanished, maybe it was some indication of a serious cardiac issue and the shock of the encounter moments ago had been more than his heart could take.
Had he arrived too late? Had James MacNish beaten him and stolen his prize? Was that why he’d felt that incredible, irrational need to get here as soon as he could? He would fight until his last breath to keep her. His future depended on it.
He’d planned to befriend Lady Fraser to protect her and eventually convince her to sell him the land he wanted. Now, the prospect of marrying her and gaining everything he wanted loomed on the horizon, so close that he could almost reach out and grab it. What would Nathan have to say about this strange turn of events?
Jerome had never expected Lady Fraser to be his woman. And yet it made perfect sense. It would explain why his muse had been so closed-mouthed about her location, knowing the two—or was it three—were destined to meet here. How did James MacNish feature in all this? What role did he have to play? Marina had been born here on Lewis just as he had, but as the Fraser heir, her connection to the stones had to be stronger than his. Damn! What he wouldn’t give to know more about his birth parents. He needed to speak to Uncle Malcolm as soon as possible. Since he’d learned of his adoption, he’d been plagued by questions, including why they’d thrown him away.
That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Welcome to week 3 of this year’s A to Z Challenge Blog. So far, so good. I’ve managed to post on time daily, read other people’s posts, and follow a few new bloggers. I’ve discovered that for one reason or another, I can’t comment on some WordPress blogs, but at least I can like them. I’m not sure why I get a message that I’m not logged in when I am, but such are the mysteries of the Internet and its various resting places.
Today’s letter is M and stands for Mondays. Before I retired from teaching, I used to dread Mondays. The students were either wired or dragging their asses after a weekend involving too much–work, fun, sugar, misery–you name it. I used to joke that some didn’t wake up until Wednesday while others never slept until then. We never got much done from whatever I’d planned on Mondays, so I made sure never to schedule a test, a movie, or a guest presentation that day. And since attendance declined sharply on Fridays, essentially I had two to three productive days to work with. My favorite day for important work was Thursday. Then, I retired.
Suddenly, there was no difference in the days of the week. In fact, I often wasn’t sure what day it was until evening when my favorite television shows dictated the day. In some ways, it’s still that way 14 years later: Monday, Murdock Mysteries, Tuesday, the FBIs, Wednesday, the Chicago series, Thursday, 911 and Discovery (Or whatever new Star Trek is on), Friday, Blue Bloods, SWAT, and Fire Country. Weekends varied depending on the season. We could watch a movie or just go out with friends. Come summer, we only watched TV on rainy days.
Since I started writing, Monday has become the day I organize my writing hours, my home duties, and my social calendar, not that I have that active a social life. This week, I have a lunch date with a former colleague. Until my mother died, my calendar contained the days I would drive to Alexandria to visit. Now, I rarely have a fixed activity. It’s strange. I have more time than ever, but I seem to get less and less done. It’s a mystery, another great M word.
This morning, I plotted the subjects of this week’s blog posts, set my writing guidelines for the week, and took a few minutes to meditate, another M word, this one designed to lower my stress level and help me sleep better. I like to listen to music while I contemplate the day.
Thought I would leave you with a couple of my favorite Monday songs.
That’s it. Hope you liked one of my favorites. This week, of all the songs, Karen’s song seems the most appropriate as we have another rainy Monday.
Come back tomorrow when I’ll talk about my choice for the letter N.
I’m pleased to cede my blog to a good friend of mine. Good luck, Mimi. Wishing you all the best.
To escape the dysfunction of city life, Demi Fedora leaves behind everything she knows to move to her deceased grandfather’s derelict cabin in the wilds of Alaska. There she encounters true adversity that puts her life in danger more than once.
Irresistible Freedom
Land of the Free Book 1
by Mimi Barbour
Genre: Romantic Suspense, Adventure
Escape… a new beginning.
That’s what Demi Fedora yearns for. And so, she leaves everything and everyone she knows to move to her deceased grandfather’s derelict cabin in the wilds of Alaska, the one he left her in his will.
Meeting Whittaker Hart isn’t in her plans. Though the ruggedly handsome gold prospector does everything to win her over, she keeps her distance until her need to survive a life totally foreign to her nature overcomes her desire to do everything herself.
After rescuing a young drunk and taking on the tough life of a greenhorn, she realizes one thing. Between fixing up the place to make it livable for the coming winter and learning how to exist in a land filled with vicious storms and treacherous wildfires, she can’t cope alone.
No matter how much she yearns for independence, she needs help…. a lot of help.
Excerpt for the first book – Irresistible Freedom:
From time to time, Demi sensed that reality was just on the other side of her closed eyelids, but she refused to let it in. Instead, she soaked in the sensation of floating. Maybe she did it as a defense from having to face the brutality again. She didn’t know. When she heard voices, she pretended not to.
Periodically, she felt a cool cloth on her face, washing it and bathing the swelling that had finally stopped burning. Hands would also clear away her hair from tangling around her shoulders. Gentle hands. Hands that soothed and made her sigh with contentment. She loved those hands.
Only when the room was empty did she finally allow herself to open her eyes. Darkness surrounded her, and she loved the safety of concealment. Hadn’t that been her go-to as a young girl after that brutal attack when she was thirteen?
If it hadn’t been for Tanner, her foster brother and best friend at the time, who knows what might have happened. He’d taught her to fight back. Given her the confidence she’d needed to care enough to do so. He’d instilled in her a spirit of battle where one didn’t give up. And she hadn’t… not during that fight. It’s what saved her.
But afterward, when she’d hidden for days in any dark space she could crawl into, that’s when she’d let her weakness take over. Tears of self-pity had poured out until she’d drained them all. Then began the questioning to God of why her? Why had it happened? What had she done?
Eventually, Tanner had found her hiding spot and asked her why she’d run away. She hadn’t been able to talk about it then. Though confused by her behavior and more than willing to take on her demons, he’d finally taken her at her word that she was fine and dropped the subject.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she arched her body, the discomfort beginning to make itself felt. It’s then she sensed she wasn’t alone. A tall figure came to her side of the bed and had seen her eyes open before she could pretend she hadn’t woke up.
Whit sat carefully on the side of her bed, his hand reaching out to gently push her hair over her shoulder. “How are you?”
In this atmosphere of safety, she couldn’t find her battle gear, her sarcasm, or her uncaring, pissy attitude. In a small voice, she whimpered. “I must be a bad person. If not, then why do I seem to draw all these maniacs into my world?”
“No way, Demi. You’re the bravest, most beautiful soul I’ve met in a long, long time. I don’t know what happened in your past, and if you want to share, I’d be happy to listen.”
She shook her head. “I was terrified.”
“Yet you still attacked that killer to save Glen and me. We’ll never forget it.”
His voice mesmerized and seemed like the balm her sadness needed. She reached for him, her good arm winding around his lowered head. She peered into eyes that shone in the dimness, shone with a light that made her feel good. Actually, better than good. He made her feel happy to be alive.
Moments passed where they just took their time to search… to gaze. All she saw was hunger. She pulled him closer, needing the touch of caring to wipe away that stench of hate.
When he lowered his mouth to gently caress hers, she let him. In fact, she’d unconsciously reached for his lips. And when they met, she knew such gladness. All the loneliness disappeared. She was alive. And she was desired.
Demi has been consistently warned that the northern winter would be perilous, yes. Yet nothing in her wildest imagination could prepare her for the reality. In book two, she will go through incredible and frightening adventures where the little bastard (as she calls her wild wolf pup) will be instrumental in not only driving her crazy but saving her life… more than once.
Her ongoing belief that Whit will survive being lost in the fire he and Glen went to fight becomes a huge conflict. She refuses to accept any other ending… but should she?
And Glen, the young native friend she saved in book #1, will be a challenge that can’t be ignored. Life isn’t easy by any means. Thankfully, the awe-inspiring land, many call God’s country, has a way of soothing those in need.
Conquering conflicts and battles, Demi and her Alaskan family face more unexpected adventures. Battling for her life is just the beginning. Before she has a chance to catch her breath, she’s deep in a fight for her best friend’s future.
Nothing comes easy in this wild country. Even with the support of the handsome gold prospector, her new brother, and her wolf, life in the North continues to challenge her every step of the way. If she fights with everything in her, will she finally find the peaceful existence she craves?
NYT & USA Today, best-selling, award-winning author, MIMI BARBOUR, has nine romance series to her credit. She also has a new Trilogy, many single titles and a huge number of box sets – her own and multi-author collections.
Mimi lives on the East coast of Vancouver Island with her small dog, Charli, and writes her various romances with tongue in cheek and a mad glint in her eye. She’s been known to say: “If I can steal a booklover’s attention away from their everyday grind, absorb them into a fantasy love story, and make them care about the ending, then I’ve done my job.”
Here we are at the end of the second week of the challenge. It was a busy week with family visiting, the eclipse, and warm weather that made you want to sit outside and worship the sun, but we’re back to seasonal weather for the next little while. That will make it easier to stay on task and get things done. No, not my spring cleaning, although that is on the list, but I need help with that both inside and out.
Today’s letter is L. I’ve chosen to talk about the focal point of all romance books regardless of the genre: LOVE. How much love is enough? In some of my books, the romance is more front center than in others where I emphasize the plot, at least in the early chapters. Sex at the drop of a hat isn’t love, it’s lust. There is love at first sight, but should that lead to instant physical action? In my humble opinion and based on a 52-year-old marriage, I believe that to truly love someone, you have to get to know them, to become friends. Maybe yours is an older-than-time relationship that explains how you can get from A to Z in the blink of an eye. Are your characters soulmates, twin flames that had a fiery relationship in the past, or in a PAST LIFE, that ended suddenly in some fashion where the two were ripped apart, like Mount Vesuvius exploding in Beneath the Ashes, or a jealous sorcerer wanting what wasn’t his and angering the gods in Listen to the Stones. In both of those books, love is the impetus that will make things right as the lovers are finally reborn to pick up where they left off.
Thanks to television, movies, and social media, too many people put physical attraction at the top of the list when they look for a partner, but a soulmate won’t necessarily look exactly the same from one lifetime to the other. There will be something familiar about them, but it will be their personality and hearts that will draw them together as well as those vague memories and the sense of deja vu they’ll feel when they meet. But how much of the book needs to be dedicated to the actual aspects of their love, the physical joining as it were?
Let’s look at my current WIP. I started my novel, Listen to the Stones, with a dream sequence that identified the book as contemporary, paranormal, and romantic. I dropped hints that there might be danger involved throughout the story, but essentially, the first half of the book is dedicated to both the hero and the heroine trying to understand what’s happening to them in the here and now and why. The story focuses on plot and background, not in one quick blob, but slowly, methodically, the way a real person might discover that what she’s always believed to be true isn’t at all that way, bringing them all to the appointed place in plausible ways with just enough knowledge to move on to the next part of the story.
The conflict itself is explained in dream sequences, magical explanations, and paranormal events, but things don’t start to come together until all the players are in place–Callea, the sorceress, Raven, the messenger of the gods, the two separated at conception but who should only have been one, and the prize, the reborn daughter of the sea king, raised away from the sacred place for her safety. The future rests in her hands. She must choose between between two men, one who has loved her across the ages, and another who lusts after her and only wants the land. If she chooses love, those who have been imprisoned for eons will be released. If she’s blinded by the pretender, they will remain prisoners of the stones for eternity. A difficult choice to make and the only thing to help her will be her ability to recognize true love despite the obstacles she’ll face.
That’s it. Come back on Monday to see what I come up with for the letter M
Living the Dream 