SURREALITY

Yes, I made up a word. The past two years have been surreal and reality, hence Surreality. You’re welcome. Like most people, my world has been rocked and rolled over the past two years. I work in health care, so I continued to work through the pandemic, although my patient load and hours got cut back for a while. Things are roughly back to normal on the work front, so that’s good news. The home front is decidedly not normal. Over the years, we have enjoyed a relatively healthy existence. 2021 decided that needed to change, so in January, the entire household came down with Covid-19. I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick for that long, but we recovered without any major issues. During my downtime, I decided it was time to find a primary physician and made an appointment with my husband’s doctor. As a healthcare provider I have certain expectations of doctors, and this one didn’t make the cut. I take issue with any doctor who doesn’t ask basic questions regarding my health history, doesn’t address current conditions and concerns, and repeats no less than four times that I need to eat more plant-based foods (without asking about my diet). At least, she did request lab work, a mammogram, and a colon screen (done, done, and done). Now, to find another doctor. All was going along relatively smoothly until I woke up at 3am over Labor Day weekend in atrial fibrillation. Most might say they had heart palpitations. I’d call it an asynchronized kettle drum thumping on the wrong side of my chest. After an early morning trek to the emergency room (via Whataburger because mi esposo needed breakfast), voila–I now have history of a-fib. Fun. Fortunately, my little, ole heart decided to go back to a normal rhythm without further drama, and I went home with a very nice, shiny cardiologist to call my own. Yippee. That was nothing. The next week, mi esposo went in for a cardiac catheterization–nothing was wrong, but his cardiologist wanted to take a look around his heart’s arteries. Mi esposo came away with two stents and a buttload of blood thinners. Nothing wrong, my fanny! You’d think that would be enough, right? Nope. In October, mi esposo, the Mimi, and I took a tiny trip to Georgia to meet our new grandbaby girl (I shall call her Girlie). She’s gorgeous, adorable, magnificent, smart, opinionated, and possesses a set of lungs that lets you know she means Business (That’s my girl!). Anyway, on our last day visiting, mi esposo decided to help Myrtle the Elder put some things away in the attic. He took an ill-advised shortcut out of the attic and landed on the concrete garage floor. Did you know that bones don’t like concrete all that much? Nor do they appreciate 8-foot drops onto said concrete. We also discovered that morphine is not his friend, and neither is the LSD-type concoction that he received in the emergency room to control the pain. So, while mi esposo experienced life in a Georgia hospital and rehab, I had to come home and figure out how I was going to get him back to Texas. After three weeks, Myrtle the Younger and I trekked back to Georgia, sprung mi esposo from jail–I mean rehab, and hauled him home in a four-day, whirlwind trip that I’m still recovering from four months later. He’s healing well but has more therapy and surgery in his future. And we have a new normal. The weirdness of 2020 and 2021 has given me a lot of time and fodder for my writing. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve entered a few more short story/flash fiction contests and done pretty darn well if you’re interested (well, you must be if you’re reading this). A friend is producing an anthology this spring, and I’ve submitted a story for it. Stay tuned for more details. I have finished the first two books of my newest series, The Tess Corona Chronicles. (No, I did not name her after the virus! The name was given two years before the pandemic, and no, I am not changing it. So, there.) I’m querying agents and publishers for the first novel–And They Danced, and I’m working with my critique group on the second–And They Played. Writing of the third book, And They Hid, has commenced. If that isn’t enough, I still have to write the last book of the Spiritual Gifts trilogy, books 3 and 4 of the Daemon series, a non-fiction work, and at least a dozen or so short stories. Did I mention that I work full-time? And that mi esposo can’t do most of the things I need him to do? There aren’t enough hours in the day. T

Old and New

 Most of my social media feeds show people reflecting on 2020 and planning for 2021. I am not a planner–not even what’s for dinner–but I do make an effort to at least sketch out a calendar with important dates. This year I tried to at least look at what I accomplished in 2020. In a year of global ups and downs, I have to admit my year was mostly up.

Ups: I opened the year getting 3rd place in a local short story contest (Transplant), then got 1st place in August (All Saints). I published my 4th book (Valkyrie) in May, finished my 1st manuscript for a new series-The Cerveza Chronicles, and made headway on the 2nd novel. I participated in National Write a Novel Month for the 5th time, and PitchWars for the 1st time.

My learning process continued with (in person and online) meetings and classes for Skywarn, TCU Center of Texas Studies, Texas Discovery Gardens, Sisters in Crime (North Dallas, Heart of Texas, Houston, North California, National), Bourchercon-Sacramento, Writer’s Guild of Texas, Dallas Mystery Writers, Dallas Area Writers Group (DAWG), Roanoke Writers Conference, Writer’s Organizations ‘Round Dallas (WORD), and Frisco Area Writers Group (FAWN). Basically, if they let me in, I took notes.

My oldest–Myrtle the Elder–came to visit in January and bought her first home in February. She also got a new puppy–a Boston Terrier name Moose. My other granddogs are doing well. Doc had a bloody ear, but otherwise avoided having his stomach pumped again (win!). I’ve been able to keep in touch with friends through Zoom, Discord, texting, and the occasional porch or driveway visit.

T’s Adventures in Cooking including learning to fill tamales (yum!), making my first chicken and dumplings and beef stew, my first cobbler (blog post-Drunk Peaches), not-my-first-but-it’d-been-awhile Thanksgiving turkey, and the best smoked Christmas ham with a cranberry-dijon glaze (seriously good and ham isn’t my favorite meat).

Downs: In March, my husband and I had to put our 15 year old black lab to sleep (blog post-My Boy). I still miss my boy.

Covid-19 affected everyone I know in one way or another. One family member (a nurse) caught it early on but recovered. Friends went into strict quarantine due to health concerns, and most transitioned their work to home. My job (occupational therapist) doesn’t have the luxury of working from home, but we did have to decrease our hours temporarily. Fortunately, my employer did everything they could to keep us working, and I had over 100 hours of vacation time (because I forget to plan time off) accumulated to offset the difference.

Personally, I haven’t allowed the pandemic to limit me. I live my life, wear a mask, and respect others space. It doesn’t work for many, but it works for me.

What does 2021 hold for T?

No clue. I’m attempting to make a few plans. I’m going to take the leap and query agents for The Cerveza Chronicles. Honestly, I’m not sure how patient I will be with that process, but we’ll see. I am a new board member of Writers Guild of Texas (pray for them, they know not what possessed them). Any and all classes, meetings, critiques, contests, etc that I am capable of participating in, shall be participated in. And Myrtle the Younger and I will continue our Adventures in Cooking (she got a tiny waffle maker for Christmas-yummy!) so stay tuned for whatever crazy whim we get a taste for, without setting the kitchen on fire (it’s a skill I haven’t mastered yet. My mother has achieved that greatness at least 3 times that I know of).

Many blessing to all for a HEALTHY and SAFE 2021!

T.

Thrilled and Humbled

 A couple of weeks ago, I did this thing–I entered a local writer’s group short story contest. Each month the Granbury Writers’ Bloc posts a challenge to write a story of less than 1500 words for a given prompt. August happened to be an open prompt category. While there are many contests out there, few offer a critique for each entry. This contest offers feedback for each entry, and that alone is worth the entry fee.

This month had the added incentive of receiving a “plot bunny”. Meet Lena the Lizard.

Lena the Lizard ‘Plot Bunny’

Lena promises to help me write more short stories (I have to provide the poop).

Before this year, I had written two short stories–SMACK! and A Smile for Noelle–as a challenge to myself. While I did submit SMACK! for a Texas horror anthology (I figured Hey! Why not!), those stories were never critiqued. In January, I submitted Transplant to the GWB Short Story Contest. I was pleased to get 3rd place for that effort. In addition to this contest, I’ve written a few flash fiction stories (under 300 words) for another group I belong to (maybe someday I’ll post those).

So back to my current short story–I wrote All Saints as a complement to my paranormal cold case series (formerly referred to as The Corona Chronicles, but now will be called Chronicles of the Cerveza Twins–or something like that). Wanting good feedback, I submitted All Saints as a short story.

And I won. First place. To say I was excited is an understatement. Mi Espouso said I was going to be difficult to live with (I think he’ll survive). There were only two comments given in the feedback, including the statement “One of the best stroies[sic] of any genre I’ve read in a long time.”

Lena thinks I did a good job.

Well, doesn’t that just put things in perspective? I am floored. This is someone who reads as much as I do, if not more, and my fourth attempt at a short story was the best they’ve read in a long time?

Wow. If that isn’t the incentive to keep writing, I don’t know what is.

My story, along with the 2nd and 3rd place winners, are posted at Granbury Writers’ Bloc. Check them out. Send them love and support.

Thanks!

T.

I'm Blue

For the past three years, I have looked forward to an event created by and for writers. Writers in the Field (WITF) is an opportunity for writers to get inside the head of experts in all manner of disciplines without kidnapping, torture, and self-incrimination. Many of these experts are also writers (or are related to writers) so they understand the strange browser histories which put writers on various watch lists.

The first year was at the tail end of a true Texas summer--hotter than your oven on broil. Last year's event is fondly referred to as Writers in the Flood or Writers in the Mud since Mother Nature decided to dump a load on our heads, complete with tornado. But still we slugged our way to the experts as they did for us. A few didn't make it, including the food truck, but those that did were rewarded with fond memories of slogging through the muck, ruining our shoes, and going mudding in our cars (that was fun).

This year, Momma Nature made up for the first two years. For the past two days, the weather gave us lovely fall-like temperatures (which only last about 5 minutes in Texas). The rain came in early, leaving the ground only slightly squishing in certain places. Life is good.

So, off I went (with mi espouso and Myrtle the Younger in tow) with a clean notepad to attend WITF, intent on meeting like-minded people and experts, to discuss methods of murder and mayhem without threat of suspicious eyes and ears wondering just what the hell was going on out there. There sword fights, loin-girding, Renaissance dancing, lock-picking, blade-smithing, weavers, and dyers (to name a few) mix with experts from the FBI, Secret Service, police, and bomb squad to answer ALL our questions and insane ideas for our story lines. They offer suggestions on how to make our life--I mean writing--more interesting and realistic, while suggesting (gently) that perhaps that plot twist might now work the way we think it will (sigh).

So, why am I blue? Well...I dyed.

I know, it's shocking, but after years of vague ideas on how to make a tie-dyed shirt, I participated in several dying sessions and dyed my very own mustard-y yellow-y handkerchief. Over 2 days and under the watchful eye of Willoc the Dyer, six of us helped to dye a length of hand-woven, wool fabric a deep, rich blue-y purple or purple-y blue. I had the task of being under the wet cloth, dipping the cloth in the dye, ensuring it didn't get tangled on the turning dowel, and basically getting dripped on. One day one, my hands were red. Today, I was blue.

Very blue. As in Smurfette blue. And it DOESN'T COME OFF! (Pics on Instagram)

I'm blue.

T.

Something New...Now What?

Hello, all. It's been a while. A year to be exact. Sorry about that. It's hard to relate what I'm doing when I truly don't have a clue.

It's been a productive year, methinks. I finished the sequel to Healer and am in the process of editing and proofing. The book cover is...a work in progress? (She tells me she's working on it. Sigh.) My goal is to publish it soon. That's about as close to a commitment that I can muster.

My work-in-progress list has grown. I still have the two Daemon series additions, as well as the final two of the Spiritual Gifts series to finish, and I've begun a paranormal suspense series that I'm calling The Corona Chronicles. That's the one I mentioned in my last post. It's proceeding differently than my other works, so I can't wait to see how it comes together. I've now started two other pieces: one a non-fiction based on my work and philosophy as an occupational therapist, and the other appears to be a children's story.

The non-fiction is interesting. I do not consider myself an expert on much of anything, but this piece insisted that I was the one to bring it forth. For the moment, it's called Need and addresses basic truths about health. Writing non-fiction is different than writing a novel, so I'm on an interesting learning curve.

As far as learning curves go, the children's story is another level of What am I doing? The story was easy (and based on a true story), and I actually have a vision of the final product (for once), but I am clueless on how to proceed with editing because I need to gear the story toward an age or reading level. I attended a panel discussion of children's writers a few years ago, but my take-away isn't helping me now.

My primary thought during and after the panel was the focus on who would be reading the children's book. The writers assumed the child would be doing the reading. At the time, I had spent time with my brother as he sought books HE wanted to read to his daughter. Yes, he wanted her to enjoy the book, but he also wanted to have fun as well. He looked at books from the stance of What silly voices can I make up while I'm reading this to her? and How many times will I read this book before I want to throw up?

Mi espouso and I have two daughters (both grown now--not sure how they survived us). One of the stories their daddy read to them was Bark, George by Jules Feiffer. Mi espouso aspires to do voice-over acting and especially loved the many animal noises he could incorporate into reading this book. The girls thought he was hilarious and helped him out with each oink, moo, and bark. If that's not father-daughter bonding, I don't know what is. That's what my brother sought, but had difficulty finding.

Hmmm...that was a soap box, wasn't it. Okay, then. I'm done. Back to writing adultish stuff and figuring out what to do with this kiddie thing. (Suggestions welcome.)

T.

The Writer's Life

I must say that writing is exhausting work. My brain doesn't shut down except when it must. Personality tests say its due to being an INFP. If I had ever undergone psychological testing, I might have been diagnosed with some version of attention deficit disorder. The bottom line is, I can carry on a conversation, drive, eat, and watch TV while brainstorming book scenes without breaking a sweat.

This might explain why I'm trying to write 5 books at the same time. Insane, I know, but it's my reality. I have two more books each for the Daemon series and the Spiritual Gifts trilogy, plus the beginnings of another series.

Needless to say, the past few months have seen much time spent researching everything from Viking weaponry, Renaissance country dancing, the Texas Rangers (not the baseball team), and various Texas myths, legends, and murder mysteries. In my zeal for information and ideas, I've visits a few cool places and events, and collected a few souvenirs.

I mentioned previously that I attended a gun and knife expo, searching for information and inspiration on knives. While I didn't find reference material, I discovered a love of custom knives and purchased my first.


Did I need a knife? No, I don't. Do I love my knife? Yes, yes, I do. Ain't it pretty?

In May, mi espouso and I went to Scarborough Faire, one of the biggest Renaissance festivals around. While most women go there to eat turkey legs and get their hair braided, I really wanted to buy a sword, but demonstrated admirable restraint. Instead, I focused on the tour of a dungeon, various forges, maps, and anything that might help my quest.


The woman in the tapestry shop called this guy a library dragon. I called him the Book Wyrm. After she thought about it for half a second, she realized I was right. I'd like to think she will forever refer to this piece correctly.

Yes, I found a few book-related goodies and spent way too much money, but more importantly, I came away with usable ideas for sequel to Healer.

A week later found me in Waco, with mi espouso and the Mimi, headed to the Texas Ranger Museum. I came away with a buzzing head and confirmation that my new series might just work after all. I've collected a few books for research purposes (and curiosity of the absurd).


Don't judge. I'm a writer. (I saw a tshirt today: My Browser History Can Get Me Arrested. So true. Too bad they didn't have my size.)

The past 2 days have been spent at my first DFW Writer's Conference, complete with agents. I haven't tried the agent route, so being in the room while they played the Query Gong Show was an interesting experience. (Panel of agents are read an anonymous query letter. They hit a gong when they've heard enough to reject. Three gongs & you're out. At least, you hear the reasons.)

So for 2 days, I have attended lectures about screenwriting, the hero's journey, editing, marketing, book covers, challenges, writing courtroom drama, and historical research. Each topic could have had another 30 minutes tacked on. To say the speakers were excellent would be an understatement. The keynote speaker was Scott Westerfield, author of The Uglies. His topic was amazing: the evolution of the novel and teens into the current popularity of Young Adult fiction.

While I am still processing all the information and ideas from the event, I did come away with a few souvenirs.


Mi espouso can never have enough tshirts.

I think I'm done for today.
T.

A Curious Mind

Apparently, author-hood means being the proud owner of an insatiable curiosity for the oddities of life. I find I am no exception.

A fellow writer posted this on their page:

While these are not MY searches, I'm now curious enough about Canadian police procedures regarding werewolves to do a little side research. Who knows where that yellow brick road will lead.

However, if one happened to be curious about what my searches consist of, one only has to look at my Pinterest page. In the lovely world of suggestions based on previous searches and pins, Pinterest thinks I'm in desperate need of Wiccan spells, materials, and clothing. Just because I research a lot of mythology,astrology, cemeteries, history, art, weaponry, and medicinal herbs and oils (to name a few) does in NO way mean I want to cast a few spells (although the one for invisibility is intriguing, I've always wanted that to be my superpower).

A certain big name (who shall remain unnamed) bookstore puts suggestions for future purchases on their receipts. Today I left said big name bookstore with reference books about angels, ancient healing practices, and an illustrated history of pistols. My receipt suggested I might have missed out on the excitement of  tarot cards, a book about angel therapy, and oracle cards (I have no idea what oracle cards are, but I will be looking them up as soon as I'm finished here).

Now, if you will excuse me, I must resume my study of demonology.

T.

Part of the Beginning

Do you remember having a dream? Something you wanted to accomplish, but only had a vague idea of how to make the fantasy become reality? Or maybe you knew how to get there, but weren't sure if the end result would be what you expected?

I think we all can relate to those desires. At some point we wanted to become a rock star or a famous actor or an astronaut. Some dreams happen magically, others require a ton of work and a little bit of luck, while other fantasies drift off into a mist of "what the hell was I thinking?"

Writing, for me, has been a warped bit of that journey. Did I dream of being an author? Not really. I toyed with the idea once or twice, but there was no burning desire to sit down and write words. In fact, most of the time, I would sit down to write an assigned essay or story and my mind would go totally blank. The same thing happens when I tried to be an artist or a songwriter. Nope. Nada.

Until the day, the story/dream planted its carcass in my pea brain and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down. Then more ideas filled the hole and refused to budge until I shoved and molded that sucker into a book. (Let's not talk about the other five ideas waiting impatiently to take their turn in that hole.) Then my OCD took over and made me organize, edit, and proof until I couldn't see straight.

That's when I decided I needed a cover. I knew what I didn't want (unrealistically depicted 8-packs glistening in the sun with a bulging...well, never mind) but I also didn't know what I wanted. Cue in Myrtle the Younger.

As previously mentioned somewhere in the bowels of this blog, I think I have mentioned maybe once or twice that I have two extremely talented girls, the younger of which desires/fantasizes/dreams and is well on her way to becoming an outstanding artist and animator. As any good and responsible parent, I want to help my child build her self-confidence, soooo...I asked the child to create a book cover.

I can tell you that there is no greater feeling than placing your child's work into their hands as a finished product. The look on MTY's face when I handed her the proof of If You Touch My Mind was overwhelming to say the least. This was more than posting a drawing on the refrigerator door. This was part of her portfolio and resume; a stepping stone to her future.

The same thing happened ten months later when I published Keep Your Eyes On Me. No one can take that experience away from her. Nothing can take those memories from me.

With my third book waiting a cover, I again turned to MTY but with her busy college schedule, she ran into difficulties. What to do? I turned to a the son of a friend. He is about the same age as MTY and is studying graphic design. Over the past few months, he and I have worked back and forth until he delivered cover art which mi esposo could work into the finished cover.

Last night, I placed the proof into this kid's hands. Guess what? I got the same response from him as I got from my own daughter. Overwhelmed. Thrilled. Maybe just a little scared, but that's okay. Yes, there were things he wanted to change. Yes, there were things he and mi esposo need to experiment with, but this young college student has something in his hands which moves him forward in his dream.

Today, his mother shared his Facebook post. He had posted a picture of the proof and summed up his feelings eloquently: "wow".

I may not have birthed this kid, but I am just as proud of him as I am of my own girls. I am thrilled to be part of his beginning.

T.

Would You Rather...?

I admit to a secret indulgence: personality tests. (I know it's weird. You have your own little quirks. I won't judge if you won't.)

Now, I can hear you now: "T, I don't care what color your personality is." (All of them, depending on my mood when taking the test.) That's okay, because that's not what this post is about. (Thank the Lord!)

I come up with my own (non)scientific explanations for how the universe and it's humanoids operate, and I always begin with the one I  know the most about: me. (You thought I was going to say mi esposo, didn't you?) (He's the 2nd person I wonder about, but I still think he might be an alien.) Years ago, I developed some pseudo scientific, well-thought-out and developed explanations for how to choose which medical career (aka: Why I'm an occupational therapist and not a physical therapist or a nurse) and a theory of male mental age development (or lack thereof). If you have any interest in the above, let me know.

More recently, I have been considering authors/writers and their target/victim, the reader. I have done my research: reading, attending lectures, reading, writing, and, of course, reading. Now, I have formed my expert conclusions to share. (I can hear your bated breath. Exhale now.)

From what I've been able to figure, there are two types of authors:

1. Writers who read. These are people trained, or at least subscribe to, the Science of the Written Word. Every detail of character, plot, subplot, descrptions, grammar, verbiage, etc is carefully executed to perfection. When they write, the emphasis is on what the Reader wants to see. When they read,  the emphasis is on the quality of the writing.

2. Readers who write. These subscribe to the Art of the Written Word. The written emphasis is on what the Writer wants to read. Characters, plots and subplots get most of the attention; while grammar, POV and other details are of lesser importance. The same goes when reading.

Which one would you rather read?

As a lifelong, avid reader of both styles, I will tell you my preference is #2. Why? Because, if the story is engaging, I can forgive most grammar issues (although my OCD will still go haywire), and other "unforgivable" problems with writing like point of view (POV). I get lost in flowery language and detailed descriptions. As long as I can enjoy the story, then I'm happy. (I also read the last chapter after the reading the 1st 2-3 chapters. Gotta make sure things are going to be okay in the end. Same goes for movies. Give me a spoiler any day.) (Don't judge.)

Personally, I hate reading a romance novel with single person POV. It's boring. A romance novel is about developing a relationship between 2 people. I want to understand where both people are coming from without impacting the pace of the story. Some authors will give each character their own chapter but rehash the same event. No Bueno! (And please don't insult my intelligence by telling me this chapter is Ben's POV, then this is Beth's POV. I can kinda figure it out on my own, thanks.) It's fine to be in one person's head for a mystery novel. They're trying to figure out who done it.

Sorry. That was a tangent and a rant. Anyway...

What brought this on? I attended a writer's meeting this week and one writer mentioned that she was having difficulty getting her book published, and questioned what she needed to do to be seen. The response was to give her character quirks (make them more interesting). This is not the first time I had heard this discussion, nor is it the only answer I have heard for why X, Y or Z hasn't happened. Any suggestion is fine and dandy in my opinion, but I think an important point is often overlooked: publishers tend to look for Writers who read, not Readers who write. This is one of the reasons why writers are told to keep submitting their work and to expect 50 or more rejections before they get a break.

This is one reason why I self-published in the first place. I don't have that kind of patience.

T.

P.S. I'm trying to write a horror story. Kinda creeping myself out. Stay tuned!

Time to Reflect

Two things have happened this week which make me want to pause for just a moment.

This first came the news that a dear friend had passed away. When I met Darlene Cates over four years ago, I had no idea who she was or what she would come to mean to me. Millions knew her as the mother in What's Eating Gilbert Grape? I had never seen the movie or her other work (a fact she tried to remedy without success). In spite of my extreme introversion (a fact she was truly blind to), she bulldozed her way into my life, worming out every stinking detail of my otherwise dull existence. She invited me to the filming and then the preview of her final movie short, Mother, she attended one of Myrtle the Younger's archery tournaments, she cried over the loss of my mother's cat, and, more importantly, she listened to my insane ideas for a screenplay.

Not only did she listen, Darlene demanded that I write my little story down, after which she helped me to milk every stinking detail of the story out of my pea brain. As that tale developed, other story lines emerged. With each idea, Darlene was there helping me to find and develop the story. She asked thousands of questions. It was the third story which became If You Touch My Mind. It was also the one I dedicated to her honor.

I've continued to work on the first two stories and kept her up-to-date on their progress. At our last tea party, Darlene asked if I would have Healer (my second story) done before she passed. I promised her it would be out within a month. I didn't realize I only had a week.

Be at peace, my friend.

The second event occurred overnight. My church participates in a program called Family Promise. This is a collaborative effort of churches to provide shelter for temporarily homeless families. Each church hosts these families for one week while they look for work or get back on their feet. I volunteered to be an overnight host and last night was my first opportunity.

I met the three families as they finished dinner and we had a lovely time chatting about kids, college football (I had to forgive one couple for being OU fans-they kindly forgave me for my UT affiliation), One mom was new while the other couple had experienced the program for several weeks. The mentoring, friendship and love which these families displayed for each other and those of us who volunteered to help them was astounding and humbling. It was well worth the aches and pains of camping out at church on an air mattress all night.

Blessings,
T.

Just A Quickie

I'm sorry I haven't posted lately. There's probably no other excuse than I just don't have much to report. So here are a couple of interesting tidbits:

My favorite cover artist (aka Myrtle the Younger) has decided not to do the cover art for my fantasy romance, Healer. I'm okay with that. She's busy with school and friends. All is good. A friend's son is an aspiring graphic designer so he has accepted the challenge to help build his portfolio. What he has presented so far looks great and I can't wait to reveal the cover.

While waiting for the cover, I joined Wattpad. If you aren't familiar with that forum, it's a FREE website/app which allows you to read works from authors all over the world. I've read several books on the site, many of which are in dire need of editing, but have enjoyed the stories presented. You can follow authors, comment and vote on chapters you like (votes lead to more readers, awards, etc.). Wattpad has multiple genres to choose from, so you can go wild. If you want to check out my work, it's under taseitz.

Don't worry. I will still publish the normal way when I finish this final edit and get the cover.

That's all for now! Have a great weekend!
T.

Control Freak

I have another confession. This will come as a surprise to many, but I am a control freak.

I know. I know. Most women are. I'm a little different in that I only want to know what's going on so I can go about my merry business with an understanding of the world around me. I don't particularly want to make decisions or tell others what to do (with the exception of mi espouso).

In many ways, this need to know gets me in some deep trouble. Trouble like others-see-me-as-a-leader type trouble. I don't want to lead. I'm a happy camper as a good ole follower. My opinions are simply my opinions and no one should ever trust that I know what I'm doing or where I'm going (I think that was mentioned in detail in my 2nd/3rd blog post, I am Cursed.) All I ask is that you keep me in the loop on all the juicy gossip (whoops! I meant important facts pertaining to my existence.)

So why, one might ask, is this information relevant on a chilly Texas evening? Well...my books are being purchased.

The curious-minded individual might randomly inquire, "T, I thought that was what you wanted. You published your books so people would a) buy them, and b) read them, and c) review them."

Well kind, curious-minded individual, you would be correct. I did, in fact, publish my little book babies for the very reasons listed above; however, (and this is the kicker) I DON'T KNOW WHO THESE PEOPLE ARE! (hyperventilate, BREATHE, gasp, BREATHE)

I know it's insane, but I had an expectation/delusion that someone would buy a book and we would have a lovely discussion about said book over tea and cookies. That is mostly what happened until recently. Someone would make a purchase, tell me when they received and/or read it, and we would discuss it. The conversations usually occurred via text or message rather than high tea, but rest assured a cup of God's nectar was near at hand on my end. Some conversations resulted in lovely 4 and 5 star reviews, some didn't but I knew what each person thought of my work and that was important to me. I grew from each conversation. (I have received one 3 star review. It's not a bad review, but I'm trying to wrap my pea-brain around it. How's that for full disclosure?)

So now, people are buying my work and I'm not getting feedback and I don't know who these people are to ask their opinion. It's driving me nuts! So, please, if you have one of my little book babies in your possession, be kind and let me know what you think. I'll make tea.

T.

A Smile for Noelle

"I want to watch Anastasia, Mimi! Please!"

"Just a moment, Hannah, let me finish feeding Gaga." Noelle sighed. There was never a moment of peace. Not even on her birthday.

She ignored the hurt. No one remembered it was her birthday. Not even Mom.

"But I want to watch it now." whined the four-year-old.

Her only grandchild was not known for patience. With a frustrated groan, Noelle gave into the demand and tossed the spoon back into the cooling mashed potatoes. Mom would have to wait for her next bite, not that she would notice.

Noelle quickly put in the requested video, wondering how many times one child could watch a single movie. Apparently one more time. If watching an animated movie on repeat kept the girl entertained, then maybe Noelle could get Mom settled and finish wrapping the Christmas gifts.

Mission accomplished, Noelle turned to see her mother sitting unmoved in her seat. A vacant stare settled into the familiar hazel eyes. The vibrant, intelligent and fiercely independent woman who had raised Noelle alone was gone. Alzheimer's had stolen the woman she knew and loved and missed terribly, leaving a shell which required constant care.

She could rely on no one else to provide that care. There was no other family and the thought of a nursing home made her shudder. Mom's body was as frail as her mind. In addition to the vacant eyes and lack of mobility, Mom's thin arms were tightly locked into her chest. Any attempts to move or position the arms were met with angry, non-verbal cries of pain and resistance. One occupational therapist had suggested giving Mom a soft baby doll to hold. The suggestion was worth trying, after all Mom had worked in the church nursery for over fifty years.

Now was as good a time as any. Noelle looked past Hannah to a pile of toys. No baby dolls there. Then she remembered; Santa was bringing Hannah a special doll and it sat at the top of the closet. With the child engrossed in the movie, she would never know one of her presents was being used in an experiment.

"Here you go, Mom. Here's your baby."

She looked toward the voice, but the face of a kind woman was blurred. She must be the nurse.

A baby? Yes. After all of the waiting, she had a child to hold. It seemed like yesterday that she and Jethro said their vows, followed by goodbye a few days later. A uniformed man returned a few months ago to report Jethro's death on a French battlefield. His baby would make up for his loss. Now she finally held that baby in her arms.

A baby birl. She felt her angel Jethro stand over her shoulder, viewing her Christmas present from him. She was so blessed.

"Noelle."

Noelle turned at the unexpected sound of her name. The readiness which Mom had accepted the doll surprised her. The withered arms had taken the toy without resistance. She had  watched her mother relax and begin to rock in her seat, cradling the doll to her like a real infant.

Now, she witnessed a look of pure joy transform the normally blank face. What could possibly be going through that lost mind? "Mom?"

Teary eyes turned toward her. "Baby."

"Yes, Mom, that's your baby." The experiment seemed to be successful. Now Noelle needed to find the money to replace the Hannah's Santa gift. With three days left to Christmas, that would be no easy task. Finances were tight and shopping while caring for a young child and an elderly parent was next to impossible. Yet there was no way she was going to take the doll from her mother.

"Baby Noelle."

A bright smile, accompanied by a tear, lit her mother's wrinkled face as she continued to rock her doll.

Noelle stood with tears coursing down her face as she realized that maybe Mom remembered her birthday after all.

June was a busy month and July is shaping up to be the same. Yea! If I'm occupado, I can't get into too much trouble...or can I?

So what has T. been up to, you ask. Wellllll...

In June, I participated in a podcast with a friend. Her website is MidlifeSchmidlife.com and her podcasts focus on people who take a left-turn after the age of 40, aka The Midlife. She is having inspirational conversations with those who have quite their jobs or altered their existence to pursue their dreams to start a business, perform burlesque show or write a book after reaching midlife. I have to say this is a much better plan for a midlife "crisis" than buying a motorcycle or a sports car (Ooh, look! A Ferrari!) and/or trading in your spouse for a younger/newer model. Sooo... in episode #3, I discuss my journey as an author. Check it out.

Also, as previously hinted at, I pulled the trigger on Book Baby #2.

Ta Da!

Keep Your Eyes On Me. This link is for the ebook, but if you're like me and prefer a physical book, it is available in paperback. If you have an opportunity, please leave a review on either Amazon or Goodreads (or both). Reviews are the lifeblood of independent writers and help us reach a larger audience. So please!

If you think I only write my blog when good things happen, you might be somewhat correct. But I'll share something on the less positive side: I've got a doozy of a losing streak going in Words With Friends. I can't get a handful of decent tiles to save my life. So if you want to up your stats, now might be a good time to challenge me to a game.

T.

A Little Behind...

I know, I know...I'm a little behind on writing. In my defense, it's been a busy month. I'll make this quick:

Myrtle the Elder graduated with her associates degree in May. Later this summer she plans to move to Georgia and go to nursing school. Why Georgia, you ask? That be where the fiance be. Assuming the army keeps him there. We have no idea. Stay tuned.

The wedding?  Inquiring minds want to know. That's on hold for a year or two. Yea! Maybe by then I'll have lost a few more pounds and can rock the Mother of the Bride dress. I really don't want to look like a Mother of the Bride. That would be bad.

Myrtle the Younger graduated high school last week, along with 1542 of her nearest and dearest friends. The ceremony took nearly 3 hours. Yes, my butt was numb. The things we do for our children.

Family trekked in to sit through the event so we had a lovely weekend. Mi espouso took The Nephew fishing at the local hole. The fishing kid caught about a 1/2 pound bass. The rest caught a variety of perch and sunfish. No one got sunburned. Yea!

Last, but not least, I revealed the title, cover and blurb for book 2. Myrtle the Younger did the cover art again. Here they be:

Mitch Monzingo thought he made all the right decisions: leave small town Texas for the bright lights of Los Angeles, answer the seductive lure of Hollywood, and support his family back home. Stunning success should be enough to make everyone proud, including the girl he reluctantly left behind.

Abandoned by her high school crush and best friend following one perfect night, Dora Therrell fought to make her dreams come true. After years of hardship and secrets, with a best-selling novel, she has finally achieved the success which leads to security.

A desire to please confronts the need to protect when a chance encounter thrusts Mitch and Dora together again. It is up to self-proclaimed matchmaker, Faye Santiago, and respected psychologist, Annabelle Joshua, to tackle the secrets and demons which separate Mitch and Dora from true happiness.

Anyway, back to editing. The next post will probably announce the publication of KYEOM. Stay tuned.

T.

I Love This!

Yesterday was awesome!

I held my first official book signing in front of The Book Gallery in McKinney, Texas. A friend is the owner and he specializes in rare and antique books. I'll come back to that in a minute.

Downtown McKinney is a lovely, historic square with old buildings and a great courthouse. The town powers close off the square once in a while to host festivals like Oktoberfest and Arts in Bloom. The latter occurred yesterday, so I was surrounded by artists, live jazz, and some of the best BBQ I've ever eaten (and that's saying something, y'all!). While I enjoy wandering around art festivals and would have loved to peruse the Texas Wine Garden or watch the beef grilling demo/tasting, I was working my little table so I didn't get out much. I did send family and friends out and about and lived vicariously through them.

Mi espouso was firmly ordered to attend part of the grilling demo. (It was a hint. A big hint. Grilling season is here. Me no cook. Comprende?) Instead of coming back with motivation and recipes, he returned with his eyes rolled back in his sucker-shaped head. Apparently there is a rare cut of steak from around the rib-eye called the spinatus or some-such, and the taste was orgasmic. At $26.99 a pound! In the words of my great-great-uncle Bunkie, "By God, it oughta!" (I couldn't tell you what Bunk's real name was, we all just called him Uncle Bunkie. I don't know why either.) Anyway, if my beloved behaves himself, he might get one for his birthday (and I do mean MIGHT 'cause $27 is outside the birthday budget). If I remember. Someone better mark a calendar and remind me, cause methinks I have to order that bad-beef-boy ahead of time.

Back at The Book Gallery, the book restorer guy was there and he does some fantastic work. He showed me a 1753 (?ish?) copy of Milton's Paradise Regained that he restored. Amazing and gorgeous! The fact that he found the book, sans cover, for $3 was pretty cool too. This guy also makes journals. All of them are made of leather and exotic papers. Some had Roman coins embedded in the cover. (Have I mentioned I love handmade, artistic stuff?)

Mimi bought me this as a 1st Book Signing Gift (Merci beaucoup, Mimi!). It was one I drooled over. I don't know who the Egyptian guy is but I think he might be Horus or one of Horus's goonies. The falcon over his head is a Horus symbol. (I think-me being an Egyptologist-NOT!) The trim is green leather and the restorer guy hand-sews the page binding. I didn't know there were different styles but he showed me about ten which he practices. He mentioned something about single-stitching versus double-stitching. This is double. (I think) No wonder old books hold up so well over hundreds of years. Paperbacks? Not happening.

 All I know is that I've got a pretty cool journal that I do not want to mess up with my ramblings. Anyway, if you need a different kind of gift for a journal-y, write-y or sketch-y (or sketchy) type person, call The Book Gallery and ask Jim about the journals or any old books you might be hunting for.

T

One Month Down...

It has been one month since I put myself out on the cliff's edge. Publishing my first book has been scary, but satisfying. And strange.

I knew people would want to read my novel. Out of morbid curiosity or whatever the excuse might have been, friends and family are doing just that. I even (kind of) expected that my mother and the Myrtles would read it. Myrtle the Elder reportedly read the prologue on the plane to see The Boyfriend for Boot Camp Graduation. For some reason, she was embarrassed by what she read and wanted an assurance from the author that the rest of the book was all right for her to continue. (Yeah, right!) Myrtle the Younger gave the Elder grief over that little fact. She's a good little sister. (Myrtle the Younger is the child who stole all  of my smut books at the tender age of 12 because she was bored. She be well-ed-yoo-ma-cated.)

I never expected to be responsible for my father-in-law to read his first romance novel. At the ripe, young age of 79, he did just that. Surprisingly, he not only bought and read my book, but bought and read a second one which caught his eye. (We are getting his vision checked, he claims the blurriness might be related to cataracts, but I have my doubts.) Anyway, his expert option was that I did a good job. That means a lot to me.

I did get a 5-star review on Amazon. That was a absolute thrill. And I've heard from a couple who have read, or are in the process of reading, and haven't heard anything negative yet. I need more reviews. Anyone?

So here I sit, one month into this journey, and I struggle to figure out "What's next?"

First and foremost: I'm exploring options for promoting If You Touch My Mind. I am open to suggestions.
Second: I'm continuing to write. I have two novels in various stages of progress. The sequel to IYTMM is called Keep Your Eyes On Me. It is sitting around 54K words with a goal of 80K. The second book is called Healer and is not related to IYTMM. It's sitting about 63K.

Stay tuned!
T.

The Gremlins Are Gone!

As far as I can tell. This being my first attempt at publishing, there are lots of ways for me to screw up. A final check-list might have been helpful, but, alas, no such critter appeared on my computer screen.

I did have to take the publication down for a period of time. I forgotted to insert the ISBN numbers on the copyright page. I'm not sure what the consequences are of not having them, but I done fixed it. At least it's fixed until someone else points out another colossal error or omission. Stay tuned 'cause I can assure you that I have missed something really important.

So, let us try this again, shall we....

http://www.amazon.com/If-You-Touch-My-Mind/dp/1515322661/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1439415743&sr=8-1&keywords=t.+a.+seitz

And...I am pleased to announce that gremlins moved out of the Kindle version and the book is now available on ebook. Getting those gremlins out of the house was a true test of my sanity. Ultimately, I ditched the converted file that Kindle uploaded, and do my own upload from my original file. Everything seems hunky-dory now. At least until someone tells me otherwise (see above).

Now it's time to figure out the promotional aspects of this venture. If you have any suggestions, please share.

T.

Drum Roll, Please!

I can officially say "I am published." If you had known me 20-30 years ago, it is the last thing you would have expected to hear from me. But, I have become an author.

For those of you who have been waiting with bated breath:

http://www.amazon.com/If-You-Touch-My-Mind/dp/1515322661/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1439248880&sr=8-2&keywords=t+a+seitz

(Hmmm...you might have to cut and paste. There's a link thingy on here...Somewhere...Oh....)

http://www.amazon.com/If-You-Touch-My-Mind/dp/1515322661/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1439248880&sr=8-2&keywords=t+a+seitz

That did it! Yea Me!

Moving on. This is a contemporary romance set in Texas with a psychology-fantasy bent that I like. Being a romance novel: body parts are mentioned, scenarios are established. God gave you an imagination, have at it.

Gentlemen: It's a romance. It probably won't kill you, but I understand if you opt to not take the risk.

As mentioned in my previous post, I am still having issues with the ebook version. Some gremlin decided to change the font size during the conversion. I don't know when that will be available, but I will share as soon as the gremlin moves out.

Some important requests: Please read, Please share, Please write a review, Please (gently) critique.

I own every error in that little novel. I have tried to do it justice with the help of many: Daddy Hawk and Gun Diva, FAWN, Mimi, the spouse, the Myrtles, and a host of dear friends (some helped willingly and knowingly, others not so much).

T.

I Am Working On It, I Tell You!

My little book is 9/10 of being a reality. There. I've said it.

What about the other 1/10, you ask? Sigh.

In case you haven't noticed, I am not the most "techie" person around. Sure I can navigate my way around most programs and devices with deceptive ease. I can figure out documentation systems, and basically put my 2c whereever I can plug it in, but when it comes to html, zip, unzip, jpg, tif etc, I am clueless. Actually, it is more accurate to say that I just don't care about that kind of "stuff." It's much like legal jargon. Whatever.

Anyway, my attempts to self-publish have resulted in several headaches of the "techie" sort. After formatting, uploads, corrections, re-uploads, cursing, and proofing (not necessarily in that order), I have the non-virtual version of my little book ready to rumble. The virtual version...well, that's just sitting in it's own special barrel of pickled monkeys.

Someone please 'splain to me how the perfect spacing and font-sizing that appears in the non-virtual version, can get so royally screwed in the virtual version. Hmmm? Anyone? Yes, I am aware that the different screen sizes might make minor adjustments, but to take ONE section (and only ONE section), change the font size (New Times Roman 12 to New Times Roman 20ish) and recenter the text into a non-sensical mess DOES NOT COMPUTE, PEOPLE!

I tried to correct the mess. Following the instructions under the supervision of my techie-ish spouse, the html shows that all is perfection. No problemo. So...I upload again (6 times)...Now the one section font change has expanded to the next paragraph, which was perfect before the corrections.

So...Here I sit, waiting for a response from the help desk...twiddling my thumbs. Slowly going insane.

Stay tuned.

T.