Polaroid Dreams


Old PolaroidJamaica Pass, Brooklyn, New York.

August 26, 1776.

That’s where the Six Brothers begins.

That’s where I’m trying to go.

Anybody got a time machine I can borrow?

I wouldn’t need to stop and visit.  Just a little flyby so I can snap a few pictures of the lay of the land, and I’d be good.

With all the research I’ve done these last six months on the late colonial period, I’m pretty ok with the customs, dress, talk and overall flavor of the era. (Note the awe-inspiring confidence held in that “pretty ok” word choice.)

However, a bygone landscape when Polaroid snapshots were few and far between is a little trickier to reimagine.

So, I’ve been scouring over old maps and drawings of the area, reading eye witness accounts to events, trying to capture something I can sink my imagination’s teeth into.

Little by little, bit by tee-tiny bit, it is working.

But I’m still thumbing for a ride on a kitted out Delorean.

Until tomorrow…



The Messy Particulars


Color cups isolated on white background.Pardon the clinking and clanking.

The occasional “Crash!” and “Oh, damnation!” should also be ignored.

Nothing alarming going on here. I’m just rooting around in the china cabinet, trying to dig out a table setting for twelve.

With the Six Brothers project moving in for an extended stay (shooting for 100K words here), I’m struggling to make room for twelve major players taking up residence in my head.

Six brothers. Six significant others. All of varying heft in the storyline I have successfully pitched to my literary agent…. That’s a couple of minivans worth of personalities. And when a girl is used to driving a sports car for two, with an occasional antagonist crowded into the backseat, the change is daunting to say the least.

So, today is “Let’s move your asses in and I’ll figure out all the messy particulars later” day.

Messy particulars include how I’m going to feed these people.

I just hope nobody minds sharing forks.

Until tomorrow…



Letting the Engine Idle



That’s me.

Quiver behind me. The Six Brothers project ahead. I’m taking a day to just relax.

Isn’t that very adult of me?

Yep, professional here.

*clock ticks slowly by as everybody waits for the…*


I’m just itching to jump into the Six Brothers, anxious as all heck to jump into the mainstream romance waters and see what this crazy girl can do!

*sighs, as the whole “adult” and “professional” things swirl noisily down the drain*

I guess my engine doesn’t idle well.

Foolhardy but excited.

That’s me.

Until tomorrow…



The Rage of the Bees


green-bee2My normally, gently buzzing beehive of nerves (the “gently” part thanks to a fist-load of Prozac every morning) is currently nearing the angry-mob-with-pickaxes stage.

SIDE NOTE: Bees with pickaxes are always bad.

Why has the buzzing turned to shouts of rage, you might ask?

*admits, while hiding face in hands…*

The Halloween party for my 4 yr. old nephew is today.

I’m hosting.

I’m freaking.

Occasionally I forget how screwed up the old brain-wires are.  Not today.

So, I’m using my daily blog this morning to get all my utter, bang-head-against-the-wall frustration with my stupid self out. Hopefully, I can then concentrate on giving my favorite little guy in all the universe a Halloween party he will never forget!


If the hatchet-toting bees will let me.

Until tomorrow…



Choosing the Sun


stockvault-flowers127599For the very first time in the whole of 2014, I am free!

I have completed my contract with Ravenous Romance, have no other deadlines awaiting me and am essentially a free agent author with a fantastic literary agent as my wingman.


Of course, cast in a slightly darker light, I am now unemployed with no assurance whatsoever that I will ever be published again.


Big, stinky bummer with toe fungus, actually.

But, I am choosing to dance in the bright, bright sunshine of “Wow!” instead of cowering in the shadows with “Bummer.”

A foolish strategy, some will say.

A brilliant stratagem, my four-legged muse and I maintain.

And with this newly found freedom, my dog and I have set our sights on the mainstream, where the only real (i.e. the “Look! I can afford toe polish without skipping two meals!”) money is.

It’s a shame that a writer can’t survive in the smaller streams of genre fiction. I’ve put 5 years and 17 novels into the m/m romance genre and now I’ve got to walk away from it all just so my career can keep growing.

Now that, ladies and gents, is the true “Bummer” of this picture.

Until tomorrow…



Let’s Get It On


stockvault-little-candle-with-funny-face107748With my normal post-novel hangover no doubt lurking in the shadows somewhere real, real close, I am a little hesitant to revel too much in my Quiver-ing achievement.

(Get it? Quiver-ing and the book’s name was Quiver?… yes, pretty pathetic, I’ll admit. Any and all good stuff, I’m afraid, got squeezed out yesterday into the book. Apologies.)

Anyhow, as you can tell, I’m working at about a 14 percent clip this morning.

At least I am here and it is still morning. Got to give me some credit there, right?

(Last night’s late, late post was a little weird. I felt like I should have had Kenny G playing in the background and the whole blog cast in “Let’s Get It On” mood lighting. *shudders*)

I’ve still got to finish up the sell copy this morning and get the cover design form into the publishing house, but after that I am putting to bed both Samuel and Brevyn and leaving them to their own wanton desires for a bit.

The American Revolution and mainstream historic romance calls!

And I am so excited to answer that it’s really, really silly… as evidenced by the really, really silly grin currently plastered to my face.

Alright, off to your day! I’ve got a hangover to host.

Have a marvelous Thursday, my friends.

Until tomorrow…



10pm and All is Done


My new logo, everyone!

Quiver is done and is off to the publishing house.

Daily blog is finally written (albeit at 10:00pm at night, and is nothing but three short little sentences, nevertheless… *lol*).

And Chloe is brain dead.

Somebody applaud or something, please.

*grins loopily*

Until tomorrow…


I Plod


stockvault-horses115563Plodding through Quiver like a draft horse through Alabama mud, I come to you this morning just a wee bit frazzled.



Pleasantly wired.  Like an astronaut catapulting toward a big, bad, black hole (resigned to her messy fate and now just enjoying the mother of all rollercoaster rides).

Two more days to go and I’ve got a ton of detailing to do. Thankfully, all the scenes are there, just in various stages of “mostly finished.”

Usually at this point, there’s that one crucial, story-turns-on-this-one-moment scene left to be tackled. Not this time. (Whether this is good or bad, we’ll see.)

So far, my family is surviving me. But it’s early days yet.

Keep your fingers crossed and I’ll keep that draft horse plodding along.

Until tomorrow…


Road Rash


stockvault-healing-ten-speed---blue-mens108462Not dead.

That would be me I speak of.

*a grainy tape of thunderous applause plays*

Despite the inexcusable lateness of this blog, I am still alive and kicking. You, kind folks, are simply paying for a most likely foolish attempt at bravery on my part.

Yesterday, despite my 17th novel’s deadline being Wednesday, I decided to take the Chloe show on the road. Me and the faithful pup are visiting family for a week.

*cries of “Stupid!” and “You really are nuts, lady!” erupt from the crowd*

Yeah, well, guilty as charged.

So, bottom line is I’m going to try to finish up Quiver in the company of loving family… family that will probably end up hating me by the time these 3 days of utter, sheer, ugly lunacy is over and the book is packaged off to the publishing house.

Bravery in my world is idiocy in everyone else’s.

Wish my family luck.

Lots of it.

Until tomorrow…




turttle-images-02A few days ago I told you how difficult it was playing the tortoise instead of the hare on the final sprint to Quiver’s (my 17th novel’s) finish.

Well, extreme measures have had to be taken to retain my turtlehood…

Like plunking a big, old, fat rock on my shell.

Yessiree, bob.

Yesterday, after 150 words of detailing work on the novel, all Quiver business was shut down for the rest of the day. I knew if I wrote one more word I wouldn’t stop until I was being given oxygen on the other side of that finish line.

It was clear that pinning myself down to a designated spot for the remainder of the afternoon was obviously necessary. So, I focused all my OCD tendencies on…

Making spiders.

Spider legs, to be exact.

(Made the bodies the other day.)

I’m talking paper Halloween spiders here, folks. I haven’t gone Dr. Frankenstein on you quite yet, so please relax.

I’m throwing my 4 year old nephew a Halloween party next Saturday and the theme this year is, you guessed it, spiders.

Happy spiders.

Friendly spiders.

Gaily attired arachnids suitable for G-rated audiences…

That, ladies and gentlemen, was the big, old, fat rock on my shell.

Now, just try to tell me my life isn’t ridiculous.

Go ahead. I dare you.

*shakes head and laughs*

Until tomorrow…