May 242018

If there is a writer in your life, you have my sympathy.

I wanted to get that out of the way first thing.

I feel sorry for MG having to put up with me, with late or no dinners, with unfolded laundry, with me staying up all night writing when I’m on a roll, and with coming home at day’s end to find me writing in my pajamas. Hair not combed. Teeth not brushed. Ugh.

Writers are eccentric. That’s the polite way of saying writers are nuts. We freely admit it because we cannot deny the obvious. We see the world differently than the rest of humanity, and our curiosity is endless. Everything is fodder for our stories, so don’t ever tell us your secrets. Be very careful what you say if one of us is within earshot. We are not above eavesdropping. We even have shirts we wear to warn you about us.

On behalf of all writers, I want to apologize for the faraway look in our eyes when you’re speaking to us. You’re correct to assume we’re not listening to you. We’re listening to voices you cannot hear—the voices in our heads, aka the characters we create. While you’re talking to us, we’re actually writing. When we sit at our computers, we’re merely transcribing what we already wrote mentally while not listening to you. [So sorry, MG.]

I’ve lost count of how many times I agreed to do something I had no interest in doing. I wasn’t paying attention to what my [husband, friend, neighbor—fill in the blank] was saying because my mind was on the manuscript I was writing. While I was in a world of my own making, the rest of me was on autopilot responding with “Uh-Huh” every so often, giving the appearance that I was all there and agreeing to whatever. For that inexcusable behavior, I deserved to suffer—and I did.

It gets worse. My mind also wanders to my work in progress during Sunday mass. I thought I was the only romance-writing reprobate who was going straight to hell when leaving this world. Thankfully, I was mistaken. I won’t be alone. A dear friend who shall remain nameless, and author Jennifer Probst (who confessed to the same sinful behavior in her book Write Naked), will join me in eternal damnation. Hell will never be the same.

Finally, for when I actually do listen to what you’re saying, I apologize for silently correcting your grammar and pronunciation.Yes, writers do that. We can’t help ourselves.

Despite all of the above, we fervently hope you have a forgiving nature and will continue to buy our books. Please?

Revenge of the GPS Apps #GPS #directions #routes #cars #TheLoveBug #sentience #inanimateobjects

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May 102018

Have you ever wondered if inanimate objects may possibly be sentient? Ever since I saw Disney’s The Love Bug in which Herbie the Volkswagen Beetle exhibits sentience, I’ve been a believer. I treat my MacBook Pro like a member of my household rather than as a piece of equipment. I talk sweetly to it and never cuss at it should something go wrong. I know it’s not my Mac’s fault. It’s usually my fault, Apple’s fault, or our Internet Provider’s fault. MG on the other hand frequently cusses out his MacBook Pro, his iPad, and his iPhone. They all despise him and give him a ration of grief on a regular basis. As MG’s resident tech support, I have to fix everything and convince them all to forgive him.

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Cut That Out! #writing #rewriting #editing #cutting #authors #romance

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Apr 252018

Not the stop doing that cut that out. I mean cut something out of something. In this case, a manuscript with too many pages. Way too many pages. OMG, too many pages.

One of my works in progress is a science fiction romance entitled The Star Tripper. [Think Xena, Warrior Princess meets Star Trek meets Pirates of the Caribbean.] I aimed for 400 pages worth of manuscript. Star Tripper topped out at 598. Whoa. Talk about verbose. Apparently, I write the way I speak—too much and too long. ::sigh:: Continue reading »

Critter Camp #SpringBreak #PetSitting #GoldenDoodles #Hamsters #Photos

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Apr 112018

Spring Break time came around and we got the usual call. Would MG and I pet sit Buddy the Golden Doodle for two weeks while our Second Son and his family went to Florida? Sure we would. We’re dog people, and Buddy is adorable. We love having him visit Grandma’s Pet Camp.

Then we got the text. Not a call, a text. Would we also be willing to critter sit Oliver, the Princess’s cute little pet hamster?

Oh. Um. Critter sit a little, uh, rodent? In our nice, clean, vermin-free house? Oh, boy. Well now, how could we possibly refuse to take care of our elder granddaughter’s cute little hamster? So, okay, sure. We’d. Love. To.

Taking care of Oliver fell to me, of course. Why was I not surprised at that?

Second Son arrived with both pets on Palm Sunday after church. When we opened the door, Buddy rushed in first, tail wagging, obviously excited and happy to see us. After running around the house to check everything out, he proceeded to chew on his toy pork chop. He hadn’t yet figured out he wasn’t going to sunny Florida with the family. Soon he would realize he was staying in frigid Michigan with Grandma and Grandpa where he would be spoiled rotten. As the grandpuppy, being spoiled rotten was his natural right.

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A Tale of Two Space Centers, Part II #NASA #USSpace&RocketCenter #SpaceProgram #MarshallSpaceFlightCenter #RedstoneArsenal

 Serious Whimsy  Comments Off on A Tale of Two Space Centers, Part II #NASA #USSpace&RocketCenter #SpaceProgram #MarshallSpaceFlightCenter #RedstoneArsenal
Mar 142018

Each time we return home from visiting my Baby Sis in Florida, we drive by the Huntsville, Alabama, exit on I-65 and talk about visiting the Rocket City’s US Space and Rocket Center (USSRC), the home of Space Camp. We figured it had to be an exciting place. Maybe we’ll visit it someday. When we’re not in a rush to get home, which we always were.

This year, February 15th became someday.

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