I’ve been thinking about inspiration all week. Maybe just because I recently threw my back out again and have had a ton of spare time on my hands what with being in pain and hopped up on muscle relaxers. LOL
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the things which inspire me, trying to put the joy back into the writing game. Not that I no longer enjoy writing. Writing is just something I have to do, like breathing. Just sometimes, I feel like I’m writing to the market instead of from the heart. So when feelings like this start to emerge, I realize it’s time to fuel the inspiration well in my brain. Reading always inspires me, and this week I’ve had time to read five books. Conversations with friends inspire me, especially when brainstorming an idea. Sometimes travel, reading about travel, good movies, even just sitting in the sun on a comfy lawnchair with a glass of lemonade.
What inspires you?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Memphis Belle
I've been so busy, I neglected to post photos of a recent air show at I attended at Fort Drum, NY. This is the actual plane from the movie Memphis Belle. (With Harry Connick Jr. & Billy Zane!!!) I'm a long time fan of the movie, and I didn't even know the plane would be there. This plane is an actual WWII plane, but not the actual Memphis Belle from the war. That plane is in the Air Force museum on Ohio and is being restored because she only has three engines and her tail was blown off by German fire.I saw her take off. Smoke poured out of the engines as she fired up. Sounded like a rusty tractor starting up. I can't imagine being in the thing flying over Germany and being shot at. I wanted to climb inside, sit in the actual seat Harry Connick Jr. sat in, but sigh...they wouldn't let me.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Fourth of July Excitement
I have parking issues. I can’t leave my car parked in just any spot. If I pull into a mall or department store, I have to park in the very back of the parking lot. I have this phobia that if I park too close to other cars, someone will park right up against my doors, either the driver or passenger doors, and I won’t be able to get in. Then I won’t be able to leave when I want. I’ll be trapped.
This Fourth of July, my worst fear came true. I attended my local county fair on Saturday. I parked in a field. I was a bit concerned about getting stuck in the mud, considering how hard it had rained the previous night, but there were no other cars parked around me, so I wasn’t altogether concerned.
I left my car to enjoy the fair. After a visit though four buildings, the cow barn, the chicken tent, a lap down the midway to enjoy a fried dough and an ice cream, I trudged back to my car.
My heart leapt in my throat. My car was totally blocked in. An F-150 truck parked ahead of me, mini-van behind me. After a brief but strong panic attack, I hurry to the back entrance gate and plead for one of the fair workers to help me. One insists there is nothing she can do.
“But it’s the Fourth of July!” I wail. Most likely those who have trapped me in are staying for the demolition derby and the fireworks display following the show. I’m clearly doomed.
A fireman at the gate takes pity on me and summons a police officer passing by on a horse to call over to the main office and have the licenses of those blocking me paged over the intercom.
“But how are they going to hear the announcement over the demolition derby?” I continue to whine. I’ve already ate my weight in midway snacks. What the heck am I supposed to do until midnight or later when these people decide to leave?
So they announce the licenses. Nothing. An hour passes, and no one comes to my rescue, except the fireman and policeman who have been extremely patient with my impatience. The policeman now starts talking in his intercom, pocket radio thing. Thirty minutes passes, and a tow truck shows up. As it hoists the mini-van up and onto its apparatus, I ask the policeman what he’s doing. Turns out he ran each vehicle through the records, and the min-van has been identified as stolen.
Huh? Someone would steal a vehicle in my lil’ ol’ neck of the woods? Wow, this is just like an episode of Cops! Now I no longer want to leave. Now I want to know who would steal a maroon mini-van with a “Soccer Mom” bumper sticker.
But my car is free. Free as we are this Fourth of July. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.
This Fourth of July, my worst fear came true. I attended my local county fair on Saturday. I parked in a field. I was a bit concerned about getting stuck in the mud, considering how hard it had rained the previous night, but there were no other cars parked around me, so I wasn’t altogether concerned.
I left my car to enjoy the fair. After a visit though four buildings, the cow barn, the chicken tent, a lap down the midway to enjoy a fried dough and an ice cream, I trudged back to my car.
My heart leapt in my throat. My car was totally blocked in. An F-150 truck parked ahead of me, mini-van behind me. After a brief but strong panic attack, I hurry to the back entrance gate and plead for one of the fair workers to help me. One insists there is nothing she can do.
“But it’s the Fourth of July!” I wail. Most likely those who have trapped me in are staying for the demolition derby and the fireworks display following the show. I’m clearly doomed.
A fireman at the gate takes pity on me and summons a police officer passing by on a horse to call over to the main office and have the licenses of those blocking me paged over the intercom.
“But how are they going to hear the announcement over the demolition derby?” I continue to whine. I’ve already ate my weight in midway snacks. What the heck am I supposed to do until midnight or later when these people decide to leave?
So they announce the licenses. Nothing. An hour passes, and no one comes to my rescue, except the fireman and policeman who have been extremely patient with my impatience. The policeman now starts talking in his intercom, pocket radio thing. Thirty minutes passes, and a tow truck shows up. As it hoists the mini-van up and onto its apparatus, I ask the policeman what he’s doing. Turns out he ran each vehicle through the records, and the min-van has been identified as stolen.
Huh? Someone would steal a vehicle in my lil’ ol’ neck of the woods? Wow, this is just like an episode of Cops! Now I no longer want to leave. Now I want to know who would steal a maroon mini-van with a “Soccer Mom” bumper sticker.
But my car is free. Free as we are this Fourth of July. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Interview with Candace Morehouse
Today I have the pleasure of interviewing bestselling author, Candace Morehouse.
Q: Tell me a bit about your background and what prompted you to write a book.
A: I’ve always loved to read and write, from the time I was just knee high to a grasshopper. My first attempt at writing a full-length novel came when I was living in New Mexico. At the time I was managing my father’s auto parts store and just couldn’t see myself doing that for the rest of my life. I sat down and wrote the first version of the western historical romance Golden Enchantment. It was rejected by every publisher I sent it to. Years later, living in Arizona, I took out that old manuscript and rewrote it and sent it into Champagne Books. The rest, as they say, is history.
Q: What do you do when you hit a point in your book where you don’t know where to go next?
A: I ask my characters for help. I usually sleep on it, that is I get into the head of my heroine or hero, then lie in bed before falling asleep and figure out what they want to do next.
Q: Are you a plotter (laying out all the plot points ahead of time) or a pantster (plotting by the seat of your pants)?
A: *grin* See answer above. Although I always start out with a general idea of the plot, my characters take it to new places and levels.
Q: What genre is your favorite to write?
A: I have a hard time being confined to a category. I started out writing historical romance, and I still love that, but I’ve branched out to contemporary romance and romantic suspense. I surprised myself by writing Suspicion of Love, which is an Edwardian mystery/romance. Who knows what will be next? It’s up to my Muse to let me know!
Q: Do you include people you know disguised as characters in your book(s)?
A: Absolutely. Full Throttle, my first romantic suspense which releases October 1st with Champagne, probably includes the most recognizable characters from my past. If my ex-boyfriend, who co-owned a mobile motorcycle dyno with me, ever reads it I am sure it will bring back lots of memories!
Q: What do your family and friends think about your occupation as a writer?
A: My husband wishes it paid more. My in-laws wish there wasn’t so much sex in my books. Friends and acquaintances think it’s really great. Hmm, maybe I should move in with my friends?
Q: What’s one thing that most readers would be really surprised to learn about you?
A: That I’m a simple country girl and tomboy at heart. I change my own oil. I raise chickens. I love being outdoors fishing, camping and hiking.
Bio:
Candace Morehouse enjoys writing romance that spans more than just time with her historical and contemporary novels. With two historical romances published, a contemporary romance coming out in October, and a romantic suspense she co-authored with Michael Davis releasing in January, 2010, her novels span many different places and times.
Originally from Wisconsin, Candace moved to New Mexico when she was entering her teens and it is there where her creative talent was honed. A country girl at heart, she currently enjoys living with her husband in the White Mountains of northern Arizona with Colby Jack, a purebred mutt, and Yogi, a Welsh Corgi. Her son is both webmaster and IT tech for her various pursuits as he attends ASU.
A: I’ve always loved to read and write, from the time I was just knee high to a grasshopper. My first attempt at writing a full-length novel came when I was living in New Mexico. At the time I was managing my father’s auto parts store and just couldn’t see myself doing that for the rest of my life. I sat down and wrote the first version of the western historical romance Golden Enchantment. It was rejected by every publisher I sent it to. Years later, living in Arizona, I took out that old manuscript and rewrote it and sent it into Champagne Books. The rest, as they say, is history.
Q: What do you do when you hit a point in your book where you don’t know where to go next?
A: I ask my characters for help. I usually sleep on it, that is I get into the head of my heroine or hero, then lie in bed before falling asleep and figure out what they want to do next.
Q: Are you a plotter (laying out all the plot points ahead of time) or a pantster (plotting by the seat of your pants)?
A: *grin* See answer above. Although I always start out with a general idea of the plot, my characters take it to new places and levels.
Q: What genre is your favorite to write?
A: I have a hard time being confined to a category. I started out writing historical romance, and I still love that, but I’ve branched out to contemporary romance and romantic suspense. I surprised myself by writing Suspicion of Love, which is an Edwardian mystery/romance. Who knows what will be next? It’s up to my Muse to let me know!
Q: Do you include people you know disguised as characters in your book(s)?
A: Absolutely. Full Throttle, my first romantic suspense which releases October 1st with Champagne, probably includes the most recognizable characters from my past. If my ex-boyfriend, who co-owned a mobile motorcycle dyno with me, ever reads it I am sure it will bring back lots of memories!
Q: What do your family and friends think about your occupation as a writer?
A: My husband wishes it paid more. My in-laws wish there wasn’t so much sex in my books. Friends and acquaintances think it’s really great. Hmm, maybe I should move in with my friends?
Q: What’s one thing that most readers would be really surprised to learn about you?
A: That I’m a simple country girl and tomboy at heart. I change my own oil. I raise chickens. I love being outdoors fishing, camping and hiking.
Bio:
Candace Morehouse enjoys writing romance that spans more than just time with her historical and contemporary novels. With two historical romances published, a contemporary romance coming out in October, and a romantic suspense she co-authored with Michael Davis releasing in January, 2010, her novels span many different places and times.
Originally from Wisconsin, Candace moved to New Mexico when she was entering her teens and it is there where her creative talent was honed. A country girl at heart, she currently enjoys living with her husband in the White Mountains of northern Arizona with Colby Jack, a purebred mutt, and Yogi, a Welsh Corgi. Her son is both webmaster and IT tech for her various pursuits as he attends ASU.
Learn more about Candace and her books at her website: http://www.candacemorehouse.com
Thanks for the interview, Candace!
Monday, June 22, 2009
E Readers
I read and purchase e-books. Currently, I read them on my laptop, which I directly download them. However, I’ll be the first to admit reading an e-book on the laptop is not a comfortable thing. You can’t curl up in bed with the laptop, those with my padded lap desk I do. The lap desk prevents the laptop “hot legs” syndrome, as I like to call it. But the laptop is heavy, and takes forever to turn off and on.
I want an e-reader device. Either the Sony or the Kindle. There’s also something called the E-Reader Bookman but from what I’m reading for reviews, the battery life isn’t so hot.
First choice is the Kindle. (Insert angelic music here.) The Kindle is the holy grail of e-reading devices. You can download at the blink of an eye. The price scares me. The Sony Reader is a little less costly. I will probably end up with the Sony. Wanted to get up to Borders to check them out this weekend, but time got away from me.
Do you read e-books? What device do you read them on?
I want an e-reader device. Either the Sony or the Kindle. There’s also something called the E-Reader Bookman but from what I’m reading for reviews, the battery life isn’t so hot.
First choice is the Kindle. (Insert angelic music here.) The Kindle is the holy grail of e-reading devices. You can download at the blink of an eye. The price scares me. The Sony Reader is a little less costly. I will probably end up with the Sony. Wanted to get up to Borders to check them out this weekend, but time got away from me.
Do you read e-books? What device do you read them on?
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Shameless Promotion Sunday
Excerpt to Wicked Redemption:
Maggie cursed herself for the thousandth time. At least it felt like the thousandth time anyway.
Russ had gone away, had asked her to watch her attacker, and she had agreed.
She’d agreed for Christ’s sake!
She poured herself a glass of Zinfandel and ran her hand through her hair. Maybe she should call Barb.
A strange sense of dejevu came over her. She didn’t know why. This was really the first time she’d considered calling her in five years. Oh, she’d wanted to call, but that was different than considering. Considering meant you were thinking of carrying out something.
Barb had probably been the closest friend she’d ever had, but Maggie would under no circumstances contact her again. The last time she’d called Barb, it had been a year since the incident. Barb still carried on like nothing had happened. Barb still refused to believe that John Wood, the man she’d married, had been one of the entities that had bothered Maggie. Barb still insisted John was human and had always been so.
Barb couldn’t have any way of helping Maggie. She didn’t even remember what had happened.
What was it about entities and having amnesia?
Maggie stared out her living room window. Russ’s home was quiet, showing no sign of life. Russ had left for his conference over six hours ago. There was no sign of life there, not even a light on.
Maybe he’d died in there.
Let him.
Was it even possible for him to die?
Memories of his agony flashed back. In her line of work she was used to witnessing suffering, but she’d never seen an entity in pain before. Maybe it was more intense than human pain. But why the pain at all?
She didn’t understand where his pain was coming from. Was it because he was coming back to life? He couldn’t be, but he had a pulse. She’d felt it. It went against everything she’d been taught in nursing school. But she’d felt it.
It didn’t matter. He deserved to suffer after what he’d done to her.
She watched Russ’s house for a good fifteen minutes and saw nothing. If the entity was over there suffering and she didn’t do anything…even if he wasn’t human, to allow him to suffer would go against everything her medical schooling and experience stood for.
You shouldn’t have to do anything. He tried to kill you, remember?
But it was her mission to help people. That was why she became a nurse in the first place.
She finished her Zinfandel and reluctantly went next door. Russ had given her the key to the front and back doors. She cautiously unlocked the front and let herself in. All the drapes were shut, blocking out the light. Relief swept through her as she found the light switch. “Hello?”
No answer.
Nerves raised the hairs on the back of her neck. If he was playing tricks…
She suddenly realized she’d left her gun in her kitchen drawer. He was probably lurking in a corner, waiting for the right moment to kill her.
“Show yourself!”
Nothing.
She went to the den, then to the tiny glass-enclosed sunroom that overlooked the water. Through the glass, she saw him.
He was sitting in a lawn chair on the deck reading a copy of Russ’s latest crime novel.
Fear turned to anger as she saw him look up at her like Mister Innocent.
What kind of idiot forgets their gun? If she’s remembered it, she could have shot him just for scaring the crap out of her.
She tore open the back door, slammed it hard against the casing so that he jumped. “I called. Why didn’t you answer?” He stared back with those stupid deer-in-the-headlights look. God, he had beautiful eyes.
Russ had gone away, had asked her to watch her attacker, and she had agreed.
She’d agreed for Christ’s sake!
She poured herself a glass of Zinfandel and ran her hand through her hair. Maybe she should call Barb.
A strange sense of dejevu came over her. She didn’t know why. This was really the first time she’d considered calling her in five years. Oh, she’d wanted to call, but that was different than considering. Considering meant you were thinking of carrying out something.
Barb had probably been the closest friend she’d ever had, but Maggie would under no circumstances contact her again. The last time she’d called Barb, it had been a year since the incident. Barb still carried on like nothing had happened. Barb still refused to believe that John Wood, the man she’d married, had been one of the entities that had bothered Maggie. Barb still insisted John was human and had always been so.
Barb couldn’t have any way of helping Maggie. She didn’t even remember what had happened.
What was it about entities and having amnesia?
Maggie stared out her living room window. Russ’s home was quiet, showing no sign of life. Russ had left for his conference over six hours ago. There was no sign of life there, not even a light on.
Maybe he’d died in there.
Let him.
Was it even possible for him to die?
Memories of his agony flashed back. In her line of work she was used to witnessing suffering, but she’d never seen an entity in pain before. Maybe it was more intense than human pain. But why the pain at all?
She didn’t understand where his pain was coming from. Was it because he was coming back to life? He couldn’t be, but he had a pulse. She’d felt it. It went against everything she’d been taught in nursing school. But she’d felt it.
It didn’t matter. He deserved to suffer after what he’d done to her.
She watched Russ’s house for a good fifteen minutes and saw nothing. If the entity was over there suffering and she didn’t do anything…even if he wasn’t human, to allow him to suffer would go against everything her medical schooling and experience stood for.
You shouldn’t have to do anything. He tried to kill you, remember?
But it was her mission to help people. That was why she became a nurse in the first place.
She finished her Zinfandel and reluctantly went next door. Russ had given her the key to the front and back doors. She cautiously unlocked the front and let herself in. All the drapes were shut, blocking out the light. Relief swept through her as she found the light switch. “Hello?”
No answer.
Nerves raised the hairs on the back of her neck. If he was playing tricks…
She suddenly realized she’d left her gun in her kitchen drawer. He was probably lurking in a corner, waiting for the right moment to kill her.
“Show yourself!”
Nothing.
She went to the den, then to the tiny glass-enclosed sunroom that overlooked the water. Through the glass, she saw him.
He was sitting in a lawn chair on the deck reading a copy of Russ’s latest crime novel.
Fear turned to anger as she saw him look up at her like Mister Innocent.
What kind of idiot forgets their gun? If she’s remembered it, she could have shot him just for scaring the crap out of her.
She tore open the back door, slammed it hard against the casing so that he jumped. “I called. Why didn’t you answer?” He stared back with those stupid deer-in-the-headlights look. God, he had beautiful eyes.
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