Sunny Serafino's Blog

Life Lessons, Miracles and Happy New Year

2011-12-31T22:19:00.004-05:00

This is kind of long but I haven't blogged in a while and you'll see why.

Again, I deal with the ups and downs of life. I've been fortunate but I've also had a see-saw, turbulent, happy, sad and sometimes uncertain path. I didn't find the right answers very often until I made the monumental, life-altering decision that I couldn't do all this on my own and turned to Jesus. (Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things with Christ who strengthens me") It didn't happen until I was 30 (I'm not usually that slow)

This past ten days has reminded me in many ways of the necessity of that constant focus on what matters and what doesn't and, again, that I can't do everything I want to do and certainly that I'm never alone. I can't fix things; make things happen; be perfect or even try to be.

Lenny's health hasn't been the best in the past few years. When we married seventeen years ago he was a bundle of energy, healthy in mind, body and spirit. The last was the most important, of course. But, and there are always 'buts' 'whats and 'whys' in life, aren't there? There came a time not too long ago when we both realized he wasn't his old self but we all slow down with age. Then, it wasn't just slowing down and we found he had Parkinson's disease. He also was diagnosed with neuropathy in his legs and feet and slight dementia. He's had macular degeneration for years so his eye-sight was challenged but, again, it was getting a bit worse. The number of pills and doctor visits increased but he still has his wonderful sense of humor and optimistic outlook. So he walked a little slower and needed the cane and walker. So? We were still active in our community and enjoyed our life together.

On December 20th I noticed a bigger change. He was slower, less in the moment if I can use that expression here. He shocked me when he said he didn't want to play cards on Tuesday, something I never thought I'd hear him say. He loves to play cards at the clubhouse. On the 21st he was even slower and confused about simple things like the time of day or things he should know. I suggested that since he wasn't himself we should get some help but the independent Lenny surfaced and he said we didn't need help. Not yet. By midnight I knew differently. We did need help and I called 9ll. He was admitted and the hospital circus began. What was it? Test this -- test that. He was not able to stand or walk and his imagination took on monumental proportions of weirdness. Still no answers. Maybe this, maybe that. He had pneumonia Meds were changed and I watched and waited, praying constantly.

The diagnosis became multiple suggestions; perhaps it was an intensifying of the PD or dementia; perhaps it was a change of Meds; perhaps it was an infection (the pneumonia?) Maybe it was a combination of two or more of the maybes. Four days ago he was sent to a Rehabilitation facility in Sebring. By now my resolve was weakening and I was praying constantly. Praying for answers, for strength, to be a comfort and make the right decisions; praying for miracles and always giving thanks and praise for the wonderful blessings we had enjoyed together.

Never think that miracles only happen in a monumental manner. Tiny miracles also happen. Like he almost stood up two days ago; like he is rational again; liike today he not only stood up but took a few faltering steps. He is trying so very hard to do the therapy and keep his spirits up. He wants to get strong enough to come home. We spent Christmas day in the hospital and we'll spend New Year's Day in the Rehab facility. We don't know all the answers and we may never know them. It doesn't matter. Once again the miracle of faith has been given to us. A gift, not wrapped in pretty paper and topped with a bow. A gift that goes to the heart, that lifts our spirits. A gift that reminds us to be thankful for the difficult times because it only makes us stronger and more aware of the wonders God can do; the power of prayer and the gift of basic faith that relies on the Father we both turned to many years ago.

I am grateful for these life lessons. They make me stronger (even though I might feel weak). Tomorrow we begin 2012. We are going to celebrate in the dining room of the rehab facility with a couple of friends who want to share the day with us.

Happy New Year everyone and God bless you. Remember the blessings and forget the trouble, they sometimes are blessings in disguise.

The Season

2011-12-01T10:16:00.004-05:00

The 'season' has begun. Here in Florida that means it's somewhere between October and April. That's when all the snowbirds return after flying away the previous spring. As soon as the weather gets a bit dreary up north, they return to our sunny haven. We love having our snowbird friends return. It's great to renew friendships and kind of pick up where we left off when they headed back north. Of course, the highways are clogged, the stores are filled and the lines at restaurants are a bit longer, but that's okay. In many ways it's kind of like getting parts of your family back.

It also means more activities. Living in a senior community, we are always busy here; things at the clubhouse, the tennis courts, the pool, the golf course and in the Florida rooms of our homes makes for more entries on the calendar. It also is good for business, if you know what I mean. A boost to the local economy and additions to our personal calendars. Mine has begun to fill up, not that it is ever empty. I manage to keep busy 12 months of the year, but the 'season' adds even more.

Tomorrow I have to be at the Mall by 10:00 to set up for the Heartland Cultural Alliance event "Arts & Music Fest" which also includes sculpturing, wood carving, and book signings. Of course, the latter is what I'm doing. It's a three day event, December 2,3,4 and I'm going to be there (with two other writers from my writing group). It should be a good venue but we've never done this before so we are all excited to break this ice. I won't be able to be there for the first day (because of my Friday writing group) but I'm going to have my table set up with free handouts announcing my next two teaching events, brochures and business cards. I've also had a large poster made at the local Office Max with my picture and the covers of 6 of my books. The poster states, "Please Santa, all I want for Christmas is an autographed copy of one of Sunny's books". Hope that catches a few sales.

In the meantime, our community newsletter came out yesterday with a long list of holiday events for us to participate in (or not) as we choose. This is always such a busy and happy time of year. The newsletter also had a little write-up about my latest awards (submitted by a dear friend)so the phone has been busier because not only are people calling to congratulate me but also to ask for the new book. And it isn't even published yet!

Of course, I have the steady regular things I do, like my writer's critique class every Friday, the book club, the FWA monthly meetings and the twice monthly writers' reading event at a local coffee house. (We manage to slip in some card playing time several times a week, too.) Seems there is always something to do. My calendar is filled with 'things I have to do' along with 'things I love to do' so it's a nice balance. You know about the things I love to do, the other things are doctor's appointments, etc. The necessary things that everyone has on their calendars. Soon I'll be getting ready for the creative writing class I'll be teaching at SFCC in January and February. Another thing I love to do.

So, not only am I looking forward to all the above, I'm beginning to get into the "Holiday Excitement." I'm blessed because the things I love far out-weigh the things I must in many ways.

After all this time -- good news!

2011-11-08T13:32:00.005-05:00

I know I've been away from my blog for way too long. Lot's of things seem to have gotten in the way and I've used excuses I shouldn't have. One of the excuses was that my husband had to go through a series of physical therapy sessions, four times a week for 6 weeks. It took a chunk out of our days but the happy news is that we see some nice results so, of course, it was well worth it.

I also took a time off -- attending the annual Florida Writer's Conference in Orlando Florida. It was a four day trip and I thoroughly enjoyed every single moment of it. Five of us 'gals' from the writer's critique group, smilingly named Avon Park Wordsmiths, went together. We had a ball and the workshops, the intermingling with other authors (there were over 450 in attendance) the speakers, the programs, the food, the facilities -- I could go on but I won't. Another very nice occurrence was my dear, dear friend, Bette Crosby, from the east coast of Florida, came to the banquet. I hadn't seen her in four years. It was a wonderful reunion and she was warmly greeted by my other dear, dear friends who accompanied me. But the icing on this lovely cake of good times was the Awards Banquet. First Bette won second place in the unpublished women's fiction and we all celebrated that (loudly). Then wonder of wonders, my name was called as winning first place in the same genre for Finding Amy. Bedlam occurred as I rushed to the front to receive the award. Then on my way back to our table I took a detour to visit my publisher and while I was speaking with her I heard an outcry "Go back, Go back, They want you up front again." Stunned I rushed back to the front to find that Finding Amy had also taken the award for BOOK OF THE YEAR!! It's been two weeks and I still get shaky inside when someone wants to talk about that. And to think, I almost didn't go. Prayers are answered and no, I didn't pray to win anything, I just prayed that I could go. Another perk that went with the Book Of The Year award was that I got an interview with a New York agent. She has since requested the entire manuscript for Finding Amy and I'm just waiting to hear from her. I will share that news when it comes.

But while I was away, my wonderful friends here in our community rallied around and looked in on Lenny while I was away, seeing he got to his card game, that he took his pills, that he had dinner, and also that he didn't have to miss the wedding of two of our friends, Alice and Les. He even was the recipient of some tasty cranberry muffins!It was truly a blessing to know he was being cared for while I was away. So, because of their kindness and love, I was able to enjoy a wonderful break and he was able to keep well and happy until I returned.

Since returning I've been fortunate in receiving many messages of congratulations, hearing from friends and family far and wide. Since I consider any talent I might have as being a gift from God, I am sincerely humbled by all this.

Now I'm working on my next manuscript tentatively entitled The Journey Back (but subject to change along the way -- that's how it happens sometimes.)

Finding Yourself

2011-08-31T16:26:00.005-04:00

I remember hearing a young man say, "I can't do that until I find myself." I thought that was an odd statement. Find himself? But as I continue down this path of living I think I know what he meant. At first I thought he was just dodging responsibility but now I think we all find ourselves at various times in our lives. Each year we live brings new frontiers and pushes old ventures away, sometimes so far away that they are no longer parts of our lives. We're finding new phases of this life God has provided for us.

Even now I've found a new frontier. I've been a writer most of my life. Unfortunately, not much of it found it's way to paper for much too long. But, when I got started—Wow! I've written and published eleven books and created more poetry and short stories than I can count. Most of the poems and short stories are lost because I didn't think they were worth saving. I've since learned otherwise and rued that original thought.

But, on to the new frontier I've recently landed upon. A couple of months ago I received a call from a dear friend, also a wonderful author, asking me to consider editing a book she was ghost writing. The offer include a nice compensation. For a long time I've been writing, learning about writing and taking part in all phases of writing. For some thirteen years I've been a part of and chaired a writer's critique group. Along the way, other writers I have met have asked me to 'help' edit their work and I did, not for money but to help. I've been asked to teach creative writing at the local community college and in preparing for these activities I've studied and learned, mostly for my own edification, but also to share with other writers. You see, I feel so blessed to have made this obscure dream of writing come true that I have to give back in whatever way I can.

In doing the editing and providing an editorial review I, again, learned a lot while doing what I love. It was an engrossing job that took many hours. But part of this new frontier is another request for an editing job. This past week another author, a past student of mine contacted me about editing her latest book. A frontier I never expected but I'm enjoying!

I've always said, echoing my father, never say never and when something comes up and it looks interesting or challenging to you—grab on to it and have fun. I'm really looking forward to editing this new book. Maybe I've found another 'self' along with a new frontier.

I HAVE A NEW PET!

2011-08-09T16:25:00.002-04:00

I have a new pet. Not an earthshaking statement unless you know that I'm not a pet person. Don't jump to conclusions -- I'm not a pet person because I'm allergic to cats and dogs. Put me in a room with a cat and within a half hour my eyes are streaming, my nose is running and I'm gasping for breath. Dogs don't do quite as much damage but they still go into the allergy category. I love dogs and believe it or not usually watch the entire Westminster Dog Show, marveling at the little balls of silky hair that sweep across the floor and the tall and majestic mastiffs that lift their heads in disdain at all the fuss. My friends have pets and I'm pleased to see them on a limited basis. No one, however, has a pet gecko.

When I was a child we had a couple of dogs and I loved them but the allergies came later and pet ownership just wasn't to be. Ah, but now I have a pet. A small gecko has taken up residence in my bathroom. This little guy must be almost two inches long and most of that is tail. How he got in is a mystery. Living in Florida these little creatures are a normal thing. Flitting across the driveway, diving under the house, we must have a hundred but one has ventured inside, how he got there I don't know. But, I'm not getting rid of him, he'll just have to find his own way out. I can't imagine how you would go about evicting a gecko anyhow. You can't catch them, they're lightning quick and if you tried to contain him you might hurt him, or worse.

Of course, we've had more interesting pets along the way. When my children were young and whined about not having a dog or cat, I bought them fish or parakeets. The fish were definitely not exciting but you could teach a parakeet a few words and he tipped his head as if he was really listening to you.

I discovered my pet gecko a few days ago when I opened the blinds in the dining room. He clung to one of the slats, raised his head and tried to stare me down. "Go back where you came from," I said turning away. When I looked for him and couldn't find him I assumed he'd left the way he came in however that was accomplished. But, two nights ago I found him glaring at me from my bathroom floor and last night he was still in the bathroom resting next to a small table with a pot of fake flowers on it. "So, you're still with us," I whispered wondering what does one name a pet gecko. I still haven't named him and if he stays I don't know what he'll live on. What do geckos eat? If he's going to stay, I hope he has that cute Australian accent the green gecko on television has.

Book Clubs and Lessons Learned

2011-07-15T11:51:00.006-04:00

A few years ago someone invited me to join a book club. I really didn't think I needed a book club and at the time my schedules were pretty full so did I want to add another thing to my already full calendar? After all I've been reading for most of my life -- I'm an avid reader. But since the gals were urging me to join them, I did. I can't even begin to tell you the way book clubs have added to my life. The biggest surprise was that I had narrowed my book world down to a comfort zone. I read my favorite authors, not a bad thing to do, but I didn't realize it limited my exposure to some wonderful new authors. When I moved from the east coast to the center of Florida and I found they didn't have a local book club, I started one!

I am continually surprised by the choices made and the enjoyment I get out of these 'new' authors, some of whom I regret I overlooked in the past. Our book club here is two different entities, the winter one, or as Floridians say, the 'seasonal one' which has about fifteen to twenty ladies every meeting. We meet once a month in a members house so that means we also get coffee and cookies or other lovely stuff. In the summer when our snowbirds have flown to points north, we, at first, disbanded. Then those of us who were left decided that just because we were small in number didn't mean we couldn't continue on. Our program changed. At winter meetings we chose a book, everyone reads it and at the meeting we discuss it. For our summer meetings we meet and discuss whatever books we've been reading. It gives us an even wider scope to investigate and I find myself making a summer reading list after every meeting. It always amazes me that each reader has something different to say even when we all agree it was a great book (or otherwise). They have honored me by reviewing one of my books and that was especially fun because I urged them not to sugar-coat their review. And, they didn't, another learning experience I thoroughly enjoyed.

But getting back to reading things you never would have chosen. Last week a friend suggested a book, in fact she even loaned me her copy. At first look I thought "I'll never read this," but politely took it and that night opened it up for the first time. Yesterday was our monthly book club and I wrote a review on this new book, a totally new-for-me adventure. This novel is Angelology by Danielle Trussoni. Here's what I wrote.

"If anyone had told me I would be reading a book about a 400 year old angel who lived with his family, mother included, in an exclusive, opulent New York penthouse and is losing his wings because of mold, has blood the color of sapphires, I'd have said, 'Yeah, right!' First of all, the angels in this book are certainly no angels; they are cruel, vicious, manipulating and down-right evil. But this book is fascinating in several senses. First it is beautifully written; second, it contains exceptional and brilliant imagination, religion and history. The research is unbelievably deep and well done. The story begins in a convent in upstate New York and the mystery that entwines the characters runs throughout the book and includes a young nun, her past family, an art dealer, a convent full of interesting and unusual nuns and religious history (beautifully done), angels, ancient history, modern history (WWII) and current history. I also involves art and culture. The book is written in definite segments. Spheres One, Two and Three and The Heavenly Choir. I absolutely loved the first part, thought the second part, while accurate was a bit tedious as far as background and scientific and religious input goes. Of course, this is a novel but the amazing part is that the author has woven a 'story' around and through a lot of history and scripture. I haven't finished the third part or the ending yet but I'm going to although I'm surprising myself. You just never know what lies between those covers unless you explore.

I'm a writer, books are my life and I've loved them all my life. So who needs book clubs? Everyone.

When you have something to say…say it.

2011-07-02T15:58:00.004-04:00

I have been in the doldrums lately. My mother once used that phrase…I remember she was asked when she thought her ship would come in she said, "I don't know, it's probably caught up in the doldrums somewhere." I wasn't sure what the doldrums were so I looked it up. In addition to being 'low spirits' it also means 'equatorial ocean regions having little or no wind.' In other words her ship was caught in limbo. Well, that was me. I like to keep my blog going but lately there just wasn't anything to say. I was in those darned doldrums. But times are a'changing.

As I mentioned before, I had finished my latest manuscript and submitted it to my publisher and I was also debating whether to go back to one I'd started writing several times over the past few years. Well, I came to the conclusion, after several rewrites and injections of what I thought might be kickers, that this story just isn't going anywhere and I was pushing a loaded cart uphill. So, another set back, or so I thought. But, that wasn't what it was…because after some serious meditation and a few talks to myself, I realized I had another, completely new plot brewing! I haven't put fingers to the keyboard yet but the words are accumulating and will probably burst forth at any moment. So, now I have something to talk about. Not about the characters and plot, it's too early for that, but the burning embers I'm blowing on to create the necessary fire to go forth is there. It certainly is a spirit lifter.

And then…as if that wasn't enough I receved an exciting email from Florida Writers Association. Having been a member of FWA and planning on attending the conference in October, any communication is always welcome and this one hit the spot! I had submitted two short stories to the latest-to-be-published anthology the FWA publishes each year. This project began two years ago. The first collection was "Our Family to Yours" and submissions had to be about family matters, true or fictional. I submitted a couple of stories and one was picked for inclusion in the publication. Wow! Great! The next year the anthology was based on and called "A Slice of Life" and every story couldn't have a beginning or an end; it was just to be about a moment in time. A challenge for sure. Again I submitted some work and one was chosen for inclusion in book, too. Another Wow and Great! This year the anthology was more of a challenge, not that the other two weren't but the one for 2011 was entitled "Let's Talk" and all the entries had to be conversation only. That meant not one 'she said' or 'he remarked' not a single description…just dialogue. Another challenge but I love writing-challenges so I sent off two submissions. Last week I received an email saying one wasn't accepted. Was I disappointed? Sure but I thought to myself, "you can't win them all". But yesterday I received another email stating that they had chosen the other Let's Talk submission. Another Wow! Great! If truth be known I thought the first one might make it and was not at all sure the other would. Who knows? It's a matter of who reads them and what buttons they push. I'm pleased beyond words, if that's possible for a writer. Anyhow, the doldrums seem to have picked up a few new breaths of wind.

Guess I'll be saying something before you know it.

A Laugh-Out-Loud Moment

2011-06-11T10:29:00.005-04:00

Being slightly OCD (obsessive compulsive -- I'm going to leave the word disorder off) I'm compulsive about a few things and then again a messy desk drawer doesn't bother me a bit. But if someone moves something on a shelf or puts something in the 'fridge where it 'doesn't belong', I am compelled to move it back where it lives.

The same rule has been applied to such rituals as reading the newspaper in a specific order, hanging everything in my closet by color code and type of garment, and counting the silverware and dishes as I remove them from the dishwasher.

I also hang onto old, very old, habits. One thing I remember from my childhood was my father telling me that by reading the comics in the newspaper every day you not only learn life lessons but begin your day with humor. I still read the comics every day, however, they are not on the top of the pile of newspaper sections. I sort the sections in order of reading, local news first, then world news, followed by other sections that appear on certain days of the week, like food columns and, lastly, the comics because that's also where the crossword puzzle is and I absolutely must do the puzzle! He also said that reading the want ads was a clear clue as to how the economy was going. I don't do that. Sorry, Daddy.

This morning, reading my daily newspaper, I got to the comic section and read only those strips that have made my 'list'. I always read Pickles by Brian Crane. Today's made me laugh out loud; causing my husband to look up from the sports section (I never read that). I had to read Pickles to him even though he isn't a laugh-out-loud kind of guy. He has a wonderful sense of humor but laughing out loud is not his thing. He did think this one was very funny, though.

I have to share this morning's Pickles with you. Pickles is a small box of three or four cells. The characters are an elderly couple. Today they are lying in bed, she reading the paper and he obviously trying to go to sleep. She reads, "It says here that when men sleep, 70% of their brain activity sleeps too. But when women sleep, only 10% of their brain activity goes to sleep. That's why I'm always more tired than you. My brain won't go to sleep."

And, he says, "It's probably just keeping your mouth company."

Hope you laughed out loud.

Betwixt and between

2011-05-30T19:50:00.005-04:00

Betwixt and between. That's how I feel right now. It's a mixture of emotions, game playing and the dreaded "what lies ahead." But, it isn't something I haven't lived through before because it happens every time I finish another novel. You see, while writing I become so intertwined and part of the lives I'm creating they become real people to me. Close, as if part of my family. So when I write The End,even if it's only in my mind it's as if I've cut the umbilical cord, pushed the last bird out of the nest and watched as the last ship leaves shore.

Writing Finding Amy was a true labor of love, because it was, in part, based on fact. I loved the story, the characters, the outcomes even though at the start of the book I never expected the end that came about. You see, I'm not a true structured writer. Some authors have the entire plot in their heads before the first word is typed into the computer. Not me. I have the beginning of the plot and the characters in mind but the entire story is still a mystery in some ways. And, even if I think I have the plot kind of outlined, my characters sometimes have another view and off we go. Finding Amy took more time than any of my other novels. Probably the health problems for both me and my husband and the recuperating afterwards played a big part in that process. But, there was also a lot more research to be done with this book. Not that I'm complaining. I love researching because it's kind of like going back to school. You learn so much more than you even need to for the plot.

Now I feel ready to begin the next book. The outline has been wandering around in my mind for several years and I think this might be the time to begin. Still, I feel bound in some way to Finding Amy. It hasn't actually been launched, there are things that might need attention so am I ready for the next set of characters, the next set of plotting?

That's where the betwixt and between comes in. I seem to be in a flux, caught between the present and the past and peering tentatively into the future. It's a confusing time and I find myself not able to really concentrate on anything.

Then mix in the three day weekend and what I thought was Saturday was Friday and today, Monday, May 30th, feels like Sunday and not only is it Memorial Day but it's my granddaughter's thirtieth birthday and I'm 1200 miles away and you can see my indecision. Maybe I had better just lay low for a day or two, go to the pool and exercise with the girls, finish the book I'm reading, lounge a little. The only trouble with that is I'm not really a lounger so I'm going to have to put some effort into that too.

One thing I know though, it will all work out and before long I'll be grinding away at the computer doing what I love to do best in all the world.

So betwixt and between is just a hiatus. Good, now I've got that sorted out.

Bits and Pieces

2011-05-15T13:57:00.004-04:00

There are so many things going on…some real and some in my head, perhaps trying to become real. Anyhow I thought if I jotted them down I might be able to reorganize my thoughts and actions, at least for the next few days.

First and foremost—I finished my latest manuscript! I am really happy about that. Of course I have come to love the story and the characters; that always happens. Somehow they just take a piece of my mind and heart right from the start and then go shooting off to the finish. This time though, I had a lot of interruptions, serious interruptions which have resulted in periods when I just couldn't work on what I wanted to…the book! Interruptions which were mainly health related and while they are not all solved or ended, recently I found time to work on 'the book', disappearing into my studio for longer and longer periods of time until this morning it is finished. This manuscript took a bit more research than some of the others but that's always interesting too. Of course, the dreaded editing and rewriting are looming before me but I honestly have to say I love that too. What I call the 'screen edit' has been done. That means I've been staring until I'm cross eyed at the computer screen. This morning, in between loads of laundry, I printed out the manuscript. All 368 pages of it. I've already eliminated about 1,000 words so I'll be looking for more ways to write a bit tighter. But,I'm convinced that in the near future I can honestly say, "It's finished". That is until I send it to my publisher.

Also on my mind are a variety of other things. One night last week I suffered one of my more sleepless nights. No matter what I did things in my head just wouldn't go away so I got up and jotted them down on paper. Sometimes that works. This time it didn't. The next morning, blurry eyed from lack of sleep, I looked at the paper. I'd listed poems and songs as well as books from my childhood. Now I have to admit that my mother was a great story reader and she also loved to recite poems and sing songs from her childhood. It wasn't until I was well into my adulthood that I realized what a treasure these were but of course, the hectic pace of life put them on the shelf. I hadn't thought of these things in years and years. I wondered if it had anything to do with Mother's Day because I sure thought about my mother a lot on that day, not that I don't think of her every day.

The fact I couldn't remember many of them made me nervous. As a writer and a supporter and teacher of the importance of keeping a record of family history, I felt compelled to do something about this. So, thanks to the Internet I Googled the names of the books, songs and poems. I found all of them except one but I'm determined to find that one too if it exists somewhere. My list contained Rudyard Kiplings Just So Stories and I copied all four of them from the Internet. I found one song, My Grandfather's Clock" and a poem, The Walrus and the Carpenter from Through the Looking Glass. The only poem I couldn't find was one that included the words, "Yesterday, beneath the rick, I broke his prison with my pick" It was a poem about a toad. Ah, well, I'll keep looking when I can.

Tomorrow I'll have another set of things to consider and that's okay too. I'm not complaining about anything because I love challenges and think that life itself is a challenge at times. I love my life, past and present, good and bad and we all have that. I thank God everyday for everything that has become part of my life because that's what makes ME.

LESSONS LEARNED

2011-05-01T12:10:00.004-04:00

I've always thought I had a pretty good command of the English language. I attribute much of that to my father, who insisted we use words properly; that we challenge ourselves to broaden our vocabulary. One of his hard and fast rules was that if we didn't know what a word meant or heard a new word, we looked it up. When one of my daughters was in the fifth grade her teacher gave each of her students a button to wear on their shirts or jackets. It was bright yellow with red letters that stated "We never guess, we look it up". I think that was meant to cover reading, history, geography (do they even teach that anymore?) and,of course, English.

I know I'm not the run-of-the-mill language buff. I have a dictionary in the magazine rack next to my chair in the living room and if I come across a word I'm not familiar with, I look it up; there's a dictionary/thesaurus near my desk; and if something comes up on television, or in the newspaper and I don't know exactly what it is or means, I run to the computer and look it up. My gosh, that lesson has stayed with me!

In today's world our word usage has expanded immensely. I have to admit I don't know what some of the new lingo means and when I look it up I don't even understand the technical language, but I try.

Lately, and even though I don't want to get into politics, I have strong feelings about come of the current topics, but what I really want to see is something I call common sense put into place. Can something as simple as this prevail? My most current conundrum is the situation with gas prices which hit and hurt just about everyone in this country and are part of the myriad proposals facing us all. There seem to be many solutions and blame connected with this subject, offered by many people. One of the words bandied about is the word subsidy. It seems big oil companies need subsidies.

Excuse me but just look up the word subsidy. It means; financial support, financial assistance, financial funding, financial backing, grants and subvention. Notice all those 'financial' words. I always thought subsidies were a system used by government at all levels to help a struggling entity, to give a lift to new business or programs, or to help people with real needs.

Now here's the problem I have with this subject. How, I ask, does a company who boasts and posts bigger than enormous profits for one quarter of the year, qualify for a subsidy? What kind of financial help do they need? Are they in need of financial assistance? Financial backing? Grants? Small struggling businesses, businesses that, with some help, could expand thereby picking up some of the people who are looking for jobs, and people and programs in need might qualify for subsidies. But major, giant, thriving businesses don't need subsidies.

I think I might share this with some of our congressmen, maybe even the President. It's one small voice but perhaps we should raise some small voices. It's not against the law to raise a question or prompt a discussion. Subsidies for giant oil companies?

Another lesson my father taught me was that it was a privilege to be an American citizen (he was naturalized) but with that privilege came responsibility. We've always been a nation of responsible, privileged people. We help the poor and downtrodden. We share where we can. Isn't that just common sense?

I think we've all learned this kind of lesson sometime in our life. Lessons we should use.

A friend named Janie

2011-04-23T10:55:00.004-04:00

Every morning, as early as possible in my busy days, I read from my daily devotional. It is a calm, rewarding break for me and I share the reading with my husband. We discuss the message for that day, look up the accompanying scriptures and often marvel at how spot on it is for that particular time, current 'problems' or concerns.

The very story behind the devotional is unusual. I read from a little book titled Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young. It is written in first person Jesus, so it's as if He's talking to you personally. I received the book from a friend in New Jersey. Nothing unusual about that but in this case there is. I have never met or spoken to this friend in Jesus. Another friend from Florida was receiving a daily "hug" from a lady named "Janie". She asked if I'd like to receive a hug every day and a spiritual message every evening. I, of course, said I'd love that. I can't tell you how much delight I've received from not only the wonderful book Janie sent me (when she learned I was dealing with a serious medical problem for my son) but also from her personal messages once in a while. We communicate via email and she has become a fan of my books, but I digress.

Yesterday's message really hit home. Of course, I cannot say that doesn't happen often because it does. But yesterday not only did the message hit the spot it drove itself right into my heart. Here's just a portion of the message, 'Walk with Me in holy trust, responding to My initiatives rather than trying to make things fit your plans. I died to set you free, and that includes freedom from compulsive planning. When your mind spins with a multitude of thoughts, you cannot hear My voice."

Well, that hit the nail on the head because I am a compulsive, obsessive PLANNER! In fact, here it is not even May and I'm planning for an October conference. There are some serious things to consider with regard to this event, but already I'm planning what might or might not occur. My plans usually are fraught with what I call my 'what if' syndrome. And, all this time I was wasting brain time. Oh, it's not that I haven't prayed about what I'm planning and I'm pretty sure that's okay but just taking over is not what He wants.

Every once in a while you have to bring yourself up short, open your eyes, which you thought were already open, and turn things over to God. I thought I was doing that but apparently I hadn't planned on this eye-opening, back to basics message I received yesterday. I'm grateful ever day for the blessings in our lives. I'm blessed - with many things and many people. One of them is named Janie.

Progress - is it all that's it's cut out to be?

2011-04-13T10:21:00.007-04:00

I just spent a mind-boggling five days getting my latest book, Forgiven, entered into the Florida Writers Association RPLA competition. Two of my previous novels were entered and won some recognition. I love competitions, not only for the opportunities they sometimes provide but also just challenging myself and trying to get into the rush of things. Also, getting feedback from real judges is a great boost to an author. I hope all my writer friends try competitions and/or contests. It doesn't have to be something you think should really be on the New York Times best seller list (and how realistic is that?) but competions are a great writing tool. I tell my students that stretching your writing ability will only produce better writing. For me, I don't really enjoy writing short stories. I need 300 pages and 100,000+ words to get my story told as I'd like it. But I enter short story and poetry contests(another thing I'm not paticularly good at) just to see what happens. Sometimes I've been pleasantly surprised and at other times, I don't even get a response. Must have been pretty bad. But, the stretching part for me is to actually get a short story across in 1500 words. So, when this year's FWA competition opened I planned to enter my latest book.

Now we get to the progress part. In the past I read the instructions, typed up what was needed, crossed every 't' and dotted every 'i', pushed it into a properly addressed envelope with all the other things the competition required and took it to the post office. Easy, right? But, this year we have gone technical. All submissions must be electronic i.e., sent via email. Being totally inept at these mechanics, I studied and studied the instructions. They use language I'm not familiar with. So, I pored through the 20 pages of instructions again so that I would cross every 't' and dot every 'i' but it wasn't the 't/s' and 'i/s' I needed to be worried about. It was the instructions on how to get this into the email with the proper identifications, in the right order and to the right person.

This morning I assembled my submission, checking and rechecking the instructions. By jove I think I've got it. But, and here the heart comes to a slow halt, after I pushed the send button my mind catapulted through those 20 pages of instructions. Had I? Did I? Should I have? Oh, drat. It's gone and I'm hoping it just gets to the right person and gets processed. This is harder than writing the book! I guess it's progress and sometimes I think we as a culture try to simplify things by making them more difficult. One opinion, I'm sure.

This brought me to think about another 'progressive' thing I've experienced in the last couple of weeks. Two weeks ago I was at my doctor's office and he thought he found something that needed to be checked. I hadn't planned on this at all. In fact, I was on my way to my hairdresser. But, instead, the doctor sent me to the hospital for a test. Plans changed and I was a bit nervous. Upon arriving at the hospital, and God knows I've been there too often in the past couple of years, I checked in at the front desk. Usually you check in, they take your driver's license I.D. and your insurance cards and then send you off to the proper department. So, being savvy on these things I arrived at the front desk, cards in hand, expecting to follow the usual procedure. But, No. Things have been modernized. They didn't need my cards and I.D. The lovely young woman behind the counter handed me one of those square gadgets you get in restaurants which will alert you when your table is ready. You know the things, they blink inoccuously for a while and then go into a frantic buzzing, flashing and vibrating and you know your table is ready. The lovely young woman directed me to a waiting area and said when the 'buzzing thing' went off I could go into the lab. I did as I was instructed. Did I tell you it was pouring, one of Florida's quick and saturating downpours? Sitting on the chair with a very wet umbrella, the doctor's orders, and my I.D. cards in my hands I was comtemplating this unexpected turn of events when the buzzy thing went off. The umbrelly fell wetly to the floor, my cards flew in several directions and the doctor's orders suddenly became wet and wrinkled. My heart was in my throat; after all this was a bit scary just being there. Is this progress? I really think it would have been a whole lot kinder if I'd just waited my turn and had the lovely young woman call softly to me that it was my turn to go into the lab. I guess I'm just not programed for all this progress.

But, and there is always a but, I passed the test and I'm praying my submission entry flew through cyber-space and has safely landed in the right receptical or in front of the right eyes. Time will tell. We must keep up with progress even if it kills us.

My Mother's Birthday

2011-04-03T16:36:00.005-04:00

Today is my mother's birthday. I can't bring myself to say 'would have been my mother's birthday' because every April 3rd is my mother's birthday. She left us way too soon, dying well into her 90th year. She would have been (those awful words again) 105 today.

I always thought of myself as a Daddy's girl but I certainly didn't love my mother any less. It was just that Daddy and I were so alike in many ways. I remember after his death, when my mother came to live with me, she'd often say, "Oh, you're so like your daddy)and her voice was wistful because she missed him terribly. I wondered, after his death, how she would manage because they were so close, but she stiffened her spine and carried on. They were the closest couple I've ever known, doing so much together and in their later years the bond became even closer, if that was possible.

I truly think of my parents every day even though both died many years ago but the memories of a different ilk. I remember fun times with both of them but the difference was that with Daddy it was always different or exciting and with Mother it was comforting, supporting, calming and loving. My earliest memories are of Mother reading to me. She read every day until my teen years when the after-school activities took over. Even so, we all read a lot, sharing favorite passages or reading to each other. As a child I remember Mother cuddling me to her when I scraped my knee, had a bad day or made a goal I'd set for myself. Her cheering was quiet, Daddy's was exuberant.

My parents didn't have a lot of friends they could interact with because they traveled so much, but I don't think they had a single enemy. I cannot remember an incident where my mother was angry or upset with anyone. She offered strict yet gentle discipline because while instilling in me a sense of what was acceptable and what was not, she never lost her temper. Was she a saint? I doubt it but to me she came really close to that stature.

I remember my mother with love and thanksgiving because that's what she instilled in me. I often wish I could leave the legacy she did but we had such different adult lives. She had Daddy for 53 years and he was a wonderful husband and father. Her life was steady, not that they didn't have difficult times but they faced them and solved problems together. My life was pock-marked with bad decisions and unfortunate happenings. I had a difficult time and it's only now in the last 16 years that I have the steadiness and love that I longed for. I loved my children with all my heart and I did my best.

For as long as I live, when April 3rd comes around I'll quietly celebrate my mother's birthday. I miss my mother.

P.S. When September 22nd comes around I'll celebrate my daddy's 105th birthday too. I miss him too.

Giving a Little

2011-03-27T10:13:00.005-04:00

This is perhaps a double-edged sword about giving a little and reaping the good things in life.

We recently put our home on the market, yes, even with the dismal real estate situation, we thought that now was the time to take this step. It's based on several things. With consideration to the recent medical problems for both of us and the economy (ah, yes the economy), we thought that even though we love our home and our location, this might be the best course for us. When we made that decision it tugged at my heart. At our age? I thought. Do I want to be uprooted again? We've moved a lot in our 16 year marriage and prior to that my life seemed to be one long dislocation. But that is the past and now is now.

You see, we are not young anymore and things like maintenance and upkeep become more entailed and difficult. Our lovely home is bright and cheery and just what we always dreamed, a late-life gift, if you will. The five window, pale yet sunny-yellow kitchen is a dream come true. The spacious rooms are just that -- spacious. The laundry/pantry room is not a closet but a real room. I could go on and on about the pleasant surrounding we have occupied for the past six years but it isn't necessary. To top off this accolade, we live in a 55+ community with wonderful friends and neighbors. There is a Clubhouse for interesting activities,a great pool, tennis and an executive golf course to name only a few of the 'amenities'. The activities sound like a vacation heaven and yet you can opt to take part or not. Of course, our weather is wonderful except for our brief, unusually cool winter, and I know that makes our northern family and friends giggle. Cold to us is anything under 65°.

So why are we leaving? Well, for starters we aren't leaving our community, just the large home. There are other homes right here that are smaller, more compact and beautiful on a smaller scale so we wouldn't (hopefully) be leaving our utopia, just changing addresses. We are praying that this course of action will actually take place, and if it doesn't, well, although we can't turn back or erase the number of years God has gifted us with(nor do we want to), we know that whatever happens will be the right thing. We both find comfort in knowing that what we decide doesn't really matter because long ago we put our lives in His hands. So perhaps a double-edged sword might not be the right phraseology. We are blessed, not only by our surroundings but by the most important choices we made a long time ago. We put ourselves in God's hands and that's what really counts.

A Fine Line

2011-03-10T17:18:00.009-05:00

Sometimes some really good things happen and when it happens to you there is a fine line that must be considered. Is a show of exuberance a bit over the top? Could a lovely compliment be fodder to an inflated ego? Recently, I received an unusual and exceedingly welcome telephone call. When I hung up I ran through the house and told my husband the happy news. Gentle and loving guy that he is, he has to have the lowest level of outward excitement quotient in the world. He was happy and impressed. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Last Friday I received a telephone call from Gwen. I have to admit I didn't readily recognize the voice or the name but the caller continued. "I met you at Office Max and then you spoke to our women's church group in January." Oh, yes, now I remembered Gwen and her quick smile and friendly manner.

"Good to hear from you," I replied, thinking this just might be another speaking opportunity but she had other ideas.

"Remember I bought one of your books, Following Daddy?"

"Yes," I replied. I did remember she purchased a book but wasn't really sure which one it was. It was quite a long time ago. "Hope you enjoyed it."

"Oh, I did and now I've downloaded your latest book, Forgiven, to my Kindle," she continued,"and I love it."

Wow, I thought. That's good news and I thanked her for her continued interest in me and my work and her kind words about Forgiven. Compliments are always welcome and I knew she wouldn't have called if her praise wasn't true. But that wasn't the end of it.

It seems Gwen has just had some surgery and so is confined to bed and home for about six weeks. I commiserated but again, that wasn't the end.

"I'd like to purchase the rest of your books," she said.

It's always nice to hear from a satisfied reader and their glowing comments are manna to a writer, so after the smallest pause, I agreed to provide her with the remaining eight books.

Saturday I delivered the books and we had a nice chat. "When's your next one coming out?" she called as I turned to go.

"I'm working on it," I said.

"I'll be looking for it," she called.

I've said before that writing is at times a lonely occupation but it has it's moments and this phone call was one of the nicest. Now the conundrum is, do I post this blog with the self-serving message or do I just privately consider this event as a pleasant and very special occurrence? Will it be bragging? Will anyone else be impressed and should I care? It was a lovely, personal endorsement from a reader. After a lengthy soul search, I don't know what other authors would do but I think I'll just put that little feather in my cap and post this blog. Let's see what happens.

t

Blue Skies

2011-03-02T18:11:00.005-05:00

The words to an old song begin, "Blue skies smiling on me, nothing but blue skies do I see." Well, I think I have really come to a blue skies time in my life. Today I was given a 'go ahead' by my cardiologist. Now I can drive, and just in that gift have gotten back a lot of my functionability (if there is such a word). I know, I know, start slowly. It's funny that about two years ago I was telling my son, right after he was taken off life support, he'd have to take baby steps toward recuperation from a very serious ailment. I advised him to take it easy, one step at a time and that one had to crawl before one could walk. Last week he reminded me of that advice. "Take baby steps, Mom," he said.

So today, for a very personal celebration of my passport back to being me, my husband, Lenny and I went out to a late lunch. We went to Olive Garden, one of our favorites and had a delightful lunch together.

I kind of think we have lots of 'blue skies' moments in our life, most of which we sail past in our hurry to get on to the next stage. Of course, most of the time you have to have a few clouds in your life to recognize and gratefully accept the 'blue skies'.

I haven't been able to write and that is upsetting to a prolific writer but I feel the urge to go on now with the manuscript I'd been working before I broke my foot (that's old news now) and really didn't get back into the swing of things during my most recent set back with the heart thing. BUT, blue skies are with me again. I do feel better bit by bit and I have plans—not to the extent I had before when I filled my calendar and days with all kinds of good things, but setting a slower and more reasonable pace for activities doesn't seem boring anymore.

I've made up my mind that I'm going to do things differently. For instance, I plan to get a little moderate exercise in each week. I'm going to the pool just to walk in the water for a while and then I just might rejoin the water exercise group I belonged to months and months ago. With the real Florida blue skies overhead that should be no problem at all. In fact, speaking of our weather, we are back to the usual which means temperatures in the high 50s to low 60s overnight and up in the high 70s and low 80s during the day. Of course we have our usual and traditionally wonderful breezes blowing the Spanish Moss about on the huge, rugged, old Pin Oaks. Truly a comforting sight alone—did I mention the blue skies?

Another self-promise is that I'm going to write even if it's a little each day. I'll get that manuscript sorted out and on its way!

I'm also promising myself and anyone who happens by this blog, that I'll post more often. Sometimes I don't post because I think I might not have anything of any interest to anyone, but you know me…I do love to 'say'.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying my blue skies. Hope you are too.

Best Laid Plans

2011-02-10T22:04:00.005-05:00

I tend to be a 'cock-eyed' optimist most of the time. I also tend to bite off more than I can chew but somehow always manage to come out okay.

January started off good and after the past year's medical problems for both my husband and me, I was determined to avoid such unpleasant interruptions to my carefully laid plans for the 2011 year.

For one thing, I was going to work on my latest manuscript, something I had let slide the last few months of 2010. It wasn't because I didn't want to do the writing, I'm very pleased with the beginning of my next book. But,it just seemed that so many other things took precedent. "This year will be different," I told myself and began to make plans. I filled my January calendar with lots of events, things I really enjoy like speeches, one especially important one for a fund raiser by a local charity. There were other speeches, several to woman's groups at churches (I love those) and a reading at a local coffee house, all fun, all helping me promote my latest book, Forgiven, and all very doable. I was also teaching creative writing at our local community college. I was flattered that they had asked me back again. I had a class of ten, all enthusiastic about improving or just jump-starting their writing career whether it was for possible publication or something they really wanted to do for themselves. Of course, I was also holding the writer's critique group every Friday at the local library. This schedule, while a bit ambitious perhaps, was what I did during the 'season' in Florida. You rested during the summer when the snow birds had flown back north.

I was going along at a good pace when on Sunday, January 30th at 5:45 a.m.(see I almost made it out of January) I was whisked off to our local hospital with chest pains. My pulse had dropped to 48 and there was a look of contained concern on the faces of the EMTs. Of course, I had completely ignored the indigestion I'd been experiencing for about two weeks, even though I never have indigestion. Also, in keeping a diary for my primary care physician as to blood pressure and pulse, I also ignored the fact that my pulse rarely went higher than 55. I was busy.

It took 7 days, flat on my back, umpteen tests and changes to my meds to settle the problem -- I hope. Fortunately, they found little wrong with my heart but even after a catherization, I had another episode. The cardiologist thinks it is spasms in my heart's arteries. So, I now have to carry nitroglycerine tables. It seems as if I might need a 6-week recuperation period and I can't drive! Again! Fortunately we have the most wonderful friends and neighbors in the senior community we live in. They are doing laundry, shopping, running the sweeper and bringing over the most delectable food. They are also providing all the transportation we will need for the next few weeks. I am truly blessed!

So what lays ahead? Well my calendar is uncommonly undisturbed except for doctor's appointments (for both of us). My teaching class has voluntarily opted to postpone the class until I can return. Some things have been cancelled, perhaps to be set up later in the year. I have learned that I can't do what I did at 40. I have learned to plan my life around what's best for us and not expand my commitments carelessly. So, this first week back home we have home health care for both of us. I am determined to follow all medical directions and have set my schedule for the first week home, limiting my activities to medical necessities.

The best laid plans often do go astray but only because they are over-zealous. I love what I do but I just might have to 'do' a bit less. It is in God's hands. While I was in the hospital I had my husband bring me my daily devotional. I am amazed how each day's reading seemed to be aimed directly at the situation that day. But, after some reminders, I realize that it isn't my schedule that matters and it is God who lays the plans.

I'll be back with more, when I can. Bless you all for caring.

One day back, One day forward

2011-01-18T10:08:00.006-05:00

This past Sunday I played golf! Not an earth-shaking declaration unless you factor in that I've probably played golf three or four times in the last five years. Prior to that I golfed five days out of every week. I loved golf and really enjoyed being out on the links with friends and hubby. (Yes, we found playing golf together to be great). The only reason I quit was because when playing a long course you are usually out there four or five hours and one day I thought, "Why am I out here playing a game when I really would rather be inside at my computer writing?" The answer was simple so I packed my clubs away, not completely out of sight and I must admit once in a while as I saw them abandoned in the shed, I wished I could play again. But, it was not feasible to pay a yearly fee for a few games. This golf on Sunday was the result of a friend who asked me to play in a small scramble tournament next month and since I thought I was too rusty to even try, she talked me into going out for a practice round. A few holes, is what she said. I thought that sounded fine but once on the course, we were having such a good time, we played all eighteen. Funny how that stuff comes back.

Then on Monday I began to prepare for the current week. Since my newest book has come out I've become more involved in the local writing world. Tomorrow will be my first creative writing class in a six-week series at the South Florida Community College. First of all, I love doing this. It's the fourth time they have asked me back to teach and so I'm preparing lesson plans and handouts for the 10 students who have signed up for the course. I relish small classes because then you can give individual help. Also this week, on Saturday, I'll be the keynote speaker at a fund-raiser for a local organization (ARC). For the past few years they have invited authors to speak and I was very honored to be chosen for this year's event. But I have to polish off my speech, prepare brochures and get final plans made for this auspicious event.

Busy? Yes. Loving it? Yes. I guess I love the activity and also the diversity so it's back to the computer. Isn't my life grand?

This Past Week

2011-01-15T15:03:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I wonder where the time goes and then I look at my calendar and find out. I've been busy and that's not a complaint, it's a celebration.

I've done some interesting new things, some enjoyable comfortable things and experienced joys I hadn't expected.

On Sunday evening I attended the first of a series of Heartland Cultural Alliance events featuring authors. It was a 'reading' at Brewsters Coffee House,in Sebring. HCA is a great organization dedicated to bringing local cultural aspects to the forefront and attention of the residents of Highlands County. At one time I served on the Board but my expanding responsibilities forced me to retire the position, however, I have maintained my membership and am so proud of the wonderful progress they are making under its wonderful new direction. This event was a first in many ways; the first time it was held and a first for me. Originally billed as a poet's reading event, HCA asked me if I would be the initial reader. Since I'm not really a poet I questioned as to whether I would fit the formula but was assured that I could read anything I had written. I've written a few poems but in no way do I consider myself a poet. Still I decided to read a couple of poems and a short story which had been chosen for a Florida Writers Association anthology. I must say the reading went well and there was a small and interested crowd to fill the Coffee House. The event is going to be held at 6:30 on the second and fourth Sunday evenings of the month. As a writer I am looking forward to hearing others who will take part in this event.

On Thursday I was scheduled to speak at a women's group of St. John Methodist Church in Sebring. I give inspirational and motivational speeches whenever I can. It was very cold that morning and I hustled off at 8:00 to enjoy breakfast with 20 women who are part of a service group associated with the church. I was invited to also display my books. (A lovely plus to any speaking engagement). The topic of my presentation was based on Phil. 4:13, "I can do all things…" My speech was well received, they were interested in my books and I made some new friends.

Later that same day I attended the regular meeting of my community's book club. We have about twelve to fourteen women who meet monthly to discuss a book which has been previously chosen for review. This month they featured my latest book Forgiven. What an honor. I was pleased and looked forward to the critique but wondered if being a friend, rather than an author they had never had interaction with, they would be wary of hurting my feelings. As in the past, I have always maintained that there is no such thing as a thin-skinned writer. I always welcome any comments because I feel this is part of a writer's growth. I was pleasantly surprised at the open and interesting discussion that ensued. It really was fun!

I've also been able to get some work done on the newest manuscript.

This morning my husband and I attended the annual pancake breakfast at the clubhouse and had a nice time socializing with our friends here at Crystal Lake. Tonight it's pinochle and of course scattered throughout the week were the ever-present doctor's appointments and trips to the grocery store that become part of our weekly routine.

Each morning I begin my day with a daily devotional time. A dear internet friend, whom I've never met, sent me a devotional book last year and I love it. This quiet time is precious and often I read the message to my husband which sets off a pleasant and interesting discussion. A great way to begin the day.

I am blessed in so many ways.

SHE'S BAAAACK

2011-01-07T09:26:00.004-05:00

Where had Sunny gone? No blog. No news. No nothing (I think that double negative is okay in this instance). Even I didn't know where she was.

It was a weird sensation, a great feeling actually, when yesterday, for the first time in three months, I sat down at the computer and began to write again. In the past, both distant and near, I wrote every day, or almost every day. It is a passion I can't ignore but somehow in October, November and December of 2010 I just couldn't write. I had difficulty concentrating on anything. Were health problems related to both my husband and me to blame? Perhaps, but this hiatus was a first and frankly it scared me. I just couldn't concentrate on anything and I could probably create a long list of excuses, none of which matter now.

As I said, she's baaaack. I was so excited about getting my latest novel, Forgiven, published that I could think of little more in October and November when the book was released by Double Edge Press. There were signings to set up, speeches to schedule and there seemed to be no time to write but that's not true. It was me and I didn't like the me that showed up for that period of time. Perhaps it was because Forgiven was the first book to be published by a 'real' publisher. Up to that time I'd self-published and was not ashamed of that fact, but having a true, real publisher is wonderful. The delicious words "my publisher' sure do enhance a writer's station in the mix.

Prior to yesterday (January 6th) I had attempted from time to time to get back to the most current manuscript. Somehow I had messed this one up. I had difficulty with the continuity so back in December I tried to fix it by cutting and pasting and deleting and adding and it only made it worse. So this past week I began to read what had already been written. I liked it but the sequences were out of order and the more I tried to fix it the worse it became and the more confused I became. I did not, however, ever considering giving up. I came close to trashing the whole thing and starting over, but that's not going to happen. I worked almost all day yesterday on the manuscript and by Jove I think it's coming together.

Today my calendar is filled to capacity but I'll bet you anything, I write a bit more on the book which hovers just on the horizon of completion. I love writing and am so happy to be back.

I missed me!

Life's Lessons and a Measure of Patience

2010-11-27T23:39:00.005-05:00

I am learning, even at my age, that life is a bittersweet adventure. There are good times, better times and great times. There are unpredictable happenings that turn what you thought would happen into a completely opposite set of circumstances. On the whole, I've always been able to make whatever adjustments needed to be made.

But, and isn't there always a but, I've come upon a problem that doesn't seem to have a solution and I've been working with it and at it for quite some time now. I love my blog. It was created by a dear, highly intelligent computer whiz who came, clicked, shifted and arranged the blog and all that went with it. She set up everything and then stayed with me as I learned how to post articles and add information that could be changed when necessary. She helped me list my books, copy and paste the covers and then magically set up a system whereby any visitors to the blog could purchase books just by clicking on the cover of the book. Unfortunately, Diana died shortly after creating this mysterious and luxurious blog. Multiple brain tumors took her young and beautiful life. She is greatly missed by many and not just for her technical abilities. Diane was full of life, always laughing and oh, so willing to share her expertise.

Well, difficulties with the blog have raised their ugly heads and try as I might, I just can't find solutions to the problems. When I post, as I'm doing here, everything seems to be in order. But, when I try to add something new to the left-hand side of my blog where my books, book reviews, and other sections are, nothing seems to work and as I've clicked my way along this troubled path I find I can't add anything to this section of my blog. In fact, I tried to edit my poetry in this section and it disappeared, never to be seen again. I now get a message that my 'gadgets' are broken. I must say I've never had a broken gadget before and I'm desperately trying to locate anyone who might just be a gadget fixer. To date no help has arrived. I have one more place to seek this wizard of gadgets and that's my women's networking luncheon. So, on the second Wednesday of December I am going to quiz anyone who will listen to see if I can't find someone to fix my broken gadget.

What makes this more frustrating than ever is the fact that my newest book, FORGIVEN, is arriving this week and I wanted to put a blurb and the cover picture on my blog.

There must be a gadget fixer somewhere. Patience, writer. Patience.

A Sneak Peek

2010-11-15T10:45:00.005-05:00

Okay, the day has finally arrived. Forgiven is now in book form and at the printer. I'm as excited about this one as I was about the very first one I published. Forgiven is my tenth novel and I'm working on number eleven.

But, just to give you a quick idea about what Forgiven is about, here is what you'll find on the back cover. I don't know about you but when I pick up books to contemplate purchasing, the first thing I read is the back cover.

This is FORGIVEN'S back cover:

"The mystery of God can sometimes be found in a simple conversation with a stranger…"

"In the sleepy little town of Gadara, Florida, Alice Waterson arrives home from college pregnant and dumped by her boyfriend. Her mother, Karen Waterson, is reeling from the news that her ex-husband is expecting a baby with his new wife and that his financial woes will mean Karen selling her and Alice's home. Across town, A.J. Handley is staving off loneliness and wondering if the chest pains he's been having are serious. Heading for Miami, a young man struggles with the choice he has made of rejecting the woman he loves and the baby she carries. And at the Gadara Twin Oaks B&B Innkeeper Sarah Jane is not quite sure what to make of the stranger who arrives after hitch-hiking his way into town.

Sunny Serafino weaves a haunting tale of mystery, faith and the intertwining of lives as each of her characters faces their own problems and dilemmas, seeking answers from God. They find that none of the answers come immediately or easily, but that the final answer may rest in the actions of another, hidden for two generations. A secret so buried that only Divine Intervention could possibly reveal it.

OH, HAPPY DAY!!!

2010-11-13T16:49:00.005-05:00

As a writer I know that excessive use of !!! is simply not done but sometimes even those rules have to be overlooked. Anyhow, as W. Somerset Maugham said, "There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately no one knows what they are."

The reason for my exclamation points is that my latest manuscript will mature into a real, actual BOOK on November 22nd. This weekend I've received the mock-up of the cover and spoken to my precious publisher. I've heard some sad and terrifying stories about publishers, editors and agents but absolutely none of those descriptions can be even remotely applied to my PUBLISHER, Rebecca Melvin of Double Edge Press, who is kind, caring and absolutely thorough while keeping a friendly and compassionate relationship with the harried author. After careful editing by Rebecca, her staff and finally me, we have polished the work to a finished product. With a final tweak to the front, back covers and the spine, the book goes to the printer on Monday. OH, HAPPY DAY!

As an author I know that some people think we sit grimly in front of the computer screen, fingers flying over the keys and then eventually lean back and sigh, "Job done." Nothing could be further from the truth. Sure we spend hours typing, thinking, rewriting, researching and polishing each phrase as if they were jewels; and they are. But there's nothing more exciting than seeing your words on paper, bound together and in a BOOK. Of course, there's the joy of having your work accepted by faithful and loyal readers and other writers. Oh, I know, there is talk that books as we know them are going to be a thing of the past, being replaced by e-books and something called a Kindle (which I have yet to investigate but it is on the horizon and I'm not sure how I feel about that). But nothing, absolutely nothing will deflate my enthusiasm this weekend. The book is finished, it's on it's way to being born and like any mother, I'm so excited.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend. Also hope you give FORGIVEN a chance. After all, it's another of my children and Mama is beaming.

A Speedbump on life's highway…

2010-11-11T11:32:00.005-05:00

I have been belaboring over writing about the latest hiccup in my year. I'm not much for crying in public, but this certainly has been a challenging year health-wise. If it wasn't one of it was the other and sometimes it was both. Lenny and I have each taken trips to the hospital via ambulance; both have had a room at that Inn, me for 4 days in March and he for 17 days in May. Then there were the recuperation and rehab periods which sometimes ran into the next issue. Now on October 6th I fractured a bone in my right ankle and broke two bones in my right foot. The right foot! I'm the only driver in the family! (I think that was one too many exclamation points but sometimes you just can't help it.)

But…the right foot. Think about that; when there is no other driver it is a colassal pain. For a month we've had to rely on friends, and what wonderful friends we have. They, Betty, Sharon, Alice, Judy, Jean, Judy, Linda, Clara, Ginna and Lynn (forgive me if I've overlooked anyone) have provided transportation to and from doctors, hospitals, labs, grocery stores, trip to the hairdresser for me and a barber for Lenny. Shirley, Jan and Maggie have provided meals and desserts. I know they do these things with generous and kind hearts but it's not easy to keep asking for help. Believe me I would much prefer the shoe being on the other foot, both literarily and physically. One couple rescued us when the battery in our car dies. What you may ask, did it matter if the battery was dead when neither of us can drive? Well, the dear soul who was taking us to the doctor that afternoon suggested using her car wasn't practical because of the humongous boot on my foot. She has one of these spiffy new vehicles you need a ladder to enter. So I said, "Oh, that's okay; you can drive our car." Sounded like a good idea until the engine wouldn't turn over so we had to use her car anyhow. The next day AAA came and gave the old buggy a jump but discovered a bad cell in the battery. The only thing to do was take the car to the auto supply since AAA didn't install batteries, just jump start them?? Hence, the rescue by Judy and Ralph.

I am fully convinced there are lessons to be learned in everything that happens in your life. We've realized how very blessed we are to live in a community such as we do. Our nearest family is 1200 miles away and it is impossible for them to help but they pray and communicate their concerns. I've learned that you can enjoy food that is quick to prepare and preferably comes in little frozen boxes that pop out of the microwave as dinner. I've learned that it isn't absolutely necessary to have the bed made twenty minutes after arising; so far the covers have been pulled up and the spread remains in the closet. I've also learned that it takes an inordinate number of trips around the bed to change sheets and putting laundry into the washer and drier from a walker is a clumsy stretch. I've learned to laugh when the walker gets stuck in a doorway or your boot leaves skid marks on the kitchen floor. I've also been blessed with the knowledge that's it's okay to ask for help because in similar circumstances I'd want to help others. The meaning of the words 'friends', 'neighbors', 'help' and 'blessings' have all intensified and you take nothing for granted. You just take whatever is offered with a grateful heart.

I've reinforced my belief that all things are possible and sometimes prayers are answered with the word "wait". There is a light at the end of the tunnel. The next appointment with the foot doctor is on November 22nd and we are hoping the boot comes off then. I have no pain and that must be a good sign.

Lenny and I will be celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary on Thanksgiving Day with a couple of friends as we do each year. There will be telephone calls from the family and smiles and tears will mingle with our happiness.

I am blessed with a patient, loving husband who doesn't care if dinner is an omelet made out of Eggbeaters. I am so very aware of the depth of his love and help even when help is difficult for him to give. I've drawn even closer to God because I feel His hearness with more intensity.

So…I hope this blog didn't sound like a pity party because that wasn't the intent. It's just another corner of my life and it's okay.

I Never Thought . . .

2010-10-28T12:52:00.004-04:00

I never thought I'd be using terms like neurologist and cardiologist or life expentancy subjects with my 48 year old son and be talking about him.

Paul was born strong; he walked early, pulled himself up before other children; played viorously and then graduated to sports where he gave 110% encountering various injuries along the way. He was great in baseball and basketball and, while he wasn't really interested in football, gave that a try too. He was a healthy baby and even though he suffered various injuries during his rough play and sports years, he was always healthy and strong. He was a good worker and loved his job.

In June 2008, Paul contracted, if that's the right word, a disease called Legionnaires Disease. I didn't know much about this disease except that it was first detected and named when a group of Legionnaires attended a 1976 convention in Philadelphia and suddenly came down with a malady. There were many attendees who became very ill and some who died, so it made the news for quite some time.

When Paul was hospitalized and then diagnosed with LD he was away with friends and his two youngest children on a camping trip. They were about 100 miles from home up in the mountains of Pennsylvania. He was rushed to the nearest hospital and, of course, at that time the diagnosis hadn't been made. He was put on life-support and remained there for eleven days. I was 1200 miles away and had to rely on his two sisters and the hospital staff for daily updates. The staff at the hospital was exceptionally good in explaining things to me. As they put it, "LD is like the worst case of pneumonia possible." Clear, but not too encouraging. Later, after he was off life-support, I Googled Legionnaires Disease and found some pretty startling statistics, such as the death rate for those hospitalized with this disease is 50%. I'm glad I didn't Google while he was still on life-support.

This disease is caused by bacteria which grow in warm, wet places like hot water tanks and air-conditioning systems. He had a window air-conditioner in his bedroom however, we have no proof as to whether that was the source or not. No other family member contracted the disease and none of the other campers were or became sick.

After the hospital stay, which revealed some other problems such as he had a small stroke although it wasn't clear whether this happened prior to or during the onset of the disease, or while on life-support.

His recovery has been slow, he is no longer strong, he has terrible headached and he is always tired. Paul also had back surgery prior to this incident and while that was a recurring problem, it was manageable before this latest incident. He has been told, and understands, he will never work again. That, in itself, is a discouraging outlook for a man his age and certainly nothing a parent wants to hear.

These continuing symptoms have sent him to his doctor time and time again and it was he who finally recommended Paul see a neurologist. Since then there have been tests after tests over the past year and a half and yesterday when he called me he said, "Mom, the neurologist wants me to see a cardiologist. He thinks that because of some of the test results there may be blockage in my heart and there may have been another stroke. He's not sure. I'll let you know when the next test is scheduled."

It was a shock to hear these words but being the consummate Mother and optimist, I gave him the Mom's positive outlook speech. "We'll continue to pray, Paul. It will be okay, you have good doctors."

Then he said, "Well, I told the neurologist I'll do anything they order but I want to live to see my kids graduate from high school." That knocked a big hole in my positive reaction but I said nothing negative. I will continue to pray, that's all I can do.

Paul has five children, three of his own and two he adopted; his eldest, Andrew is married and has a boy and two step-daughters. One of Paul's adopted daughters has a little girl so Paul is a grandfather to two. His youngest children, a boy and a girl are 12 and 8. When he told me he wanted to live until the kids have graduated high school my heart shrank but what can I do but be supportive and pray for him.

A mother's heart can take a lot but sometimes there are things . . .I never thought . . .

Something Wonderful

2010-10-25T22:20:00.003-04:00

Well, there are hardly words to describe my feelings for the past weekend. I attended my second Florida Writers Conference in Orlando, Florida and it was even better than the first one, something I just didn't think could be topped.

For only two and a half days, we sure packed a lot into that time. Workshops that really meant something, events that mixed us together like a giant stew of talent and creativity spiced with huge dollop of camaraderie; the time flew by. The workshops were interesting, helpful and delivered with a sincerity and expertise hard to top. The accommodations were exceptional, the staff excellent and the FWA folks awesome. Their organizational skills were very evident when event after event flowed with a pace that was perfect. This time I met old friends and made new ones. And the best part…it was fun, fun, fun from beginning to end.

Even with a broken foot I enjoyed every minute. Of course, that was only because my dear friend Lynn provided transportation to and from Orlando; pushed the wheelchair the hotel provided for me; fetched and gathered what I couldn't reach and generally saw that I was able to get from place to place. Therefore, I didn't miss a thing and was even able to participate. There was an overwhelming feeling of being in the right place at the right time with the right people. What a conglomeration of talent to be a part of! I thought last year's couldn't be topped but this one did and I'm already looking forward to next year.

One special bonus to the occasion was meeting with my publisher,Rebecca Melvin. I met Rebecca last year. It was a chance meeting and we seemed to often be crossing paths. It was shortly after the conference that she selected my manuscript Forgiven for publication; the book will be released in November and I am so excited I can't describe my feelings but elation comes to mind. Rebecca was at the conference again this year. This time I got to meet her husband, Neil, and renew my friendship with her mother, Martha. The trio are more than delightful and I was so pleased with the time we shared, even if it was snatched between events. But, having dinner with them on Friday evening was like the whipped cream and cherry on the top of the sundae.

The list of events and happenings seemed endless yet they flowed, one after the other. This year's FWA collection, Slices of Life, was finally unveiled for the participants and the joint book signings were such fun and again, an opportunity to meet new authors and renew friendships with those from last year.

I guess there are good things and then there are GOOD THINGS and this weekend was surely in that latter category. I'm sure I'll have more to say about this awesome time tomorrow. This first day home was a bit gruelling but tomorrow beckons and I'll be back.

October 21, 2010

2010-10-21T19:47:00.003-04:00

This has been an interesting day, not that many of my days are dull. But sometimes, as one of my teachers once said while trying to make the point that overdoing something can be as harmful as underdoing something. He said, "It's like trying to put ten pounds of sugar in a five pound sack."

Since my transportation is still provided by the lovely people in my community, I went to the foot doctor this morning with the help of my friend Ginna. It's not only driving from home to office, it's loading the dreaded wheeled walker into trunk or back seat at home, then out at the office, then back into the car and out when we get home. But, these friends do this willingly. Then in the afternoon because I'm going away to the conference tomorrow, I went to get my hair cut and styled. Another friend provided the transportation and this time Sharon took the honor. Again with the walker and then on to Wal-Mart's to pick up prescriptions for both Lenny and me, then a quick trip around the grocery portion of the huge store in one of those electric carts. I'm getting good at that, only toppled one display case to date and that was weeks ago. Sharon, dear girl, walked with me with the walker because if she didn't she'd have had to take it out to the car, go get it when I was finished shopping and that meant at least two more times of in and out of the car with the walker. This kind of friendship is immeasurable.

The good news of the day was that the doctor is 'pleased' and if he's pleased shouldn't I be? Of course, he did say the dreaded boot will remain with me for another 4 weeks, at least. Well, guess I'm glad that things are moving forward although at the speed of a snail on tranquillizers.

I've packed and you don't realize how nice it is to move easily until you can't. Seemed to take an inordinate number of trips back and forth but the suitcase is packed, the suitcase carrying 30 of my books for the conference book store has made it to the back seat of our car so that in the morning (4:25 a.m.) my friend Lynn and I will only have to more that mountain from my car to hers.

So if you look carefully you can see the rosy side of today. I got good news from the doctor, I went to the beauty shop, I picked up the much needed prescriptions and got in a few groceries to hold my husband over the three days I'll be away. And the best good news message of all - - - -I have wonderful friends.

Tomorrow we're off to the Writer's Conference. I'm as excited as can be. Won't be able to post for three days but when I can it should be full of all kinds of good news.

That's all for now.

About Me

2010-10-20T11:38:00.003-04:00

I can't believe it's been so many months since I added anything to my blog. Forgive me! There are things that happen and perhaps I can use some of them as an excuse although I really don't like excuses.

I told you about the health problems earlier this year. Well, they continue and I'm not going into all the details but I will bring you up-to-date on the latest. Sixteen days ago I fractured a bone in my right ankle and two in my right foot. I think I have the nastiest feet in the world. Not so much what they look like, although I'd never be picked out of a crowd of feet to be a 'foot model'. They were functional with a bit pain here and there which you kind of get used to; they have been in a painful condition for years and at this time are riddled with arthritis. Not the most interesting subject, right? Of course it had to be my right foot and so for the time-being I can't drive. Being the only driver in the family (the kids are scattered thither and yon [I always wanted to use that phrase]) and my husband hasn't driven in 6 years due to medical conditions, it makes for some interesting getting around. Thank God I have wonderful friends who have volunteered to provide transportation when needed. Now for the good news.

As most of you know, I've been an author for several years. During that time I was never able to get through to an agent, editor or publisher so, being the optimistic soul I am, I published ten books myself always hoping to find that elusive publisher. Last year at the Florida Writers Conference in October 2009 I met Rebecca Melvin of Double Edge Publishing. A Christian publisher who accepted my latest book, Forgiven. I was so excited and the excitement hasn't lessened. She is wonderful to work with, fair, honest and oh-so-helpful. Forgiven will be released in November of this year! I feel as if I should use capital letters for that sentence.

So I've been busy with editing, arranging for promotional help for Double Edge and doing whatever I can to make this the truly exciting, magnificent event of a lifetime. I can't wait to hold the finished project in my hands.

Of course, being the prolific writer I am, I've also been working on the next book. I have about 20 chapters finished but this latest setback (the broken foot) has sapped a lot of time from my days and strength from my body. Still I know that with God's help and encouragement, I will finish this book too.

Let's see what else is new? One of my poems(I don't write many) was accepted for publication in the Fall Issue of the Pen Women, a quarterly magazine sponsored by the National League of American Pen Women. A nice recognition and if I can figure out how to add poetry to my blog, I'll so so. So far the mechanics elude me.

I was asked to teach another creative writing course at South Florida Community College which was to have begun yesterday. Of course, being disadvantaged at the moment we had to postpone that to January when, hopefully, all the parts are back where they should be. I still chair the weekly writer's critique group at Avon Park Library every Friday, I attend as many Florida Writers Association local meetings as I can. I've recently given several speeches but those for next month are iffy unless I can get transportation but all that can be handled, I'm sure. See, I told you I was the eternal optimist.

I am making a promise to myself to write on this blog much more often and hope that some of my faithful blogers will continue to visit. In spite of it all, I consider myself to be one of the luckiest, blessed women. I'm where I want to be; I'm with whom I want to be (Lenny) and I'm doing what I love to do and what I've wanted to do for most of my life (writing). What more could I ask? See you soon, promise.

Life is not about…

2010-05-28T21:17:00.002-04:00

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass…it's about learning how to dance in the rain. I don't know who said that but I love it. I guess I've been waiting for the storms to pass when I should have been learning to dance.

It seems that for the past few months my husband and I have run the gamut of troubles. We both needed ambulance rides which weren't exactly something we had anticipated but then I guess no one looks forward to a crew of EMTs and flashing red lights.

In March it looked like I was having a heart attack. Me? How ridiculous. I'm strong, healthy and busy. But there I was tooling along the roadway to the ER hooked up to things and stuff and the lights were flashing. Well, it wasn't a heart attack but something called an atria-fibrillation. After four days my heart was stabilized and I was sent home. But, what happened to my pep? Surely those wonderful hospital people forget to reinsert the pep-quotient. I dragged and dragged, complained about being tired all the time and then, low and behold a light at the end of the tunnel. Some changes in meds and I was feeling better.

Don't get too excited. At 2:00 a.m. on May 11th my husband suddenly couldn't stand or walk, even with his walker so another 911 call, another trip in the ambulance, this time I was following it with my reconstituted heart now in my mouth. Well, today I brought Lenny home -- seventeen days later. He is better and the rehab he went through and will continue to avail himself of locally, has strengthened him. This has been another of life's learning lessons. I have learned that these things happen; I have learned that friends and family are capable of enormous amounts of prayers, encouragement and love. I am grateful to an extent I didn't know was in me for these wonderful people in my life. I am humbled by the wisdom, patience and aid available through the medical facilities we visited. I learned that we are not alone and that God guides people in mysterious and magnificent ways.

I also learned that I must learn to dance. It's great to be back and I appreciate each and every one of you who takes the time to check in and see what's going on in my life. There is good news, too. I've received a signed contract on my latest novel, Forgiven. A Christian publisher in Pennsylvania has opted for this book and asked for rights of first refusal on the next! And as to the next, even with all the worry and distractions, I've begun novel number 11. It's a small start but it feels so darned good. Excuse me, I have to dance.

HELLO! THE NEXT FAMILY MEMBER IS JUST ON THE HORIZON

2010-03-29T15:56:00.005-04:00

Writing a book is like giving birth. The next book is the next child to an author. A living entity that begins with just a smidgen of hope, a whisper of thought and then slowly grows into something even the creator doesn't know all about until it's completed.

First it's an embryo and then a growing, living, breathing thing that develops slowly, broadening it's scope, fleshing out the character until it becomes something who is at once promising and yet incomplete until the last sentence is typed. The main character takes a special place in the writer's life as if she is actually part of my family now and not just an idea that blossomed.

That's how I think of my books, anyhow. It's really more than just the main character who becomes the new child; the accompanying prose and color help finish the project. I know this new person, probably better than I know my own children because I created her and God created my children. The other characters are like cousins or friends maybe; known but not as embedded in my heart as the gossamer thread that began with a simple thought and became another family member.

Most of my novels were born because of something I call my 'what if' syndrome. What if this or that happened to me or someone I know? What would follow: and then the manuscript is launched.

So now, novel number ten hovers just on the horizon…completed, ready to be born. I don't say finished because I'm not sure a novel is ever really entirely over and done with in the writer's mind, just as a real life child changes over the years.

My latest novel, Forgiven, is with a publisher as I write this. Any writer reading this knows the anxiety contained in that statement. Will the publisher accept it? Will this new child be introduced this way? It's a waiting game but whatever happens, it is certain that Forgiven will become my next child.

To give you just a hint as to the makeup of this next offspring, let me tell you a little about it. Not too much, mind you, but enough perhaps to capture your attention and bring you to my side to help wait out this finale with me.

FORGIVEN - Trouble is about to descend on the sleepy little town of Gadara, Florida. A.J. Handley, the last of Gadara's founding family, now realizes his days are numbered. Believing he is without heirs, he prepares to leave his estate to the town's Historical Society. On the other side of town, Karen Waterson is dealing with very different problems. Not only is she struggling with financial matters, now she's got an ex-husband who's useless and an unmarried daughter who's pregnant. Alice, Karen's daughter, would like to be sympathetic but she's got her own problems now that Morgan, the baby's father, has disappeared. With no real explanation, Morgan just up and left, saying he wasn't equipped for the task of being a father. Now that trouble is boiling up like a teakettle about to whistle, Karen prays for guidance.

Meanwhile, Samuel looks down from his Heavenly perch, listens to Karen's plea and shakes his head. He knows it's up to him to do something, but first Samuel has a job to do. He's got to tell Jack Coursky he's dead. After an accident Jack climbed out of the car, left his body behind, and began wandering around like a lost soul, which in fact is precisely what he is. Once Samuel has convinced Jack he is now an angel, Jack gets his first assignment…an assignment that takes him to Gadara where he meets Karen, Alice and A. J. Handley."

The waiting game is the labor in this creative endeavor and to ease the pangs I've begun another babe, in such early stages even I am not sure where it's going. Alas, that's the writer's lot but one I've dreamed of for most of my life. There are no complaints, just awesome anticipation.

The Unrest and the Results

2010-03-24T14:32:00.006-04:00

A couple of months ago I wrote a letter to the editor lamenting the loss of civility in our culture and included it on my blog. Today I continued on that same subject as follows:

Over the past months the lack of civility, respect and common courtesy has deteriorated beyond belief. There are more and more instances of a total disregard for respect in every facet of our lives. It's okay to shout down the President of this country? It's okay to shout out racial slurs and to spit on our Congressmen as they enter the Capitol Building. This terrible situation is actually encouraged by a few of our leaders. It is okay to twist and turn the truth into scare tactics? No, none of this is okay!

People who were once reasonable and respectful have slipped away only to be replaced by unruly mobs carrying placards with terrible statements, using words no decent citizen would utter. There appears to be no shame as to what language is used and where it is used.

These can be troubling times but shouting matches and outright lies will solve nothing. Every American has a right to his or her opinion and a right to voice that opinion but with decorum, respect and responsibility to not only speak, but to listen.

Some of the falsehoods are nothing more than scare tactics. Some of them are very damaging. Just yesterday an announcement was made that the recently signed Bill concerning health care and regulations for the insurance industry was challenged as being unconstitutional. I don't think it is but it certainly is not unreasonable to wait until the parliamentarian and officials research the subject completely. Are there no open minds left? One cause for this premise of challenge is the belief that "it is unconstitutional for the government to force citizens into programs they do not support." Did you know that Medicare would fall into that category? Medicare is essentially compulsory. People who refuse to join Medicare Part A are not allowed to receive their earned Social Security benefits. I haven't heard of many people refusing these benefits mandated by the Acts establishing Social Security or Medicare. (this information was taken from 5 Things that will make your Smarter - Highlands Today, March 24, 2010) I believe this reasoning can be applied to the current Bill and has also been applied to such Acts as the Civil Rights Bill and probably more of the 'government plans' we all enjoy. Do those who make this challenge really want to refuse restrictions on the insurance industry? Do they not see a need for some of the provisions as to pre-existing conditions? There are government procedures that may change some of the provisions but to just toss out the entire Bill doesn't make sense. Kind of like throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

Since the actions of our government affect many facets of the lives of all American citizens, wouldn't it be wiser to calm down, remember the manners and freedoms that we have enjoyed over the past two hundred years? Our willingness to work together, to respect each other and to continue to enhance and build our greatness as a people who can and do work together is one of the many things that makes the Unites States of America the wonderful democracy/republic it is. A little cooperation, a smidgen of respect and patience and a dash of courtesy goes a long way. Let's work together before the violence like brick throwing and civil violence gets out of hand.

GIFTS

2010-02-20T09:48:00.003-05:00

Everyone loves gifts…and they come to us in many forms. The shiny box with the big bow at Christmas and birthdays. Special occasions when we receive gifts. We almost always remember to offer thanks for these gifts.

Some of the nicest gifts, however, don't come wrapped in glittering paper and topped with lacy bows. Acts of kindness are nice gifts and often don't get acknowledged as they should. Expressions of gratitude are gifts, as are kind words.

Most of these gifts come delivered by hand, through the mail or via the brown UPS trucks. A few are face to face immediate responses. "What a kind thing to do. Thank you."

But some gifts sneak up on you unexpectedly and come via many routes, even email. I was surprised, pleased and appreciative of a gift I recently received and it came in an e-mail note. I have been teaching a creative writing course at our local community college, South Florida Community College. I have done this periodically over the past few years and enjoy it immensely. One of my passions is sharing what I have learned writing fiction and I love to share this with others with the same passion. Currently I have a class of eight who are enthusiastic, responsive and doing fantastic things with words. Yesterday I received an email from one of those students and while I consider it a personal gift from her I'd like to share it with you.

"I noticed yesterday we were all saying how much we enjoyed your class. I was in another writing group when I first moved here. I didn't learn nearly as much as I have learned from you in five weeks. You are so generous and beyond helpful. You are also an inspiration to me knowing that you didn't start writing until you were in your 60s. I don't know if I will ever be a published author. What I do know is that my love for books, reading and writing have been expanded beyond measure. I find all these things to be my true passion in life. I just kept it under wraps for way too long."

Thank you, Carolyn, for a lovely gift. I shall treasure it forever.

Sometimes

2010-02-16T16:04:00.004-05:00

Sometimes we let things get in our way. Things beyond our control and yet we allow them to take us off the path we've chosen. Something like that happened late last year.

I don't remember exactly when I decided to create a blog, and using the word create here might be misconstrued. I don't have the technical know-how to do anything like this but I had a friend, a great friend, who did. Diane was the kind of friend you didn't have to see every day or even every week to know she was a friend. Once a month we met at a women's networking luncheon and she was an encourager. "You can do a lot with a blog. It will help you, I'll help you," she said and I believed her so I asked for her help. And, help she did—in fact she created it for me. Of course, that was her business but to see her click on boxes and move things around the screen until my blog evolved as a real, viable networking tool was great. Talent comes in so many forms, doesn't it? Some paint, some write, there are those who do magical things with a needle and thread and then some create blogs. I loved my blog and was excited about using it.

But, and isn't there always a but? But, as hard as I tried I couldn't seem to find the formula to achieve the success Diane suggested was waiting out there for me. I wrote updates, articles and promoted my books but I got very little traffic and fewer responses. What was I doing wrong? I'd have to ask Diane. I became discouraged but something else crept between me and blog happiness. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Diane got very ill. So ill she needed surgery. So ill she was diagnosed as 'critical'. Those of us who knew our bubbly, successful friend couldn't understand the why or the how or the prognosis. This was our Diane! But nothing worked and Diane left us—forever and I was alone with my blog and my memories of Diane.

On several occasions over the past few months I've come to the blog intending to update it. Hoping for some inspiration to motivate me to use this networking tool she was so convinced would help, but nothing came to me. I'd review some of what was here and then sign off. Not today. Maybe tomorrow and tomorrow never came.

Yesterday I was talking to another friend and the word blog was mentioned. I had to admit I had drifted away from this gift Diane had provided me with. And then the thought came to me—wouldn't Diane be disappointed in me. Disappointed that I'd abandoned the ship, tossed aside the opportunities it just may hold; I'd given up. That's not like me. I'm not a quiter—never have been and hope I never am; so I'm going to do what I promised myself (and Diane) I'd do.

That's why I am tapping away at the keyboard and not at all sure I've made any sense and not at all sure my pathetic reasoning has any value. But I remind myself, "You're a writer so why don't you just get off your pitty platform and write something"; why don't you make something of this miracle Diane created for me.

Okay so what have I done in the the past months? I've completed my tenth novel, a story about troubles and matters of the heart. A tale of courage, confusion and accomplishments from unseen and unusual places and people. As in all my other novels, I have kept my promise to myself that I won't use language or situations that might be offensive to anyone. I've sent it off to a Christian Publisher who expressed an interest and asked for the manuscript. Is this the breakthrough I've been hoping and praying for? Will she accept it for publication? Please join me in small prayers and finger crossings that this might just come about. Of course, if it doesn't I'll self-publish again. But what I really want is some help with reaching the market I just know is out there somewhere for me. Maybe this time I'll open that door. I've given speeches, held workshops and been invited to teach at South Florida Community College again. The weekly writer's critique group I initiated is doing well and growing. I've met wonderful people, interacted with other authors and kept a busy schedule that surprises even me. I've started novel number eleven and have an outline for number twelve. I'm writing a couple of short stories to enter into contests. I love contests, they are so helpful in challenging yourself to do more and to try new things.

If you're reading this perhaps you'll give me a teeny word of encouragement. We need each other you know. That's the way these things work.

God bless you.

What Happened To Civility?

2009-09-18T10:21:00.003-04:00

Recent happenings have brought the lack of civility in our society to the attention of many via newspaper and television coverage.The good thing is we get to see the nitty gritty of this decadent behavior. The bad thing is we get to see the nitty gritty of this decadent behavior. Unfortunately, it wasn't a big shock to me because I've been watching it seep into our culture for far too long.

History tends to repeat itself. Some wise person once said that if we don't pay attention to the past (history) we will be doomed to repeat it. Not his or her actual words but the thought was there. Look back to some early civilizations -- the Romans or Greeks for instance. These cultures were exceptional for their times, filled with family values, education, government, art, music and the good things of life. There was an abundance of whatever they needed. And then, isn't there always an 'and then', they became overwhelmed with their self-importance, their successes, their power and their culture began to turn and failure followed.

When did our power and successes begin to eat away at our family values? When did we look the other way when rudeness seeped into our culture? After World War II we recovered with an unprecedented rush of success. Businesses boomed, education blossomed and while, at first, we relished these things, the need for more and more of everything slowly took over. Now kids aren't at the dinner table with Mom and Dad much anymore. Family conversations often become battles for power and sink to levels unimaginable. Everyone is too busy. Too busy to maintain family traditions and values? The gifts at Christmas and on other occasions are a competition to outdo the last gifts. Movies get louder and louder, more violent and the language is abhorrent. Popular music isn't words set to music that you can hum along to but shouted obscenities and information on how to kill a cop or some such other terrible base.

I'm not even going to mention the questionable dress codes most young people allow 'society' to induce them to follow. But, when did rudeness become the norm in family discussions, in our schools and even between youngsters? Listen to conversations at the mall and think, would you have said that to your siblings, your parents or even your friends? Words I think unprintable and certainly not for any type of conversation have crept into our movies, television, books and conversations. Where is this going? Schools have had their hands tied in most instances when occasions of misbehavior or disruption occurs in the classrooms.

Recently on two occasions I heard unheard of remarks being made by people who should have known better. Why did they use them? Because it's not frowned upon anymore. We have become accustomed to turning our heads and ignoring these things because to stand up for something is tantamount to welcoming censure yourself.

Young athletes are encouraged to be so tough that even their language should follow suit. A congressman felt no remorse in shouting out "You lie" to the President of the United States of America during one of his speeches to a joint session of congress. Why? Because there is no retribution of any kind. Oh, a fine to someone who makes millions is nothing. A reprimand is over and done with and life goes on. There are so many good examples of civil, honest examples of how to have a good life without lowering moral standards. I know you can make your own list.

I fear for the lack of civility in each and every walk of life, in families, businesses, government, sports and schools it is an unrecognized trait of deterioration of our civilization. And, who is going to do something about this? I think the basics of life lead back to the family and their responsibility of creating an atmosphere where future generations will know when they can't cross that line before even getting to it.

Civility? The very word is part of civilization. We should all be very careful and very watchful.

Tucker and Bunny - A tale of unlikely bedfellows

2009-08-14T16:03:00.003-04:00

Pictures trap moments of time on shiny pieces of paper that forever after echo as memories in your heart. Each one holds a story.

“Please can I keep her,” my youngest daughter Jenni cried, holding a ragged stray kitten. She always longed for a pet, but I had to say, “No,” because of my allergies. Truthfully!
Jenni, however, made up for her pet loss by acquiring an overabundance of stuffed creatures. Walruses, seals, elephants, giraffes, dogs, cats, bunnies, several bears and an assortment of endangered animals adorned her bed and every available bit of shelf space in her room.

Each time we went to the Mall she gazed longingly into the local pet palace and browsed among the cages while I kept a happy distance from the furry creatures and their offensive fur, hair and dander.

But when Jenni was nine, as a super surprise for Christmas, I bought her a pretty, blue parakeet complete with cage and accessories. I had been assured that feathers wouldn’t affect my eyes, nose and breathing apparatus as hair and fur did.
Jenni was so excited. “I’ll clean the cage, Mom, and put water and seed in the dishes every day. I promise!”

Of course, we all know who kept the cage clean but Petey was a cute, smart, non-allergenic pet and our pleasant life continued, almost pet-less. He became a member of the family with his cage door open most of the time so that he could visit at will. One of his favorite foods was peas, plain, cooked, then cooled, green peas. He’d stick his beak into the center and eat the soft middle, neatly dropping the hulls on the floor of his cage.

Then Jenni grew up a bit and enter the boyfriend who, without seeking parental permission, presented his little ladylove with a black Lab puppy! Now it was my turn to say, “Jen, you know we can’t have a dog.” But she argued that she would care for Tucker and I wouldn’t be bothered with his hair or dander because he was never going to come into the house. “I’ll keep him downstairs and I’ll clean the playroom. Promise.”

Now could a loving mother turn that offer down? Of course not. So Tucker moved into the basement and Jenni took over the responsibility of not only a dog but the housekeeping of the almost-finished playroom. Kind of.

I, however, retained the bird maintenance—a small chore I had to admit I loved because Petey, at the advent of clean brown paper on the bottom of his cage and fresh water and seeds in the plastic cups, was sent into a frenzy of happiness.

I had to admit that Tucker was an ideal pet and even though I had to go through the playroom to the laundry, I did so without any adverse reactions to the presence of yon dog. Once again peace and harmony reigned in our household.

That might have been the end of the story but there is more. Not long after Tucker joined the family, lo and behold, young ardent boyfriend arrived with another pet for his ladylove. This time it was a rabbit, named Bunny. How original.

“Are you out of your mind?” I cried. “The dog will eat the rabbit.”

“Not so,” the young romancer said, “I’ve brought a cage for the rabbit and we will paper train her to go in the cage.”

Huh, I thought, an unlikely event. A dog and a rabbit that have free run of the room? And a paper-trained rabbit? But, wonder of wonders, the rabbit was cage trained and Bunny and Tucker became fast friends. On occasion I would descend to the lower level of the house and watch in amazement as the rabbit and dog shared a water bowl or playfully romped around the perimeter of the cage—carefully cleaned daily by grateful daughter. I watched Jenni feed some homegrown clover or a stalk of celery to Bunny while holding Tucker in her lap.
Tucker was a typical puppy—robust in energy, cuddly when the occasion presented itself and slipping off to sleep when there wasn’t anyone, or a certain rabbit nearby, to wheedle into action.

Bunny was a funny animal; funny in the way she behaved. While maintaining her rabbit-aloofness, she was very un-rabbit-like at times. When we returned home after an outing, not only did Tucker run to meet us, circling our feet in enthusiastic welcome—so did Bunny. Perhaps she thought she, too, was a dog. But there were limits to her sharing what she considered her domain. If Tucker intruded, she quickly retreated to her cage and smugly pronounced her independence from the foolish frolics that Tucker tried to entice her to join. She had her dignity to protect.

One day I slipped downstairs to see what was happening—it was much too quiet. Mothers of teenager daughters worry about quiet. To my surprise I found Jenni and her boyfriend sitting on the couch watching television. But even more surprising was finding Tucker and Bunny lounging in a chair—together—watching television with them. Talk about strange bedfellows. It was a picture begging to be taken.

Except from award-winning novel, Secrets

2009-08-02T20:50:00.005-04:00

The air is crisp and more invigorating here in the mountains and Eve breathes deeply as she walks up the brick path to the wide double doors that are appropriately painted black.
The lingering scent of old flowers and dust greets her as she steps into the vestibule. Soft music comes from a hidden source and yet a hollow silence surrounds her. She hesitates, then looks to the left when a door opens quietly.

The thin, slightly stooped man who stands in the doorway is well into his eighties. His hair and face are almost the same shade of gray but alert, dark eyes peer out from beneath shaggy brows and his face crinkles to a pleasant greeting as he steps forward, “Good morning,” he says, recognizing a stranger. “I’m Edgar Krouder. Been here in Mountain Springs for seventy years. Mortician for forty-some years. My two sons help in the business. You must be Helen’s daughter.”

Again a chilling feeling of being completely out of control sweeps over Eve. How in the world…?
She mumbles agreement and watches him move silently toward her. His black suit, dulled with age is crisply neat. Nothing in the room or about him seems capable of making any noise.
He touches her hand with icy fingers. “We are so very sorry for your loss. We’ve been expecting you. Please, come into the office and we can talk. But first, do you want to see your mother? She’s in the last room,” he points down a dimly lit hallway. “It’s the biggest room we have because we expect a great many mourners. Your mother had so many friends.” His eyes crinkle with pleasure; as if the mere thought of all her mother’s friends gathered together will be a welcome occasion.

Eve is smothered with indecision. Did she want to see her mother so quickly? Maybe she needs a minute to gather herself. Maybe she’ll feel better if she knows what plans have already been made and who made them. “Thank you. I think I’d like to talk first.”

They move into the office, another quiet room with a small desk, a neat line of notebooks marshaled at one end. Eve sits in a comfortable chair facing the desk. Her eyes take in a tall bookshelf to her right that contains more notebooks and several ornate urns. Probably for ashes, she thinks trying to bring her thoughts into focus.

Mister Krouder eases himself into the leather chair behind the desk. His thin fingers straighten a few papers, then he looks at her. Forty-some years of controlled compassion cover his face and guide his words.

“Death is always a shock, even though we all know it is inevitable.” He smiles again, pulling himself effortlessly from solemn to friendly. “Your mother was a wonderful lady. Well loved in the community, active in church, involved in charity, but then you know all that.”

No, I don’t, Eve thinks. I don’t know anything about my mother. Well, not exactly ‘anything’ but not enough. She feels tears prick at the back of her eyes and she bites her lower lip to keep it from trembling.

Mister Krouder takes this sign of emotion as normal and pushes a box of tissues toward his visitor. “She was also very thoughtful and kind, as was her husband. About a year before Joe died, they came in here and made all the arrangements for their demise. Everything is taken care of. She eased the way for you.” His words drift off the ends of his sentences as if a listener can add whatever he wants.

“I’m surprised. She never suggested to me that this was what they had done. When I got news of her death…” Eve stumbles and then goes on, “I thought I’d have to make the arrangements. I don’t even know the man who called me in Washington…” This time Eve’s words ebb away, leaving room for conjecture on the part of her listener.

“Austin Campbell,” he supplies. “Yes, a nice man. Lives on some land he leased from Joe, oh, some years back. They were friends. Or, as close to being friends as you can get with Mister Campbell. Kind of a recluse, he is.”

Eve listens to the muted music and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the office. “I don’t recall Mother mentioning him.”

“Well, not surprising. He’s very quiet. Came right here about your mother though. He found her, called the doctor and waited until they examined her, then followed the ambulance in. Said he’d call you.”

How did Mister Campbell know my name and telephone number, Eve wonders silently?
She sighs. What a contradiction her mother’s life was. Irresponsibly disappearing for months or even years at a time, going off on crazy ventures, yet organized enough to plan for her own funeral.

“Maybe I should see Mother now.” Her words shock her. She hadn’t planned to say that so quickly. But then again, what is the sense of waiting? They rise and she feels his bony fingers take her elbow as they walk down the dim corridor.

“I’ll leave you alone. Take whatever time you need. I’ll wait for you in the front.” He melts away closing the door so softly Eve turns to see if he has really left.

The room is cold. Two small wreaths of flowers are attached to wire stands at each end of the open coffin. There is room for more flowers and she wonders if the racks will be full by the time of the funeral. She makes a mental note to order flowers. Her mind whirls with details. Who will conduct the funeral? What time is it on Friday?

Her mother’s head rests on a satin pillow, her hands folded across the waist of a pale blue dress Eve has never seen. The peaceful expression she wears brings a sudden stab to Eve’s heart. She remembers that peaceful look. Not much upset her mother. She always had a way of dealing with setbacks. Why did Eve remember this now as she looks at her mother’s lifeless body? Why hadn’t that thought crossed her mind last night when she was struggling to remember things about her mother?

The coffin lid is split and the bottom half of her mother’s body is out of sight. Eve wonders if she has shoes and stockings on and then shudders at the senselessness of that thought. She moves closer to the casket, her hands gripped tightly in front of her. Surely there is something she should say, something she should feel instead of the rampant confusion that courses through her. Her throat tightens and she swallows with difficulty. Soft music continues in the background as Eve lowers her eyes from her mother’s face, feeling hot tears trickle down her cheeks. A padded kneeler is next to the coffin. Should she kneel and whisper a prayer? She prays in church on the Sundays she occasionally attends. But they are prayers the minister’s sermon provokes, familiar, nonspecific prayers, nothing she has to originate. Nothing comes to her mind in this silent room where she and her mother are alone for the first time in how long? Too long. Shivering, she pulls a tissue from her purse and wipes her eyes and cheeks dry. She turns her back to the coffin and stands still for a moment, then quietly leaves, not looking back, not praying, not sure of what she has done or should have done.

In the front office again, Mister Krouder opens a file centered on his desk. “Let me review what’s scheduled and if there’s anything you wish to change, we can go over that.” He separates several sheets of paper, spreading them carefully, lining up the tops of the pages, as if that is necessary before reading them. “As I said, we’ve scheduled the funeral for Friday at two o’clock at First Baptist Church, Followers of the Apostles.” He looks up as if waiting for an acknowledgement. Receiving none, he continues, “We chose Friday because one of my associates called the people in Helen’s address book. Since many of them said they wanted to attend the funeral and were scattered around the country, requiring some travel time, we decided Friday was the earliest convenient time.”

It is a long speech and he seems out of breath. “Do you want to add to this list?”

Eve shakes her head. Who would I add?

He pauses and again looks at her, his eyes hooded with professional sympathy, “Interment will follow the services. Reverend Mueller has a wonderful service, both in the church and at graveside.”

Eve stares at him. It sounds as if she’s listening to a package deal for a trip to Barbados. She shifts in her chair, trying to focus on what he is saying.

“We’ve scheduled the viewing from six to eight on Thursday evening. We….”

“No! No viewing!” The words burst from her stiffened lips. He looks startled by her impassioned tone. “No viewing, I couldn’t…my husband, my son… No, I’m sorry but I can’t have a viewing.” She closes her eyes, still the vision of two coffins is so clear they might be just down the dim hallway. The sickly scent of too many flowers, strange lips fluttering across her cheeks, the mumbled words—no, it is too much. Tears seep from beneath her closed eyelids and she takes a deep, grief-shattered breath. “I’m sorry, it’s too painful.”

“But, Missus Marshall, people will expect…”

“No.” It was final.

He watches her for a moment, clearly confused by this sudden turn of events, then resumes his role. “Of course. I understand.” But he doesn’t and he fumbles with the papers again. “We could have a short viewing before the services… At the church. For those who feel it is necessary to spend a few respectful minutes with their beloved friend.”

“Fine.” She is resolved, but relieved. Do whatever you want, go through whatever rituals you have, but don’t include me, not again, not again. Her nails bite into the palms of her hands and she releases her grip, stretching her fingers.

Once again he shuffles through the papers, handing her a sheet with some typed names on it. “This is the list of mourners we’ve notified—taken from your mother’s records, and a list she’d provided to us previously. As you can see, a couple of them are in California.”

Eve doesn’t read it, just folds it in half and slips it in her purse. Before leaving, she gets directions to her mother’s home, noting Mister Krouder’s polite surprise that she needs them.

Want to know more? Autographed copies of this award-winning novel are available by clicking on the title on this blog

Big and Little Things

2009-07-26T17:51:00.006-04:00

Sometimes the big things in your life are really little things. Take for instance the arrival of my great-grandson Nathan. While he's almost nine-months old and I've never seen him, I did receive a photograph of him at the age of six-months. Better late than never and isn't he cute? My daughter, his aunt Jen, reports that he is the most pleasant baby she's ever seen and she has quite a history with babies.

Nevertheless, receiving this photo was overwhelming for me. We just don't get to visit family so we keep in touch with emails, telephone calls and once in a while, real photos that I can hold and touch and show off. All our kids and grandchildren are scattered over several states and since we are unable to travel and they are so busy just taking care of their own lives, this is such a blessing. We receive photos by email but even printed out, they just aren't pictures. So, the pride just took over and I had to share this event with all of you. Here's Nathan and his proud Daddy, Andrew.

Happy Fourth of July!

2009-07-05T12:22:00.005-04:00

Yesterday was the Fourth of July…our country's birthday. If anyone watched the celebration in our nation's capital you can't have missed the patriotic excitement on the face of Barry Manilow as he belted out those wonderful songs.

As the camera swept over the crowd this enthusiasm was echoed from face to face. If there were a million people on the National Mall there were two million flags. Big flags, little flags stuck behind visors, waving from the tops of hats and clutched in the hands of folks from senior to the tiniest child. It was a display that was so moving the fireworks almost seemed an anticlimax. In fact, I really felt that they were not only there for the music and the fireworks but because they truly wanted to be in Washington to celebrate this country for what it truly is. Forget the problems, they will be fixed. They were there to exhibit the patriotism that is inherent in every true citizen.

I guess my patriotic ardor comes directly from my parents. They were two of the most avid citizens this country has had. My mom and dad never missed a chance to impress upon my sister and me the value of our citizenship. You see, my parents came to this country in 1930, the height of the depression. They didn't come from poverty or bad government, they came from England. I guess it's the reason they came that makes the difference. They chose to come to America. They could have gone anywhere in the world, or stayed where they were and had a wonderful life. But the call of our freedom, our liberties, our basics were what made them travel across the pond to New York City. Daddy was well educated and perhaps that was what eased him into a job when many didn't have them. After he had established himself, he sent for Mother and they settled into what they truly believed was paradise. They couldn't get over the freedoms; everyone could come and go as they wished. The citizens were generally happy and helpful no matter what their situations. Daddy had established a bank account where his salary was deposited each week. I think the bank was Bank of America but it wasn't the huge conglomerate of today. Anyhow, one evening Daddy came home from work and told Mother their bank had failed. They turned out their pockets and purses and tossed the bills and change onto the bed. That was all they had. But that didn't daunt them, they just started over again. They couldn't wait to explore every nook and cranny of the city and surrounding country. They marveled at things like the Automat and the street vendors. I don't know how many times they visited the Statue of Liberty but I do know that my sister and I went half a dozen times, at least.

It was after my sister and I were born the real exploration of America began. We never missed a museum, a historic place, a battlefield, a post along the roadway that announced some little piece of American history. We were instilled with a deep regard and love for everything American and that feeling hasn't left me. I get goose-bumps when they play the National Anthem, or when a marching band goes by playing a patriotic march. I feel like crying when I see service men and women because it is for me that they have sacrificed so much.

My parents spent the next 53 years loving, learning about and exploring this wonderful country they chose. They passed this legacy on to me and I am forever grateful. You see the difference between them and us is that to us it's a given, to them it was a gift. I try never to forget that.

Newspaper Article - June 10, 2009

2009-06-23T16:05:00.003-04:00

Serafino driven to tell stories - by Christopher Tuffley -News Sun

Sunny Serafino always wanted to write. But a sick husband, widowhood, raising three children as a single parent and a 46-year career as a legal secretary never gave her the time. Then she remarried and retired. In the last 12 years she has published 10 books -- nine novels and a memoir of her parents.

Her most recent work, "Second Chances," has just been released. It is a sequel to "Echoes," an earlier book. In "Echoes" Serafino tells the story of a dying woman's last wish t0 bringing her far-flung family together again. So many readers wanted to know what happened to the family next, Serafino said, that she was forced to continue their story.

"Second Chances" deals with change and how people react. Main characters include the dying woman's husband, her best friend, and her youngest daughter. All three have to adjust to her loss, but Patty, the daughter, has perhaps the most problems. "This is a story about old friends, new loves, and a deep-seated trust that holds a family together," she said.

Serafino said she thinks her story through, before she sits at the keyboard, so she has an immediate idea of where she's going. That doesn't mean, she added that the characters don't take on a life of their own--she has frequently been surprised by unexpected twists in the tale.

She said she is not a disciplined kind of writer. She doesn't sit down the same time every day, or write a specific number of words each session. Instead, she writes in her spare time, after waiting until she has something to say. Then she types until she is done. That might mean working all day, several hours, or only 25 minutes. "I don't sit there with a blank face," she said, "If I have a blank face, I don't sit."

It typically takes her from six to nine months to get a book finished. Her drive is her passion to tell stories. While her plots are all different, they always involve courageous women.

Her books are all self-published, primarily because waiting to be discovered by an agent and traditional publisher can take a lifetime and requires as much luck as talent. She has discovered however, that self-publishing has a tremendous advantage--she has complete control of her work. She is very proud of the fact that three of her novels have won literary awards.

Serafino also teaches creative writing at South Florida Community College, and holds writing workshops throughout the state. She runs a writer's critique group that meets at the Avon Park Public Library on Friday for individuals with works in progress.

Her books are available on Amazon.com, or at her web site www.authorsden.com/sunnyserafino or http://www.sunnyserafino.com/.

First Place - Wow!

2009-06-08T13:26:00.008-04:00

Sometimes in life there are unexpected surprises and some of these surprises can be exciting. Nothing beats the surprise I received when I was notified that I had won first place in the 2008 Royal Palm Literary Awards for my novel, A Grandma for Christmas; an award sponsored by the Florida Writers Association. And today a lovely person from Florida Writers Association sent me a copy of my award so that I could post it here. Thanks, Karen. Another wonderful surprise.

When A Grandma for Christmas, took this honor, it wasn't the first literary award I've be honored to receive but a 'first place' has special connotations. To receive recognition from your peers to this degree is a rare and wonderful occasion. I'll never forget when the trophy was delivered. It came in a manila envelope and when my husband slid it out of the mailbox he asked me if I recognized the sender's label. I thought the name was familiar but the address wasn't. Tearing the parcel open the trophy fell into my hands. I was overwhelmed and tears filled my eyes. I kept saying, "First place, first place oh, my God, first place." My hands were shaking so much I had difficulty dialing my best friend to tell her about the award. I had to dial her very familiar phone number four times before I got through. I said, "Hello, Bette," and she said, "You won first place." How did she know? We hadn't been talking about this at all. She knew I entered months earlier but after that we just didn't talk about it. I knew I couldn't attend the conference when the awards are given out so it wasn't really on my mind. She says she heard it in my voice but I don't think so. We may be miles apart but our friendship transcends logic. She knew because she felt my excitement. Well that's my theory anyhow.

In my short writing career I've been blessed with friends and fellow-writers who have helped me in so many ways. Through my husband's encouragement and support I feel I've been able to achieve whatever successes I have. But behind it all is my sense that God ordains what happens in our lives. I've always said I didn't do any of this alone. I guess that's why I want to give back. I love coaching, teaching and mentoring budding authors. That's why this coming fall I'll be teaching another creative writing course at South Florida Community College and why I chair a writer's critique group every week. It's all part of my late-life career and I love it.

New Adventures

2009-06-08T12:58:00.004-04:00

I guess you are never too old to look for new adventures and boy, did I find one this past weekend. Actually it wasn't something I was really looking for.

For months friends have been nagging me to go on Facebook. Well, I didn't because I felt so unsure of myself. After all, I'd be out there in cyberspace with all those folks that I didn't know. But when they ganged up on me, there they were in an early Saturday morning email; four people I knew urging me to just got off the stick and do it. So I signed up.

Actually, my weekend had been reserved for something else. I had planned to complete a couple of things that had the dreaded deadlines facing me. I had planned to finish a chapter in my newest manuscript, something I had been unable to do this past week. Good, I thought, Saturday and Sunday will be just the time to complete these things.

But no! Little did I expect the deluge of folks asking me to be their friend. Little did I know that I would be pecking away at the computer keyboard all weekend. Little did I know that I would find this fun and an experience far beyond anything I expected. Little did I know Facebook wasn't a scary place and that those people I didn't know weren't invited.

This venture into the world of internet networking is so new to me. Oh, I have a couple of blogs and I have a long snail-mailing list of people who are readers of my books and who, God bless them, are eagerly awaiting the next novel. My email list of contacts has grown to a length I never imagined.

What does all this mean? I think it means I have opted for an adventure never anticipated. I think it means I'll be on the compute more than planned. I think it might be just the networking tool I have been looking for. But, and there is always a but, I think I might just have to take this adventure a bit slowly. Get my feet wet and then wade in further. I'm sure I'll have encouragers along the way because they seem to be lining up already. I guess my writer/author friend on the east coast of Florida is smiling as she reads this. She's the adventurous soul in our friendship who has exposed me to high-tech stuff, some of which I've already thrown up my hands and surrendered to.

Still, there are aspects of every adventure that are scary. However, Columbus didn't give up in mid-Atlantic did he? Edison didn't give up with an empty light bulb in his hand. I guess I won't give up either. After all, and adventure is an adventure.

See you in cyberspace.

Lessons Learned

2009-05-28T23:01:00.002-04:00

Every once in a while you just have to reflect on what's happened before and why you are where you are and who you are. Most of us take a quick look back once in a while but I've decided it's a good thing to take a long, hard look at the past, not in expectation of finding blame or excuses. Just a look back, over a shoulder that is so grateful for the contributions to my very being made by my parents. I was blessed with a great father and mother and I think I owe them a thought once in a while. Not that I don't think of them every day. What is that saying, "You don't miss something until you no longer have it?" My parents died many years ago and I am not ashamed to say that even today I miss them very much. So, here's what I've been thinking about.

Death is strange. When you're young it is inconceivable and shrouded in mystery. As you grow older death becomes a reality—it happens and has to be dealt with. When my mother died (Daddy died fourteen years earlier) I felt like a very old orphan. From our circle of four we were now two, just me and my sister. I thought the broken circle couldn't be mended but then I realized that life isn't a circle but a chain of links, a series of little circles. Daddy and Mother were the first circle in this country, forging ahead on with a new adventure on a new continent; making a new beginning in their very new life together. My sister and I formed links for the future with our children, and their children are the next set of links, and so on.

Life doesn't end with death unless we let it happen. My parents aren't here anymore but so much of them remains. The only difference is I can't see them. I can hear them though. I smile when I recognize I've said something that sounds like Daddy because I can hear Mother saying, "You are so much like your father." She didn't say it with censure but with love.

Memories are priceless whether they are good ones or not-so-good-ones because they are the texture of your life. I'm the same little girl who sat on the cellar floor with sawdust in her hair, sorting nails and screws for Daddy. I was part of the fishing team that cast a line into the surf in Cape May, New Jersey and dragged smelly fish heads through the water luring crabs into the boat.

The anger I felt because of the many sudden changes of location and schools (because we moved constantly) is softened now because from here I can see advantages I didn't see then. The many moves and unusual lifestyle of my childhood prepared me to be versatile, to accept things as they are, or to do something about them.

When I lost my parents I found I had to overcome a tremendous sense of loss—a loss of something that belonged in my life and wasn't here any longer. It wasn't fair they were gone—it was too soon. I hadn't finished talking to them. Did I tell them enough times, in enough ways how much I loved them? How much I appreciated the world they exposed me to? How precious were the values they taught?

I dealing with my grief I found myself remembering and the more I remembered the better I felt. The feel of sawdust and sand sliding through my fingers, the sound of clippers chopping at a stubborn hedge, my father's laugh, the smell of kippers frying in a big black pan on a sandy beach in Miami are indelibly etched in my soul.

They weren't perfect parents—they could be stubborn and opinionated at times. I thought they were selfish because they were so involved in each other until I saw marriages that didn't have nearly the love or commitment their fifty-three year long marriage had.

Later in life I missed them and resented their absence when they took off on their nomadic wanderings and weren't around to help me with my children. Little did I realize then that before they left they had prepared me for whatever came along by their example. They were always there when I really needed them. Because they had a good life, I did too.

So my musing has brought back those principles, those special events and happenings that made our family unique in some ways and just like so many families in other ways. It doesn't hurt to look back now and then and see what went into the making of 'you' because no matter what, we are a product of our past. Once I didn't realize just how great my past was and now that I do I feel somehow uplifted by these backward glances. Try it. Even the painful parts (and there are painful parts in every life) are softened with time and the knowledge that they were just part of the tapestry of your life.

The Throw-Away Nation

2009-04-30T11:20:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm back on my soapbox. But, when something is this important I just can't be silent.

My English cousin once told me the Brits think of America as the throw-away nation. We don't recycle as we should. We don't reuse either. We spend carelessly and have become an instant gratification nation. Things have to be new, the latest, and no matter the cost we have to get them. Our youngsters are being taught terrible lessons that will one day cripple our economy.

Speaking about youngsters—A caption in the newspaper recently caught my attention. It was titled "Dumpster Diving" and I immediately thought it was about the homeless and needy in our country. I was wrong! These dumpster divers were teenagers from Freedom High School in Hillsborough County, Florida. They were part of an archaeology program called 'garbology' sponsored by the government to see what kind of waste existed in the schools. They were diving into the school's dumpsters and they weren't finding fossils. No, they were finding huge piles of unopened milk cartons, slices of pizza and trays of lunch food. Do any of the students discarding these items take a moment to think there are hungry people all over our country? I doubt it. I hope the parents and teachers of these school children took note of the waste and have programs scheduled to explain what terrible consequences this waste will have on their future and of those who follow them.

Recently I overheard a mother complain that her kids lose so much stuff she is constantly replacing articles of clothing that just disappear; school supplies that mysteriously jump out of back packs, cell phone that are no longer around anywhere and towels that make one-way trips to the gym. She said the kids just assume if those things disappear there will be others to replace them.

Now here's the gist of my concerns. We must learn how to be thrifty; thrifty in our spending, our attitude about taking care of this wonderful world we have and in using our assets wisely. Recycling is one of the ways to instill this lesson into our daily life and at the same time show our family and neighbors that it's something all of us can do. It doesn't take a whole lot of effort. Just put aside the newspapers and magazines. Keep all the aluminum, plastic bottles, glass bottles and foam containers. There are bins for those things. Most counties have a great many recycling locations. Here in Florida, Publix supermarkets have recycling containers in front of their stores. Did you know you can recycle egg cartons, those foam trays under your meat and chicken purchases, those pesky foam peanuts and the little boxes you bring home filled with your restaurant leftovers? They can all be rinsed out and kept until you get to the recycle bins.

I try to recycle everything possible from the largest plastic bottle to a Jell-O box and the tubes paper towels come on. Is it a pain? Not really. I've organized five containers in my shed and hold the things to be recycled until I get to the locations available. I've read some terrifying statistics about the life and condition of our landfills. Apparently a plastic water bottle or a two-liter soda bottle takes 700 years to decompose in a landfill. The space this country has for new landfills is almost non-existent. If we don't recycle what kind of a legacy are we leaving for the next generations?

Think of all the ways you could contribute to the cause. We have enough tough problems, this one is easy.

Don't be a throw-away nation.

Book Reviews

2009-04-13T20:45:00.000-04:00

Dissecting a Novel — A Grandma for Christmas

2009-04-10T18:05:00.003-04:00

It's Christmas Eve and Madison Millhouse is running from a failed love affair through a snow storm in the mountains of Pennsylvania.

A brief stop for a cup of coffee at a mountain-top diner pushes her into a role she never imagined. She is confronted by an abandoned four-year old little girl named Bitsy who is convinced Madison is her grandmother. With no phones and the storm closing the roads, there seems to be no alternative but to take her along on her flight. Snowbound together in a mountain cabin for several days, her world changes dramatically. No longer is she consumed by her own problems, which don't seem nearly as important as the welfare of the pretty little angel who has fallen into her life. Who is this child? Where are her parents, her family? How can anyone abandon a little girl the day before Christmas? And, why is Madison suddenly burdened with the care and welfare of a child who seems to have no background? She was seeking peace not added responsibilities.

Alone but comfortable Madison and Bitsy celebrate a lonely Christmas together. Cut off from the word because of the blizzard, Madison discovers her charge is witty, intelligent and woefully uninformed as to any news of family or background. They spend the time becoming friends in the strange cabin until they can return to Philadelphia, the city Bitsy also calls home. But, the roads have to be cleared before they can leave. A neighbor, Philip Hendershot, observing the cabin that was never used during the winter months has visitors, stops by to see who is staying there. Charming and helpful, Madison stands her distance. She's been charmed and deceived for too many years to welcome strange a man into her circle; a circle that seems to tighten protectively around her and her new found ward.

As they wait she wonders if her longing for a child of her own for years is being answered by this unexpected blessing. A quirky answer to a silent prayer? Still she knows she must make every effort to find Bitsy's parents or guardians.

Questioning Bitsy, the information she supplies is painfully inadequate. Her mother worked but she doesn't know where; they lived in Philadelphia but she can give no address, and there was no other family. Madison wonders at the secrecy this little girl has been raised in.

Returning to Philadelphia, Madison makes efforts to weave together the few hints Bitsy has supplied. Mention of a diner she and her mother visited sends Madison on an ill-advised, terrifying tour of a poor and unsavory neighborhood. But instead of answers she discovers a hint of criminal world activities leaving her even more concerned about the child's safety.

Madison confides her concern and confusion to her girlfriend, Jo, and to her sister, Lolly, in California. Both caution her that keeping an abandoned child might be misconstrued as kidnapping but Madison is adamant that she won't turn Bitsy over to the authorities to be put into foster care. After all, she rationalizes, she can supply the needs of a little girl much better than any civil system fraught with unpleasant history and filled with strangers who might become surrogate parents from time to time. Besides she is becoming more and more attached to the obviously intelligent and beautiful child.

Convinced that she would be the best choice to care for Bitsy, and desiring to put as many miles as she can between herself and her one-time-lover and Bitsy's bewildering past, Madison makes a decision to move to Florida. As an author, she can write anywhere and the more miles between them and the past the better, she muses.

Remembering a brief conversation with Philip when he revealed he was only in Pennsylvania to settle an aunt's estate and that he really lived in a condo in Florida and was anxious to return, Madison takes a wild chance and calls him to see if he would consider allowing her to sub-let his condo for two or three months. Surprisingly, arrangements are made and Madison and Bitsy leave for Florida, leaving behind a worried and apprehensive Jo and a much concerned sister in California.

But life in Florida is not the Utopia Madison hoped for and she is hounded with questions. How will she get Bitsy into school? Where will they live after their brief stay in Philip's condo? Will Philip stay in their lives? Madison hires a private detective to look for Bitsy's past. Where is her family? Are there dangerous people looking for Bitsy? Looking for her? Can Madison really take on the role of grandma when she's never even had a child of her own? What does the future really hold for both of them?

Want to know more? This award-winning book is available by clicking on the cover. You won't regret it.

An Anatomy of a Novel

2009-04-06T15:31:00.005-04:00

Whenever I hold a book signing, or give a speech featuring some of my work, I'm asked the same questions. "Where do you get your ideas?" and "How do you get started?"

Writing is such an individual occupation. You really can't get help with either of those questions. The ideas have to come to you, either through something that triggers the thoughts, an over-heard conversation, or an incident that the author thinks can be fictionalized. Beginning the novel comes after the original thoughts are set. Some of my books are based on facts, either from things in my life or others that I have known. Of course, whatever starts the thought process is never factually transferred into my books. That's not fiction. The spark is true but the fire you build with it is pure fiction and that's the way it should be.

I honestly don't know where A Grandma for Christmas came from but it was pure pleasure to write that book…and…it took first place in the 2008 Royal Palm Literary Awards sponsored by the Florida Writers Association. The plot certainly wasn't from my life. I remember driving along one day and thinking about women who are in relationships with married men and what would happen if, after a long time, they just said, "No. I'm not going on with the broken promises, the sneaking about and the lonely holidays." (Where that came from I couldn't tell you) I thought if it had been a very long relationship it wouldn't be an easy choice to make. But the decision would show long-overdue courage and that's what I write about—courageous women. A Grandma for Christmas was born.

Now that I had the initial thought the next thing was to figure out what to do with it. I didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty of the failed affair. She's calling it quits and needs to get away. That, in itself, isn't much of a story. But, ah ha, what if she always wanted a child and now her biological clock is ticking down. There's a thought that I took and ran with. It was time for my 'What if' tactics. 'What if' is what I apply to many things in the course of writing a novel. "What if they do this; or don't do that." "What if I make the guy meaner and the gal gutsier." Trial and error play a big part in coming to decisions as you work. Sometimes as the work progresses I am amazed at the turn of events as they unfold.

Once the basic plot is set the whole book lays open before you—but there are lots of blank pages and my job as an author is to fill them with the rest of the story. I know from experience that other characters will appear as you write; plot changes will come with the addition of those characters and sometimes the original plot will take a turn that I didn't even contemplate.

The basics of a novel are plot, characters, conflict, solutions and action. There are no rules, in fact W. Somerset Maugham once was quoted as saying, "There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows that they are." Ah, Mr. Maugham, how wise you were. But if there are no rules there are basics and that is what I teach when I hold seminars, workshops and classes on creative writing. I do know that there must be a beginning, a middle and an end and there has to be conflict, otherwise the book is just too goody-two-shoes and ends up dull, dull, dull.

I love writing. I love teaching writing. And, I love mentoring those who genuinely want to improve their writing.

Voices From the Past -- Voices You Never Want to Hush

2009-03-31T23:01:00.003-04:00

Do you have memories of sitting around a picnic table on the Fourth of July? The little kids are throwing Frisbees and the bigger kids (write men in here) are tossing a football and challenging their brothers and cousins to impossible feats. It's hot and the women of the family are sitting in the shade. How often have you heard the phrase, "Remember when…" and the memories begin to flow as if the gates to the dam have been opened? These are voices from the past.

Do you remember holidays where a crowded, hot kitchen was filled with delicious scents? Women in aprons bantered across a flour covered table and laughter filled the air. The counters were covered with pies and Aunt Alice's special veggie casserole was just coming out of the oven.

How about running barefoot across the damp lawn as the sun slid below the horizon, chasing fireflies, carrying mason jars with holes punched in the lids. There are cousins everywhere and the older folks are relaxing in rocking chairs on porches that don't have screens.

Have you ever stood around a dining room table while thirty relatives sang Happy Birthday to you and there are not many dry eyes because another family milestone has been reached? Do you remember your first date with the man/woman you married? Is there one Christmas that is so special you can rerun it minute by minute?

This is the stuff of Memoirs. These are the stories that are the fabric of Family History. And, every day Family History is being lost because those memories are just that…they are hidden in the hearts and minds of a family and unless they are preserved they will disappear generation by generation.

I don't usually get up on a soapbox but there is one subject near and dear to my heart and it's Family History. I know many of you are doing the genealogy thing these days and that's great. But in the end it's just a list of names and dates. The true value of a family is not there. The true value are memories future generations won't know about; the stories that set the pace for the future, and they will disappear and that's a terrible shame.

Maybe what influenced me to become so engrossed in getting everyone to write a Memoir is my own family. I had great parents and a loving sister but that was all the family in America. No grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins. My parents came to this country in 1930 and never looked back. They were the most gung-ho citizens I've ever run into. But, sitting down to dinner was the only family reunion we knew and after my parents died there was no one to ask about what happened 'way back then'. So, being an author, I thought it would be a good idea to write down whatever I could remember. Not just a list of things but a running story about our lives and it was fun. Once the first chapter (on my father teaching my mother to drive) was written the memories rushed back. I didn't really think of it as a 'book', just a record for the children. When I sent it to them their first comment was, "I never knew Grandma and Grandpa did any of that stuff," I did get it published (see Following Daddy in my list of published books).

But, what I preach and teach is not that everyone should write a book. It should be a written personal account of every good, bad, emotional, silly, interesting and memorable thing that you and your family did together. If you are fortunate enough to have relatives that remember 'back when' you have an asset I didn't have but the stories are there and they must be preserved.

Today my goal is to help anyone interested in writing a Memoir do so. It doesn't have to be a piece of literary excellence, just a collection of stories remembered.

Every day precious Family History is being lost. Your family now and in the future will thank you. It isn't difficult, after all you have the entire cast of characters and the plot lines right there in your heart and head.

Accolades from South Florida Community College

2009-03-23T16:56:00.003-04:00

This week I was surprised with a letter of recommendation from South Florida Community College in Avon Park, Florida and I want to share it. Actually I'd like to shout it from the housetops but that wouldn't be half as effective as sharing it with all of you.

I don't think there's anything more gratifying than getting a good report card from those you have worked with. Getting a "job well done" mark is music to the ears. My efforts to continually open new doors by helping others is one thing I really value and helping aspiring writers tops the list of those endeavors.

Here's the letter:

"One of the goals that wise people often aspire to is that of continuous improvement—the process of always seeking to refine one's accomplishments, to stretch oneself and to reach new heights. Sunny Serafino is one of those achievers, a true "lifelong learner."

In the past five years she has been a presenter in the SFCC Lifetime Learners Institute several times, and each time the reviews get more enthusiastic. She has taught three Creative Writing classes for Community Education, sharing her skills, talents and dreams so that others can follow in her footsteps. Her students are proud of her accomplishments as a writer, and relate to her as a woman and teacher.

Sunny speaks from her heart and touches her audience.

Sincerely,

Rebecca Rousch, Director
Community Education"

I'm still blushing.

Book Clubs - Who Knew?

2009-03-22T21:40:00.004-04:00

Who knew book clubs would make such an impact on the reading population? The advent of book clubs is nothing new—they've been around for many, many years. But, they really became popular about twenty years ago. I know of one book club right here in Florida that is celebrating over 60 years.

In the past ten years I have been an enthusiastic participant in several book clubs and the rewards have been eye-opening. Readers, true lovers of books, now have a real outlet to discuss what they like, love or hate. Thousands of readers meet every month, in living rooms, on porches, in libraries and clubhouses. They have found a way to not only enjoy books themselves but to share their feelings with other readers. Witnessing the lively discussions about the latest book is an experience. By choosing venues that might not have been selected by the individual members, book clubs open up doors to more genres than one would expect. I had my own comfort zone, a list of authors who wrote things I wanted to read. But, because of a book club association I've read books I would never have picked up. I've been introduced to new authors and, much to my surprise, I often add that author to my 'must read' list. Books that might never have been explored have become favorites.

If you love to read and you haven't joined a local book club, you should. If there aren't any local book clubs then start one, it isn't all that difficult. If you don't already know, find out who among your friends enjoys reading. Search outside your own group for other readers. Most book clubs are small, a dozen or less members who meet once a month. Usually the book chosen for that month is selected by mutual agreement after several suggestions are made. Some clubs assign one person each time to be the moderator, arranging a list of questions for the group to discuss after reading the selected book. Some review suggestions can be found on line. I know of a couple of book clubs who even rate the book on a scale of 2 to 5, 5 being excellent and the others…well you get the picture. Others just have each member give an opinion of the book; for instance how the author handled the plot, characters, whether they were enthralled by the book, was the message conveyed in a believable and interesting manner. The conversations are exciting, thought provoking and just plain fun.

As a child I was fascinated by books, first as my mother read to me, her voice changing from hushed with awe to feverish with excitement. She made the words on the pages become visual. I was transported to magical places, learned wonderful things and felt as if I had become part of the plot and kin to the characters. Even reading fiction you learn things that might not have been made clear any other way and visited places you might never in your lifetime get to see. I couldn't wait to read on my own and then as the years went by I knew that some day I wanted to be the one who put those magical words between the covers of a book. I think reading opens the windows of the world. Between the front and back covers you can find a world of excitement, humor, pathos, love and hate and life that is beyond your realm of reality.

Not a member of a book club? If you're a reader you're missing out on a great experience.

How to Become a Publishing Success

2009-03-20T15:38:00.005-04:00

When I first decided that what I wanted to do most was to write a book and get it published, I had no idea of the procedures needed to accomplish that goal.

After a few trials and errors I completed the first part of that goal, my first novel. But, achieving the next part—getting it published—I found was like running full blast into a solid brick wall. I did all the research, poured through the Writer's Market and Literary Marketplace in the library. I studied other author's suggestions and delved into every possible nook and cranny of the publishing business. What I found was that you couldn't even approach a publisher except through an agent and that getting an agent was not easy. Still I tried the prescribed method, writing a creative query letter, preparing a scintillating synopsis scripted to exactly what the publisher's or agent's guidelines prescribed and, of course, always including the ever-important SASE.

As the rejections began to roll in, there went the daydream of writing, publishing and then sitting back and collecting royalties. It wasn't so much the fact that my efforts were being rejected that bothered me, but the methods agents used to let you know they weren't interested. I received form letters or post cards with no reason for the rejection and no hint at what that agent didn't like. One agent actually tore off the top of my letter, scribbled 'not for us' on it and sent it back in my SASE. No reason, no suggestion for improvement, just 'not for us'. I found that most traditional publishers would not even consider my work unless I was a well known author. Hello? That's like saying to the new graduate, "We'd love to hire you but you need experience first." How do you become a well known author if no one looks at your work?

After a year of no success with this method I began to explore another avenue. With the rapid growth of Internet and web-based publishing, the process of publishing a book has changed dramatically. The need for a "Manhattan publishing house" has all but disappeared. Now I can successfully use my computer to create my book. By using an online POD (Publish on Demand) an author has complete control over all aspects of the book. Of course, I didn't know that it would mean I would wear several hats—writer, editor, publisher, promotional/publicity manager and sales distribution manager. It's a one-woman show but I love it.

I have published ten books over the past twelve years, nine novels and one humorous memoir. During this time three of my novels have received literary awards. I've become an accomplished speaker, addressing women's groups, civic organizations, churches, schools and universities. Our local community college has invited me to give several classes on creative writing.

My use of the POD method of publishing has made it possible for my dreams to come true. What are you waiting for?

Welcome to My Blog

2009-03-16T14:38:00.005-04:00

I'm so excited - entering the world of cyberspace is new for me but I'm loving it already. I hope you will enjoy reading what I write as much as I enjoy writing it.

I'm a very fortunate gal -- not only am I doing what I dreamed of most of my adult life, but I'm loving every minute of it. Twelve years ago I began to write - not just letters or dreary things that are necessary but BOOKS -- NOVELS. It was a dream come true and I didn't even envision just how wonderful it would be. During this time I've published nine novels and one humorous memoir. And, three of the novels have won literary awards!

My novels are all about courageous women because I happen to think that every woman is courageous at some time and in some way in her life. I've gone through some periods of time that definitely took courage. Each book is a separate story, Each main character faces a real-life experience -- like something you never expected and it's suddenly thrust in your face, knocking your knees out from under you but you have to go on.

In writing these books I hope to inspire other women to find the courage they might need; to support and understand that life often hands us more than just a bunch of lemons and it takes more than lemonade to get through them.

I look forward to interacting with other courageous ladies and in letting them know that they are never alone and there are others who love and support them.

2009-03-16T13:03:00.004-04:00