So, for years I’ve been a PC girl and have been happy. Mostly. However, over the past few years I’ve been leaning more and more towards getting a Mac and switching OS. Most of this decision was prompted by the random virus, slowly degrading usability of my PC’s and the necessity of having to purchase a new PC every 2 years. I kept trying to find the perfect PC. But my discontent kept growing, so, after much debate I finally broke down and am now officially a MacBook owner. I knew it would happen, I’m an Apple girl all the way, owning an Apple Watch, 2 iPhones (one personal, one business) and an iPad. So, you would think the transition would have happened sooner. Honestly, I had considered a Mac, but the idea of learning a whole new OS, not to mention the price tag that is attached to one of these bad boys deterred me. Now, at long last, I gave in and bought the Mac I’ve been wanting for a long time.
After lots of research I opted for the MacBook Air, a lightweight, mobile friendly version with a nice, bouncy keyboard, and all the benefits of an Apple product. After downloading Windows/Word for Mac OS I’ve got to say I’m already in love. Yes, there is a learning curve, but not as big of one as I had feared. I’m still trying to learn all the shortcuts, but I’m a quick study. I’m a happy girl and can’t wait to write my next book on this bad boy.
So, tell me, are you a Mac or PC user? Which do you prefer and why? Let me know.
Storytime again! This time we’re getting a tidbit from Chapter 2 of Angel’s Gate. Angel’s Gate is the first book in my ShadowGate Series. Available now for purchase. Today I wanted to give you a little preview, the beginning of Chapter 2. We are introduced to our MC, AG’s, childhood home. Read on for a teaser of Angel’s Gate or click the video above to have me read to you!
Chapter 2 – Angel’s Gate:
It still looked the same.
With the gray of dawn spreading through the streets, it looked to AG as if no time had passed since she had left Shelter Cove. As if the last decade had simply been erased. The mountains cupped it on three sides, their shoulders heavy with the deep green of pine and hemlock. The slinking mists of early dawn rolled in off the lake, disguising the signs of progress, the scars left by time. It was easy not to notice the scattering of new houses set back in the trees or the new marina, swallowed by the morning fog as it stretched out into the still, dark waters. There were other signs time hadn’t stood still, yet not enough to remove the strange and sinking sensation that she had never really escaped.
She was not the same kid who had left, in that decade she had found her freedom, her strength and one quick trip back couldn’t strip all of it away. Could it? She wasn’t a child anymore and this wasn’t her world. Still the feeling of being sucked back in time remained with her, darkening her heart and thoughts.
The SUV wove its way through the familiar roads and she found herself remembering her childhood at every turn. There was the corner she had crashed her new ten speed on Christmas twenty years before. There was the high school where she had kissed her first boy and done a lot more than that a night or two in senior year. Those were memories she looked back fondly on. She had loved Luke Olson as only a teenage girl could and he had been a sweet boy.
Somewhere she had heard he was married, the father of two. Still a sweet boy.
There was the Midtown Market, where she had worked her first job the summer she turned sixteen…
Shelter Cove was filled with memories, both good and bad, but it would never again be her home. She could not see herself growing old in that place. She couldn’t see herself ever giving up her career and life in San Francisco to live in that postage stamp town. Couldn’t imagine herself marrying and raising a passel of kids, with two cars in the drive and a dog in the yard. She couldn’t imagine that as her life, even though a small voice whispered it would have been easy to if she tried. She didn’t want to try. That domestic vision was what her mother had wanted and had never achieved. She wasn’t going to want the same thing and spend her life regretting when it never happened. She was smarter than that. She would make the life she wanted and her life was in California, three thousand miles away.
When they turned onto the street leading to her childhood home the pain inside of AG seemed to shift, expand. Unconsciously she raised a hand to press it against her heart. Home…
The house still stood as it always had, two stories, rich brown siding with a wide porch and peaked ceiling. Two large windows looked out onto the carefully kept lawn, one from the living room, the other from the breakfast nook. In the dim morning light the house looked tired, sad. Or that was how AG felt inside as she looked at it, knowing it was empty.
Until next time,
L
Category: Fiction, Writing Blog |
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I’ve been a fan of Steve Alten’s since I was nineteen years old. Ever since I discovered Meg. That book introduced me to sharks in a new way and I’ve loved megalodon’s ever since. I even have a 1.8 million year old Carcharocles Megalodon tooth sitting in my office. My pride and joy. So, being a huge fan of his, when I saw the Loch sitting on the shelf at a local thrift store I just had to buy it. I mean, Steve Alten, and the Loch Ness monster? What more could I ask for.
Apparently, a LOT more. While Mr. Alten is an extremely intelligent and imaginative writer, with great, fast paced action and clear visuals, he really SUCKS at writing humans. While all his characters SUCK, his female characters are enough to make me want to slap the man, almost enough to make me forget how much I loved Meg and the sequel, The Trench. Almost. His females are completely one dimensional, all big boobs and brainless.
I was, to say the least, disappointed. On the Brightside however, I did end up with an amusing rant for my YouTube channel.
Check it out for all the details and why you shouldn’t waste your time reading The Loch by Steve Alten. If you’re going to read anything by him, buy the Meg. I don’t think you’ll regret it.
2020 has been a weird year. I know you’ve heard me say that a million times and have said so yourself even more. There’s been so much crazy it can be hard to focus on the good. To slow down and try to make yourself live even when it feels like there’s no end in sight and normal has flown far, far away. All of us have been forced to adapt, forced to isolate away from the ones we love and during this isolation we’ve occasionally neglected ourselves, both the physical and the motional.
With that knowledge in mind my sister, Lily, and I decided we needed a self-care day. In years past we might have gone to our favorite spa for manis and pedis or to Asha, our local bathhouse. But, being as we are still on quarantine here in California, we chose to do an at home spa day. And, for your amusement as well as our own, recorded the whole thing. I hope you enjoy.
Forgive and forget…we hear this and expect it to be true. That we can forgive someone and move on. That we’ll never have to face that hurt, the betrayal or the emotions that caused our hurt and anger in the first place. In my life I’ve found that not to be the case. Forgiveness is a continual process. It takes work. You can forgive someone, understand they have human frailties and still be hurt. Forgiveness isn’t a magical act that takes away the memories or the pain. Forgiveness simply means that you understand they are human and you don’t expect anything more from them. Forgiveness means that you’re letting the injury go, that you are opening up the door to maybe trust them again. But it doesn’t mean you will automatically trust them again just because you have forgiven how they have hurt you. It doesn’t mean that everything is magically ok now. Forgiveness is a work in progress. Forgiveness takes time and sometimes you have to re-forgive them a hundred times as you work out the issues their betrayal caused. You may need to forgive them again and again as you work past the hurt because, like them, you are only human. Emotional injuries, like all injuries need time to heal. Forgiveness in the beginning is the bandage needed to allow the heart to heal.
Forgiveness isn’t magic, forgiveness is work. I’ve been hurt and I’ve forgiven those who have injured my heart. I understand why they did what they did, I can understand and even empathize and still I hurt. Forgiveness doesn’t heal the wounds, it simply means your letting go and moving on, that you’re not pursuing revenge, or trying to ‘get even’.
I’ve forgiven my sister for hurting me, for betraying me and stealing years of my life. I’ve forgiven her and still, I hate that bitch.
A contradiction, huh? Not really. I understand and empathize with her. I understand the trauma and injuries in her life that formed her. I can even see her position, but that doesn’t take away the pain. I can forgive her for hurting me, understanding where she came from and why she felt she had to. I’ve forgiven her, but until she seeks absolution, until the person who broke your heart or betrayed you seeks you out for absolution and forgiveness, the issue is never fully closed.
Forgiveness isn’t closure, forgiveness just means you’re letting the wound heal and not picking at it and letting get infected. Let the wound heal. You’ll have a scar, but soon the pain recedes and it becomes a memory.
Time and forgiveness heals all wounds. Someday the pain in my heart will also fully heal. I’ll never trust my sister again, but I won’t hate her, I won’t feel anything for her. I’ll be able to look back at our memories together, the good ones and feel fondness. Remember who she used to be and accept who she became. The scar will be there, but the hate and hurt won’t be.
Until then I’ll take it one day at a time, forgiving her as I continue to heal and grow.
It’s been two months since I finished my last book. Two months in which I went through the usual ups and downs, the weird paranoid panic that I may never write again. That maybe this time the magic won’t come back and I’ll never finish another book.
You would think after writing forty six novels I’d be over that paranoia, but I’m not. I mean, it’s a little less vibrant of a worry inside of me, but the worry is still there. It still sneaks in a few weeks into the lull between books. The sly little whisper that says, “That was the last one. It was all a fluke, a onetime deal and now that magic is gone.” Of course now that I’m a mature woman I can tell that little voice to fuck off, that of course I’ll write the next story, but it just laughs, a little knowingly, a lot mean. Like it knows something I don’t, that it knows I’ve only been lucky this far.
This time the Imposter Syndrome has more ammo, new and shiny ammo that it can lob at me like a wet blanket grenade, effectively smothering the joy I feel when I finish a new story. It’s very happy with this new weapon, and turns it on me quite effectively mere days after I write “The End”. This time it says, “Yeah, you might write again, but will you be able to write the next book in the series? Will you be able to finish THIS story? Finish this series that you somehow know is going to be your life’s work? Finish this series that this is the story you were meant to tell from the very first moment you put ink to paper at seven?”
It’s an evil bastard, this Imposter Syndrome, and it takes up residence in the heart of everyone at some point in their life. It is especially fond of kicking you right at the height of your triumph, snatching away those golden moments. It revels and grows within our own self-doubt. And I’ve learned it never goes away, no matter how confident you may become, no matter how successful and skilled you might be.
But it can be caged. It can be silenced and pushed aside to sulk in the corner of your mind.
How you ask?
By pushing through, by starting that next book, that next project, by reminding yourself that it thrives on lies. That it doesn’t know you and that you’re not going to fail, because you’re not done yet. You’re just getting better from here.
How do I know this?
Because I just started DownCast Angel, Book 5 of my ShadowGate Series. The one it said I would never start.
It lies.
I don’t.
Until next time keep writing, keep dreaming, and cage that little bastard,
It’s been a month since I’ve written….ok, over a month, five weeks to be exact. A small vacation, a victory lap to celebrate those two special words, “The End”. Words that you only get to write after the long journey from Chapter One to the very last word. This last journey only took me seven months to complete. Not as long as some stories have taken me, not as short as the one before this one. A good journey and I’m very happy with the story I told.
But for five weeks I haven’t written. For most of that time I didn’t even try. But then I did try and it seemed the universe conspired against me, keeping me AFK against my wishes. For the first few weeks that was fine. I didn’t want to jump into another story, I wasn’t looking for a rebound tale to keep me going. I was satisfied, fully sated and ready to enjoy some much earned down time.
But that was over two weeks ago. The contentment has faded and the need is growing. The need to write, to put down on paper the multitude of words congested inside my mind. Now comes the restlessness, the growing sense of discontent. And I began searching for the next story, the one that needed to be written, the one that wanted to be written.
Sometimes I know exactly which story I’m going to write. It’s already ready and waiting when I write those last two words. The moment “The End” is written the new story is ready to go, the words already lined up for me and I am merely their scribe.
Not this time. This time the story remains elusive, even as the need to write grows, making me more edgy and itchy inside.
I thought I could simply step back into the world of the ShadowGate, begin book five. After all it’s already plotted, scene by scene. I know the characters by heart. I love all them and would love to spend some more time in their world. But the words aren’t there. I can’t find Nomad’s voice, or Becca’s motivation and so book five, DownCast Angel, remains unwritten.
What book then? Which world do I step inside? Do I skip ahead in the series? Jump to book six? Do I finally unearth Revelation and write it at long last? Or do I do what I always do? Open up the folder that holds all the beginnings, all those partially written stories that were rebounds, the never held me long enough to reach the end. Will this be their time? Is it time to finally finish one of them?
Where do I want to journey this time? Into the past? Into the future? Do I want fantasy or realism? Do I go back and finish the nightmare inspired “The Tower”? Do I begin the Sun God Trilogy?
You ever meet that one person you know you’re supposed to be friends with? That’s the way it was for me when I met Lily. She’s my best friend, as close to me as a sister. She knows me better than almost anyone else and she’s the person I play with the most. We are similar in many ways, but mostly it’s our differences that make our friendship so strong.
At first glance you wouldn’t think we’d be friends, for one we’re 13 years apart in age. I’m a crusty – Fabulous – 41 year old woman, she’s just now 28 years old. She’s always climbing up trees, or creating some amazing piece of art work, a truly free and creative spirit that brings joy into everything that she does. I’m a somewhat conservative business owner who’s carrying some fluff. But those differences really don’t keep us apart.
She gets me to be free, to laugh and play and be the big dork I really am. She embraces all my nerdiness and encourages me to just be me. She’s taught me that growing older doesn’t mean I have to grow up.
With me she’s learning how to be an adult. All that boring and yet necessary stuff that it takes to build your own fempire.
Through her I’ve found the encouragement to finally reveal the ShadowGate to the world. She’s always in my corner, pushing me out of my shy little shell.
I love this woman with all my heart and can honestly see us being friends until the day we die.
We do fight, and argue and get our feelings hurt, but more than that we are safe enough with each other to do those things. To get hurt and then tell the other person, “hey, I’m hurt” and know that we will be validated. That we’ll talk it out and be better for it.
She’s like a little sister, sometimes spoiled and frustrating, and I know I certainly try her patience from time to time. But I know when it really comes down to it she has my back through it all.
She’s supported me through the good and the bad and she didn’t turn her back on me when I went through the most profound and life changing experience a person can go through. Instead of trying to force me to stay in the mold of who I used to be, she’s allowed me to grow and because the woman I am, with the understanding that there’s more growth in my future.
Lily’s my best friend and she’s as weird as I am. Don’t believe me? Watch the video.
I know you all feel it. That we are living in some kind of fantasy. None of this seems real. In fact it seems like the plot of some dystopian future, or rather the backstory of one. I know for myself this doesn’t seem real. We’re prisoners in our own world, prisoners and banished from our very lives. Is this how others have felt through history when they find themselves in unprecedented times? Does anyone else feel how bizarre this all is? Does anyone else feel guilty that they’re not doing more? Guilty for any moment where you’re happy and not feeling terrified? Is it just me? Am I alone in this? I don’t think so. I think we are all struggling to accept that THIS is reality. That it’s not a dream, not a story. That the lights aren’t going to go on and we find ourselves sitting in a movie theater. This is real. I know it doesn’t feel that way.
Each day I wake up and think what next? What new fear, new threat is going to rise up and strike out at my security and sanity? When can I go back to my life? When can I be me again? When will I be safe? So much of “reality” has been peeled away to reveal that we’ve been living a safe and happy lie. So many things laid bare into a sudden and stark light and we can no longer look away and pretend. We can’t pretend that racism is not real. That sexism and hate are not rampant in our country. That we are not being torn apart by differing beliefs. That we are a country at war with itself.
I want to just close my eyes and wish it all away. I can’t.
We’re all waiting to wake up, waiting to go back to our “real” life. Back to the “before time”. But we’re NOT ever going to. We’re not WAITING to live again. This isn’t a momentary pause in our lives. We are STILL alive, STILL living. Everything we do shouldn’t be about when we get to “live” again, but about how we get to live right now. About making this the best life we have. It’s about accepting this bad, this negative truth is REAL. Our time on this planet is short and precious. Don’t waste this time waiting for life to return to normal before you start dreaming and planning and working towards a future. In changing the world into the one you want. The one we all deserve.
Right now we’re all coping, we’re all finding ways to survive. We’re living in a weird limbo where time doesn’t matter and yet everything is happening at once. We feel immobilized and in some ways we are. But in so many others were aren’t. We have TIME. We can use that time to refocus, refine and plan out a new path for ourselves.
So instead of acting like your life has been set on hold, use this time to reinvent you. To clear the cobwebs out of your life that you never had time to do before. We’re not on hold, we’re gearing up for greater things. We’re the truth so we can move forward into a brighter future where there are no more lies and pretense. Use this time to start the project you’ve always wanted. Use this time to plan out how you’re going to live that life you’re missing so much. A lot has been taken from us, but we’ve been given a gift. We’ve been given the gift of time. Use it wisely.
