There'll be Parties for Hosting, Marshmallows for Roasting...

I looked up from my Christmas present wrapping to see my little boy sitting in the middle of a tangled mess of red ribbon.  It was wrapped around his little fingers lying in twists and turns all around him on the floor.  He beamed with happiness at his accomplishment.  While I had been busy measuring and cutting in the floor beside him, he had been busy unwinding an entire spool of ribbon in his lap. 

“Look Mommy, I have tape in one hand and ribbon in the other,” he said quoting his favorite Curious George story. 

Normally this is when my “Oh no, there’s a mess” tendencies kick in, but this time I just laughed.  We were having too much fun wrapping Mr. Alpha Male’s Christmas presents to worry about messes.  I have discovered recently that in trying to meet preholiday work deadlines, getting ready for parties, baking cookies, and buying gifts; I have forgotten to just enjoy the Christmas season.  My nose has either been in my laptop, or I’ve been scurrying around with a mile long to do list.  I have not stopped to enjoy the simple pleasure of laughing while wrapping presents or actually watching a cheesy Christmas movie on tv.  It’s an easy mistake to make, to live for the day at the end of the paper chain and not take the time to enjoy all the little links in between that make up the Christmas season.

“It’s not Christmas.” My little boy utters those words every morning when I go into his room to wake him up for the past week.  And every morning I tell him, “It’s not Christmas day, but it is the Christmas Season.”  The anticipation of Christmas Day is almost too much for any two year old to bare.  The presents, the cookies, the lights, the friends and the family that are all wrapped up into what makes Christmas the most wonderful time of the year.  But are we just counting down the days, or living everyday with the love that this season is built around?

Counting down the days…I can remember as a child making chains of red and green construction paper to symbolize the passing days to Christmas.  I would hang it on the wood paneled wall of the family room by the door to the kitchen.  Unfortunately, I don’t think my daily Christmas reminder ever made it to the big day, as I grew up with two older brothers that liked to jump and rip and tackle.  I’ve been thinking about my little paper chains this year more than ever because I am not only counting down the days to Christmas, but also counting down words left to write until I finish my book.

 I think as we get older we never really lose that sense of wonder involved with looking forward to a big box with a bright red bow under the tree on Christmas morning.  Instead, I think it is only what is wrapped up in those packages that changes over the years.  Is it simply survival of all the shopping, family visits and parties that await us under the tree?  The end of a long difficult journey of writing a book is wrapped up and waiting for me under the tree this year.  And yet, I am making an effort to experience and live everyday of the paper chain that is this beautiful season.  The end of the paper chain will be here before you know it.  What is at the end of your paper chain?  And more importantly, what should be cherished in the small loops of red and green somewhere in the middle?

Merry Christmas!

Do you know the people in your head?

This Christmas I decided to make bourbon balls for my friends overseas.  I think bourbon balls are a quintessential southern holiday treat, not to mention decadent enough to be considered a worthy gift to ship worldwide.  Since I just had to buy a bottle of Makers Mark as a key ingredient, my husband and I decided to tap that bottle Wednesday night and indulge in a little late night toddy.  As I sat there sipping my Makers & Coke and ruminating over the events of the day, it struck me: This is something Sawyer does.

(Sawyer is the hero in Book 2 of my series.  I’ll get to his book if I can ever finish Cian’s book - Book 1!)

 Anyway, I sat there thinking of Sawyer and what he’d do after a long night of hunting down dark druids and battling baddies that practice the occult for their own nefarious gains.  (Why yes, it is a paranormal series. Thanks for asking.)  He’d kick his feet up in his worn out leather recliner and sip on a Makers and Coke - heavy on the Makers, easy on the Coke – while channel surfing.  He’d finally land on E! and watch Keeping up with the Kardashians without a hint of shame or remorse.  At one particularly unrealistic reality moment, he’d yell at Cian to “Get in here and take a look at this!” 

Cian would be in the garage, blowing off steam by pounding his fists into a punching bag.  He’d have no interest in Kim, Khloe, or Kourtney and probably tell Sawyer to “Fek off.”  Of course Sawyer would ignore those instructions completely, go over and stand in the doorway between the kitchen and the garage, and give Cian a detailed play by play of what he’d just seen.  For his part, Cian would try his hardest not to let his punches slip and fly all the way across the garage, accidentally hitting Sawyer square in the jaw.  That’s his roommate after all, his fellow Fianna, and his friend.  Sawyer is only trying to lighten the mood. He knows how hard it is for Cian to come down after a night of work.

You see, Sawyer can spend the whole day intensely focused on his work and simply switch it off at a snap of the fingers.  Cian, on the other hand, carries the burden of what they do with him everywhere.  There is no switching it off.  There is no “don’t worry” in his vocabulary.  The only way he can relax enough to sleep is to wear himself out on the bag or drink himself into a stupor.  Since he owns a bar as his cover job and his temper is highly flammable as is, he knows he better not start down that whole drinking road.  Cian would never indulge in Makers Mark.

And these are the thoughts that run through my mind as I enjoy my Makers Mark.  So when my husband asked me “What are you thinking?” My response was, “Do you really want to know?  Because you could be listening for awhile.”

I love thinking about my characters; how they react to things, what they do on a regular basis.  What do they like to eat and drink?  What kind of car do they drive?  Are they techno savvy or a luddite?  Do the heroines like lipstick, lip gloss, or nothing?   Do the heroes wear boxers or briefs?  These are all things that may or may not ever make it into their story, but I want to know.  I need to know!

My favorite part of writing (and reading for that matter) is getting to know the characters.  I dream about my characters and all their little nuances before I ever start writing their story.  What about you?  How do you get to know the people in your head? Do they come to you fully formed or is there a method to meeting them?

Giant Slices of Cake

It all began over the biggest slice of coconut cake I’ve ever seen.  When the waitress sat it down on the table in front of me I actually caught my breath.  Three layers of moist yellow cake were all covered in fluffy white icing with slivers of coconut lying on top as if a piece of lace had been draped over its surface.  I briefly wondered how many cakes they must have in the kitchen in order to give me roughly a quarter of a cake and still have enough desserts for the entire Christmas Party.  There must be cakes on every surface back there.  Cakes were surely stacked up to the ceiling in teetering piles waiting to spill on some unwitting cook, covering him with carrot cake or possibly chocolate cheesecake.   I shook off the thought and forced my head back into the conversation with the two writer friends nearest me at the table.  I am a member of Carolina Romance Writers and every December we get together not to take notes on a lecture or hash out plot problems but to enjoy everyone’s successes of the year, talk, exchange gifts, and eat giant slices of cake. 

So, it was over this giant slice of cake that my friend Ann gave me a great idea.  She had read and liked one of my recent blog posts, and told me that if I made it a little longer, I could sell it as an Erotica short.  Now, apparently this will only make me about $20 over the course of a year, but I could say I have been published in e book when talking to agents and publishers.  I blinked in surprise.  Me?   Write Erotica?  I’m just a simple girl that writes Historical Romance.  I couldn’t believe I was considering this, but there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to get my first manuscript published. 

The conversation moved on to “Going to Nationals,” or the Romance Writers of America 31^st Annual Conference in New York this summer.  I would love to go to Nationals!  I’ve heard that you can meet agents and publishers there to pitch your book!  Again, my friend Ann, (can you tell she’s getting me into trouble?) suggests that there is an essay contest online in which the winner gets a scholarship to get into the $525 cover charge conference for free.  The afternoon continued on and I finally left, venturing out in the sleet and snow outside.  That was when the accumulating thoughts and schemes began to swirl in my head like the snow that was hitting my windshield.  By the time I got home, I had latched onto the idea that I could use money that I make writing to pay for my trip to New York to go to Nationals.  So, in true OCD fashion this is what I came up with:

I need $1800 to cover the flight, 3 nights of hotel stay, and the conference fee.

Step 1: I could win the essay contest to get into the conference for free.  So, now I only need $1275.

Step 2: I could write enough Erotica stories to add up to $1275….ok… I just out my calculator and that’s 63.75 short stories. 

Much Revised Step 2:   

I could get a part time job in the only hours I don’t currently work- 1 AM to 7 AM.

I could gather a band of young girls to sell boxes of cookies door to door, oh wait that’s already taken.

I could have a car wash fundraiser, only I don’t have any help, and it’s also December and below freezing outside.

I could cash in my piggy bank….12 times, wow that would be a lot of change.

I could stand with a tin cup and a sign on a street corner.

I’m not sure what I will have to do, but I will get there.  Dreams are worth fighting for, worth saving for, worth hitchhiking to New York for them to come true.  What dreams are worth the risk in your life?