Messing Around in Time #MFRWAuthor #BrendaNovak

This has been a favorite of mine for so long.


Never seems to be enough time but we still end up wasting time on things that maybe don’t really matter. Don’t worry, I get a bit off center with any of the time changes. My body usually tells me within a brief margin of error what time it really is, especially when I’m at home. Messing with my input throws me off. So, yeah I get a little cranky. Or crankier?

Let’s talk about someone who is making the absolute best use of her timall-i-want-download-now-300x250e. For years Brenda Novak has held an auction to raise funds for Diabetes research. This year she’s changing things up with a great book/cookbook offer you don’t want to miss. This specific offer ends SOON so click now or forever…you know!

20% offer!

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Where DO We Get These Ideas? #MFRWAuthor

Wandering down a path I’ve meandered along before. All writers are asked where we get our ideas and most of us have to shrug. Our greatest problem is how to choose what we’ll write about next.

Because…story ideas? How can we find the time to write about all of them? Especially when songs like this sneak up through our memories to grab our attention?

I chose Natalie Cole’s version mainly for the lead in. Most of the others start right off with “I wish you bluebirds” How much more poignant to hear “this is where our story ends, never lovers ever friends”


Goodbye, no use leading with our chins, this is where our story ends,
Never lovers ever friends.
Goodbye, let our hearts call it a day, but before you walk away,
I sincerely want to say.

I wish you bluebirds in the spring, to give your heart a song to sing,
And then a kiss, but more than this, I wish you love.
And if you like lemonade to cool you in some lazy glade,
I wish you health, and more than wealth, I wish you love.
My breaking heart and I agree that you and I could never be,
So with my best, my very best, I set you free.
I wish you shelter from the storm, a cozy fire to keep you warm,
Most of all, when snowflakes fall, I wish you love.


Who hasn’t been ‘friended’ by the person we thought would be the love of our lives? Or maybe heard from that person that they feel a calling to live in an ashram and find their inner selves.

Mmm Hmmm. Yeah.

Well it did all work out well in the end, once the drama dust blew away.

Winter’s coming, the bright shiny days are slipping away and I’m getting a lot done while ignoring my NaNo commitments. Tomorrow. Really. I think you’ll love this story I’m working on!


Yep, Winter’s on the way






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Reaching Out to my Inner Brat..NOT for the Squeamish #MFRWAuthor

I haven’t decorated in…forever. Didn’t seem much point, no one comes this far off the main road and not many people come to visit. Plus the creative side of me that was all about making it different seemed to be asleep. Then I got to thinking about SPIDERS. I don’t mind spiders as long as they don’t bite me, but I know many people have serious issues with arachnids. And I thought about the impact of LARGE spiders crawling around on my fences.

011Unfortunately none of the stores in Edgewood carried large spiders to put outdoors in potential high winds. Amazon to the rescue, and this showed up at my gate:

Which unwound into these:






Those came out okay, don’t you think? I did warn some of my more sensitive friends not to drop by for a while! And I thought, enough for goofing off this year.

Then I found a treat for the ‘lukis, who’ve been eating raw food forever. Chicken feet. Which are full of all sorts of good things nutritionally but they do look a bit, well, handish, don’t you think? Especially against a sort of earthy looking background. Like this:


or this:


They told me to stop playing with their food…silly beasties.

Let’s end up with something prettier.


The veil is thin tonight…enjoy your Hallowe’en.


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Romancing Your Autumn Nights #MFRWAuthor

I haven’t been involved with much promotional work lately (I know, shame on me!) but when the delightful Nicole Morgan offered an opportunity to be part of what she was organizing, well, of course I had to give it a try. Sooo:

Welcome to the Romance Your Autumn Nights

Kindle Giveaway! 


GRAND PRIZE – Kindle eReader + $25 Amazon gift card

1st PRIZE – $50 Amazon gift card (2 winners)

2nd PRIZE – $25 Amazon gift card (2 winners)

3rd PRIZE – $10 Amazon gift card (2 winners)

4th PRIZE – $5 Amazon gift card (2 winners)

5th Various swag items (5 winners – US only)


Yeah, a little late here so we’ll need to rush a bit and catch up. There will be a Facebook party October 27…this coming Thursday. I’ll be grabbing a time slot and getting to know you even better.

This party can only be so spectacular because of the other wonderful writers participating. Such as: Staci Troilo, Andrew Jericho, Kathryn Lively, Stacy Juba, Sheri Fredricks

I’ll share as more writers become available…this will be so much fun! There will also be a RAFFLECOPTER to help choose our WINNERS! Just click on that word and you are there!

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Is Five Years Long Enough…or Too Long? MFRWAuthor

I looked out this morning on dry ground and bright sunshine, then looked at the calendar. 006Five years ago, the acute care facility said they could do no more for my husband, and prepared to send him to a hospice center. Since, they told me, I could not take care of him myself. Obviously I took this as a challenge and the next day he was delivered to the front room, to stay on a hospital bed for the next three months.  Looking out at the land he loved. I’m not saying this to ask for pity or praise, merely dredging up memories, and wondering if it’s time to put them away. To move on.

Is it ever time? How long do we wallow in memory before we move on? Wow that was kind of severe. Have I been wallowing? Might be. Just might be that I’ve been holding myself back from whatever it is I need to accomplish. Maybe the slow but steady progress in the garden, with writing, with the dogs, shows me I’m ready to move on?

front cover finalOr maybe I don’t need to specifically move on, but I do need to make room for the present and the future. That sounds good. I’ve managed to finish and publish books since then. Managed to make it to meetings, judge dog shows. Write more books. I think he would have liked that…he enjoyed telling people about his wife the writer, the judge, the delegate.

For once I’m not going to dredge up an old song. If I did it would be memories, from CATS. He really liked that song, and the show. But, img_9266-copyyeah, I’ll share some pictures. How can one live in a place like this, with dogs like these, and NOT share pictures? So, yeah, here’s one of him and one of the dogs. Enjoy. And if you have someone of your own, give them a hug for me. Thanks.


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About Those Flowers #MFRWAuthor

I begin with a disclaimer. I love this song. I have always loved this song. Even after I took a closer look at the lyrics, I loved this song. Especially this arrangement: so poignant, so desperate. But

So you have a relationship in trouble, and the two people involved are throwing accusations around. You don’t bring me flowers. You don’t sing me love songs. You don’t talk to me. You just roll over and turn out the light.

Doesn’t it all sound so familiar? Dissolving years of attraction, of trust, over what? Without ever getting down to the real issues, whatever those might be?
Doesn’t it also sound like the plot of so very many romance books? You have the ‘big misunderstanding’ separating the two for months or years or longer? Isn’t this all too often the impetus behind wanting to just toss that book against the wall? Or maybe writing your own?

If They Would Just TALK to Each Other.

Yeah, that. And don’t most of us try very hard NOT to put our people in those situations because, well…it’s too much like the blonde in the filmy white nightgown going down the steps because she heard a noise in the basement.

As far as these fictional people singing to each other…buy your own flowers, try singing love songs to her and for heaven’s sake TALK to each other. Yeah, that.

Because life and love are too precious to throw away.025

front cover finalDon’t forget A Question of Faith is now ready for you to read about Ty and Roz learning to trust each other. I just love those first days of a romance, don’t you?

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Hello Darkness, Old Friend #MFRWAuthor

Simon and Garfunkel’s Sounds of Silence was first heard in 1964, but did not gain great attention until 1966. I remember wondering about the disparity between the lyrical music and the confusing, disturbing lyrics. Speaking of disturbing, a new version came onto the scene in 2015, from a heavy metal band, Disturbed. Some people have expressed outrage at this version.

Well, it does project a different air entirely but what should we expect? It’s a different time. From 1964 to 1966 we saw bombings in other countries, an attempt to control who could vote through testing, attempts to legalize marijuana, civil unrest from integration, attempts at immigration reform, really bad television programming, and…and…hmmm maybe not so very different after all. See for yourself: Timeline 1964-1966

The Disturbed version of Sounds of Silence is, in my opinion, more blatantly powerful. There’s an excellent music video but I think the live performance of the singer and the music is even more intense:

“People talking without speaking; people hearing without listening.”

The more things changes, yep, the more they are the same.

On the writing front, I’m done with the first messy draft of A Question of Trust. Phew! Now I need to pick a book to launch with NaNo. Any suggestions?

For some serenity, I’ll share this evening’s sky. Peace out.




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When They Tell You to Take it Easy #MFRWAuthor

I had this “thing” with my feet. Actually I’ve had this foot thing for a while now. I can remember looking for somewhere to prop my left foot…for just a few minutes…to make it feel better. It’s grown into something serious enough for me to trip from time to time, stumbling when I need to power forward.

And I decided it was past time to do something about this foot thing. Especially since I discovered we have a Foot and Ankle Clinic right here in Edgewood. So I don’t have to drive to Albuquerque to be told I have flat feet (DUH) with no advice on how to avoid that stumbling. I decided to try out this closer doctor, who told me a simple in house surgery could alleviate some of the problem.

003Mind you simple and surgery don’t compute in my mind but the chance to reduce the pain and swelling was too good to pass up. I’d thought to take pictures during the actual procedure but I didn’t think they would be acceptable to many readers. Blood and bones, you know. Not pretty.

I did get a boot to wear, and I wore it religiously. Including crawling into bed with 001the darned thing on my foot. Showers were a particular form of fun. And I had to take it easy while the toe healed.

Easy. Really?



When the garden fence 019needed reinforcing and the gate had to be replaced and I really wanted to try to set up a bird feeding station. Still, it was just for ten days, two weeks, tops.I could entertain myself with New Mexico Autumn Skies.


And sunsets.


Then today, I saw my toe again. And it was good. At least it will be.


Helloooo TOE









Unfortunately I can’t say the same for A Question of Faith. Amazon has hiccuped, and it’s not yet available in e-book. I’ll let you know as soon as it is.



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Squealy Fan Girl Moments #MFRWAuthor

We all have those special people we feel have influenced our lives in some way. Maybe a

front cover final

It’s Almost Here!

civic leader, maybe an entertainer. Maybe an author (well DUH) Then one day we meet them. Do we just stand there and stare? Are we struck dumb? Do we stammer out some inane statement, then hope they didn’t actually hear us?


Of course I’ve had those moments, and of course they were writers. One wrote about Salukis, and I was over the moon to meet her when I visited England. I dashed over to tell her how much I appreciated her generosity in sharing her knowledge. Except…the dear woman was totally deaf. What started out as an intimate chat ended up a near bellow, which she still did not understand. The people sitting around her were not amused.

An encounter with one of my all time favorite authors occurred earlier, and with a much more favorable outcome. At that time Elizabeth Lowell still lived in Southern California, was a member of the Orange County Chapter RWA, and often gave the morning craft talk. I gushed. I simpered. I stuttered. She smiled graciously, signed the book I held out to her. When I mentioned my recent litter taking me away from my writing, she demanded pictures. Then I asked: When would she write the next story in her Rocking M series. “Never. Contract issues with the publisher.” I admit I begged a bit.

She gave me a lovely enigmatic smile, and said: “You write it.”

So, I did. Well, not really. But I wrote about what might happen to a fighting man, wounded in body and soul, who meets that one woman who can drag him back to the light. I wrote A Question of Honor, then I put it away. When I brought it out again, looked at it with a slightly more experienced eye, I cringed. I cut out lovely scenes with a vicious pen. I molded. I sculpted. I sent it to. Black Opal Books

At the front, I wrote:

I would like to dedicate A Question of Honor to Elizabeth
Lowell, who encouraged me to write the books I want to read
and whose generous sharing of knowledge gave me the tools

Because, well, that’s what squealy fan girls do, when they can.

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The (not so) Glamorous World of Purebred Dogs #MFRWAuthor

Most of those who read my blog know I’m involved in dogs. I’m here to confess that


Fire Dragon, a Saluki

involvement is in a big way. A HUGE way. My first Saluki came to live with me in 1972, and most of the hounds decorating my house are in direct descent of that dog.


Yes, I am a dog breeder. I realize that’s an epithet to many people. I’ve been vilified by other writers for being such a greedy individual as to produce puppies for profit.

Excuse me, that guffaw was out of control. Yes, there is money in purebred dogs…not quite sure where it is but I know I’ve poured an obscene amount of my own money into my dogs over the past forty plus years. Don’t tell my brothers, they already think I’m one step from certifiable. Being responsible to my dogs, throughout their lives, means sometimes eating boxed mac’n’cheese while they eat premium food. During the really rough times we all ate eggs and  oatmeal. Fortunately those times are behind me but the memories are there.


Glamorous? Not so much

Purebred dogs might have you thinking of those televised shows with everyone in fancy dress, racing around on carpet while lights glint off their diamonds. The reality is more like serviceable shoes and clothes from a thrift store, the venue more likely a convention center or packed dirt arena, or a park pressed into service for the weekend. If a carpeted show is Broadway, most of us are in local theater productions. Which brings the same (or nearly the same) thrill.


I was thinking about the implied glamor recently. I’d planned to breed Boo to Navad. Both have passed health tests, both exhibit intelligence and personality, both typify, in my mind, their breed. Notice I didn’t say much about both being obedient. I know my dogs too well.

Given these decades of experience I should not have expected Boo to wait around for me to drop a leash on her when we were ready for the breeding. Instead she


Navad and Boo

dashed off into the dark and through the gate to the two acre field that I generally close at night. Due to the magnitude of the storm that had blown through I didn’t get that done before dark descended.


So. I’m slogging through the ankle high mud, waving around the flashlight that’s in dire need of new batteries, peering into the intense dark. Occasional flashes of lightning in the distance, then not so distant mountains. Other than that, no sound. Anywhere. Being a female of a certain age, I’m reminded I should visited the bathroom before setting out on this adventure.

Finally, a faint sound. I flash the light in that direction, and this time see a reflecting gleam. Naturally Boo will still not come but Navad is more than willing to transfer his attention to me. When she sees her play toy being led from the field, Boo follows right behind, far more graceful than I could ever manage.

Fortunately no one was around to fall down laughing as we squelched our way back to the house, me placing my feet ever so carefully to avoid the slick mud, Navad wanting to rub against me. No one’s posterior made it to the ground but it was a close thing.

Glamorous? Not hardly. But hopeful, so hopeful, that Boo now gestates another generation to please the people who have been wanting her puppies for way too long.

In the meantime I’m endeavoring to finish up the next Stormhaven installment while so many other stories clamor in my head. Patience, guys, you can all come out to play.


Just because I love where I live




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