I’ve remained stubbornly set in my decision not to do that. I enjoyed the first book, it stands on its own quite well, and I have so many other stories I am anxious to write. Besides, I thought I’d exhausted the storyline regarding anything that could happen at The Manchester Hotel.

I was wrong.

It came to me in a dream the other night, the storyline that would continue the saga of the haunted hotel. Of course, it would be Roxie’s story. The problem facing me was…I didn’t know what Roxie’s story would be.

Well, hello! All I had to do was ask her! I should have known that! Every story I’ve ever written was only written because the characters allowed me to write them. If I paid attention, focused on what was really important, I’d hear their voices leading me.

That’s when Roxie told me to get a move on and write her story!

Now I need to come up with a title, cover, and start writing. This story will include all the original characters – minus one, of course…he finally went to prison…I think - plus a few more ghosts will come out of the woodwork. Sebastian and Tiny will be there, Vic is back, Dani and Eli will be adding to their family, and Ben…well, Ben is still Ben. Big, tough, hunky, and still single.

I’m thinking I might have a contest to find a title. I’ll have more on that when I get closer to needing one.

For now, I need to get to work and finish my current story, Cryptic, Cantankerous, and Crazy. I am sending it off to a cover designer soon and am enjoying the process of making it come to life. I have several weeks of editing to look forward to there but I enjoy every minute of it!

It’s all coming together now and I look forward to going back to Ghosts for a re-read to start the sequel.

Soon…very soon.

No, to each person there exists a different motivational message.

For me it has to be my vision, what do I want and how willing am I to go after it. Am I willing to suffer the hard knocks if I know it is getting me closer to my dream for the future? Will I tolerate setbacks and aggravation if my goal can be seen on the horizon?

I’ve suffered hard knocks, I’ve paid my dues, I’ve survived setbacks. Of course, everybody has a different measuring stick in their particular – unique – perspective or situation. The view from my window is bright and sunny today but I’ve had (lots of!) days where the view was rainy and cold. Yesterday was one of those days. But here I am, today, ready to do battle again. I remind myself of what I have experienced up to this point, do I want to put myself through that again? NO! So I push on, keeping my dream alive. 

I won’t go into specifics, it’s not really necessary because the reference here is so broad, but trust me…I’m ready to make my dream a reality. 

Everybody has to have a dream, it’s what gets you out of bed in the morning, what keeps you going through each day, what motivates you to survive from day to day. Some people simply exist, but they have a dream…they just don’t know how to make it happen or have let life overwhelm them and clutter their vision in pursuing that dream. 

Some only dream. And dream. And dream. They live in a fantasy world where as long as they dream, life is made tolerable somehow. They are afraid to make the dream happen because…what if the dream turns out to be not so good? Can they handle the letdown? What if, what if, what if? Fear. Plain and simple. They are terrified that the dream will disappoint them and they can’t handle the disappointment of something they have worked a lifetime to create in their head. So it’s easier to live in the world of shoulda, coulda, woulda.

Life is funny that way.

It can build you up, it can let you down. You don’t know until you try, you can’t win if you don’t play, and you can’t succeed unless you have failed a few times.

Bottom line, making an attempt in the direction of your ultimate dream(s) is far better than blaming the Universe for not delivering that dream right into your lap with no effort on your part at all.

That said…I’ll keep playing the lottery. You never know…

But no need to worry, it’s a good thing! The road block is not of the “writer block” variety every writer fears most. No, this is a moment of epiphany. I have been cruising along, writing, the words and story flowing and all is feeling real good then BAM! I realize I don’t know what I am talking  – or writing – about. They always tell you to write what you know and here I am writing about subjects of which I have no clue. So now I am in a temporary hiatus from my story-writing to do some much needed research, I want to sound like I know what I am writing about at the very least, right?

What research am I delving into? The careers of my two lead characters, that’s what. My leading woman is a psychologist (PFFT! What do I know about that? No, seriously!) and my leading man is a police detective turned private eye. Again, what do I know about either of those careers? Bupkiss, I say. Absolutely nothing. I was writing all kinds of nonsense about the way they act, they way they think, and how they perform their jobs and it suddenly hit me…I might be insulting people who actually perform those jobs in real life if I don’t treat their professions with at least a little respect and professionalism. Sure, I can embellish a little to make it interesting, but that’s all I’ve been doing up to this point. Yeah it’s interesting and funny so far, but not very realistic.

Enter screeching brakes as I pull the vehicle of my story to a jarring stop. Time to get real. I went out to Amazon and downloaded my research in ebook form (don’t you just LOVE the immediacy of ebooks when you need it right now!?) and now the research begins…after I finish blogging, of course.

The other detail where I drastically need knowledge is way beyond what I was given when born blonde, and that’s quantum physics and string theory. Deep, huh? But before I’m done with this book I intend to be well versed…if only briefly…and profoundly impressed as I learn my way around the secrets of the Universe.

And that brings me to the main reason for this thought, what I learn as a writer.

Never in my life have a had this thirst for knowledge as when I am researching my next or current book. What other time in my life would I have ever searched out such an intense and as-yet-misunderstood subject as quantum physics. A fascinating subject, but way over my head.  

I wish I could say it brings back memories of my college days, sitting in Physics class and soaking up knowledge. That would be dishonest. I pretty much napped through Physics…it made my brain tired. Hope I can stay awake while doing research this time, it’s a little more important to me now.

My plan is to have it out by July and that will be pushing it. I have been designing the cover, writing like a maniac and plotting what might be a sequel. Do I have it written yet? No, that’s the problem. But it’s getting there.

The problem is that I am putting too much pressure on myself with this one. I thought my previous books would be my defining works. I was wrong…sortof.

Ghosts, Gunman and the Grinning Cat was a kick to write, I even enjoy reading it (maybe I need to read it again, soon) and I get a lot of feedback from people who tell me they really enjoyed it. There could not be a better compliment. I, of course, write because I enjoy the process and don’t write thinking that I will become rich and successful from it. No, it would be reeeeeally nice to become rich from my work, but I’m afraid it would change my process. Right now I don’t have publishers, editors, or an agent breathing down my back telling me to work. I get to choose the pace that works best for me.

My Mystic series, on the other hand was something I had to do. Nobody was pushing me, driving me, or placing unreasonable demands on me other than myself. I had the stories in my head and needed to get them written, it was a kind of cleansing to get the stories out of my head and bound in covers so I could move on to another story swirling around in that noggin of mine…and believe me, there are tons of stories in there just waiting to happen. One story at a time.

I think I set a bad precedent for myself in putting four books out in one year and now I am paying the price. I want to back off to only two a year now, that way I can give each book the concentrated effort it deserves to be the best that it can be.

The book – one of the books – I am working on right now feels good, its title if you haven’t guessed by now, is “Cryptic, Cantankerous, and Crazy” (I have posted a brief description of it on another tab here on my website, go check it out). I have characters that I love, I enjoy writing their story and can almost feel what they are feeling as I write it. That’s how writing is supposed to be, a personal attachment and involvement with the story and its characters. I get a buzz of excitement every time they take me in a direction that I hadn’t planned on going, and they do that a lot. After a particularly exciting night of writing, I go to bed but can’t sleep…I’m too pumped about where I left off and want to get back at it, but that’s when I have to sign off.

I learned a long time ago the best time to quit writing for the night is when you are at a high point and on a roll, never when you are mentally blocked as to what to write next. That way it keeps you connected to the process, helps you pick up easily where you left off the next time you sit down to write. It works for me.

To be a writer means you are always thinking of your story…always. You are brushing your teeth…thinking your story. Eating lunch…thinking and plotting. Working at your day job…concentrating on the next scene of your story. Driving along down the street (and I really must emphasis here, pay attention to your driving!)…coming up with new ideas for your story. This one is the best for me, I get my most unusual and twisting-turning ideas for stories while I am behind the wheel of my car. I don’t know why, you’d think I would be focused on safe driving and trying not to be distracted…not so. I got the idea from my last book while following a dump truck on the Interstate one day and imagining “what if.” 

Ah yes, the ”what ifs” of my world. And that’s what I will blog about next time, it will be a long one because I have a lot to talk about on the subject, but I need to get back to writing my story right now…it’s calling me!

Of course, one of my dreams is to be a published author of wildly popular stories. I am published - first part of that dream accomplished – the wildly popular part I have no control over but I’m working on it. I have loyal fans and I love them for that, but I feel I have let them down lately. That stops now. I am back!

Okay, so back to the other dreams. One thing I have always wanted to do – even before my itch to be a writer – is another artsy pursuit. I love refinishing furniture and reinventing small wood pieces with my own creative touches. My most recent piece:

This poor chair came to me – and, yes, I really said it “came to me” and I’ll get to that later – all beat up, parts hanging from missing or rusty nails, and in sad shape. When I saw it in the second-hand store, with its ugly dark wood finish, broken leg, and “ready to be cut up into kindling” look, I couldn’t resist bringing it home to bring it back to life. It begged me to take it home. How could I resist such a desperate plea from a once-beautiful piece that probably used to belong to a full dining room set and serve as valuable tool in a household of nice people. When it started crumbling under years of hard use the family discarded it. Sad. So, now it looks beautiful again. I refinished it in a pale pink with a light whitewash and silver glaze. You can’t tell from this picture but it glows with new life. 

I wonder if it was an accident that I happened into the store that day, or did the chair actually call to me to come get it…I have been having A LOT of psychic episodes lately…hmm…

My next project has even more personality. It’s a cute little chair and is still in the stripping process.

I have spent a couple of hours stripping several heavy coats of shellac (does anyone really use shellac anymore? I hope not) from the legs and seat to find a beautiful dark walnut under there. The chair leans to one side from wobbly legs, there are several splits in the wood and random nails and screws are barely holding it all together, but she’s a beaut, right? I love the decorative shape of the back piece, the turned spindles and smooth rounded seat -which, no doubt, got that way from years of use – and the delicate feet that have worked decades at keeping the old girl upright and support the weight of who-knows-who over the years. When I carried her to the cash register and stepped back to look at her, I hesitated…did I want to take on such a major project? I mean, she’s small but she would take a lot of work. Then I noticed how crooked she sat, leaning to one side, crying…I almost broke down and cried for her right then and there! Yeah, I know… weird to cry over a chair. But, hey, this chair just seemed like a little, brown eyed puppy to me and it had to go home with me! 

As soon as the layers of gaudy varnish and shellac started coming off I heard her talk to me…she said, “thank you.” It wasn’t loud, not obvious, more of a breathless whisper…but I heard it.  

As soon as I get down to the soul of this little chair – her bare wood core – I will start putting her back together, straighten her out, and pretty her up. Some people may consider it scandalous to put all that work into stripping this piece just to paint it again, I disagree. I strip each piece to get to the personality and let it tell me how to proceed.

This old girl wants to look pretty. She says she wants to be turquoise, a pale turquoise with a light umber tipping and finished with a metallic gold glaze. I know because I asked her.

The little chair is smiling.

I better get back to work, we have a long way to go!

I had a good time, learned a lot, and met a wide variety of people. There were roughly 30 people in my class and I – believe it or not – turned out to be the most naive and innocent of all things law enforcement. I knew going in that I had some things to learn, but I didn’t know just how much.

My favorite part? The gun range.

Yep, that’s me. I don’t know if the holes I inflicted are visible but, trust me, I effectively “killed” my paper opponent. I started with a 9mm then moved up to a .45. I liked the 9mm better for the control I had on it, the .45 was a little scary. So now I can say I have handled and fired a gun (two guns). Not curious anymore, don’t need to do it again.

The first night I spied this in the ladies room (in one of the stalls, actually), what you don’t see is the bullet hole in the wall behind the toilet. Guess that explains the need for this sign, huh?

One of our “field trips” was to the driving range where we were able to experience (or watch, as I did) the officers on the P.I.T. (Pursuit Intervention Technique)driving course. That’s when the cops get to ram…I mean, lightly tap…the bad guy’s car to end a car chase. I was glad I passed on the car rides here, it was loud enough just watching from the sidelines so I can only imagine how it felt in the back seat of the cop car…and a good goal in life is to never have to ride in the back seat of a cop car, anyway.

Aw, yes. The night of visiting the SWAT team headquarters. This is the ultimate “mancave” experience. If I didn’t know this was serious business I would have thought this place was every man’s dream garage. The technology, the hot vehicles…the hot men…umm, yes the serious, dedicated men of law enforcement. These guys are the real deal. Not a job for weaklings or wimps. This girl went all trembly inside just thinking about it. Anyway….

I wish I had more pictures to share but a lot of time was spent in the classroom…not good picture taking moments there. I will be attending graduation this week and bidding farewell to my fellow Academy-goers. I have learned a lot, suffered a little, and gained valuable insight for the book I am currently working on. That, basically, was my main intent in signing on for this experience. Every learning experience in life is valuable. As a writer, I need to hunt down every opportunity to strengthen my knowledge base and make my stories more accurate, more interesting, and more fun to write.

Anyone who knows me should understand why this is a stretch for me. I based my college thesis on the subject of Corporate America greed and corruption. I blame the origin of a lifetime of migraine headaches on that world. My caffeine addiction can be traced directly to my history there.

So why am I working for Corporate America if I claim to dislike – nay, hate - the very thought of the dreaded beast?

I needed a job.

It’s as easy as that. I needed a job so badly that I said “hell yes” when offered this one. At the time I figured, how bad could it be? I’ve been away from that world for many years now, could it be I only imagined the disease that is big business? Nope. It’s as bad as I remembered it.

Every weekday morning I drag myself out of bed and travel the dark route to downtown Des Moines, like a mouse in a scientist’s maze I take the same turns, stop at the same stop lights, mindlessly flow with the same group of early morning drivers headed for work. With my access card I open the gate that lets me into the company parking lot – just like everyone else – and park my car in my same parking space. I climb out – hitching up my shoulder bag of necessary snacks, lunch items and other provisions to get me through the day - then lock it behind me as I start my walk. A long walk so early in the morning.

Trudging across the parking lot, I wait for the light telling me it’s okay to cross the street then I proceed toward the mountain of stairs that will take me to the second level of the company parking ramp – the garage I don’t qualify to park in – and fall in line behind other Corporate zombies in the skywalk shuffle. A quiet, straightline course where nobody talks to eachother, they just aim their eyes forward and keep walking. With my access card I let myself into my building…can’t get anywhere without the access card.

Then it’s up to the sixth floor. I don’t take the elevator…too depressing, seeing all those seemingly comotose employees staring at the digital numbers ticking as the small cage climbs skyward. So I walk the rest of the way. By the time I reach sixth floor I am huffing and puffing but at least I know I am alive…the elevator doesn’t do anything to confirm that status. Like I said…too depressing. Oh, and my access card lets me out of the staircase when I reach my floor.

And I am there. It’s the same thing every morning with no exceptions. It’s the same thing at the end of the day only in reverse. 

I am fighting to not become a machine, fighting to stay sane, fighting to remain myself.

I am not a conformist. Never have been, never will be.

This is a temporary job…as far as I know. I will survive, I will learn from this situation then I will move on.

It’s what I do.

When I take a step back and look at it, I see that I am wrong. Yeah, I know…that was reeeeally hard to admit. Imagine, me, being wrong?

And I’m hard to please…a little bit.

Whew! That, too, was hard to admit!

But things are changing.

I have published – or am in the process of publishing – four books this year and have come to the realization that I can’t do everything for/by myself. I can write the stories – and I really enjoy that part – but I need help with almost everything else.

And that’s not a bad thing.

I want to support other talent out there. Why should I struggle to build a nice, functional website (and fail miserably at it) when I have a good friend who is extremely talented in that area and is a new small business that I should support, nurture and encourage? So Cheryl is now my “Webmaster” and I am lucky to have her.

Another area I will soon abandon is the book covers. I’m terrible at it. I know of several people who do that for a living, why not hire them to do it for me? Wonderful!

Of course, this all involves money. Can I afford to hire people to do these things for me? Little by little, one step at a time.

Then I can focus on the writing part of the business.

Oh, and promotion.

Selling and promoting my own books is tough, a lot of work, and yet so rewarding.

I get to meet people at book signings and other events, talk about my stories, hear comments directly from the people who read my books. I love it!

Sure, it’s a lot of work to set up these events, but the rewards are huge! Especially when you feel the excitement from your readers in person.

And that’s what it is all about, writing stories that readers enjoy and to keep them begging for more!

I am slowly building up to my Book Launch on October 6th of this year where I will release Book #2 Mystic Geek (Sable’s story) and #3 Mystic Whispers (Laurel’s story) of the Midwest Mystics series. As the day grows near, I feel the excitement building, the anticipation thrumming through me, and the days growing shorter when I realize how little time I have to put everything together.

Yikes!

I’ve got to get to work!

I’ll keep updating as we get closer!

Not just for a moment, not just in our dreams, and not just when we want to “get busy.”
What if every day, in all nations, all cities and every neighborhood…every one of us was naked?

Would the world be different?

Sure, changing things now would be…uh…challenging. We’d all take a good long look at everyone, judge them, lust after them, be disgusted by them. But at some point we’d get past that, once we got used to it. How long would it take for us to get used to it?

Could we get used to it?

Think of those people who’d be shocked by the idea. People hiding secrets, shameful secrets, embarassing secrets.

There are plenty who would embrace the idea with gusto and probably already spend time in-the-buff. Not just the nudists.

Perverts would be hard to distinguish from the “normal” people. How do you flash somebody if everybody is naked?

Would we put the nudists out of business? What would they do if they could no longer be different? Would they be the only people who ran around with clothing on? Shocking!

Think about how things would be different.

No more spending your money on clothing. No more trying to outclass your friends, neighbors or classmates with expensive fashion…no shoes? How would some women exist without their expensive shoe collections?!!

If everyone was naked all the time, not hiding their flaws behind layers of clothing, wouldn’t you think they’d take better care of themselves? Exercise more? Keep their weight down? Practice good hygiene? Shower, shave and exfoliate regularly?

You wouldn’t spend as much time getting ready for work each morning…no clothes to choose from, no time spent selecting from your “fat” closet or your “skinny” closet. It doesn’t have to fit, you’re naked!

Less time spent on laundry. If you got dirty, you bathed. Probably outside with the garden hose. No more dirt brought in the house.

But then…

I’m thinking there would be less sex.

Hear me out.

If you saw everybody’s naked bodies, all day long, every day of your life, in movement, doing every day tasks, jiggling when it’s not attractive to jiggle, body parts touching things…things that body parts should not touch. Other naked people sitting in public places….where you want to sit…leaning against surfaces you wanted to lean against…scratching themselves then touching a doorknob or just before serving you food…!

Nope!

What about dating? What do you look at across the dinner table? Gone is the game of imagining each other naked. No more strip tease in the bedroom between couples, no foreplay, no anticipation on that first date.

And I am an artist! I should be saying that the human body is a work of art!
Sorry, can’t do that.

Some are, some aren’t. But seeing everyone’s body all the time?

I think I like the idea of kept secrets.

Mystery.

Leave a little something to the imagination…PLEASE!