My Easter Sunday

tree flowersEaster Sunday was overcast with rays of sun peeking through
the clouds. Blossoms from the Bradford Pear in my yard lay scattered on the ground like a white carpet. It was a nice contrast to the green grass. I would have been lovely with multi-colored eggs scattered about as well.
But we didn’t hunt Easter eggs at my house. Instead we went over to my mom’s for Easter lunch and my eldest scattered Star Wars themed “eggs” in my mom’s flower beds for my youngest to find. We even took the dog. It was nice.

I enjoyed visiting my parents and seeing my brother and his wife. My daughter even got up the nerve to slip behind the steering wheel of our car. We drove up and down the same quarter of a mile road several times and she did very well.

Maybe it doesn’t sound like the most exciting Sunday, but it was well spent enjoying my family and adding to good memories. I would be hard pressed to come up with a better way to spend the time.



Time is a strange thing.  It runs slow when you are young or when you are waiting for timesomething good to happen and it runs too fast as you grow older or when you want to sleep but can’t.  It gives perspective and dulls memories.

It is something we never have enough of, yet we spend it as if we have an infinite amount.

Everything has a “time limit”.  Songs, television shows, and books are written about it.  We get paid by the “hour” and count things down to the “minute”.  We are obsessed with time but it is an oblivious obsession to many.

timerunIn almost four hours (3 hours and 50 minutes) I have to go pick my children up from their father’s house, where they spent the weekend. (72 hours) In a little over 12 hours I have to go back to work. (12 hours and 49 minutes) Where I will work a 10 hour shift with a 30 minute lunch.

At some point I need to “find the time” to sleep, go grocery shopping, hang my new set of wind chimes on the porch, wash clothes, and add at least another two hundred words to my work in progress.

It seems odd how something so intangible is so important and so abstract.  I think the David Tennant, playing the 10th Doctor from Doctor Who, described it best when he said:doctor wibbily   “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.”

This post took 28 minutes to write. 😉    (I had cat interruptions.)

…How you measure success

black-41201_640Okay so my self inflicted schedule says that I only do blog posts on Mondays and Wednesdays.  Today is neither Monday or Wednesday, yet I felt the need to share this link.  I think it makes a person think.  What is important?  How do you measure success?!+Mail

Writing Random

snoopyIt seems like I haven’t written anything “useful” here in a while.  Mostly my blog post tend to be random and about whatever is on my mind at the time.  There is actually a reason for that.  I sometimes (Okay a lot of the time) use this blog as a free writing, where I get all the jumble of stuff running around in my head down in print.  Then, when I am done, I can get to work writing on the stuff I am supposed to be working on.

Often when I sit down to write I get in my own way.   I stare at the blank screen and think: this is hard, I don’t feel good, I don’t wanna write this scene, I don’t know what happens next, I don’t wanna think….ect.  In short, I can be pretty whiny.  This is why I typically iwdayala0240chave a notebook or a journal to write in as well.  I whine in it for a little while and then I feel better and can get to work.  Unfortunately, my hands do not take to handwriting for long periods of time without causing me lots of unwanted pain.

There are also memories or ideas that I just can’t shake loose sometimes too, like the thought of my grandmother’s biscuits and gravy.  I currently have an Urban Fantasy story in the works and biscuits and gravy may be nice, but they really don’t fit in a car chase.  (Not in a serious car chase at any rate.)  So I wrote about them here.  If I ever need to bring to mind a country breakfast cooked on an old cast iron stove, I can glance back at my blog post from a few days ago.

It is good to have some place to write the random down.  I don’t always write it as a blog post.  In fact most of the time I don’t.  But being a writer means having ideas floating around in your head and sometimes they can get in the way.  So, you need to have a place to put them until you need them. It can be in a notebook, journal, scrapbook, three ring binder, or a folder on your computer.  Heck, you can write it down on scraps of napkin and stuff it into a plastic bag if that’s what works.  (A little weird maybe, but if it works I won’t question it….much…)  The point is if you are having trouble writing maybe you need to clear some of the random thoughts away first.6a00d8341c630a53ef013488af5745970c-800wi


The importance of daydreams has once again come to my attention.  With everything being so busy lately, daydreaming is something I’ve not done much of and my writing has suffered for it. 

I don’t usually write out lines for my books or stories.  I have done it before, but it is usually the exception rather than the rule.  My plotting and planning usually all take place in my head with out me having to make much of an effort.  Daydreams are where my ideas usually take shape.  Those random moments of staring off into space thinking “What if…” are where my stories take their first breath.

No daydreaming means very few new ideas.  Imagine a bleak landscape charred and blacken by fire.  The ground cracked and dry from lack of moisture.  Heavy clouds darken the sky and thunder threatens but no rain falls to quench the very palatable thirst that hangs in the air.  That is how my creativity has felt lately. (Obviously I have made that first step toward hydration, otherwise I could not have just described how I’ve been feeling.)

Last night I sat on the steps and stared at the stars. (As you have probably deduced, this is a favorite past time of mine whenever I get the chance.)  It always seems to refresh that inner well that I reach for when I write.  Mostly because the night sky has always inspired a since of awe in me.  Clear nights are wide open possibilities.  Hundreds of thousands of stars that are out of my reach but still within my sight.  I look up and I dream.
And eventually those dreams fall like shooting stars onto paper, in words that others can (hopefully) understand, so that they may dream too.


Life once again has taken all of my good writing intentions and tossed them out the window without my consent.  I haven’t had the chance to do a lot of anything that doesn’t involve my day night job and/or family stuff.  (My son turned eight yesterday so I had to host a birthday party.)

Work has been stressful and I have had migraines all week. It sucks. There is no energy left for stuff I’d rather do. Which is why I have been severely slacking on blog posts. Hopefully things will calm down soon.  If it doesn’t I will have to make some hard decisions.  The best part about my night job is that it gives me the time off to write and still be able to pay my bills.  If I am too stressed to write (or do anything else) then I may just have to find something else. Hopefully during the week I am off I can catch up on my writing and the problems at work will resolve themselves.