Life happened because I turned the page… ~Alberto Manguel

I’m busy trying to wrangle cats. Not the cats’ fault. And yes, I mean plural felines. Or writers. You see, I’m trying to get the last edits from authors who were given too little time by me to return them. Life interfered with my schedule, therefore, it interfered with theirs, I’m sure. But ah well… It’ll all sort out in the wash. Or everything will turn out pink.

So, just because I’m  in a mood tonight, how about you tell me what you think that quote means, or better yet, what it means to you…

Enjoy the rest of your night!
Your overworked, overly-stressed author-friend

P.S. Remember that in one week, PIRATES releases! It’s just $0.99 and is filled with luscious pirate booty! 🙂

Seize the day. Put no trust in tomorrow. ~ Horace

Did you know there was a second part to the phrase Carpe diem? The whole phrase is:  Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. Try fitting that on a coffee cup!

I do love Carpe diem. It’s something you have to say with a raised fist. Every schoolteacher entering a classroom, every commuter entering the train, every mother entering the kitchen to start breakfast—shake that fist! Carpe diem! Say it like Bruce Willis in Die Hard, “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!”

Okay, so maybe you guessed it. I need a little motivation today, and I’m going a little overboard. Shouldn’t be though. I actually got a great night’s sleep. I woke up 5 minutes before my alarm. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I shuffled to my office, cleared a spot on my desk for my phone (Lordy, you should see the stack of shit sitting in the center. Before too long I will have to raise my desk chair to see over it!), and brought my computer to life with a righteous right click.

And that quickly, I saw today’s To Do and sighed. I have a lot of words to write. A shit-ton. I’m cussing a lot today, aren’t I? You can say carpe diem without saying quam minimum credula postero, but you can’t say yippee-ki-yay without saying motherfucker. And frankly, I need to cuss to “gird my loins” before I settle down to the task at hand.

Are you with me? Want to raise that fist and shake it? Got any words of inspiration? I don’t mind if you cuss. 🙂

The happiest of all lives is a busy solitude. ~ Voltaire

I love that quote. I can so relate. But I know Voltaire was only right for those of us who are true introverts. Happy hermits. I could spend days alone and not realize the passage of time. My daughter teases that I could be one of those people scientists move into a cave for months to study how isolation affects a person’s psyche, and I’d be happy as a clam—so long as I had a computer and an endless supply of paper and pens.

And I guess that once would have been true, but these days I’d miss seeing a few people—namely one curly-haired four-year-old, who loves the color black because it’s “dangerous.” Her word.

But I am an introvert.  I have enough self-awareness to know that—plus, I’ve been tested. 🙂

If you’re not sure whether you’re an extrovert or an introvert, there’s one little question you can answer for yourself so that you know. It’s simple.

When you’ve had a really trying day, how do you unwind? Do you head to the telephone to call your “person” and share all your frustrations? Or do you head to the place you consider your refuge (your bed, that chair in a quiet place in your house)?

The extrovert will relax talking to a friend or going out for a drink in a familiar place where his or her people congregate. An introvert wants no outside stimulation, unless it’s the drone of music or the TV in the background. White noise to soothe shattered nerves.

So, which are you? Introvert or extrovert?

The Question

I’m here at 5:30 AM writing this little blog. Family duties will pull me from my desk again in just an hour. I’m okay with that. If you saw the pics I posted on Facebook and Instagram yesterday, you understand how I can be pulled away. Have you ever seen a cuter 3-year-old? Even those who are baby-averse can’t help an involuntary ahhhh.  🙂

Anyway, since my mind isn’t organized enough at this early hour to come up with something brilliant to say, I’m resorting to quotes. Here’s one of my favorites…

“I dip my pen in the blackest ink, because I’m not afraid of falling in the inkpot.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

How does this apply to me today? Well, I am under a crunch to write the last chapter of a story I HAVE to have finished on Wednesday. I can do it, but I have to keep focused. Days like today, when I’m pulled away to play with the cutest 3-year-old in the whole wide world, make me nervous about meeting my deadline. But when I read that quote, I realize how silly my fear is. So, maybe I need to lose a little sleep to get it done.

My question to you is, what are you afraid of today
that you know is just plain silly?

The Request

This release is only a week away, and I’m hoping to get the word out to folks who don’t usually read me about the next book in my Night Fall series, Bad to the Bone. I’d love your support! All you have to do is follow this link and click. The day after the book releases, your tweet or Facebook notice will go out. You don’t have to write it, you don’t have to remember to do it—I wrote it and Thunderclap schedules it for you. So, here’s the link, and thanks for your support!

Thunderclap for Bad to the Bone

“We become what we do.” ~Chiang Kai-Shek

Does that mean if I sit on a couch, I become a couch? If I write, I am a writer…? Makes sense, right? No deep thought here. Just wanted to throw out that quote and see if anything happened in my brain, and then maybe I’d suddenly find a purpose for this post.

Nope. Not happening. No purpose. Except… I am moving my fingers…and my voice is narrating inside my brain as I type this…so the voices should follow soon… Then I can begin to begin to write so that I can become, again, a writer.

See how this works? Follow an idea long enough and you either sound like a babbling idiot or a wise philosopher. Which am I?

Yeah, babbling, here. Like a bloody brook.

So, what about you? If you become what you do, what do wish you’d do…
to become whatever…?

Psst! And now you know where Emmy Harris came from…

“By perseverance, the snail reached the ark.”
~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

I have an affinity for snails. Not because I love escargot, although that dish is delicious! (I know that’s an automatic ew for some of you!) My family thinks it’s because the only joke I can remember involves a snail. They think that’s hysterically funny—not the joke, because it really is kind of lame—but the fact it really is the only joke I’ve ever told. They give me snail gifts because they make me smile. Here are a few…

Spurgeon’s quote really does sum up why I love the snail. He’s kind of gross with his slick, wet body and as slow as molasses pouring. But he gets there. Ever keep an aquarium and watch snails slide along the glass? They are constantly moving.

Sometimes, I’m the snail. I plod along, but manage to get tons done, because I’m constantly in motion. Last week, I wrapped up a short story and published it. Finished a novella and shipped it to my editor. This week, I expanded another short story (you should see it tomorrow!), and now, I’m working my way through revisions of a story I wrote a long time ago, so I can publish it next week (Love space pirates?!). To mangle a “W” quote, I get ‘er done.

Some writers are flashy and quick. I admire their speed. Envy it. Sometimes, I wish I could tack a turbo drive to my butt to get it into gear. But I am what I am—a snail…

So, are you flashy or a snail?

And here’s my lame snail joke…

What does the snail say as it rides the turtle’s back?

Whee!

“If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.”
~Abraham Sutzkever

 At least, that’s the hope, right? When I watch Peter Pan, that sentiment is how I connect. He never grows old; never loses his sense of wonder for the world. I feel that connection to him, because everywhere I go, even if the place isn’t as wondrous as Neverland, I find something “sparkly” about it. I make something “sparkly” of my environment.

I never liked Wendy because I thought she acted like a little old lady. Sure, you’d want to come back to your mom and dad (uh, maybe, I’d really be tempted to stay in Neverland!), but did she have to be such a fussbudget? A little old woman in a little girl’s body? But you know people like that, don’t you? No matter the age, they’re old. Responsibility over spark. Vegetables before desert.

Are we a mixture of both? I think my daughter is. She’d probably say I’m too much Peter, not enough Wendy. How about you?

Are you more Peter than Wendy? Would you stay in Neverland?

Are there ways we can hold on to our inner youth? Oil of Olay is fine, but how do you keep your inner child from drying up like a prune?