Friday, March 29, 2013

First-look Friday 3/29/13

Today, I have some more great news - Avon published the first chapter of my second book to their site!!

You may have already read this back on March 15, but go on over to the site and, once you (re)read the excerpt, click the Love this post! link (highlighted below), and share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and/or Tumblr. And please comment in the Comments section both on the Avon site and here on the blog. 

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Twitter, #PitMad and #PitchMadness

I'm a noob when it comes to Twitter. It's easy to get lost in the streams, conversations, and generalities that litter cyberspace....and that's why I follow not only specific people (agents, editors, publishing houses, authors, etc) but I also follow hashtags.

Two big hashtags for me are #pitchmadness and #pitmad. These give aspiring authors a chance to sell their work directly to agents and editors via Twitter. #pitchmadness is usually set up in Twitter, then submitted via email and is more structured (with the notices blasted across Twitterverse that it'll be happening on a specific day, during a certain time frame), but #pitmad is a 140-character, no-holds-barred, pick-me-pick-me!, real-time writerpalooza where you're given an answer immediately. Instant gratification (or disappointment).

It's happening tomorrow between 8am and 6pm. While I'm not participating, I'll be watching to see how it plays out online. Check it out (search #pitmad in Twitter to see all tweets), and post your comments as to what cool things you see!

While you're there, why don't you go ahead and follow me? I'll follow you back, and we can have tweetersations!

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

It's Hump Day...What's On Your To-Do List?

There are days when my to-do list (which lives on my desk in a colorful array of sticky notes) seems overwhelming. For today, my list looks like this (this is what I can find on my desk, anyway):

  • Call car dealership
  • Research list of agents
  • Call vet
  • Make follow-up dr appt
  • Ensure Easter basket stuff is set
  • Refill prescription

That's in between the actual 9 hours of day-job work in front of me, as well as the typical daily duties (walking dogs, checking homework, making dinner, playing with kids, breaking up fights, bath/bed). 

Add in the two hours of writing, one hour of social stuff (Twitter, Facebook and blogs - oh my!), and the two hours of reading (OK...sometimes I must finish the book, so this time varies)...well, things are pretty full, and I don't think I've ever been happier.

Happy hump day!

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Commenting Issues

For those of you who've asked, I think I've fixed (OK, my husband helped...a lot) the commenting issue where things popped up and required authentication and other techie-stuff. So please try your comments again, but please first enable third-party cookies on your browser. (Blogger's rules, apparently.)

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Reading What You Love, Writing What You Love

Today is a big release day in the Romance world. I woke up to THREE new books on my Kindle (woot!) by three spectacular writers: Stephanie Laurens (new Cynster novel!), Robyn Carr (new series!) and Jennifer McQuiston (new author! - OK, I may have already read that one back in February, in paperback, but it auto-downloaded to my Kindle today. Whatever - I loved it that much, I'm totally keeping it).

If you love what you write, it shows. I can read a book very quickly - I read at least one, but usually 5 or 6 books per week. I can finish a mass-market romance novel in about 3 hours; 2 hours if it's one I've read before (I know exactly where to skip and, because dialogue is my favorite part, zoom right in on the quotation marks). I re-read almost ALL my romance novels, and during most weeks, at least half of my books are re-reads.

When a favorite author comes out with a new book, I get really excited. I love the characters and the writing styles different people create; but I think what has me most excited is the knowledge that by the end of the day, no matter what stresses it brings, I'll be able to sit back, sigh a happy sigh, and grin from ear to ear. 

People ask me all the time if, in reading romance novels, it influences my stories. The truth is simple: The stories within the novels do not influence my own, but the writing certainly does. I've seen many books with terrible grammar, fragmented sentences that chop the story instead of enhance it, and the use of the same word repeatedly. These things are what help me to be a better writer - I'm pretty critical of what I read, and if I'm pulled out a story due to things that can be fixed with editing or author awareness, then I have a hard time enjoying the story. (Oddly enough, the occasional spelling error doesn't bother me as much - it doesn't typically pull me from a story, but instead reminds me that a real person wrote it, and an editor enjoyed it so much that her (or his) eyes flew over that mistake in order to get to the next word.)

That is what influences my writing - but not my plot lines, characters, dialogues or settings.

It would be amazing to see my own writing in print. It would be exhilarating to have people want to read more of my writing. But - and I've said this before, I know, but it bears repeating - the absolute best part about being published would be providing someone, somewhere, the ability to sit back, sigh a happy sigh, and grin.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Elevator pitch

This week, I'm writing my elevator pitch. I see thousands of examples of pitches on websites, contests that are run for a chance to get your pitch in front of an agent, and see writers all over Twitter freaking out because it's their chance to get an agent or publisher to see that their story is the best.

An elevator pitch is an interesting, thought-provoking, 35-word summary of a novel. Every word counts - that's the mantra that writers the world over repeat as they write, slash, write, delete, write, crumple, rinse, repeat.

I love this challenge. Pithy. Smart. Succinct...If I can effectively convey my novel in 35 words, then I'm on the right path to publication. And publication, for me, isn't about money or fame or glory. It's about someone reading my story, falling in love with the characters as I have, and escaping from her (or his) reality for a few hours in a very hectic world. I want, more than anything, to give readers the happy, full heart I receive when I read the last line of a great story.  

It's me, 35 words, and 10 agents, in two weeks.

I've got this. 

Friday, March 22, 2013

First-look Friday 3/22/13

Yesterday was a great day. GREAT day. My website was launched (I've linked to it at the top of the page, but you can also just click here. I also posted the first chapter to the first book in my Time Passage Series, Mists of Fate, to the Avon Community!! 

So today, here is your first glimpse of the book that started this whole fabulous journey:

Please head over there, read the excerpt, click the Love this post! link, and share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or Tumblr. And please comment in the comments section both here on the blog AND on the Avon Community site. 

Thanks for reading! Today is going to be a great day, too...I can feel it!

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Thursday's thoughts

Today, I can't get enough of Mumford & Sons. Their music just stirs my soul - the voices, harmonies, and instruments all combine into a sound that transports me to a very happy place.

Right now, I'm listening to their first album, Sigh No More. If you've never checked them out before, you really should. This music is powerful - it makes me want to dance in the middle of a pub somewhere, where the tables have been pushed back and there are whole bunch of like-minded people dancing with me without any reservations...

What kind of music makes your soul happy? 

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

"I write romance," she said proudly.

I always say that I only read stories and watch movies with a guaranteed happy ending. If I want to get all existential, depressed or angry, I can just watch the news. I'm the first to admit that real life can be beautifully uplifting, but it can also be horrifically tragic. The one thing everyone is certain of is that there are are no guarantees in life, right?

Well...not really. When you pick up a romance novel, you are guaranteed a happy ending. And I believe that everyone needs to hear (or read) a happy ending once in awhile; I think it restores a bit of faith in humanity. The hope that comes with watching the human spirit triumph in the ultimate act of giving - loving without reservations - and receiving the ultimate reward of being granted love in return is universally adored. (In my opinion, anyway.)

A few years back, when people asked me what I wrote, I was a bit embarrassed. "Romance," I would mumble, and quickly add, "but closed-door romance." Then I would change the subject.

It took me awhile to realize that there is nothing wrong with romance novels. They're not "bodice-rippers" - that is a term used to categorize novels from the 70s where rape was involved. They're not necessarily pornographic, either (that would be erotica novels).

Simply put, they're fairy tales for grown-ups.

That escape from reality is what I create. It's what wakes me up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night; my characters, once they get going, won't stop until they've been written to their satisfaction. They know that they have their issues to work out, and they won't let me sleep until they finish what they need to say. They are working towards that happy ending because they know they deserve it. 

And closed-door romance? That just means I don't get into the nitty-gritty of what happens behind the bedroom doors. But that doesn't mean it isn't sexy...far from it. Because really...if you're going to spend a few hours with a well-muscled, sword-wielding, leather-jacket-wearing alpha's not realistic to keep those doors fully closed, now is it?!

image copyright:

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The all-important pitch

Inquiring minds want to know - what makes you pick up a book and spend your hard-earned cash on it? Comment below!

My pitch for my first Irish time travel romance - these two start it all...

For years, Nioclas MacWilliam has focused on clan, war and women – in that order. When he agrees to marry to prevent a clan war, he accepts it as a laird’s duty, despite his  dreams of a beautiful woman who stirs his blood like no other ever has.

Brianagh O’Rourke has everything – success, family, and a new fiancé. But she yearns for more – a passion she’s only dreamed about, with a handsome highland laird and his captivating gray eyes.

When an ancient prophecy beckons, Nioclas and Brianagh are forced together to save his clan and her life. But to succeed, they must decide if giving up their dreams is worth the price...or if the price is worth their dreams.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Revisions are like cake. Kind of...

I love baking. I love to create something wholly different than what the ingredients suggest it should be - take, for example, cake. You mix up some flour, eggs, butter. Add in the sugar, the get the idea. All of those ingredients blend perfectly to make the most delicious cake. You know it's delicious because you can smell it baking, you can see it rising, and you've made them in the past - and they always came out really good.

However...that's the easy part. The hard part is getting someone to look at it and see the beauty in it. That's where the frosting comes in.

You can slap on a layer of chocolate frosting and call it done. Many people do that, and they'll easily find people who want to eat the cake. Mostly family members, because not only do they know you're a great baker, but they will love anything you make because,'re family. 

But if you want to really impress someone - really build a fan base, be known as the best baker in town...well, you need to do more. You need add some layers, make it shine. Start rolling out the homemade, tastes-like-sugar colored fondant with the edible, gold-leafed flowers. All that takes significantly more work, but when you're done, you're going to have a lot more people interested in that cake.

Writing is a lot like baking. The ingredients - words, ideas, characters - all blend in different ways depending on how you mix it up. If you write a story and share it with your family, most likely they'll love it because they love you. But revisions are the frosting. The more work you put into the revision, the more impressive it can be, and the more your story can shine. And the shinier the story, the more cohesive the wording - that's what helps to build a fan base in writing. Writing has to come out better than good - it has to come out stellar each and every time. A good reader expects no less.

I think I'll enjoy a piece of cake while I work on my latest round of revisions. After all, I do love cake!

Friday, March 15, 2013

First-look Friday 3/15/13

This is a bit late, but...better late than never. I'm in a push to get this novel completed; I think it's my best yet, and it's a culmination of 17 years of nearly non-stop writing. All my practice, professionalism, vocabulary choices...every line in this book has been analyzed, re-analyzed, shortened. I don't want any excess in there...just the story. And the less "filler" words, the more story. I'm all about a good book.

Another excerpt - enjoy a glimpse into Aidan!

                Aidan followed Emma through the doors of The W and gave a swift nod to the doorman. He allowed himself a smug smile; she had no idea that he already knew much more about her than she could imagine. Although he would be the first to admit that, in person, Emma Perkins wasn’t at all what he was expecting. He imagined her to be older then he, and perhaps sterner, more like his nursemaid growing up, yet she looked to be in her late twenties. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than his, and the entire ride over he was oddly bothered by the fact that he could not make out the color of her eyes. Her professional demeanor was well-practiced; if he hadn’t been watching for it, he wouldn’t have noticed her admiring glances. And he was quite impressed with her redirection of the conversation; every time he had strayed too close to what was potentially personal, she flipped it back on him and got him talking again. He allowed it because he was aware of it, but he admired it because he needed it.
                There were no pictures of her anywhere – none on the web, or her company’s website, or even social media. Her clientele list was small...but unfortunately for her, they were not the most indiscreet. She, however, kept the lowest profile he’d ever seen – aside, of course, from his own. He wondered if that was what made her so good at her job; her client’s “misdeeds,” as she called them, were fixed almost immediately. Most people didn’t even know the transgression happened at all, or it was turned on its head into something positive.
                He wondered how she would turn the latest “misdeed” into something positive. Especially as it affected her so personally.
                “I’ll wait in the lobby,” she said as they approached the elevator. She turned to him her polite smile again. “If you – ”
                “Nay,” he cut in smoothly. “I’d prefer if you came to the suite. I don’t like leaving a woman alone in the lobby of a hotel.” He noticed her eyes then – a deep, vibrant blue. As he studied them more intently, he revised his original thought: Her eyes were almost purple, like the fields of wild heather that were so plentiful back home –
                “I do not go to clients' hotel rooms,” she said in an impressively no-nonsense-yet-apologetic way, snapping his attention away from the color of her eyes and ruminations of his homeland. “If we must, we can return to my office.”
                He almost smiled, but checked himself. Well done, Ms. Perkins.
                “Ms. Perkins, we just spent an hour in the car, where if we had walked it would’ve taken but a quarter of the time. Pray, do not force me back to your office. My hotel suite is secure enough to discuss the contract, and Cian can accompany us.”
                “Your driver?” she asked. “I assume he’s signed this contract as well.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “Mr. MacWilliam, it’s a vital part of my job to know who knows what about you. Especially hired help."
                He smirked. Oh, Cian would laugh heartily at that title. “Of course, Ms. Perkins.” He was relatively certain that sworn fealty was more binding than some scrap of paper, but he resisted the urge to mention it.
                “Alright,” she agreed, and he knew it was because her boss had told her to do what was necessary to secure his account. But that’s how he planned it.
                “After you,” he murmured as the elevator doors slid open silently. He followed her in and hit the button.  “Cian will join us in a moment.” He sighed. “I much prefer stairs to these things. Do you have an elevator in your residence?”
                “When it works, yes. But it’s broken most of the time. Do you plan to move to New York City, Mr. MacWilliam?”
                “Not permanently,” he replied, leaning casually against the handrail. “I need somewhere in the US to conduct my business. But I cannot leave Ireland for long.” When she looked up at him , a slightly encouraging and inquisitive look on her face, he gave her a small, self-deprecating smile. “It’s too busy. I can’t imagine one can see the stars very well from this place.” Her mouth dropped open slightly, and he wondered just what he said that cracked her professional façade. He enjoyed the ride over, the way she deftly moved the conversation to him and kept it there despite his efforts. She had a myriad of topics she drew on to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly...but it had not escaped his notice that those topics were meant to draw information out of him while revealing nothing of her.
                That quality alone made his decision easier; in fact, that was the exact reason he had Cian send those photographs of her fiancé to her. He needed Emma Perkins’ undivided attention and trust...and, as a man who hated leaving anything to chance, he knew what was necessary to ensure success in all his endeavors.
                “I’ll be but a moment,” he said, showing her to the seating area in front of marble fireplace. She sat on the sofa and waited as he walked down a short hallway, into the bedroom. Silently closing the door behind him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment, weighing his decision. Taking a deep breath, Aidan let it out slowly. Seven years. It had taken seven years to figure out who she was, and then how to best convince her to come with him. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but he was bordering on desperate. He couldn’t abandon his plans now simply because he met her; hell, wasn’t that the whole point?
He punched in the phone number. “Do it.”
He hung up the phone, and, ignoring the slight twist in his gut, reminded himself that it was all for his clan.
Nothing else could matter.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

The Right Direction

"A #2 pencil and a dream can take you anywhere." - Joyce Meyer

My pencil is more of a keyboard, but the thought remains the same. I haven't gotten to do any book writing this week so far; disappointing, but I can make it up between now and Saturday. I have a set goal each day - but I am the kind of person who doesn't beat up on myself if I don't reach my goal every time. Each step forward is a step in the right direction!

And, just because this made me smile -

Share your happy random thought of the day in the comments!

Tuesday, March 12, 2013


If you know me, you know I love the rain. The mist it creates, the fog, the fresh smell...I love all of it. It induces the mind to drift and imagine, and I get some of my best lines in my stories from that mind drifting. It also helps when I have some inspirational music playing in the background - today, it's the soundtracks from Harry Potter, Pride & Prejudice (the Kiera Knightly version), and Brave. All inspire me in different ways; the Harry Potter soundtrack reminds me of the power a book can have on a generation (and a culture). The Pride & Prejudice soundtrack brings me back to my time in England when my life was balanced and carefree, and the Brave soundtrack brings me to the time period I love to write about.

What inspires you to do what you love?

This is Anne Hathaway's cottage in Stratford-Upon-Avon. This trip was one of the most influential and inspirational for me in my writing.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Career change? I think so.

Last week, I registered for a writer's conference. I'm very excited - it'll be my first one, and it's one of the biggest around. I understand that doesn't mean it's the best, but it will be a great opportunity for me to get comfortable pitching my stories and networking with other like-minded folk. And since I'm pretty serious about making this career change, I see this as my first step into that career. I never through I'd want to be a published author - writing for deadlines? Revisions? Won't that take all the joy out of writing?

After years of thought, I don't think so.

I thrive on deadlines. And I love revising. Maybe I'm weird, but those are the best parts of my current job: tightening up the wording, clarifying a point, making the deadline with time to spare. 

I'll be sharing my stories with other people. I've never done that, but I think I should. Because I really, really believe that I'm a good writer. When I was in high school, in my English class, we had an assignment to interview a newspaper columnist. The man I interviewed was so impressed with my paper on him and his musings that he offered me his own agent's information. A high schooler! I should've taken it and started publishing then, but I was a dumb teenager and didn't believe in myself much. Lesson well learned.

Fast forward (mumble) years later and I'm ready. I have read thousands of books, studied centuries worth of literature, celebrated National Grammar Day (march forth on March Fourth!!) with the best of 'em, and I know that all that means little, because I have always been good at writing my own stories, twisting my own words, and creating scenarios in my head that, while I could never act them out in person (too much stuttering and not a quick enough wit), my characters certainly could. And they do.

I'm not looking to become the next great American novelist. I'm looking to give someone a witty, fun, heartwarming, happy-ever-after escape from reality for a few hours.

And if I can make a couple of dollars doing that, while holding a cup of tea, sitting on a windowsill, overlooking some picturesque scene of nature, daydreaming about my next book... well, I will have achieved a life's dream I didn't allow myself to have.  

I'm going to get there. I can't wait.

Friday, March 8, 2013

First-look Friday 3/8/13

This is the book I think I'll be pitching at the huge Writer's Digest conference I'm attending in April. I can't wait - it's going to be incredible and will provide me with some really great feedback, inspiration and information for making this a full-time, fulfilling career. Exciting? Seems too mild of a word for it, really...

This is my first time making my content publicly available. I'd say be nice, but the reality of it is, nice doesn't make one a better writer. So have at it. Use the (virtual) red pen and tell me if you want to know what comes next!

Chapter One

At some point, her wine glass had emptied itself.
Emma Perkins gave it a small frown. It had been doing that all night, but she refused to be bothered by it. She just refilled it from the bottle that was sitting obediently next to her on the small table on her tiny little terrace.
She squinted at the bottle. It was mostly empty - when did that happen? She must've swigged - er, sipped - more than she thought. She couldn't bring herself to care, though. She hadn't had a night off in forever. Who was anyone to judge her for indulging a bit? Certainly no one of her acquaintance. It wasn't like she even had any friends, much less a social life. She didn't have time for any of that; her clients had enough of those to keep her busy for years. She put every ounce of herself into being a great publicist; she could smooth over any situation her clients found themselves in. And the last one was quite the situation, seeing as her biggest (and most famous) client was photographed with someone other than her equally-famous husband.
As far as Emma Perkins (one of many publicists for Price Publicity) was concerned, it didn't matter who the man in the photographs was. But as far as Emma Perkins (engaged to the man in those same photographs) was concerned, it mattered very much indeed.
Looking out over the crowded street below, she closed her eyes briefly. She loved working in New York City, but she absolutely hated living in it. She could never escape the constant noise, people, congestion. It was a never-ending barrage of busy lives, all colliding in a few square miles. But she had to live there; she had to be available to meet her clients at all times. Little things like cheating on one's husband - or fiancée - never happened during regular business hours.
She took another swig of wine as her phone rang.
"’Lo?" she answered, peering into the wine glass.
"Emma - we have a crisis."
Emma took another swallow of her wine before answering her assistant. Her tongue felt a little fuzzy. "Alicia, I'm not working tonight."
"Are you drunk?" she asked. Emma could almost see her assistant's brow furrow, as if she couldn't possibly fathom the prim-and-proper Emma Perkins getting drunk. By herself.
On a Wednesday night.
"Nah,” Emma pffted.
"Oh my God. You are drunk."
"Why are you calling me, Alicia?"
"Because you need to be in the office tomorrow morning at seven. I was checking my email --"
"You really do work too much," Emma interrupted.
"So says the pot to the kettle," she scoffed. "Listen, a hi-pri came into your inbox almost an hour ago. We've all been waiting for your response."
Emma's fuzzy brain tried to snap to attention at the mention of a high priority email, but it just wasn't working right. "A hi-pri? From Joshua?" Her boss was a nice guy. He'd understand if she didn’t answer right away. She took another large sip.
"Um, no," Alicia replied. "It's from Mr. Price."
Emma stood up quickly, choking on her wine. Putting a hand over her eyes to stop the spinning, she managed, "Mr. Price, as in, Mr. Price, the owner?"
"That's the one." She could almost see Alicia nodding. She continued, "Em, you need to stop drinking and get yourself together. Mr. Price wants to see you and Joshua in his office at 7:30am. This new client - he demanded you and you only. He’s refusing to deal with anyone else...even Mr. Price."
"Oh God."
Mr. Price hated when clients refused to deal with him directly. Especially big clients. And if they requested someone not in the top-tier of management...her life would be hell to pay if she didn't show up to that meeting. "Alicia, respond to that email. I will be there. Tell them I'm with a client right now or something."
"Just sent it," Alicia replied. "I'll meet you outside the office at 6:30."
"Okay," Emma replied with a sigh, ruefully pouring her wine into the plastic potted palm on the terrace. "I hope I'm not hungover tomorrow."
"Here's what you're going to do. Tonight, take two aspirin and drink an entire glass of water before you go to bed. Trust me on this," Alicia said knowingly. "In the morning, you're going to drink a small glass of orange juice. No coffee."
"Trust me, Emma. This is my Monday morning routine."
"I'm glad I don't live your life," Emma grumbled.
Alicia laughed. "No you aren't. But do what I say, I promise it works. Keep it simple, right?"
Emma smiled a little. That was her mantra for her clients - keep everything simple. Simple press releases, simple statements.
If only real life worked like that.
"Good night, Alicia. I'll see you in the morning."
"G'night. Say hi to Ben for me."
And just like that, Emma's smile disappeared. She hung up the phone and slumped back down in her chair. She couldn't take even one night off from her crazy career. It always came first; everyone always needed something from her. She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't need anything from anyone. She was a strong, independent career woman on her way to the top. It felt good to be on top of her game. When she threw Ben out of their tiny apartment on the Upper West Side a couple of weeks ago, it felt freeing. His stuff - which was actually not as much as she would've thought - followed him into the hall. He was screaming at her, telling her that her lack of attention forced him to look elsewhere, that her career came before he did. That she'd be sorry she kicked him out.
She blinked back her tears. It didn't matter that she didn't have any friends or family anymore. She had an important meeting to get to in the morning about some hot-shot client. She gathered up her wine bottle, glass and phone purposefully, but paused for a moment. She looked up at the sky, wishing she could see the stars; but in the city, all she ever saw was the kind of star who demanded more and more of her.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Alicia, reminding her to take the aspirin. Emma put silly thoughts about the night sky out of her mind and, heading inside the empty apartment, tried to ignore the loneliness that threatened to overwhelm her.

                As Mr. Price left the office, Emma spun around and threw her hands on her hips. “So you’re telling me that a multi-millionaire – who no one’s ever even heard of  - has simply ‘decided’ that he wants me as his personal PR rep?” she asked skeptically, her head tilted slightly and her eyebrow raised. “I know there’s quiet money all over the place. But someone who claims to be this wealthy – from a tiny little island known for its sheep and green hills? To not be known at all?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t add up.”
                Her boss shrugged. “There are plenty of eccentric folks out there,” he replied. “And he specifically requested that you be the one to assist him.”
                Emma rolled her eyes. “You mean demanded. But I still don’t get why. I’m not the top publicist here.” At Joshua’s shrug, she sighed. It was well-known that their wealthiest clients wanted what they wanted, and that was that. “So you want me to meet with him tonight, take him to dinner, see what this is all about?”
                Joshua shrugged again, signing something on his desk and barely looking up. “Well, yes. The only other information I have is that he plans to check out the auction.”
                Emma didn’t see how that was important; Christie’s was having a special auction that many of the firm’s clients were attending.  A large collection of pristine, very rare, and very expensive medieval artifacts had been placed for auction by an anonymous source. Her firm – whose clientele ranged from celebrity to American pseudo-royalty – was managing a significant number of clients who wanted to fly in without notice from overseas to view the pieces in person. She was dying to see those artifacts; she loved anything and everything that was medieval. And Irish...she felt a shiver go down her spine at the thought of the accent. She loved the Irish accent –
To distract herself, she asked, “What do we know about him? What does he do?”
                It was Joshua’s turn to laugh. “I have no idea. Probably investments; he was fuzzy on the details. But as Mr. Price just told us, he was crystal clear on the fact that he wanted you as his rep, and instruction once he gets here.”
                Emma didn’t understand why he had focused in on her, but she welcomed the distraction. “Well, I don’t have any Irish clients,” Emma finally capitulated with a small smile, picking up the very slim manila envelope labeled Aidan MacWilliam.
                “You do now.”

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Make it Mean Something!

Never allow yourself to become one of those people who, when they are old, tell you how they missed their chances.
~Claire Ortega

It's this exact sentiment that pushes me into action. I've seen people who are miserable with their lives; sometimes, they'll say it's because they never followed their dreams and sometimes, they don't have (or want to give, or even believe that there is) a reason for their anger.

I don't want to be that way - now, or later. So the question becomes - how do I get from here (happy, but not living my life the way I want to live it) to there (writing the stories in my head, talking with people who have read/like those stories, and master of my own universe)?

I'm working on it. I will update this blog daily with a short thought, maybe an excerpt from one of my books, or a picture that I find inspiring or funny. I will use this blog as a vehicle to jumpstart my day. I will not check my email first thing anymore; I will take five minutes for me (and you!) and start my day on a positive note.

That's the goal - you with me?!