I DID IT!! I DID IT!! I DID IT!!




As of November 29, 2007 at 12:00 a.m. in the freakin' morning...
I have written 50,215 amazing, beautiful words!

Thanks everyone for your tremendous support and encouragement and interest. I feel like I should be holding a really heavy gold-plated award while I write this (I did NaNoWriMo and all I got was this stupid t-shirt), but it's true that I couldn't have done it without all of you, my family and friends...

Especially my husband and my son, who have been amazingly understanding of my need to do this even though it meant they haven't seen me in weeks, and even though I've gotten crankier and crankier as the words got harder and harder to write. During this last week, my son had gotten fond of saying: "Mommy it's okay, you keep working. I'll see you next year." (he's only five and he thinks tomorrow is next year, but it didn't make it any easier to hear!)

And my poor husband has had it the hardest during my absence this month, having to pick up all the slack with the house, flooding basements, an acre's worth of leaves to rake in the yard, birds in the chimney, running all the errands, taking the kid to hockey and swimming and doing homework and tons more...and I love him so much!!!!

To everyone who has had to listen to me ramble on and on and on about this character or that one, or the holes in my manuscript that kept driving me crazy...thankyou--and I'm so sorry. I'll call in a day or two (after I get some sleep) and I won't mention the book at all, I promise. Okay, maybe just to--No, I won't. Not at all. Unless you want to hear about it, but then only if you ask...or I ask you and you say it's okay. :)

I want to also say thankyou to my friends the Vanettes--a group of fabulous, talented writers who have taken me under their wing so to speak in this last year, and who have all shown me so much support and encouragement in the constant development of my writing. Without them, I don't think I would have ever tried this in the first place.

My coworkers have been really supportive too--at least those who know what the hell I was doing this last month. It's kind of funny really (although I may not think so when this new rep of mine is still hangin' round my neck in another year), but since I'm pretty new in the office, not many people know me, or know what I do 'on the side'--so after this month they are all positive that I'm a crazy anti-social madwoman who's probably been playing Halo3 on that laptop in the mornings before work and at lunchtime. :)

Anyway, celebrate with me. I'll be on cloud nine...starting tomorrow. Right now I'm going to bed. :)

You may have noticed that I've been pretty busy, and if you've read this blog before, if you've been unlucky enough to talk to me on the phone, or via email or in a post somewhere else online--basically if you've spoken two words to me in any format at all within the last six weeks--then you already know the reason.

I'm in NaNoWriMo mode. And my god has it been hard!!

When I started this I thought--how bad can this really be? I write every day as it is, so this will just be a few more hundred words on my daily count, right? *snort*

Okay, I was wrong. And it wasn't the first time believe it or not.

The difference is in how you write for Nano. The challenge is not only to get the required wordcount by the end of the month, but also to have a completed novel by then. Which means you have to "keep moving forward" (I'm stealing from Walt Disney here folks).

There's no editing in Nano. There's no going back to fix. There's no layering. There's only crappy, incohesive, incomprehensible writing.

Now, I've learned in the last few days that I can be okay with that. But at about the halfway mark when I saw what was coming out of my brain onto the screen I wanted to cry and scream and go back and erase the whole lot of it. How can I work like this, I thought. I'm very methodical usually, and it was killing me to see all of the glaring holes and problems with the storyline and not have the time to fiddle with it and fix it.

But I realize that after Nano is done, the fixing will come later. That's the whole idea isn't it? To at least get a first draft of something down. To prove that you can take an idea from start to finish (no matter how terrible it is). The fixing can come later, after the rush and exhileration of having actually met that goal fades and you get back to real life.

For anyone who's interested, you're very welcome to visit my page at the NaNoWriMo website to track my progress. So far I'm not doing to badly, but I could use all the support I can get.

http://www.nanowrimo.org/user/208090

See you at the finish line!

It's almost that time my friends, NaNoWriMo will begin in just three more weeks. :)

What is NaNoWriMo? You mean besides a really awkward word to have to spell?

NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. That's right. There's a month set aside for everything now.

November is the month. Writing is the goal. A Novel. In 30 DAYS!

Actually, the goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Technically, in publishing terms, this would be more of a novella than a full length novel, but it doesn't make it any less daunting or intimidating, at least to me, since I've never done this before.

But I've been expanding my horizons these days. No longer do I simply write within the cozy comfortable confines of my own home, to remain secure and safe in ignorance of the real writing world.

I have torn that gauzy veil from my face and sent out query letters and partials of my work to agents and publishers. I have joined a formal writer's group that meets every month, taken a bunch of writing workshops to hone my skills, and I have gotten myself a critique partner who is fabulous, not only as a writer and editor of my work, but as a new friend.

NaNoWriMo is just another of these daring adventures. Because of the short time frame alloted, I'm thankful that the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity.

Quality be damned.

At the same time, this will force me to lower my usually high expectations, to take risks that I wouldn't normally, and write without editing. Honestly, that's going to be the hardest part. I'm that person. The one who will write a page and go over it. Write another page, go over it.

I think I'll be writing a lot of crap.

I'm getting nervous already. Just thinking about it!

I don't even have a story mapped out yet!

There's a niggly little idea floating around in my head, though and I think I'll use the rest of October to flesh it out so that I can draw up a bit of an outline.

It is very intimidating to think that I will commit myself to this challenge. I had to make sure to ask my family first if they were going to be okay with it, since my husband won't have a wife, and my son won't have a mother, for a month. I won't be watching House or Bones or CSI. I won't be going shopping, or attending family functions. I won't be helping to rake all of the leaves that are starting to litter my yard (oh darn!).

I love my family so much. They completely understand and still want me to go for it. I can't believe how supportive they always are.

I will draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other writers will be going through the same thing. The same trials and challenges as they work to write the "Great Frantic Novel" (in the words of the NaNo moderators). There will be support groups for me, people to meet from my area who are taking the challenge as well, and a big celebration at the end.

In 2006, there were apparently over 79,000 participants, with almost 13,000 of them crossing the 50k finish line by the deadline. This year, I plan to be one of them.

Wish me luck!!

Most of the time I’m a million miles away from wherever I am supposed to be, which can become dangerous to my career when I’m on a deadline (just kidding, I can focus when I have to...really) and dangerous to my health if my mother’s been trying to reach me.

Well today I wanted to explain a little bit about why that is. About my passion. Of course, you probably think that passion is chocolate or shopping. Sexy Italian men who do dishes? Writing you say?

Well it’s not. Funny huh?

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing, and the process satisfies me about as much as that bar of chocolate or something else that my sexy Italian man does for me other than the dishes :)

But while my passion comes as part and parcel with the writing process, the real draw is not the formal practise of putting words to paper, but the visceral impact of those words on my life, and the lives of others.

My passion is in the act of creating something that has a voice, a vision, something that will leave a lasting impression.

In exploring this craving, I started long ago by studying a more traditional and obvious medium, and so took paint and brush to canvas, attempting to turn the ultimate intimidating blank white page into something more, something real and alive with feeling and energy. I studied the great masters (whew those coffee table books get heavy), and painted for a lot of years. I do still enjoy pulling out those art supplies on a lazy Saturday afternoon when the house happens to be empty and I have the time and quiet that I need to focus my efforts on it. But painting was something that got less and less practical as my life started to get more and more complex, and while my passion still lived inside of me, raging for a release, I found it less and less satisfying because the process had become very frustrating.

I started writing when I found that I had made one too many excuses not to pull out my paintbrushes. The supplies were either too difficult to clean up afterward, the paint took too long to dry for me to get any quality work done in the time I had allotted per week, or my workspace was too small and dismal, having been stashed away in a corner of the basement. Whatever it was, and I don’t really want to analyze my disenchantment with something that I did once love wholeheartedly, I still needed an outlet for the swirling vortex that was growing and churning inside of my brain.

It turned out that I could take those eddies of colour and crazy dreams and twist them into some semblance of coherent thought (at least I think so, those of you who have read my work may disagree  ).

So whether I’m dreaming in coloured splotches of oil paint, or black printer toner on laser paper, the end result is thankfully the same...for me at least. My reviewers may actually prefer paintings of poppy fields to gripping tales of altered universes.

It's been a super crazy kind of summer, with everything from emergency trips to the hospital for stitches in obscure areas of the body (You don't really want to know, and my husband would kill me, since he's the one with the stitches), to camping trips, weddings, showers, birthdays and BBQs.

Whew.

I have always associated Fall with new beginnings. I know, it sounds pretty backwards when you consider that Springtime is when the long winter gives way to fresh flowers, refreshing rains, and new births throughout all of the animal kingdom. But maybe it has something to do with my childhood, and that first day of school that always brought with it new clothes and a great backpack, a new classroom and the meeting of future great friends.

It has of course been a R E A L L Y long time since I've been a student, even though I like to think that I'm constantly learning and upgrading my skills, but this year I still feel the same, that feeling of newness that September brings. Part of it is because my husband is a teacher, and so he's always going back to school every September after kicking back for the summer. My son is also back at school. This is his second year now, and he's going to Senior Kindergarten--it's way too cute to watch him set aside his clothes the night before, and put his things in his Spiderman backpack.

But also this year, I have a new beginning--no I didn't go back to school. I started a new job. That comes with all of those things that you usually associate with beginnings and change--uncertainty, expectation, and a great big hunk of nerves crystallizing in your belly.

I think the job is going to be good. Training is a bitch, being as it is held at head office, which is a good two hours drive for me, but when I get back to my own office afterward and start to get settled in, I think that I'll enjoy the opportunities that come with a new office, new people, and a different challenge.

So for now, I'm off. I have training to do, and people to meet. Talk soon.

Okay, so Canada didn't do so well in the U20 World Cup this year, but that last game against the Congo was a good one. Even though Canada lost in the end, I think that if the team had played that well against Chile and Austria, they would definitely have won at least one of those games, and bettered their overall chances.

Hubby and I went with some friends to the U.S./Uruguay game on Wednesday this week. Seven of us bundled into a minivan to head into Toronto, and though I'm way past the age where that kind of trip would be comfortable, the convenience of inter-car televisions is definitely a blessing, especially in rush hour traffic on the 401.

This was a great game! You have to visualize the scene. It was our first time at the new National Soccer Stadium in Toronto, the weather was cool but clear, and the energy all around us was palpable. The stadium was sold out, and the stands were packed with fans, not only for U.S.A. and Uruguay, but fans decked out in colours representing all teams: Brazil, Chile, Spain, Mexico, Portugal, and even for teams not represented in these games like Germany, Italy and others, all served to create a cultural rainbow of excitement. Fans all around us stomped their feet and yelled for their favourite players, and the huge big screen was great for watching replays, but it wasn't really necessary, since every seat in the house was a great seat, which allowed everyone to watch all the action.

After the U.S.'s win in overtime, we swarmed out of the stadium with thousands of others, everyone happy and friendly and enjoying the adrenaline from the soccer high. One of our own bore his Brazilian colours proudly and we took pictures with another group of fans decked out in the distinctive colours of yellow and green, then carried our Canadian, Brazilian and Romanian flags down the streets of Toronto to an energetic bar for drinks.

All in all, it was a great night of soccer, laughter and comraderie with friends, and I admit I was way too tired the next day. I should have taken Thursday off of work to stay home and sleep!!

Wow, getting logged on here took up about twenty minutes of my time, and I'd only given myself ten minutes for blogging to begin with!! Oh, the joys of the electronic age :)

Well, now that my nerves are completely shot, I'm not even sure what it is I wanted to say anymore.

There's been so much happening lately that I can't even begin to start. School's almost done now that summer is fast approaching and hubby is busy trying to get exams ready. Our son is starting to wonder why this is "the last week of school". He says he doesn't know everything yet, and it can't be finished. How to tell a 4-year old that he'll go back in a few months, that's going to seem like years to him.

I don't think I mentioned yet that...

I WON!!

My book took first place in the Get the Lead Out 2007 literary competition up in North Bay this past May! It was a lovely weekend conference, full of great advice from guest authors, and wonderful people to meet who are all in the same boat as me--writing, writing, writing.

I've just completed final edits for the book, and it has now been sent out to be reviewed by an agent. So now we play the waiting game and see what happens.

But, enough about history, let's talk about what's really important: SOCCER!!

We enter the time of the year that our family loves best, summertime. The time when the weather is warm, the trees are green, and the soccer is exciting.

This year Canada is hosting the FIFA U20 World Cup Soccer finals in Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa, Edmonton, Burnaby, and Victoria. This is a big deal for players under the age of 20 who will from countries all over the world to compete, and since we're a big soccer family (having 2 out of 3 members playing all summer long), we'll not only be watching the games on TV, but will be lucky enough to get to see a semi-finals game in Toronto in July.

Traditionally, we have been a solid fan of the Italian teams, but alas, Italy will not be represented in these games, and that makes life so much simpler for us this summer, because we will be cheering guilt-free for our homeland, Canada.

The new home to Canada's national teams is the National Soccer Stadium at Exhibition Place, which hosted its first official international on Friday, May 11, and the FIFA U-20 World Cup hosts were only just edged out 2-1 in the dying seconds by Argentina in a pulse-pounding friendly.

This season's crop of Canadian players look tough to break down. Strong players with lots of experience and a strong coach, Canada could surprise many of the more traditional powers with the aid of familiar fields and what are bound to be energetic and boisterous crowds.

So, who else is following the tournament in Canada this year? It doesn't necessarily have the prestige of a Euro Cup or the World Cup to be held in South Africa in 2010, but for us, the benefit of games being held here in Canada is a great draw, and we'll gladly follow them to the very end.

Vive le Canada!!

Here in Canada, the first big sign that summer is almost here comes with the Victoria Day long weekend. Traditionally, it signifies a country-wide sigh of relief that the days of snow to your waist, biting winds and scraping ice of the car windows is past, at least for a few precious months. It is also like a big housewarming party to summer, full of BBQ chicken, sipping beer on the deck and watching the kids splashing in the sprinkler.

This year, I will spend it in at the annual Get the Lead Out Writers Conference. It's my very first writers conference, and while it is bittersweet because I will be away from my family and friends, and without any BBQ at all, I am still very excited.

I've spent the last year working on my first book, tapping away at the computer endlessly to get it done, then editing and polishing it up, working on the synopsis, and finally submitting it to two major literary award competitions, one of them being this Get the Lead Out competition--all in preparation for the real challenge-publishing. It's been a lot of work, so much more than I originally expected, and yet so satisfying at the same time.

I'm not the first to experience the cathartic release of pouring your heart out onto the page, but it really was just that. The experience was also a good part frustration of the tear-your-hair-out-by-the-roots kind, and part learning experience--a very big part. Writing is an art, a craft, a profession, and it takes dedication, perseverance and training.

I think I've got the dedication and perseverance down pat--anyone who can continue to write in between working full time at a busy litigation law firm, raising a four year old, and trying to get in quality time with the hunkiest husband alive, is definitely dedicated.

Ah, but the training, the experience, that's something that doesn't come naturally. Sure, anyone can have the Idea, but for someone like me, without any background, getting the Idea to become reality was the real hard part. I did a lot of reading and research, and then just had to sit down and do it--which I did. The final product was far from perfect, but I went through it again, and again, tweaking it and refining it, adding and taking away, until I was satisfied that it was the best story that I could write.

Having been named a finalist in this competition now feels great, feels like it was all worth it, but the best part is that the people judging my work will be authors themselves, as well as editors, publishers, agents, all in the industry, and all with years of experience that far surpasses my own.

Even if I don't come back home with any awards, I'll take a lot from this experience, most importantly--FEEDBACK. Yes, the judges reading my manuscript will be sending back their own critiques, giving me ideas on how to improve what I've written, and letting me know what they liked. To me, this is going to be an award in itself, the most valuable kind.

So let the long weekend begin. I'm ready--for more than just summer.

I thought, since I have just now finished the excrutiating editing process of finalizing my book, that I would celebrate by sharing a juicy little exceprt with you.

Here it is. This is a point shortly after the two have met, and Rhys is bringing Amy back home:

Rhys walked Amy up the steps of her apartment building, and took note of her name on the mailbox. Apartmnet 2D, Amy Bennett.

She looked at him in the soft lamplight of the building's entrance. God, he really was a beautiful man. Oh, not in any classic sense of the word. He was too large and hard core for that. His shaggy dark hair was still slightly damp, and fell to just past the nape of his neck. His eyes, though they seemed to shimmer strangely like silver in the light, held a softness, a tenderness, that was out of place with his strength and the careful control he held over himself.

She realized then that this evening could have ended a lot differently than with the two of them standing at her front door. He had taken care tonight to see that she wasn't hurt from her insane mad dash into danger, and while she was sure that she had hampered him more than she had helped, he hadn’t lost it on her. If she determined nothing else from the events of this evening, she was confident in concluding that he would never have hurt her.

"Thanks for bringing me home."

"No problem," Rhys replied. He seemed to want to say something more, but didn't.

Amy stared at his mouth, wondering if he would kiss her again. She really wanted him to kiss her again. Deciding this was her night to flirt with danger, she didn’t wait for it, and instead went up on her toes, and smoothed her lips over his.

Jeez, he was so tall, he should be playing for the NBA.

Amy pressed her mouth against him lightly, cautiously, then gasped as he groaned and wrapped his arms around her. He deepened her soft kiss into something more, something carnal and hot, and she tumbled into it, lost in her growing desire.

Her arms clutching him, Rhys backed Amy up until she was pressed against the wall of the building. Amy reveled in the feeling of the sharp stone at her back, and his smooth, hard strength pressing into her from the front. One muscled thigh moved between her legs, pressed up against her, and she gasped as her insides melted in response. His lips were traveling down the smooth column of her neck, along her jaw, licking the sensitive spot at the base of her shoulder blade, while his hand moved to cup one breast, kneading and shaping it to fit his palm, the other tangling itself in her hair, which tumbled loosely over her shoulders.

Rhys was on fire. He had never felt this before, this all-consuming need. He wanted Amy with a desperation that was overriding all the good intentions that he had started out with, wanted to take her as hard and as deep as he possibly could. He had never let his body rule him that way. But right now, he wanted--he needed--to imprint himself on her body, mark her, dominate her. He wanted to possess her and protect her at the same time, to hold himself inside her for an eternity.

It didn’t help his self-control to know that she was just as hot for him. Her raspy little moans and the scent of her excitement beckoned to him like a siren’s summons. It would take nothing for Rhys to overcome her lingering inhibitions, convince her to take him into her bed, and once there, he wouldn't let her out of it again for days.

In fact, what better way to keep an eye on her. He could keep her constantly at his side, and perhaps gain some insight into the source of his dreams.

Whoa, he thought. Constant proximity for women always meant closeness and sharing. No way did he want that complication. He had a job to do that Amy could never understand, and a life that she could never be part of...a dangerous fucked-up life at that. He wouldn’t allow any human to become a part of that, especially not Amy, no matter how much he was drawn to her serene strength and frank humour. She would compromise his very existence if he allowed himself to be distracted by those expressive eyes and lush body.

It would be better for them both if he simply let her retreat into her apartment alone. She would never see him again, and he would move into the future as a whisper of nothingness, a ghost, as he had always been to humans.

But first, he wanted to commit the taste of her to memory.

I feel like I've been running a 10k marathon, and so far I'm not sure whether I'm ahead or behind.

But last night was one of those banner moments, one of those moments you remember for the rest of your life--because I finished the synopsis for my book!

Huh, you're not impressed? I'm ecstatic. I feel like I just passed the last leg of the marathon, now I'm into my seventh km, and the home stretch is upon me.

I can remember the agony of starting the book. When you first set your cushy running shoes on that path and push forward. It's hard going, but then you get into a bit of a zone, and the pavement starts zooming by. Until you get a stitch in your side, or in this case, WRITER'S BLOCK. Oh, the horror of writer's block. It might take a while, and you may have to sit out of the race for a few moments to catch your breath, but then you can start moving again, and that is a good feeling too, knowing that you've conquered the block.

When the book was actually written, I had a glass of wine that day. But oddly enough, despite feeling a little bit of a glow, I wasn't jumping up and down ecstatic. Perhaps it was because I knew that I had only reached the half-way point in my trek. Getting the book ready for publishing was going to take a lot more time, and I'd be huffing and puffing pretty hard by the end of it.

Now that editing is well on its way, I had diverted my attention to the matter of publishing materials. If a person wants to send a manuscript to a publisher for review, there are a lot of RULES. I couldn't believe all the rules. You need to query first, which means you send a short letter of introduction. And depending on the publishing company, they will either respond to request a synopsis of your book, along with a copy of the first few chapters, or they will not. Sometimes, a publisher wants the chapters with your query, sometimes they want a synopsis that is five pages, sometimes eight. Then of course, some won't even look at your query unless it is submitted by an agent.

Oh My God, I thought. How do I get an agent?

We'll just leave that one alone for now.

But finally, the query letters are written, the synopsis is drafted, and this is when I start doing the football happy dance--oh wait, my analogy was running, right? Oh well, never mind.

I am reminded today of relationships...past, future, lasting and fleeting.

I have had occasion recently to reconnect with a number of old friends from high school--eeek. The horrors of remembering a time when I wore faded blue jeans that came up to my shin, bright neon colours, and, if I happened to have actually attended school that day...a uniform. (I know!!)

But more than that, I remember laughter, drama, friendships that seemed they would last forever, life that was glowing and fresh, and a sense of future, of purpose that was wide open and infinite with possibility. It's funny how it all seemed so common and everyday back then, while now I look on it with a profound sense of wonder. Wonder that I was ever so young, that I had so many dreams. Wonder that I ever looked that bad, and wonder that I even made it out alive.

Some of those friends are still with me today. Others, as I mentioned, I have had a chance to reconnect with, and I enjoy learning about their lives and families. I am amazed to find so many people doing exactly what they wanted to do back when we were young and foolish, and others who have gone so far above and beyond their own wildest dreams. Either way, it's always good to see that they're having fun, and living life to the fullest.

I think about how my own goals have changed since I was young. I used to write as if my soul were pouring out on the paper. Poetry, stories, anything to put words down. I have come to determine that the creativity flows best and easiest when you're young. But then I remember wanting to be a doctor, a lawyer, or something equally glamorous. I think that was mainly a result of watching too much tv, though. When I finally made it through high school, and went on to university, and then to college, my goals changed again. And again...and again. Until I was back to the same place I had started--with a love of writing, and trying to see where it would take me.

I think our first loves are often our best. We can't always get that feeling back after it's drifted away, and in most cases, it's best that way. But sometimes our younger selves can teachour older selves a few things. About how to appreciate friendships, follow dreams, and enjoy life.

Let's talk character development today ladies and gents. Why you ask? Because I want to, and it's my blog. :)

But really, it's kind of been on my mind, mostly because, now that I've effectively moved onto my second WIP, with the first book being all but done, I'm very surprised at how very different the characters are in this new book. Granted, the stories are very different as well. Originally, I had thought that, after finishing my first book, I would continue to write paranormals, but I was stunned to find that the next characters to clamour for attention, wanted a story that wasn't like that at all.

Book 1 (we'll call it that for now, since for some reason, it hasn't quite "found" its name yet), is a dark paranormal, complete with immortal warriors charged with the responsibility of protecting mankind from hell's most evil demons. Needless to say, these were some pretty tough and dangerous characters, and we're just talking about the heroes. The main character, Julian, is a 900 year-old soldier in this epic war, and has his own deep emotional scars to prove it. When he meets Amy, the heroine, he finds her fascinating, not only because she's brave (maybe stupidly so), but also because she is like a vibrant burst of sparkling colour in his otherwise dark existence. He fights his powerful attraction to her, but cannot completely put her from his mind, partly because he keeps dreaming that she is in danger, and his dreams have a bad habit of coming true.

Book 2 (and at this point it's being called "Lost", for a number of reasons), is a contemporary romantic tale with a hint of mystery thrown in for good measure. The characters meet and at first are more annoyed with each other than anything else. There are no supernatural forces bringing them together, but a mutual attraction has them eager to explore the possibilities. The hero, Max, is a former cop who now owns a rustic mountain lodge in the volcanic mountains of Oregon. The heroine, Cam, is a writer (fancy that), who has come to town as part of her book tour.

For me, the interesting part of writing Book 1 was bringing characters together who are from extremely different worlds, and who will fight their attraction to each other from the word "go". Even so, for both Julian and Amy, their past becomes the biggest obstacle between them and their happy ever after.

In Lost, Max and Cam aren't drowning in the horrors and guilt of past events. They are both strong, independent people, who weren't necessarily looking for each other, but aren't afraid of being together. But how does love blossom when these two become embroiled in intrigue and murder?

So there you go. Two books. Two couples, and author who is pretty surprised at the turn of events.

Well, I guess you can tell that I haven't been around here much recently. I mean, the last blog was from August or some such nonsense.

Sorry about that.

I can tell you that the passage of time has been both good and...not so good.

We had a number of unfortunate deaths in our family this year, and I miss them all very much. But we also celebrated birthdays, weddings, Christmas, and all those fattening-type holidays, and enjoyed every minute of it all. My sister is now a happy married lady with a little baby on the way, and everyone is looking forward to when he arrives and we find out that the doctor was wrong to tell her it was a girl...just kidding. They don't tell you those kinds of things unless they're sure--right?

Derek started junior kindergarten in the Fall. He loves it so much, and I couldn't be prouder of how well he's doing, how many friends he's made, and how quickly that comment "nothing" starts coming out of his mouth already when I ask him what he did on any particular day.

For those of you who were aware of the fact that I was writing my first novel...ta da!! It's done, finis, and now we enter the dreaded editing phase. Actually, this part I like. It's the time when I get to re-read the book with a lighter frame of mind, not so worried about dreaming up plot strategies. I just get to fine tune minor inconsistencies and enjoy the actual story-imagine that.

The new book is well underway. The first one was more of a "pantser" exercise, meaning I wrote by the seat of my well-worn oversized sweats. But this time I'm trying to be a little bit more methodical, and I've actually got an outline!

Hopefully, I'll make it back here soon. Love