Hi!
I'm still working on #2, Visions of Mortality. It's been a bit of a struggle...I have been unable to decide who's telling the story, Shelby or Larita. I've now decided that VOM will be told from Larita's point of view. So, I had to change everything. What a drag, but now that's done and I can continue.
Most writers recommend that you keep writing and not edit till you're finished with the narrative but, unfortunately for me, I have a real problem doing that. I always edit during writing. I can't seem to stop myself from going back and changing things on the fly. Oh well. On with the show!
Growing up in Alaska: Recipes, Memories, and Letters From My Life in The Last Frontier.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
First Novel Wins International Award!
I am thrilled to announce that my
first book, a novel entitled Visions of You, has won an award at the
2013 Paris Book Festival!
When I opened my email and saw the
winner’s list announcement, I thought, “Eh, why even bother to look? I’m sure my name isn’t listed.”
Well, I couldn’t stand it so I
looked anyway. My next thought was,
“Holy crap!” There it was - number five
on the honorable mentions list in the young adult category. This may not seem like a big deal to some, but ask any writer and he/she will tell you, it's a big deal!
Thank you to the Paris Book
Festival for the nod of approval, it
inspires me to keep going and a huge thank you to my sisters, mom, and
the friends who read my first drafts and encouraged me to keep writing. I love you guys!
Monday, April 8, 2013
Spring!?
Well, I think...I hope spring has sprung, at least here in north
The croci (I looked it up and croci is a proper plural, plus it’s cuter than crocuses) are blooming and groups of yellow daffodils are blazing around town like spots of earthbound sunshine. The trees are just beginning to leaf out. I love the way they’re bare one day then a day or two later fresh new leaves suddenly pop out.
Maybe I’m weird (my family would probably agree), but spring makes me think of fresh laundry hanging outside in the warm sunshine, flapping gently in a warm summer breeze.
When I was a kid growing up in
One of the first things I asked my husband for after we moved here was a clothesline. He may have thought I was crazy, but he made one for me.
I love the excuse to be in the great outdoors, but I think the real reason I like to hang my laundry outside is because not only does the fresh, sweet smell and the crisp feel of sun-and-breeze-dried fabric remind me of summer and my childhood, to me they represent the comforts of home and the importance of family.
Friday, January 4, 2013
How to Train a Man to Train a Dog (Among Other Things)
“Raaar, rraaaRr, woof, arf, arf,
RAARRF!”
“Good Lord! What the...”
I jerk the earbuds out of my ears interrupting a rollicking Bob Marley
song.
It’s 9:00 A.M. and I’m huffing and
puffing and sweating my way through a workout on my elliptical and jamming to
my favorite tunes when, through my supposedly sound-deadening (and expensive)
earbuds, I’m yanked back to reality by the shrill sounds of our eleven-year-old
Cattle Dog, Sydney, scrabbling down the hallway, through the workout room and
screeching to a halt by the door to the garage with our other dog, a
two-year-old Chihuahua named Pippin, hot on her heels and just as earsplitting.
My husband ambles down the hall
after them and strolls to the door to let them out. He’s muttering, “Be quiet you two. Pippin shut up. Quiet Sydney .”
I can scarcely hear his voice above
the din of the dogs and (as usual) our sweet, spoiled pooches are paying no
attention whatsoever to their dad.
“Quiet!” I bellow.
Immediate silence. For a minute.
Three pairs of eyes, two brown, one
blue, focus on my sweaty face.
“Why is it so hard for you to
control these dogs?” I ask for the billionth time while glaring into the blue
eyes belonging to my husband. “Is it
really that hard?”
This is, of course, a rhetorical
question, which he doesn’t even attempt to answer while opening the door and
releasing them, screeching again, into the garage. He glares at me and closes the door, which
really doesn’t help much. It sounds like
Baskerville Hounds are slavering on the other side.
“Why are they so obnoxious for you
and so not for me?”
“Well...” he begins squaring his
shoulders in preparation for the lecture he knows is forthcoming. After all, it’s not like he hasn’t heard it
before.
I interrupt in my best “teacher
voice”, “All you have to do is make them sit and be quiet before you let them
out. I’ve told you that at least...”
“A million times,” he finishes for
me as he opens the door and steps into the lair of the hellhounds. The noise volume rises painfully and then mutes
a bit again as he slams the door behind him.
“Well,” I sniff, a little peeved
now. Climbing off the elliptical, I must set him straight. Really, I
do know better. He won’t listen and
we’ll end up in a fight. But, I can’t
stop myself. After all, I’ve watched
Victoria Stillwell enough times to be the resident dog training expert and I
just want to help.
After eighteen years, you’d think I
would’ve learned, but I think maybe if I tell him just one more time...
“You know,” I begin, stepping
through the door and raising my voice to be heard over the doggy din, “if you’d
keep the door closed until they’re quiet and then tell them they’re good before
you open it, they’d learn that if they bark, you won’t let them out.”
“The door is closed,” he replies.
“What?”
“It’s closed.”
I’ve lost all semblance of patience
by now, so I holler louder, “Don’t be so obtuse, I know it is now, I mean
before you let them out.”
“Why don’t you just tell me how to
live?” He shouts back.
“What do you mean by that, why
can’t you ever just listen?”
“Because you think I don’t do
anything right.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“SHUT UP!” We yell in unison at the dogs. They fall silent and look at us, shiny gold
haloes hovering above their pointed ears.
“Pippin started it,” he says,
placing himself on the level of a five-year-old.
“Nuh-uhn, Sydney always starts it, and she’s getting
worse.” I’m now four years old complete
with hands-on-hips. I might as well
stick my tongue out too.
“Well, your dog taught Sydney .”
“What?”
“Tango taught Sydney to bark...”
“Tango’s been gone for nine years. What’s she got to do with anything?” I
sputter.
“Sydney learned it from her...”
“All Cattle Dogs bark.”
“Well, she’s quiet now.”
“What?"
Indeed she was. In fact both dogs were now lying quietly on
the floor, watching us and waiting for us to be quiet so they could go outside.
“See,” he grins, “I know how to
train a dog.”
“You’re such a boob,” I try to remain stern,
but can’t help smiling too.
“Good dogs.”
Wagging their innocent tails, they run
to the outside door.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Happy New Year!
Hi All,
Happy New Year!
I know, I know, it's been awhile...again! I've been working at my paying job a lot (too much) and trying to fit in writing time and have (again) been remiss in keeping up with my blog. Please don't give up on me.
I'm still working on my two novels, "Visions of Mortality" and "Eight Degrees" as well as working at the hospital and taking an online class, "Writing for Children". Am I stretching myself too thin? NAH! I just need to prioritize, which I'm actually pretty good at...with the exception of this blog! With your patience and my persistence, I can do it.
The other day I was explaining to my husband that training a dog (as with most other things in life) is a matter of patience and persistence. This occurred while our 11 year old Australian Cattle dog was raising an earsplitting ruckus, barking and tearing down the hallway in an attempt to go somewhere...anywhere, and hubby was letting her (for the millionth time) get away with being an out-of-control cattle dog. If any of you have ever had one, you know of what I speak. They're one of the best, most loyal, smartest pooches ever bred, but by golly, they can be a handful! Anyway, I said to him, "You know it would be nice if someone could come up with a way to train a man to train a dog," which will be posted tomorrow.
I hope you will read and enjoy. If you do, please tell your friends.
Thank you for sticking with me.
Enjoy reading! :~)
C.Y.B.
Happy New Year!
I know, I know, it's been awhile...again! I've been working at my paying job a lot (too much) and trying to fit in writing time and have (again) been remiss in keeping up with my blog. Please don't give up on me.
I'm still working on my two novels, "Visions of Mortality" and "Eight Degrees" as well as working at the hospital and taking an online class, "Writing for Children". Am I stretching myself too thin? NAH! I just need to prioritize, which I'm actually pretty good at...with the exception of this blog! With your patience and my persistence, I can do it.
The other day I was explaining to my husband that training a dog (as with most other things in life) is a matter of patience and persistence. This occurred while our 11 year old Australian Cattle dog was raising an earsplitting ruckus, barking and tearing down the hallway in an attempt to go somewhere...anywhere, and hubby was letting her (for the millionth time) get away with being an out-of-control cattle dog. If any of you have ever had one, you know of what I speak. They're one of the best, most loyal, smartest pooches ever bred, but by golly, they can be a handful! Anyway, I said to him, "You know it would be nice if someone could come up with a way to train a man to train a dog," which will be posted tomorrow.
I hope you will read and enjoy. If you do, please tell your friends.
Thank you for sticking with me.
Enjoy reading! :~)
C.Y.B.
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