How did it get to be July already?

Geesh. It seems there is some warp of the space-time continuum in the summer. The days fly by so much faster than they do during the school year. Wasn’t graduation just a week or so ago?

Actually, I believe the blame lies mostly in my age. Time slips by so fast now compared to when I was younger. I’m constantly amazed at finding my children — my very grown up children — doing things it seems I was doing just yesterday. Like being in college and getting married. When did I get old enough to have a daughter and son-in-law who just passed their first wedding anniversary? I don’t even want to think about how surreal it will be when they make me a — gasp! — grandmother.

Last week the Old Man and I celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Twenty five years. Seriously. A quarter century. But what seems so odd is that I can vividly remember it being just yesterday that I was the bride. And I remember that first positive pregnancy test. And two in diapers at the same time. And day care. And soccer every Saturday morning. And… Well, you get the picture. Perhaps that space-time continuum warp applies to more than just the summer.

I promised the Old Man I wouldn’t write anything mushy and sentimental about our anniversary. We played the day very low key, which should surprise absolutely no one. The kids both called. We received a couple of cards in the mail. We went out for some really good Italian food that we both ate far too much of. The whole evening was so… us.

I jokingly call Jeff my own “romance hero” on my website biography page. Anyone who knows us has to chuckle at that. Jeff isn’t romantic. In fact, Jeff is so far removed from romantic, he’s the antithesis. And you know what? I couldn’t care less. This man has stood by my side through so much. When we took our vows in 1983, we had no idea that we would get the worse of “for better or worse,” the poorer of “for richer or poorer,” and the sickness of “in sickness and in health.” I’m not complaining, mind you. Just sayin’. But you know what the marvelous part of our marriage has been? Going through all we’ve been through has made us stronger, and there’s never been a time I reached for his hand and it wasn’t there.

Okay, so I did get a bit mushy and sentimental after all. I suppose it’s the romance writer in me. I could really have tried to tug those heartstrings, but I’ll refrain for the time being. Maybe on our fiftieth. I do have to wonder how fast the next twenty-five years — God willing — will go by.

Even if the time flies by, I’ll still try to enjoy every speedy minute.

Despite what my family will tell you, I don’t have obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Okay, so I will admit this much… I’m Type A. I’m ultra-organized. I like things around me to be neat. If I have something important to do, I have to get it done before I can relax. If I’m not busy, I’ll find something to do. If you’re telling me a story and you don’t get to the point quickly, I’ll start trying to finish it for you. (One of my least endearing traits…) And I take on so many things, some days I feel like a circus juggler. Type A to the very last detail, but not genuinely OCD. At least I didn’t think so until this summer.

For some reason, I find myself drifting to my email just to see what’s come in. Usually nothing. Unless you count the offers to increase a certain part of the human anatomy I simply don’t possess. They evidently can sell me prescription drugs at low prices too. But mostly, my email is nonexistent.

I often wonder what it was like for writers in the past — before the miracle of email and file sharing. Did they sit and stare at their mailbox the same way I hover over my cyber mailbox? Did they make repeated trips to the post office to drop off their precious partials with a kiss and a prayer? Did they know the Kinko’s salesman by his first name? Damn, but between the postage and the printing, it had to be expensive to get noticed.

The explosion of computers has changed the world for writers, not just on the obvious level of using word processing. That, in and of itself, is a true miracle in my book. But it’s changed publishing too. I’m amazed how many agents are “green” now — only taking queries through email. Now that the post office has made it next to impossible to send manuscripts without a DNA sample, a thumbprint, and a scan of your retina, it shouldn’t be surprising. I imagine it’s just as wonderful for agents and editors as it is for writers. No lugging around piles of partials. No worrying about losing pages. A handy laptop or PDA, and you’re connected to anyone you’d ever want to talk to and can pull up any number of files to read.

On the other hand, there’s something to be said about being too connected, especially for people like me. We tend to have trouble simply turning the silly computer off. But I suppose my Type A personality plays well into this new technologically rich world. I just need to learn when to walk away and let the mailbox alone.

Besides, if I was going to have OCD, it would have to be called CDO so it was in alphabetical order.

What should I write next?

I’m a “shape shifter.” Not literally, although that would be really nifty. I have never settled into writing one type of romance. Contemporary. Historical. Paranormal. I’ve written them all. Of course, it’s not like I ever expected to write more than one book. Shoot, I sometimes still have trouble believing I actually finished one, let alone eight. (But remember, two don’t count. They’re going to be rewritten.) It never dawned on me I should find a tack and stick with it because of the way the stories evolved.

A Twist of Fate was written about a married couple because I was fed up with reading stories where the marriage was the end of the romance. Poo on that. I rebelled by writing a story about a time traveling married couple — James and Susan Williams.

When I finished the first book, I had a character who was “left behind” by the heroine. He was so sweet, so kind, and so wonderful, I couldn’t let him be all alone. Because the first story was a time travel, well, I had to write the second as an historical to accommodate that character. His name is Daniel Miller, and in the course of writing the second story, I worked out this cool family tree and somehow decided Daniel was going to be the patriarch of a very active family. Now, with the exception of the Amazon series, there’s usually a Miller involved in the story. All of my stories can stand alone, but there are common characters that tie all the stories together.

The third story I wrote was Murphy’s Law. It came from someone telling me that if I was going to write a book, I should write A Dummy’s Guide to Harness Racing. Well, why not introduce people to the sport through a good story instead? So I figured the main character had to start from scratch, and I started asking questions. Why would someone come to racing later in life? What would make him stick it out through the hard learning process? And Seth Remington and his forced time working for Katie Murphy were born. My readers learn about racing from Katie as she teaches Seth. (James and Susan Williams from the first book make a brief appearance.) But there was a problem I hadn’t anticipated. Another really cool character, Ross Kennedy, was left high and dry with no love interest. I couldn’t let that happen! So Ross got his own story and the girl — Laurie Miller. Hence, Free Falling was my next story.

Faith of the Heart came from sitting in a Christmas Eve mass, staring at a crucifix, and just… thinking. Thinking always gets me in loads of trouble. An idea popped in my head. What if your faith alone could save you — even from illness? So Sarah Reid was born, struck by lightning, and given the ability to heal people. Laurie Miller suddenly got a cousin named Joshua who was a reporter and wanted to expose the “phony” healer.

Somewhere in the middle of all these stories, I did something unusual. Most of my stories have to evolve through several chapters before I find the title and finally “feel” the whole plot. It has always been story, then title. Until I thought of this great title — Turning Thirty-Twelve. Then I wrote a romance around it, beginning with a short diatribe about being forty-something, which I happen to be. It also is the only first-person perspective I’ve ever used. As I said, I’m a shapeshifter.

My mentor said I should write more about horse racing, so I went back to the track. But I was also thinking about the Iraq war and my former students serving there. Lucas Mitchell was born, and I tried to show my readers all about these soldiers through Lucas’s eyes. His love interest is dear to my heart because she’s Hungarian, and through Jozsa Kovachs, I got to explore my own Hungarian roots as I wrote All the Right Reasons.

Why did I take a paranormal tangent? I blame my son. If I need a new book idea, all I have to do is take him to a movie. But we have to go early. Before the previews, we toss around ideas. (I’m sure people around us think we are talking about the oddest people.) By the time the movie begins, we’ve got main characters and a rough plot. When we went to see the last Harry Potter movie, I asked him what kind of paranormal we could write where the women were the heroes. Voila. We created the Amazons.

Currently, I’m finishing up the second in the Amazon series — and books three and four are buzzing in my brain. I had a good idea for a romantic suspense. And Jozsa’s brother was another yummy guy left all alone. There’s always the rewrites of the first two stories.

So many ideas, and so little time.

We had a little rain in Johnson County yesterday.

Looking down our driveway. (Click on the thumbnail photos to enlarge them.)

Looking at our house from across the street.

The neighborhood retention lake. Can you see the underwater bench in the top right of the picture?

Same location facing toward the east.

Apryl Drive looking north at my high school.

Apryl Drive looking east. See the fence on the left that’s half way underwater?

What a mess! I used to joke that if Greenwood was flooded, we should start building an ark. I guess I better head to Home Depot.

If you’ll forgive the Alice Cooper quote, “School’s out for summer.”

Time. I finally have time. Time to go to the grocery without squeezing it in between work and going to the track. Time to paint that bathroom. Time to clean out that closet. Time to get those carpets cleaned. Time to wax that kitchen floor.

Time to write.

Did you catch the pattern there? Type A personalities can never just relax. Time is a challenge — a void that must be filled. And like most Type A’s, I intend to fill it well. Not only with family projects but with new stories.

Right now, I’m splitting my time between two manuscripts — The Impetuous Amazon and A Twist of Fate. The Amazon sequel is probably my favorite story. I love the hero. I love the heroine. And I’ve thought up lots of twists and turns that I hope will keep the reader guessing. The third Amazon is whispering to me as well. I imagine I’ll give The Guardian Amazon a good start soon.

So my summer is here, and I plan to make the most of it. At least in between errands, walking Dr. Carter, and catching an occasional afternoon nap. Having lupus is hard — physically and emotionally. If I had another career, I’m not sure I could function on a year-round basis. Teaching offers me the luxury of having the summers to regain my health. For that, I am truly blessed.

And of course, there is San Francisco to look forward to the end of July. I had a blast at last year’s RWA National Conference. I hope this year is as wonderful.

To end on another Alice quote, “No more pencils. No more books. No more teacher’s dirty looks.”

I finished my eighth book this week.

Okay, so two of them don’t “count.” I trashed my first story and am rewriting it from scratch. And the second is an historical… Out of my usual realm and entirely in need of a rewrite. But even then, I feel like I’ve accomplished something major in the two and a half years I’ve been writing.

This story took a path so different from all my others. Normally, when a story seizes control of my mind, I plug away until it’s on paper. Start to finish for most of my books is somewhere from six to nine months. (I believe I made an analogy in earlier posts of “giving birth” to stories.) Faith of the Heart took a different tack.

I started the story in my mind during Christmas Eve mass in 2006. I get ideas at the oddest times. I wrote the prologue on the way to visit my in-laws on Christmas Day. But then I got sidetracked. Seems like that was a common pattern with this story — as is the pattern with our faith in general. Perhaps the title was prophetic. I finished All the Right Reasons and Turning Thirty-Twelve. Those stories were older, and in my extraordinarily orderly (some call it obsessive-compulsive) mind, I like to finish stories in the order they’re created. So Faith waited patiently, coming out a scene at a time, jotted down in my typical green pen on the backs of racing forms or scrap paper. One of the best scenes was written as I waited to catch the plane to Dallas for RWA nationals last summer.

Then the Amazon series was born. My Critters encouraged me to finish The Reluctant Amazon for the Golden Heart contest. Faith was again put on the back burner. I finished the first Amazon book then started the second. Add a fantastic new on-line critique partner and total edits of the Murphy’s Law trilogy, and my poor Faith ended up ignored. Until I decided to send it in to two contests. And it finaled in both, and then it won the Winter Rose.

The story finally got its due, and it currently sits in the hands of my favorite beta reader. (Thanks, Kylie!) My mother — always one of the first people to read my work — thinks it is one of my best. God love her, she always makes me feel good about my writing. But the odyssey ends for this story, and I’m very pleased with the results.

What’s next? The Amazon series. And rewriting the first book. And one of the characters from All the Right Reasons keeps whispering in my ear.

Life is good right now.

Well, how about that!

I just received a call from the Winter Rose contest coordinator. Faith of the Heart won the Series Contemporary category. What a nice surprise!

I think I mentioned before that the Winter Rose was the first contest I entered. There was a mix up over scores, and I was notified I finaled when I didn’t. The coordinator was very nice about it and invited me to enter free this year to make up for the mistake. I was pretty much done contesting, but I figured — free. Might as well. So I sent in Faith of the Heart.

I’ve only entered that story in two contests. It finaled in both. I’m within about a chapter of finishing it. Now, I have plenty of motivation to do so. It really is a sweet story about an honest-to-God faith healer and an investigative reporter. My number one beta reader (love you, Mom) thinks it’s my best story yet. Of course, she’s not prejudiced or anything. I’ll write up a quick blurb about the story and get it added to my “Current Projects” page soon. Probably when the book is done.

With the exceptions of Golden Heart and PASIC’s Book of Your Heart, I am done contesting. (I can hear my Critters snorting laughs from the other three sides of Indianapolis.) Honest. Cross my heart. Just Golden Heart and BOYH. No more. Really.

But what a way to retire!

Today is Mothers Day.

I am so lucky to be associated with some absolutely amazing women. Most especially, I am blessed to know my mother, my mother-in-law, and my sister. These women set the standard for what a good mother should be. Smart. Supportive. Loving. And tough as nails when they need to be. I only hope I can emulate them.

So, to Joy, Janet, and Susan from the bottom of my heart — Happy Mothers Day!

I love May.

Spring has always been my favorite season, albeit I have suddenly developed a pollen allergy. Isn’t Zyrtec a wonderful product? I love the renewal of nature. I love the moderate temperatures. I love the fresh smells of cut grass and flowers.

Right now my neighborhood is a symphony of pink and green. My street is lined with crab apple and ash trees, both of which are blossoming. The crab apples are full of pink flowers. They only last a few weeks tops, so I try to walk by them every day, inhaling their fragrance and marveling at the color. The petals stick to my shoes and Dr. Carter’s fur. He’s not nearly as enamored of them as I am. But my little corner of the world is beautiful.

May also means graduation. That is bittersweet for me. I love my students. (Well, most of them.) And though I know they’re moving on to life, it’s always hard for me to let them go.

Teaching isn’t a popularity contest. I always tell the kids I don’t care if they like me so long as they learn. But when the time comes for them to ask a teacher to hand them their diplomas, I am always tickled by the kids who ask me. They make me feel valuable, like I’ve impacted their futures. It’s heart warming.

This year, I should be handing out twenty diplomas as I sniff back tears, whisper how proud I am of them, and hug each one. I’ll make the rounds of open houses, eat way too much cake, and settle down for a summer I hope includes finishing the three manuscripts I’m juggling.

Yes, I love May.

Golden Heart scores were sent to entrants this week.

All of my writing loops are full of posts lamenting the inconsistency in Golden Heart scores. That doesn’t surprise me because judging writing is so subjective. Some judges don’t appreciate a strong voice or an inventive storyline. Some cannot stomach first person or don’t like POV shifts, etc… And to be perfectly frank, some judges feel the pinch of jealousy when reading work that might be stronger than their own. Several writers are licking their wounds and grumbling about the nature of judging in the contest. I suppose I could gripe as well. After all, I didn’t final. But I choose to take another tack.

Let me preface this by saying the only scores I have received are for Murphy’s Law, and I might well still be entirely peeved by the scores I get for The Reluctant Amazon. But for now, I am taking the glass half full mind set. It’s better for my blood pressure.

Murphy’s Law fared much better than I expected, considering the beginning is highlighting a hero much in need of salvation. While he’s not a villain by any stretch, he is a bit of a spoiled and conceited ass. In contests, the story has done very well, hitting the finals most of the times I entered it. The times it didn’t final were almost always because the judge didn’t like Seth. As I’ve mentioned in other posts, the story starts with a quote about redemption so the reader/judge knows the story arc will include “saving” Seth Remington.

Needless to say, I expected the same sort of judging in Golden Heart. I was surprised. I received a perfect score from one judge and most of the rest were very high. I was well above the cut-off for the top quarter, and I imagine the number put me much closer to finaling than I had anticipated. So I am content. And at this point, I don’t intend to enter the Golden Heart again.

Hopefully because I will be eligible for the Rita instead.