Pennwriters board of directors, of which I’ve been a member for more years than I care to count, holds three meetings a year. In February, we have a teleconference meeting. In May we have a short evening meeting the Thursday before our annual conference. And in October, we have the big mega meeting that lasts all day, and during which, we hammer out the bulk of the year’s business. That meeting was this past Saturday in DuBois , PA. This is a new location for us, and frankly, it was a huge improvement. In past years, we met at a “rustic” motel that shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent. I liked their meeting room and the food, but the guest rooms? No internet. No heat. No hot water. Seriously. Cold showers. It could be that the guest rooms were on a hillside above the restaurant and meeting rooms, and the hot water tank was down there and the hot water just never made it up the hill. And it could be that they hadn’t turned the heat on for the season yet. But I froze!...

I've been tearing apart and reconstructing my first three chapters for more than a month now and I'm feeling dizzy. At some point a writer loses focus. I'm there. I don't know if I'm improving the darned thing or just babbling different words and making it all sound like crap. Excuse my French. So this morning, I packed it up and sent it off to my favorite critique partner, Donnell Bell , whose debut novel The Past Came Hunting will be released in less than a month. (I've read it. It's fabulous. Put it on your must buy list.) Anyhow, Donnell will be able to tell me where I've gone astray. While I'm waiting to hear back from her, I've been thinking about how blessed I am. My life is full of wonderful, supportive friends who also happen to be published (or soon-to-be-published) authors. Nancy Martin , for one. She led that awesome boot camp I recently completed. And she continues to email me, nagging and heckling me to get to work. (I will...

I write a column for a local online network about local people, places, and events. This time I've selected to write about my friends and neighbors (out here in the country, you can live a couple of miles away and still be neighbors) who own a farm market. This is just one of the photos I snapped. Now I need to get busy and write the column. It was due last weekend.

I’m a hermit by nature. Have been since I was little. Being a hermit comes in handy when you’re a writer. However, I have been anywhere and everywhere OTHER than my cave recently. I’ve been to Avon and direct selling seminars. (For anyone who isn’t aware of my relatively new “day job,” I’m now an Avon Independent Sales Rep. Click here to see my online Avon store.) I’ve been visiting friends and family I hadn’t seen all winter. I’ve been attending Pennwriters meetings and teaching yoga. In other words, I’ve been a social butterfly. This is not conducive to writing. However, yesterday, I took a mini road trip. I drove about two and a half hours north and east to meet up with my friend Paula, who drove about two and a half hours west to meet me. We did this all to have lunch at Perkins. I’m kidding. I wouldn’t drive that far to have lunch at a five-star restaurant. But I would (and did) drive that far to see a good friend. Of course, both of us being writers, we need “an excuse” to come ...

Saturday, I escaped from the bathroom remodel project after lunch, picked up my friend Sara, and headed for Mountaineer Racetrack for West Virginia Derby Day. Sara and I are kindred horse-crazy spirits, but she had never been to a Thoroughbred race before and I was looking forward to showing her around that world. You can read her tale of the day here . The weather was gorgeous, Jessi was able to score a barn pass for Sara, and Kentucky Derby winner Mine That Bird was running in the West Virginia Derby. Sara and I arrived before Jessi and waited for her in her barn. Her horses kept us entertained. This one expressed its opinion to Sara. And this one was not cooperative about sharing a Kodak moment with me. This was as good as it got. Once Jessi arrived, we headed to the track. Had to park on the far turn. I knew the place would be a madhouse and wasn’t disappointed. Weaving our way through the hoards was a talent we’d pretty well perfected by day’s end. The lines for the food stretched...

Hubby and I managed to sneak away on Saturday. We drove out to Ohio’s Amish country. Most years we make this trip two, maybe three times. Last year, we didn’t get there at all. So although the weather was a tad cold and there were some pesky snowflakes in the air, off we went. I had my camera with me and intended to take pictures. But the Amish are a little (actually a LOT) shy about being photographed. Therefore, the camera stayed in my purse. Also, I admit…I was lazy about the photography thing. We made the rounds. Brunch at the Dutch Valley Restaurant , a stop in Sugarcreek at the clock shop, and our regular stop at a non-touristy leather shop where I bought new gloves, a cute (and hopefully effective) little “bat” to use on Admiral when he starts flinging his head in my face (provided the weather ever allows us to go riding again!) and a little gift for my friend, Sara , for letting me lay claim to Admiral. (Don’t get too excited, Sara. It’s not that much). Our next stop was Lehman...

Linda Gilson was a remarkable woman. She was tough and strong. And feisty. So feisty, in fact, that I never truly believed that cancer could conquer her. And it may not have defeated her spirit, but it claimed her life on Tuesday, October 28. She was 75. I met Linda about 30 years ago. She co-founded the Northwest Ambulance Service of which I was one of the first EMTs. We worked together and took calls together. And we laughed together. Besides being one tough cookie, Linda was also a lot of fun. After I left the ambulance service, I would occasionally run into Linda around town. It was always like we’d only seen each other five minutes ago instead of a couple years. I learned of her cancer not all that long ago. Sadly, we’d been out of touch. I did run into her a couple months ago at the local pharmacy. She looked thin and tired, showing the effects of the cancer and her battle against it. But she had a quick smile and that spark of determination in her eyes. I had no doubt that she ...

We’re experiencing a taste of autumn in southwestern Pennsylvania. Cool days, cooler nights. And the rain has limited itself to nighttime only. In a word, it’s been GORGEOUS. Saturday, my friend, Sara, and I managed to escape for a couple hours on horseback. We were a little limited by time constraints, but we squeezed out a couple of relaxing hours nonetheless. Admiral provided a touch of excitement as per usual. The cool breeze induced into thinking a bit of bucking might be in order. I convinced him otherwise and the rest of the ride was uneventful and pleasant. Sunday, I spent the day at a horse show just over the state line in West Virginia at a place called Camp Aura. It was a fun show with classes for peewees, bigger kids, and adults. I played auntie and groom for my friend Jessi and her kids. Mostly, that consisted of holding Nappy when Jessi needed both hands for something else. I plan on writing more about the show and the fun we had on Working Stiffs this Wednesday, so you’l...

As writers, we often live our lives in the caves of our offices. So when given the chance to get together for a summer picnic, we tend to seize the opportunity with great relish. And sometimes pickle relish, too. A group of our local Sisters in Crime gathered together yesterday at the beautiful home of my conference and retreat “roomy” (and fellow Working Stiff), Brenda Roger, for some good conversation, good fun, and GREAT food. In all honesty, Brenda could teach Martha Stewart a thing or two about throwing a shindig for a bunch of mystery writers. She even MADE her own crime scene tape. I’m sure her neighbors are talking big time and wondering who got snuffed. From the chalk outline on the front sidewalk, to the severed fingers in the cupcakes, to the antique mystery board games on display, the setting was perfect. As for the food… I’ve made no secret of being on something of a “diet” lately. Well, I went completely off the farm with my eating at this bash. I have no problem saying “...

As I have mentioned in a few previous posts, I’ve been walking in an effort to lose some weight and get back in shape. I’m happy to announce that I have reached my goal weight. Total pounds lost: 16. That’s since late March. Not too shabby. Of course, the problem now becomes KEEPING them off. I’m no longer in the strict phase of the Best Life Diet. Now I’m onto maintenance. I’m pretty sure the key to it (besides staying away from large bags of Lindor Truffles) is walking. My spring walks on the farm soon came to a halt when I started picking quantities of ticks from my scalp. I switched to walking on the bike trails around the area. But I found this to be…well…BORING. Walk out fifteen minutes, walk back fifteen minutes. My solution? Variety. I still walk the Montour Trail some days. But I’ve found some portions of the trail to be more aesthetically pleasing than others. And I’ve discovered other places to walk. So I’m starting a series of posts here about my favorite (and less-than-fav...

My earliest childhood memories are of life on my grandparents’ farm. There were cows and pigs and chickens. Gradually, as my grandparents got older and started getting out of the farming business, the pigs disappeared. The cattle no longer belonged to my family. Instead, we leased the pasture to neighbors who grazed their cattle on it. The chickens stayed. I remember feeding them and gathering eggs well into my adolescence. I loved the farm, but there were a few things I did not enjoy so much. Such as being “attacked” by the chickens. In actuality, I was late doing my chores and the hens were simply flying out of their roosts toward me as I entered the chicken coop with their dinner. But the dust and feathers and the smell stuck with me. I also have less than pleasant memories of being awakened early in the morning to my mother’s shouts of “the cows are out.” They may not have been our cows, but we still had to herd them back. In case you don’t know anything about cattle, let me just c...

The week is ending on a better note than it started. I confess, I spent several mornings this week muttering bad words under my breath. But I’ve survived, it’s Friday, and just about all the headaches of the last week have resolved. Yesterday was another day of running from one place to another and dealing with mini-crises in between. Spent the morning ironing out some issues with our upcoming Firearms 101 for Writers Workshop. Having hubby be one of the presenters offers unique problems. And benefits, too. But problems at least get a more immediate reaction. And solution. So all is well. Our Bridgeville Pennwriters group met for lunch with our former fearless leader in attendance. Lorraine Henderson created the group years ago. In recently times, she’s been dealing with some serious health issues. It was good to see her and especially to see her looking so healthy. I had to leave a little early so I could make Mom’s appointment to get her taxes done. Since she was unable to go, I was...

I am happy (thrilled, actually) to report that I am once again a member of cyberspace. I have a new LARGE satellite dish attached to the back of my house and a new service provider. I’ve concluded that the Internet is like so many of the things we take for granted these days. We never think about all that electricity does for us until a power outage hits. Same with the Internet. So here is a list of some of the things I missed while my connection was down: Television Listings. I no longer subscribe to TV Guide. While I may be addicted to the Internet, I have yet to succumb to cable or satellite television. I mean, I’m distracted from my writing enough already. I don’t need 200 more channels to lure me into a zombie state. But I do have my antenna and network and local TV. TV Guide just doesn’t provide listings for local programming any more. So I get my listings online. But not for the last two weeks. (OK, eleven days, but who’s counting?) Goodness only knows what stupid shows I’ve mis...

Someone is watching out for me so far this winter. We’ve had snow on Monday, Wednesday, and now today, but on Tuesday for Mom’s haircut—no snow. And yesterday, for the Pennwriters Christmas Lunch that I had planned—no snow. Well, all right, there was snow on the ground, but none falling from the sky. In fact, the sun came out yesterday and made for a beautiful, if brisk, day. This was our third year of having our Christmas party at Tambellini’s Restaurant in Bridgeville. Good service, good food, good company, good conversation. What more could you want? It was also the third year of doing a book exchange AND swap. Everyone brings a wrapped book and everyone draws a number from a bag. Number one goes first and opens their gift. Number two then opens their gift which they can keep or choose to trade for one that’s already been opened. And on down the line. After it’s all done, the person who had drawn number one gets to swap for ANY of the books. It’s all in good fun and sometimes gets ...

It’s mid October in southwestern Pennsylvania, which means that beautiful days are treasures not to be wasted. Soon, the skies will become a deep, slate gray and will stay like that until May. Soon, icy rains will move in followed by wind and snow. Winter is lurking not too very far away. Yesterday was one of those gorgeous autumn days that make you forget what’s ahead, though. After the sultry heat of the first part of the month, sixty degrees, blue skies, and a light breeze felt like heaven. I had plenty of things I needed to do. I needed to finish the housecleaning I began on Saturday. I needed to wash and wax my car before winter descends on us. I needed to clean up my garden AKA weed patch. But did I do any of those things? No. I went horseback riding. I took my camera along for a change. Admiral kept mistaking the soft whrrr sound it makes when I turn it on or off for a large bee. Admiral isn’t always the brightest bulb in the package. Every time I hit the power switch, his ears ...

Anyone who has never allowed a pet to share their life or their world has no idea of the anguish of losing that little companion. Sammie isn’t the first cat I’ve lost, but she’s definitely the one who has had the biggest impact on my life, sharing everything from my office to my bed. The last few months, watching squamous cell carcinoma eat large raw ulcers on and under her tongue have been nothing short of torture. Deciding late last week to put an end to it was devastating. Now I’m trying to come to grips with my decision and the quiet that has settled over my house like a thick fog. I wondered how long before I got back to a place where I could write. Especially when my current work in progress is about a vet who is owned by two cats, one of which is a composite of my late Fluffy and Sammie. The answer came Wednesday when I was trying to see through the tears to read email and instead, opened my novel’s file. The story sucked me in and I spent several hours escaping from my world in...