I was supposed to take yesterday off. I have been feeling the need for a "Mental Health Day." A day to recharge my drained creative batteries. The plan was to drive to Ohio's Amish Country for lunch with our cousins. Do some shopping. Enjoy a quiet day off-grid.  Then I saw the weather forecast. Ninety-plus degrees combined with high humidity is not a pleasant setting for walking from shop to shop. We postponed our lunch date to a yet-to-be-determined point on the summer calendar. Besides, we have dense smoke from the Canadian wildfires and are under a stage red air quality alert, which occasionally wanders into code purple. It's bad, but I won't complain. How horrible must it be in Canada??? Stay safe, my northern friends. All of this goes to illustrate how plans change. Sometimes the change is sudden and unexpected as when Kensi Kitty became deathly ill just prior to the Pennwriters Conference. My husband was also sick, but less so. I made a quick decision to ca...

We had our first real snow of the season Friday morning. While regions to our south got hammered, our accumulation was minimal--an inch locally--just enough to be pretty. It is January, after all. This is Pennsylvania. We're supposed to get snow! I busied myself with writing and self-care this first week of 2022, so I didn't have time to fuss over a little white stuff outside anyway.  After a talk with my agent, we decided to set The Hit List aside. This was the second of two new series proposals we'd had out on submission last year. I'd already gone back to the first of the proposals anyway. That was the project I completed for NaNoWriMo. ("Completed" meaning very rough first draft.) I spent much of last week giving the first three chapters another polish and the entire manuscript a new title. I also updated the synopsis and sent the entire package back to my agent. She'll be sending Rule of Thirds out on its second round of submissions next week. Whil...

It’s January 23 rd in southwestern Pennsylvania and the thermometer reads 50 degrees. And the sun is shining. There’s something very wrong about this. Not that I’m complaining. We had single digits, snow, and ice last week. This is much better. It’s just wrong. It’s in my nature to complain vehemently about winter weather. That’s hard to do when you can wander outside without a coat. But there’s something else about this time of year that I can still grumble about. Tax season. If I wanted to spend my life adding columns of numbers, I’d have been an accountant. But I’m not on good terms with math. I prefer words. So I’m a writer. Except this time of year, I’m a writer trying to balance my spreadsheets. It wouldn’t be so bad if I only had one business to keep tabs on. Silly me. I have three. Writing. Yoga. And Avon . That last one is the most involved, so I’m doing it first. Oh, it would be much simpler if I kept up with income and expenses as they happen instead of l...

Yes, it’s that time again. Time to make my New Year’s resolutions. In other words, time to set myself up for failure yet again. In looking back to the goals I set for last year , I did fair. I’ll give myself a B-. I bought a used treadmill and was really good about using it up for most of the year. But then I got into this heavy duty rewrite thing and all my treadmill time got converted into writing time. But I kept up with the yoga and the weights until about a month ago. For some reason, when winter sets in, I can’t seem to drag my weary butt out of bed when it’s still pitch black outside. And the only time I can get a good workout in is before breakfast. The treadmill stuff comes later in the day for me. But the yoga or weights have to be done first thing in the A.M. It’s just the way it is for me. So I always slack off around mid-November. However, for most of 2011, I did really well with the fitness stuff. As for writing every day, I did well with that, too. Whil...

I not only met my goal for yesterday, I surpassed it. Eight pages! Today will be a bit more difficult. I have an Avon order to invoice and a yoga class to teach before I can get to my writing. So I think I'll set today's goal at 5 pages and be happy with 3.

It’s a good thing one of my New Year’s resolutions wasn’t to stop procrastinating, because here it is, January 9th and I’m only now getting around to sorting out my goals and intentions for the year. Basically, I’m limiting my resolutions to TWO this year. I’m tired of failing at a long list of things. Better to only fail at two, don’t you think? First, I intend to get back to my health and fitness routine. I’d rather say I was planning to expand on it, but I’ve really derailed, so simply getting back on track will make me happy. I can handle the yoga, weight workouts, and eating healthier parts. But getting on a good walking routine when it’s 11 degrees outside will be a real challenge. Anyone have an old treadmill taking up space that you’d like to donate to my cause? The second goal is one that I really hope I can stick to. I hope to write every day. I’ve never really stated that before, because I’ve known that I’d fail at it. Life and family get in the way. And I may very well fail...

My much anticipated Mental Health Week is over. Hubby has returned from the wilds of northern Pennsylvania and I once again seem to have “Complaint Department” stamped across my forehead. I admit it was kind of fun ignoring the emails and phone calls demanding I fix this or help with that for a few days. The downside, of course, is that I’ve had to face them all this morning. I didn’t succeed in all I had hoped to do—and not do. At least not to the extent I’d planned. Then again, “planning” was one of the things I was trying to avoid. I DID practice yoga without interruption, but only once. I DID take a relaxing walk on a beautiful early autumn day. But only once. I did put in a full day of writing. But only once. Do you catch the ongoing theme here? I didn’t nap, but I did read an entire novel. And I played with the cats a LOT. Another happy diversion that I hadn’t originally planned on was a trip to Oakmont to meet the legendary Sara Paretsky , author of the V.I. Warshawski series. I...

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 ...

In recent months, I’ve grown weary of my satellite internet service. Two years ago, I loved it, but back then it was either satellite or dial-up. No sooner did I sign the two year contract than DSL became available out here in cow country. With satellite, when it rains harder than a drizzle, I lose my signal. If storms approach from the south, I lose my signal. If the dish gets coated with ice or snow in the winter, I lose my signal. If…well, you get the idea. And even when I have a signal, it’s slow. Not as slow as dial up, but close. Last night, I learned that my order for DSL had gone through, and it was ready to be installed. Notice I said “last night.” I’m not a night person. Nor am I a morning person. I’m more of a two-hours-in-the-middle-of-the-afternoon person. I know these things never run smoothly. So why, you may ask, did I even attempt the installation in the evening instead of waiting for morning? AFTER my coffee, of course. The answer has to be impatience. And the eternal...

I’m home from the retreat. Yes, I did take my computer, but, no, I didn’t do any work. For one thing, the retreat was held at a local university that brags about free wi-fi. What they don’t mention is you have to be student or member of the faculty and have a university email address in order to log on. Mere guests such as myself are out of luck. But that was okay. I spent the weekend immersed in the workshops, classes, and meditation practices. And the rest of the time, I slept. I think I slept 10 hours Saturday night. Unlike most of the yoga workshops I’ve attended in the past, which focus on the asana (yoga poses), this was very definitely a spiritual retreat. I sat at the feet of Yogi Amrit Desai and listened to his wisdom and his teachings. I was reminded of the vast gulf between the part of me that writes mysteries and the part of me that enjoys yoga and chanting and mediation. They are polar opposites that I still can’t quite reconcile even in my own mind. But perhaps I don’t n...

I know I’ve mentioned it here before, so it may not be news to you that I get homesick. Before I go somewhere. It’s an odd little bit of insanity. I will plan and eagerly await a trip away from home, only to develop a dread of the whole ordeal in the days leading up to departure. So far, it hasn’t driven me to cancel any plans, but I always consider it. Basically, I’m a hermit. I’m happy to sit in my cave with my cat and let the world do its own thing without me. Speaking of the cat, I’ve come to realize that I don’t suffer this premature homesickness when we’re heading for our camp in Confluence. Is it because Skye the Camping Kitty comes with us? Maybe I just miss my cat. Or is it because the camp in Confluence has become a second home? My second cave. I have to believe it’s a little of both. This weekend, I’m attending a yoga retreat. Two nights away with no cat. No husband either. They’ll both be snuggled in at home. I’ll be off on my own. It’s a YOGA RETREAT for goodness sake! Goo...

It’s been two weeks since I taught my last class at the yoga studio. Most of that time has been spent on two things: the Pennwriters Conference (58 more days as conference coordinator, but who’s counting?) and taxes. Between Mom’s long recovery from multiple surgeries and the whole conference coordinator gig, I fell behind on keeping my records current. Oh, I had all the numbers and receipts. They just weren’t in any kind of form that my accountant would want to decipher. I may have mentioned it once or twice (or twenty or thirty times) before, but I much prefer words to numbers. However, it’s done. My records are organized. My Excel spreadsheets have been printed out. And I survived my appointment with my accountant. If there is a good thing about making very little money, it’s that you do get a refund. Of course we have plans for every cent of it and nothing frivolous this year, either. Now, it’s time to write. At last I can really turn my attention back to the novel in progress. I ...

I’ve just about made it through my overbooked week. Last night was touch-and-go for a while, but I survived. My students surprised me with lots of cool cards and gifts. I didn’t open them until after I returned home because I was already struggling to keep my contacts from washing out of my eyes in the flood. Colleen even brought her sister in to act as photographer before class. The pictures were ready by the end of class. That’s Janet and Nancy at the bottom. Alice, Colleen, me, and Amy across the top. They made me promise to come back and join them as a student. I definitely will do that. But for now, I’m coming to grips with the whole “what now?” thing. For starters, I think I’m going to hit the mat and practice some yoga FOR ME. For the last ten years, almost all of my home yoga has revolved around what I was planning to teach that week. Or working out bugs in a particular sequence that didn’t flow the way it should. Or figuring out how to modify a pose to make it accessible to ev...

Seventy-nine days until my duties as conference coordinator are over. As I look at my appointment book for next week, it occurs to me that the first week of March 2009 may very well be one of the most hectic of the year. I have managed, once again, to completely overbook myself. For starters, it’s my last week teaching at the yoga studio and, in my terror over loss of income, I agreed to sub for an extra class this week. Plus I have a couple of my own private classes to teach. For someone who claims to be cutting her teaching schedule to the bone, I’m teaching a damned lot of yoga next week. My critique group has not met in months due to weather and assorted illnesses and—okay—my overloaded schedule. But we’re all desperate for a day out, so Monday we’re meeting. All I have for them is my short story, which has already been submitted. But we can polish it up in case it gets rejected and must go on to the next market on my list. Then I have a Sisters in Crime meeting on Monday night. S...

For ten years, I have taught yoga at the yoga studio in Houston, PA. I've loved almost every minute of it. I adore my students and I think I'm a pretty fair teacher. However for the last few years, I've felt more and more like I had one foot in one world (yoga) and another foot in a different world (mystery writer) and the crevice between the two was gradually drifting apart. I couldn't give either career my full attention. Today, over at Working Stiffs I talk about the decision I've reached to become a full time writer. It's not been an easy choice and I didn't make it lightly. Come on over and join the disscussion of choices and changes.

2008 is winding to a close. Last year, I was thrilled to see 2007 (and 2006, for that matter) come crashing to an end. They’d both been crappy years. 2008 has had its challenges. Highs and lows. Mom started the year doing well, then dislocated her new hip for a fourth time, followed by more surgery and time in the Health Center. By Easter, she was home again and has only improved by leaps and bounds since then. I did not complete a manuscript this year. A definite low. But not in the same category as losing family members. And I did have a few funerals to attend again this year. Instead of completing the manuscript, I’ve been working on the Pennwriters Conference . Online registration opens January 2nd. That’s a huge, momentous occasion for all of us involved in this task. But it is neither the beginning nor the end. It’s just a milestone among many others. Skye is fat and sassy and rules the house with an iron paw. Nothing new there. But all good. My biggest accomplishment this year w...

I had planned to post more pictures of more parties. But I left my camera at my friend Joyce’s house after the Sisters in Crime Christmas lunch she so graciously hosted. And I was not drinking. I don’t need to drink to suffer brain farts. Maybe drinking would help. Probably not. I even had a major brain fart with regards to which party was when this weekend. After spending all day Saturday working as a proctor for another civil service exam in Pittsburgh (see tomorrow’s Working Stiffs) and then doing some Christmas shopping at Mystery Lovers Bookshop , I returned home with dreams of a hot bath and a quiet evening at home. “Aren’t you going to the party?” Hubby asked. “That’s tomorrow,” I replied. “No. It’s tonight.” I double checked the online newsletter. “Crap,” I said. So I did a quick make-up touch-up and changed into dressier duds and off we went to the Washington County Buckskinners Christmas Party. What I thought was party number three of the weekend, turned out to be party numbe...

My appointment book is blank for the next three days. How did THAT happen? Oh, I have plenty to do. But nowhere to go. YAY! I have high hopes of accomplishing things around here. Remind me of that when Tuesday rolls around and all I’ve achieved is catching up on sleep and updating my status on Facebook. As I write this, hubby has a major canning project going on in the kitchen. It involves meat, so this vegetarian is staying out of his way. But this afternoon I’ll have to clean up his mess. In the meantime, I can clean and de-clutter the rest of the house. Actually, it will only LOOK like I’m cleaning and de-cluttering (and doing laundry). That is only a cover. What I REALLY will be doing is planning a new short story. Months ago I signed up to submit to a new anthology being compiled by the Guppies (Great Un Published) of Sisters in Crime. I knew I’d be frazzled with the upcoming 2009 Pennwriters Conference (registration opens January 2nd!!!), but I also knew it was a wonderful oppo...

I seem to have heard rumor that writers live solitary lives, alone with their computer (or typewriter or pen and paper). They never get to socialize. They become hermits. Notice the use of “they” rather than “we” even though I am one. I long for solitude. I dream of staying home all day long and holing up in my self-proclaimed cave (my tiny office). No human contact. Just me and Skye kitty and my writing. Instead, here is a sampling of the last two weeks: Monday, Nov. 3: AM appointment for yearly mammogram, PM Sisters in Crime meeting Tuesday, Nov. 4: AM meeting with insurance agent, PM appointment for dental cleaning Wednesday, Nov. 5: Teach yoga Thursday, Nov. 6: Take Mom to eye doctor then teach yoga Friday, Nov. 7: Take mom grocery shopping Saturday, Nov. 8: Work as proctor at the police recruits’ written exam. See post at Working Stiffs Sunday, Nov. 9: Attend memorial service for Linda Gilson Monday, Nov. 10: Attend Citizens’ Police Academy Tuesday, Nov. 11: AM teach yoga, PM atte...

Somehow in the course of my hectic days, I’ve managed to write 106 pages of my shitty first draft. It should be finished by now. Finished, polished, and shipped to my agent. However, I am working on the conference. I am attending Pennwriters meetings. I am teaching yoga classes. I am taking Mom to doctors’ and dentists’ appointments or to shop for groceries. Other small items on my to-do list: Organize the drawer full of receipts that has gotten way out of hand. Clean the house. Weed the flower bed. Pay bills. Instead, what do I find myself doing? Playing on Facebook. Just what I need. Yet another distraction. I already maintain a website (not really. I have a wonderful webmaster for that), a blog, a page at CrimeSpace. I contribute to the Working Stiffs blog and attempt to follow a few others. Keyword there: ATTEMPT. So when I was invited to join Facebook, I should have deleted the email and never looked back. Instead, I’m hooked. I do turn down most offers to accept new applications ...