Counting down the days!

In 3 days I will celebrate my 20th wedding anniversary. While we’ve definitely had our ups and downs and the road has been far from smooth, what I’ve come to appreciate is who my husband is.

He’s never turned his back on me …ever…Even during the worst time of my life when people shunned me, ran away, lied like I never dreamed possible. When I was turned inside out and became a shell of a women. During the times when I was so fucking destructive to myself and those around me. He pulled me through those dark moments. It wasn’t always what he had to say just that he was here, with me. Accepting me for who I was and who I am.

I know I’m in a better place in my life then I’ve ever been. I’m a happier person then I’ve ever been. That I’m stronger and wiser then I’ve ever been. I have my compassion back for others. I have forgiveness for myself and others.

He’s shown me what real loyalty means. What respect means. What real strength of character and standing by someone means. Words mean nothing. They’re too easy to say without meaning them. It’s too easy to go back on them. Too easy to break promises. No, beyond my writing, words don’t hold a lot of sway with me.

Showing me is what counts. I’m not talking about expensive gifts or having it all. I’m talking about showing me things in the quieter moments. In the small conversations. In mentioning something and it being remembered days, weeks later.

I’ve always been pretty easy to please. I’ve only ever wanted people to be open and honest with me. To really be my friend that I can call on anytime. I’m lucky to have that in my life with great, life long friends and 20 years with the man who has stood by my side when he by all rights should have walked away.

I’ve simplified my life. Let a couple of friends who are a source of non-stop negative energy go. Some I’ve known most of my life. Things in my world are so uncomplicated and I’m grateful every single morning that I wake up and get to live this life.

A life that’s been made better by the hard lessons I’ve had to learn. A life that allows me to look at the good in everyone and to be satisfied with what I have.

At this stage in my life, people who are my age, I think most of us have moved into that second phase. Our children are grown, some are gone and we get to focus on us and what makes us happy. We get to go where we want without worrying about childcare or whining and crying. I rarely have to play peace keeper anymore and make the kids work their shit out for themselves. My three are all very independent and know what they want to do with their lives.

I hope I’ve learned from my mistakes and won’t ever repeat them again but we can never say never.

With the type of Bi-polar illness I have, a lot of people can’t deal with it and have cut and run. I used to be angry at them but I’ve come to understand they just didn’t possess the strength or ability to understand that everything does pass in its own time. And that’s okay.

I can be difficult, I can be bitchy and moody but those who love me get it. They know they don’t have to do “anything” but be there for me if I need them. Calm me when I feel like I’m slipping down that dark slope. But because I’ve had the kind of support I’ve been given, I’ve emerged from the black cave and really appreciate every single thing that has happened in my life that brought me to where I am. Without these past experiences I wouldn’t feel they way I feel now and so I can’t regret anything of the past.

Without my past I wouldn’t now have my store. I wouldn’t be celebrating my 20 year marriage. I wouldn’t understand that just because I want something doesn’t mean I need it and that if I don’t have the  right “things” in my world, doesn’t mean I don’t have a great life.

I look at it like this, if you can’t take it with you when you die then it isn’t important. I don’t ever want to be one of those people who in their last days have to be haunted by regrets, the woulda, shoulda, coulda’s in life.

My DH has shown me that life moves forward. I’m happy for the first time in my life, really, really happy. I sleep well, I feel great. No aches or pains in my body or in my brain. I can wake up and smile and be happy for all that I have and I appreciate all the things I’ve been given and look forward to the future.

Will there be difficult days ahead? I’m sure there will but if I can find my way through 2012-2014, I can get through anything and I mean anything. It’s nice to come home from the store and have peace, love and laughter. I can even ignore my 3 teenagers when they are sniping and bickering (which is pretty much anytime they are together for too long). My home is filled with their friends who call me mom (I’m the fun house) and I’m finally able to get my backyard garden going. I’m not talking about a few veggies and some flowers. My eventual goal is to have a colorful oasis, a place where I can retreat to , a place for friends and family to come and relax and a place for my kids friends to have bon fires and laugh and be kids.

None of this could have been possible without my DH. It may have taken us 20 yrs to reach the point of contentment but I think we’re pretty close.

Wishing you all well from another wonderful looking day in Michigan,

Sierra

What I’m Working On.

This last year was the toughest year I’ve ever had where my writing has been concerned. The reasons aren’t important, my reaction to them are. I allowed other things that were out of my control to crowd my thoughts and second guess myself.

I’ve spent the better part of 6 months changing that. From letting go of old hurts and anger. To filling my life with family and friends. I spend a lot of time with my DH and kids, with my friends and my cousins. I started working out and getting some yoga in though I need to do much more of it. I found out that I have a pretty bad case of bursitis and since August have been dealing with the pain everyday. I’ve had cortizone shots in my hips for the last year as well as the joint at the base of my thumb. They don’t do anything so I’ve opted not to continue with them. Instead I’ve been reading up on different vitamins and minerals as well as stress reducing things and they seem to help a little. The pain and stiffness is still there when it’s chilly out but I’m getting used to it at this point. I’ve also lost 20 pounds in hopes that will help my joints.

There’s nothing like physical pain to relieve mental pain though and in an odd way, it’s freed up my mind. Over the past month I’ve been writing more than I have in over a year. It’s been fun because I’m writing because I love it, not because I have to.

Here’s a little what I’m working on now: Nolan’s Dark Sacrifice–The Alexander Wolves Book 4

Nolan Alexander gave up his freedom to the Dark Fae Queen in order to save his sister’s life and his new mate. When the Dark Queen released him, he showed up back at home, naked and beaten, battered and barely alive. He is nursed back to health by Rachael, the woman he agreed to mate with in order to gain his another sister’s freedom. He was violated body and soul when he was in the Dark Fae realm and doesn’t want to talk about what he went through. He’s the Alpha, his people come to him for help. He was the leader of the pack and it was his job to be strong, he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable. He had revenge to plan and if it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to make the Dark Queen pay for what she’d done to him.

Rachael Slater agreed to mate with Nolan so that her best friend Liberty could leave her old pack. Now Libby was reunited not only with her brother Nolan but with her two sisters Haven and Justice. What should have been a new beginning for them all turned into a nightmare when Clarinda the Dark Fae Queen demanded payment for the death of her son at the hands of Haven.

Nolan was a noble male and put his family before himself for year. When he showed up at home a broken shell of a man, Rachael almost fell apart. The normally shy woman found her voice when she took care of her mate as he healed. But Nolan came back different. He was distant and angry and didn’t want to talk about what he’d been through.

Rachael wasn’t accepting it. She’d finally discovered who she was and she wasn’t about to let Nolan shut her out when he needed her the most. She wasn’t giving up on him, not without one hell of a fight.

Driving The Wolf Crazy:

Petra is on the verge of losing everything she holds dear. She always dreamed of owning her floral shop. But when she divorced her ex opened up and started competing with her. After several disastrous events, she’s lost almost all of her business and she’s having a hard time making the rent of her shop. Jack, her hot, werewolf landlord didn’t care about her troubles and she was running out of options. But she comes up with a great idea that will have her smack dab in the middle of the werewolf side of town. Human’s and wolves didn’t mix too much. Neither trusting the other too much, but Petra wasn’t intimidated by  the wolves and it was going to take a lot more than a bad temper to deter her from her goal.

Jack owns the building where Petra’s business is. He’s ready to start the eviction process against her. He likes Petra, in fact he’s incredibly attracted to her curvy body and wouldn’t mind spending the night with her. But business is business and if he made exceptions for her, his other tenants would expect the same. Now she has the hair brained scheme to become the florist to the wolves. He didn’t like all the males who came sniffing around now and he was going to put a stop to it…now

 

VJ and I are tinkering around with another Velvet Ice novella. I’m also working on a dystopian retelling of King Arthur and am toying with the idea of trying to write in a few other genre’s. I love erotic romance but think it would be fun to try a thriller or a straight up -Not Erotic- Urban Fantasy. I’ve always been a panster when it comes to writing, these are some of the directions that I’ve been going to lately, so I thought why not give it a try.

I’ve had such great support from friends, family and readers during this past year. I’m so damn happy to be back in this place. To be back to me, with the kind of enthusiasm for writing that I haven’t had for a long time. It’s been a solid month of good writing and when you’re successful, you only want to do it more.

I think I’ve found a better balance between taking care of me and taking care of others. Allowing the kids to go their own way and explore things for themselves. I don’t make them the center of my universe anymore. Does that mean I don’t love them as much? Hell no. It only means that, they are doing their own thing and so should I. Spending time with “The Girls”. It’s so important to be able to sit around with the girls and talk, laugh and act as silly as we want to. Friends are essential to a long, happy life.

They say that people without their own friends (Not marital, shared friends) live longer and happier lives while people who don’t have friends tend to die younger and have more depression in their lives and I agree. Imagine you don’t have any good friends, the kids grow up, you look at your spouse and think now what? And in that moment a terrifying thought enters your brain- we have nothing in common. When you have friends this isn’t such a big deal. You can hang with yours, he with his and then time together. But if you have no one else to spend time with, you’ll get really tired of each other pretty fast.

So with my fingers crossed and getting ready to go into 2015, I can say that I’m happier emotionally, and mentally than I’ve been in for many, many years and I look forward to what tomorrow will bring.

 

 

Yep…I’m a music Ho!!!!!!

With all the videos that I’ve put up, it’s no surprise when I say I’m a music ho. It’s always been a part of my life. When I was young I listened to what my parents did. From my dad it was Elvis and all the old country singers. George Jones, Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn.  From my mom it was Motown and golden oldies. During the seventies it was Blondie, Abba and yes I listened to disco. Hey I was only ten at the time but I couldn’t get enough. I remember going to see Grease and begging my mom to buy the record.

I’m pretty eclectic when it comes to music. I listen to everything and in all genres. I have some favorites but in general anything and everything that catches my attention. I’ve found obscure bands and singers that have blown me away.

Last night I was writing down all the concerts I’ve been to over the last 20 years and was surprised at just how many I’ve been lucky enough to attend. I discovered that I’ve been to almost 50 concerts so far and have no intention of ever stopping. Music plays such a big part in my life. I’d rather have that then television any day of the week and often have it on all day when the kids are in school and the DH is at work. My 17 yr old has become my concert buddy over the last 6 years and it’s been a blast going to shows with him.

Here’s my list, as you will see it is very diverse.

My very first concert was at 15 and it was with my best friend Tina. Her father (my second dad) took us to see them. 20 later, she and I took her 16 yr old daughter to see them, it was a full circle moment for us.

So here’s my list. I’ve tried to sort them out by decade but after a while, I couldn’t remember what was in the late 80’s. early 90’s etc…But it was fun remembering the shows. I always remember the shows. Some bands I’ve seen more than once and noted it next to their names.

Duran Duran- 5 times,   Erasure, Tears for Fears,   Inxs,   Thompson Twins/Berlin,  Bruce Springsteen,   New Order/Echo and the Bunnymen, Gen loves Jezebel,   Depeche Mode/ OMD,   Howard Jones,   A-ha,   The Cure,  George Micheal,   Eric Clapton,  Bon Jovi-2 times,   Areosmith,   Kiss/Winger/Skid Row,   Scorpions/ Extreme,  Guns and Roses,   Metallica,   Poison/Warrant,   Slaughter,   Elton John,   Waylon Jennings,   .38 Special,   Pink Floyd,   Kenny Wayne Sheppard,   Incubus,   30 Seconds to Mars-2 times,   Steve Miller-3 times,  Joe Cocker, Shinedown- 4 time,  Avenge Sevenfold,   Chevelle,   Sevendust,   Papa Roach,   Staind,  Puddle of Mud,   Skillet- 2 times and my last one late this summer was Linkin Park.

I also took my kid when he was 12 to see Weird Al and he puts on a hell of a show-costume changes and all. I thought it would be kind of hokey but it was sold out and it was a lot of fun.

I also have seen hundreds of bands in clubs, bars and music festivals where I live. There is nothing better than a live show to make you feel alive.

There are still artists on another list that I haven’t seen in concert and I hope that I can see them in the future.

Billy Idol (Damn after all the years, he’s still one of the sexiest men in the world) 3 Days Grace, Theory of a Deadman,  U2, Eminem, Alter Bridge, David Bowie, Peter Gabriel, Katy Perry and Nickelback- I know everyone likes to say shit about them but I like their music and I’m not ashamed to say it…

For me music is the heart and soul of expression. The words can speak to you, the rhythm moves you and you can find a song to fit your mood, to help you grieve or to make you happy. I would be lost if I didn’t have music in my life. Elvis, The Beatles, Micheal Jackson, Led Zepplin, Janis Joplin and The Doors. The Sex Pistols and Black Flag, Jayzee and Beyonce. Metallica to Shinedown and everything in between.

IMO, I think that music should always take a front seat with your family. Turning them onto it. Finding songs they love. It’s so important. My favorite you tube videos are the ones that have cropped up lately. Fathers riding in cars with their daughters and singing along with the Frozen soundtrack. It’s so awesome to watch. For me, music is the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, black or white, a genius or not, a CEO or a factory worker. Music is one medium that brings people together.

The next time you go to a show, look around at the people who are there as well. They come from all social and economic classes, all different races and generations.Songs remind us of people and places. Love and hate. Descent and peace. Anger and joy.

Most of my book ideas come from music. Sometimes directly, sometimes it’s as simple as a scene that plays in my mind while the song is on.

I’m grateful for my love of music. The next time you’re in need of inspiration, try turning on the i-pod and see what comes to mind.

 

A Taste of Haven, The Alexander book series #1

Haven Smith is a shifter who has never shifted. Her mother warned her that if she gave into the animal part of herself she would turn into a beast capable of killing. Instead she’s able to push down the need to turn by spending her evenings protecting women and children from the men who would hurt them. She likes her solitary life just fine, until one night she meets a man who changes her world forever.
Haven discovers a family she didn’t know she had and that Adam’s been sent to bring her home. She’s been alone for so long and Adam is a temptation she’s ready to taste. All Adam wants is that there is more to the world then endless fighting in the streets. He wants her to experience the love of family and make her understand that she isn’t a freak or evil and that she deserves everyone’s love most of all, his love.
A Night Owls Review Top Pick –Review
Happily Ever After Blogspot. 5/5 Tea cups Review here

Chapter One

Haven Smith stopped in front of a tall red brick tenement and peered around the corner, the barely audible mew of fear still echoing in her ears. There was a little light coming from a sickly yellow bulb near the top of the roof, but it didn’t extend to the lower part of the building. Her exceptional night vision allowed her to see what others might not, like the trash spilling over from large bins next to the Mexican restaurant opposite the low-income apartment building.
Her spine began to tingle as her wolf clamored for release.
Sorry girl, you don’t get to come out—ever.
She didn’t want to be here tonight, her body hadn’t quite healed from the last fight three days ago. But the scent of fear and blood hung in the air, calling to her and making it impossible to leave.
Another muffled cry sounded in the darkness. Keeping her back to the wall, she slipped around the corner and followed the pitiful noise on cat’s feet. She stepped in a puddle of unidentifiable nastiness she wouldn’t allow her nose to name and winced. She’d just bought the Rockports. Dammit!
Slipping behind the nearest dumpster allowed her to see what was going on while hiding her from anyone’s view. At the alleys dead-end a man had a woman pinned against the brick façade, her face smashed against the wall. He’d wrapped one beefy hand around her throat while his other ripped at her dress.
The woman’s cries were cut off by the fucker’s grip on her neck. Lightning-hot anger speared Haven’s stomach and she pulled her switchblade as if by instinct. With a quick flick of her wrist the six-inch blade came to life in her hand. The familiar weight of the weapon was always welcome. She crept from behind the dumpster and made her way to the would-be rapist and his victim. Her first instinct was to snap his neck, but that would be illegal. She might want to kill the bastard but she wouldn’t. This time!
Instead she threw her arm around his throat, catching him off guard. He was no match for her and even with his girth Haven was stronger… She scraped the blade along the side of his neck and he immediately let go of the female.
“Go get the police,” Haven snarled as the woman spun, clutching her throat.
Haven immediately recognized her platinum blonde hair and sunken blue eyes—it was Honey. She’d tried to get the woman out of the “trade” and into a shelter more than once—and failed. The woman pulled at her tor clothes and took off toward the front of the alley; there was no way Honey was going to flag down a cop.
Knowing that made her even angrier. Her mother had been steps away from the same kind of life until she died, rolling through man after man in a vain search for someone to take care of her and her daughter. Honey had just gone further down the rabbit hole, and Haven had made it her business to avenge these women from assholes like the one beneath her knife.
“You need to learn a lesson about trying to take what you haven’t paid for.” A low menacing rumble escaped her throat. Fuck!
“Fuck you, bitch. The only reason you’re still alive is because you got a knife to my throat.” Oh yeah, he wanted to hurt her; the stink of a madman dripped from his pores, but she really didn’t give a damn.
“You’re right. We can’t have a fair fight if I’m armed. So I’ll put my knife away and then I’m going to kick your ass.” She closed the knife on her hip, slipped it into her pocket and stepped back.
The asshole spun around. His fleshy face was covered in sweat, and he resembled a washed-out wrestler who’d taken too many steroids. His mouth curled up on one side and formed a snarl. He was Haven’s favorite type of jerk-off—big and burly, going around hurting any woman he pleased. She might have been too young to intercede for her mother but she was making up for it now.
He brought his fists up, readying himself for the fight.
She put her hands on her hips, like she had all the time in the world, and laughed. “Come on, fat boy, let’s see what you got.”
He cracked his knuckles. “You got it, bitch.”
He threw out one massive fist, putting all his weight behind the punch. Haven ducked and he sailed right past her. She turned, kicked and connected between his shoulder blades, but he didn’t go down. She frowned and ran at his back, kicking him in the side this time. She heard the crack of ribs through the padding of fat layering his middle. She wanted to end this quickly, but her inner beast was only getting started.
Her nostrils flared as the smell of real fear rent the air. He’d never expected her to kick so damn hard. She grabbed his thick wrist and spun him around to face her. He recovered more quickly from her kick than she expected and managed to clock her in the jaw. The left side of her face went numb from the blow and this time she let out a howl that caused the man’s eyes to widen and back away.
“What’s the matter, big boy? Scared of a little woman like me?” Haven knew questioning his manhood was the easiest way to antagonize him into continuing the fight. “I thought bad-assed men like you got off beating up a girl. God knows you couldn’t handle yourself with a real man.”
He grabbed his crotch. “Dumb bitch, I’m gonna show you what a real man is after I bust your ass.” Haven dropped into a crouch and beckoned him in a come-hither motion. “Bring it on, then. You hit like a girl.”
He moved fast for a fat slob, but not fast enough. He swung again. She stepped aside and he connected with nothing but air. She stuck her foot out as he lunged past and tripped him. Caught up by her foot, his body turned slightly.
The position gave him the advantage, and as he started to fall he grabbed her arm and hauled her down with him.
Haven’s back slammed into the rough pavement, knocking the air from her lungs. She was pissed beyond belief that she’d let him take her down. Asshole landed on top of her, taking what little breath she had left with him. He straddled her upper chest, pinning her arms at her sides, and smiled. “It’s your turn to bleed now, whore.”
She desperately tried to breathe; he was literally smothering her with his weight. He swung his hand and slapped her hard across the mouth.
“Someone needs to show you how to be more respectful.” Sweat dripped off his forehead, the disgusting droplets falling on her chin.
“Fuck you.” She spat, and blood mixed with saliva landed on his face. He raised his hand again and punched her in the nose. Blood squirted out, dribbling into her mouth and down the sides of her face.
A fire burned in her belly as she swallowed some of her own blood. The burning became more painful, spreading from her middle and out to her limbs. Her head started buzzing and the only thing running through it was kill, kill, kill.
With renewed strength, she bent her knees up and bucked him off. Rolling to her knees, she wiped the blood trickling from her nose across her sleeve.
“That’s all you got?” she snarled. “You’re a pussy.”
She watched him carefully, waiting for his muscles to tense. She held her closed hands to her chest. She never felt as alive as she did when she fought one of these bastards. Her senses were sharper, she could see better, her hearing was astonishingly acute. She inhaled when the breeze shifted slightly.
The asshole’s fear wrapped around him like a fur coat. He wanted to run, but his ego wouldn’t allow a woman kick his ass.
He lunged for her again, his heavy body moving a little slower this time. When he reached for her she threw out an arm, blocking his attack and smashed him in the nose with her free hand. He doubled over as blood spurted. Haven followed up with a quick jab to the chin. His head flew back a precious second before she kicked and connected with his balls.
He wasn’t going to get laid for a long time to come. Big boy went to his knees, cupping his crotch. He looked at her and spit. Haven kicked him in the throat in a coup de grace that kept him from crying out for help. He fell on his back with a hard thunk, little sobs coming rending the air as he cupped his balls.
Haven leaned over him and grabbed the shoulder of his dirty wife-beater tank top. “Don’t you ever fucking come back around here again-fat man. Next time you won’t be walking away from this alley.”
She let go of his shirt, and he fell back to the ground. Turning away from the heap he made on the ground, she jogged out of the alley and onto the empty street. Honey hadn’t called the cops, but she hadn’t expected the longtime hooker to go to the police. Honey’d been picked up so many times on prostitution charges she no longer trusted the police to help her. Haven would track her down later and try—once again—to get her away from her pimp and into Fatima’s shelter. She swiped at her bloody nose as she made her way back to her apartment.
Her face was already swelling. The blood flow from her nose trickled slowly but hadn’t stopped; she wasn’t healing as quickly as she used to. The beast inside rumbled its disapproval at her current state of pain.
She picked up the pace, not wanting to draw any attention. She needed to get the dirt, grime and stink from the asshole off her skin.
As she trotted down the sidewalk, the smell of pine and rain floated on the air. The scent was so out of place it brought her to a standstill. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the cleanliness of it. She turned around slowly, trying to find the source of the scent, but saw nothing on the empty streets. And as quickly as it had come, the smell was gone. Haven shook her head, sure she was imagining things.
* * * * *

She forced her sore, tired body back to her tiny apartment. The first-floor studio wasn’t much, but it was home. She unlocked the door and turned on the light, bathing the room in a soft, soothing light. She sat down in an overstuffed chair she’d picked up at a resale shop, her body sinking back against the worn fabric.
She was bone tired. It was getting harder to take a punch. She sighed. For a split second back in the alley she’d been afraid. The feeling had been fleeting, but for the first time since she’d begun her crusade she’d really been scared. The knotting sensation in her stomach wasn’t something she wanted to experience again.
Her nose had finally stopped bleeding so she peeled her t-shirt over her head, wiped her face and threw the shirt into the laundry basket placed squarely in the corner of the room.
She heaved her tired body out of the chair and walked grabbing a bottle of Labatt’s out of the fridge. Twisting the cap off the bottle, she took a long gulp. The cold liquid slid down and soothed her parched throat. She held the sweating bottle against her swelling eye.
Damn, she couldn’t believe the jerk-off had gotten in as many punches as he had. It was obvious her body was letting her know it needed to rest. That had to be it, didn’t it?
For some reason, the image of her mother was particularly vivid tonight, and with her at the worst possible moments. Like right now. The parade of men who’d traipsed through her life when she was growing up was never far from her mind. They were the reason she trolled for bad guys out to harm women.
In response to the memories, adrenaline pumped through her veins and her wolf demanded release.
She broke into a sweat as the beast scrambled to escape, howling in anger. Haven tried desperately to ignore her but failed as her mother’s dire warnings tolled in her head.
Shifting is evil. You’ll go crazy. Crazier than your father.
“Fuck. Why now?” She should have known better than let her mind wander through the past. Her wolf was a bitter bitch and it was getting harder and harder to control her. “You’re not getting out, so shut the hell up.”
Talking never worked, so she changed strategies and reached for her blade. The only way to keep the animal at bay was pain. The pain she felt now had come from the fight earlier. This called for a different kind of pain. Chills ran down her spine and her body started to shake as she battled for dominance. She snapped open the knife with a flick of her wrist, held her arm over the sink, placed the tip of the blade to the crook of her arm and made a one-inch slice. The pain served as a balm to the wolf at the door. She made a second and then a third cut. The pressure inside her eased. The last one finally slowed her heart rate and her breathing began to normalize. The anger slowly drained from her body and calm washed over her.
She hated doing this to herself, but it was the only way that didn’t involve drugs or a barrel full of alcohol. It was her one shameful weakness.
With the adrenaline rush gone, she grew even wearier. She moved to the only other room in her home, the bathroom, stripped off the rest of her clothing and turned on the shower.
She stepped beneath the spray, and the freezing temperature woke her enough to remind her that she was still covered in blood and alley grime. She focused on the bottom of the tub where blood and dirt circled the drain. When the last traces of grime disappeared in a swirl, she finally felt clean. She turned the hot water on and let the heat soak into her tired muscles.
After warming up under the heated water, she stepped out. Wrapping a soft white towel around her, she looked in the mirror. Her left eye already had a bruise and another was forming on her right. She opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved antiseptic and some pain pills. Dabbing at the cut across the bridge of her nose and another on her bottom lip, she winced at the slight sting. Hell, she could take a punch to the face and never make a sound, but wanted to cry as she cleaned the wound. The irony of it never ceased to amaze her. Patch job complete, she filled a glass with water then tossed back two pain pills. She needed to get horizontal since she’d be dead to the world in less than fifteen minutes.
Thank God for pharmaceuticals she thought, staggering to the bedroom. Dropping the towel on the floor, she peeled back the blanket and crept between it and the sheet. Grabbing the pillow next to her, she turned on her side, holding it to her stomach. It was the way she went to sleep most nights, and normally comforted her, but tonight was different.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Haven was lonely. It was the kind of lonely that left a knot in her stomach and an ache in her soul. Maybe it was because she was turning thirty and had no one to celebrate with. Maybe she just needed to get laid. Whatever the reasons, her melancholy would have to wait for another day.
Just as her lids began to droop and the magic little pills made a dent in her pain, the phone beside her bed rang. She blindly reached for the offensive thing and picked it up before it rang again.
“Hello.” Her voice cracked.
“Haven you sound like hell.” Fatima, the one person in the world she trusted. “Have you been out again?”
Fatima was the only one who knew about Haven’s nightly activities. The Lebanese-born woman understood her vigilante romps.
“Yeah, but I don’t have anyone for you this evening.”
Normally when she stepped into a situation where a woman was being abused, she would take the victim to Fatima’s shelter. Her friend’s sanctuary wasn’t known to social services. She was able to work outside the law when it came to housing battered women and children. Fatima was able help women disappear from the reach of their abusers.
“I understand. One of Donovan’s men brought in a woman and her three kids tonight.” Her friend sounded as tired as Haven felt.
Donovan was Fatima’s mysterious benefactor. He provided money and the building for her work. Haven never questioned Fatima about Donovan and her friend never offered any information. No skin off Haven’s nose. Whatever went on between the two allowed Fatima to save and care for hundreds of women and children who might otherwise be dead.
“Do you need anything?” She knew the answer before she even asked it. Another reason she loved Fatima.
“No thanks, I’ve got everything under control. Get some sleep. We’ll talk soon.” Fatima ended the call. They never said goodbye. Fatima thought it was bad luck.
She turned over to her other side, closed her eyes as the pain pills kicked in and allowed sleep to take over.

Music kind of day!

It’s been a couple of odd weeks. With a very sick mother and the impending surgery for my son, I’ve tried to keep my stress levels down. But the oddest thing happened. I was called a whore. I’m not even sure who it was exactly but I can only they are on the same page. It’s either payback, envy, insecurity, or whatever label you want to put on it. Within the message of course is a cutting remark about my writing ability. A little extra dig with the knife. As little as 3 months ago, I would have been shattered. I’ve been concentrating on all the good things in my world and I’ve stopped being angry at the world. I think the biggest reason for such an attack has absolutely nothing to do with me and a lot more to do with trouble in their own lives. I’ve made myself a great target in the past and I understand when your life is not what you thought it would be, it’s easy to take your unhappiness out on  someone else. Whatever the reasons, their desired outcome to hurt/insult me didn’t really work. I didn’t cry, crawl into a ball and slip into some type of depression. I don’t want to retaliate, because I’ve learned that some things just aren’t worth it.

On the plus side, I’ve finished a book. That little dig was the catalyst that pushed me to finish the last part of my story. Despite what others may think is no longer hurtful to me. I am trying to rise above the B.S. in life and find my real happiness.

I’ve been listening to a lot of pop music, which I normally don’t do and Katie Perry has been on my music list more and more. Her videos are bright and fun and make you want to dance around the house.

 

Music to write to suggestions ?

My NaNo story is moving along pretty well and has started going faster thanks to an awesome thing my cable does. I’m now able to create playlists from various artists/songs, they have on their music channels. I spent time yesterday setting up one that I’m using for my writing.

Trying to remember all the stuff I like to listen to when I write is driving me a little crazy…lol… So I’m asking you what are your suggestions for artists/songs that I could add to my playlist?

So far on my list is Theory of a Deadman, 3 Days Grace, Linkin Park, 30 Seconds to Mars, Shinedown, Avenge Sevenfold, Skillet and I even threw in Lorde’s Royals for a specific scene I’m writing.

But I need more… Legend takes place in a post apocalyptic world, specifically New Detroit. It’s a dark and devastated land and the hero is a flawed man who has more responsibility than any man should. In order to protect his people, he is forced to marry. She is from a  privileged life so they clash immediately. There’s plenty of fighting, death, destruction, past lives, a perilous future, drugs, betrayal, friendships tested, heartbreak and redemption.

My taste in music varies from Rock to Rap. Elvis and Johnny Cash to Zeppelin and Eminem. I love the soundtrack to all the seasons of Sons of Anarchy (I’m very late to the series. I’ve just finished season one). I like it raw and intense and to feel it in my bones.

So, if you like any music that may fit into my playlist let me know. Comment here or email me directly at sierrasummers68@yahoo.com

 

White knuckling it.

Thanksgiving is only weeks away.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget all the good things in your life when you’re dealing with those times where you are white knuckling it.

We all have demons and when they rear their ugly head we have those moments, we can give in or we can fight. Giving in to those feelings usually leads to anger, guilt, and  frustration to name a few. It’s when you start thinking about whatever your demon is called. It starts to weigh heavily on you as time passes. The yearnings, cravings or needs can sometimes feel like someone is sitting on your chest, pushing the air out of you or you feel like you’re going to lose it and explode if you don’t get some relief.

The best example I have for this is when you’re on a diet. The first few days you’re doing great. Counting your calories, starting an exercise program and buying healthy food, vowing to never have junk food again. Then it happens, you start pmsing, the moon is full and if you have to eat one more carrot stick you’re going to throw up. The only thing that will make you feel better is chocolate. You know there is a bag of oreos your hubby bought the kids and they are calling your name. Calling is too timid a word. What starts as a whisper turns into screams in your head. “Come on, eat just one, you know you wanna.”

You begin to obsess about those fucking chocolate and vanilla filled, sugar goodness. “Okay maybe I can have two instead of one. Two won’t hurt and I won’t eat a snack tonight.” You bargain with yourself, trying to make a deal you will never fulfill. Before you know it your hands are wrapped painfully tight around the arms of your chair, trying to wait until the feeling passes.

This is the worst part because in that moment there is nothing…nothing more important then those cookies. The minutes feel like hours, the hours feel like days. You’re mouth waters as you imagine taking that first sweet bite. This is your moment of truth. The time for a decision. Give in or put it out of your mind. The need starts to fade, the obsession begins to wane and you find that you have won this time.

But there will be times when you do give in. When the urge is too strong or the need too great. Does that mean you’re weak? No, it means that you are human and as such you’ll make mistakes big and small. You will feel happiness and pain. You will feel pride and shame and you will think and say and do things that are so out of character for you that you’ll want to hide in a dark corner until you can forget.

This year I’ve learned that white knuckling is a part of life just like giving into temptation is but the more times you win, it makes it just a little bit easier the next time your demons make an appearance. What haunts you will never completely leave you, they dig in to you become a part of who you are. How big that part is, will be something for you to decide.

 

NaNo Writing Month

NaNo writing month. This is the first year that I’m participating in the yearly event. It’s officially been 1 year since I’ve finished a manuscript. So I thought I needed to shake things up and try something new. My muse has left the building and the little bastard won’t be back. So I’ve chosen NaNo to be the catalyst to kick-start my writing again.

For those who aren’t familiar with NaNo Writing month, it happens every November 1rst. The goal, on the surface is simple- Write 50,000 words in 30 days. You plow through without going back and checking what you’ve written, no editing…nothing to take you out of your writing space.

It’s just you and your computer or notebook. Writing, writing, writing. Every genre is being worked on by people around the world. They have a great site that you set up your profile, you can get tips and advice from authors. There is a large community to meet others like yourself. It’s a celebration of writing for the love of telling a story. They have a ton of events around where I live. My writing partner is going to one in Royal Oak to check out what is happening on the east side of the Metro Area while I’m checking out the stuff on the west side.

The book I’ve decided to write is LEGEND. It’s a story I’ve had in the w.i.p pile for 5 years. Legend is a retelling of the King Arthur story set in the year 2250. It’s an erotic romance and of course it certainly won’t end the way it did the first time. It’s set in New Detroit and there is a new species of man who live alongside humans.

I’ve been looking forward to exploring this new world as it’s something completely different for me. My hope is the story will be rich and vivid in the world building. That I can give a nod to the original mythos but add another dimension to the story that has lived on for hundreds of years.

Every version of Arthur from Excalibur to The Once and Future King to The Mists of Avalon have all told the King Arthur’s story in a unique and wonderful way. I’m striving to bring this new version into the same light as those that have gone on before me.

I’m kind of freaked out and excited about this whole adventure in such a short period of time. For anyone who thinks is easy to produce a 50, 000 word story that isn’t shit in 1 month, then I challenge you to join NaNo and see for yourself  just how “Easy” it is.

This story was born from a Souxsie and the Banshees song that I was listening to in the car one morning. The scene that popped into my head was so strong and so real that I’ve never been able to get it out of my head.

I’ve whipped up a cover to not only inspire me but the one I will use if I decide to self-pub it. To all those who are embarking on the same journey as myself I wish  you all the luck in the world. Feel free to drop by and leave your thoughts, what you’re writing or anything else! I love hearing from readers and writers alike.

Sierra!!!!!!!!

Guilty or Not Guilty- When lying hurts you!

This week I served on my first jury in downtown Detroit. It was a surreal experience. When I would see crimes reported on T.V, I wouldn’t hesitate to say he/she is guilty. Lock them up. In the courtroom it’s not that cut and dry. You have someones fate in your hands and it’s a lot of pressure to “get it right.”

We all know that people are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty and that it’s up to the prosecution to prove guilt. But I think that’s a hard thing for people to do. The judge instructed us to only look at the evidence presented.

We easily decided the first, more serious charge. He wasn’t guilty. The second lesser charge took two days to reach a verdict. Why? Because we were a very diverse group and the way we live our lives was so completely different. I enjoyed the debate. I loved the different perspectives. But in the end it was the law and whether he broke it or not that mattered. For me, his confession was the only thing I was considering. In the end we did find him guilty on the lessor charge.

When the case was over and I was free to discuss the case, people would ask why didn’t we convict on both charges. It was in the realm of possibility that he indeed commited the first crime. But there was so much reasonable doubt that we had no choice but to find him not guilty.

The reason for that. The victim lied. The young man had been too worried about his family and friends being mad about what precipitated the event that he made up a whopper of a story. After the police arrested the suspect and he told his story , they went back to the young man and confronted him and he changed his story yet again. When he took the stand it was easy to tell he was still lying and I believe it was still out of fear of his people getting pissed at him.

There are several things I’ve learned over the years, the “tells” people have when they lie. Most of the time it’s so they can get out of all kinds of trouble.

THE ONES WHERE THEY TELL ENOUGH TRUTH BUT LEAVE OUT MOST OF THE STORY- I learned this one from my 17 yr old son. He used to try and tell me a story when he got into trouble and inevitably I would discover there was a hell of a lot he left out. Why? According to him he felt that he wasn’t lying if he was telling me some of what happened (Enough that I would believe him). He did this to avoid me getting angry and he getting into more trouble. Once I caught on its now hard to pull it on me again.

REPEATING YOUR QUESTION BACK TO YOU- I think this one is my favorite. When you ask someone a question where they might get into trouble, they will repeat your question back to you. Why? They need those few extra seconds to come up with the “right” answer.  If you pay close attention you will see a second of panic before they answer you.

ANSWERING A QUESTION WITH A QUESTION- This is one of the oldest tricks in the book. You ask a difficult question, the answer may get them into trouble so they deflect. They ask a question in return, hoping to steer the conversation back on you. As though you’re imagining things and you’re the one with the problem ie. you’re insecure, you’re paranoid, you’re being silly, or ridiculous and finally that you don’t trust them.

THE EYE AVERSION- When you ask a question and they have no problem looking at you until the second they answer and suddenly their eyes look elsewhere.I think this is one of the most common signs of a big fat fibber.

THEY DON’T LOOK AT YOU AT ALL- Even while you’re trying to talk to them they look at the T.V. or fiddle with something. It’s frustrating because all you want is for them to pay attention to what you’re saying and instead they have no reaction.

THE ONE WORD ANSWER- When they only answer you with yes or no and offer no follow up.

THEY STARE AT YOU AND THEIR FOREHEAD WRINKLES UP-You think finally they’re looking directly at you. They are quick to answer your questions but that damn wrinkle won’t go away.

THEY ASK YOU TO REPEAT THE QUESTION- You bloody well know they heard you the first time. Again this is to stall in order for them to come up with the “right” answer.

THEY SUDDENLY BECOME AFFECTIONATE- This is a rather deceptive diversion. They try to make you feel like they would never do something that you’re asking about. Wrapping you up with really sweet words and suddenly you let go of what ever was bothering you in the first place.

We all know the signs, deep down. But we choose to ignore them most of the time. Everyone tells the little white lies. But we’ve also ignored even the bigger stuff. We choose not to go down that road. Why upset the balance in your life?

The truth is that a lot of the time we don’t really want to know the answers. We’re afraid of what we might hear and choose to ignore what we feel in our gut. It’s easier  to pretend you don’t know they’re lying then to face the truth.

Kids, significant others, friends etc…Do this shit all the time. The reasons are endless and really, really sad. I find myself feeling sorry for most people. They are ruled by fear and insecurity and will do anything to avoid getting into trouble. It’s self-preservation, an instinct that we follow even though we know it’s wrong.

The victim in our case told a lie so that others wouldn’t be angry with him at what really happened. Did I feel bad for him. Absolutely, but I wasn’t going to send a man to prison for many years based on a lie.

I was one of those people who was praying I wouldn’t get picked for the jury. I’m glad I was because I learned some lessons. You can never assume someone else is automatically guilty. When it comes to trying to find out facts that will cause issues or pain, you can’t run from them. Eventually lies do catch up and you’ll then be faced with the question of whether you can trust that person ever again.

I’ve discovered when it comes to self-preservation people will go to any lengths to keep others from knowing the full truth. I hope the young man in this case learned that the consequences for not being truthful or only telling a small part of the story is too high a price to pay. I hope he understands that you need to tell the truth no matter how much trouble you may get in. Because once you’ve been caught in the big lies, people tend not to believe much of what you say.

 

 

E

Back to school- What am I going to do?

Next week the kids go back to school and time to myself has come back around. While most parents heave a sigh of relief, I’m actually not looking forward to it. The bickering at 6 in the morning. Bathroom fights ( I only have one.) The complaining because someone is always late. Granted, it only ends when I drop them off to school. The good part is that I only have to drop off at the high school this year. It’s going to be a big change for my twins, it’s their freshman year. Naturally I worry for them, especially my son. He just turned 14 a couple of months ago and he’s already 6 feet tall. People tend to try and treat him like an eighteen yr old and are always shocked when I have to tell them he’s only 14 and thus acts like a 14 yr old.

Homework drama, testing out of classes drama, marching band, acting…etc…you get the picture. I will have plenty to do after 4:00 p.m. It’s the begining of my day that I have to worry about!

I’ve picked up the habit of planning out everything I do on a given day. It’s written down the night before and all I have to do is look at the list and start knocking off the stuff on it. It was suggested to me by someone who has been helping me to get my shit together. My house is almost always clean and doing the chores in the morning take no more than an hour. I’m pretty much done with everything by 8:30. I do work out so that kills another hour.

All of those are the easy things to accomplish. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I haven’t finished a story 10 months. It’s beyond frustrating for me. I’ve scoured blogs and articles, hoping to find that perfect nugget of advice that will free up my cluttered mind. My list, my chores and my exercise are the things I can do without thinking about it.

Of course when you sit down to write, you have to think. You have to build worlds and relationships with those worlds. Make it entertaining and romantic. That’s when everything takes a shit. Sitting in front of my laptop, files open and fingers on the keys and nothing…nada…zilch. As an author, trying to recover your voice can sometimes be a daunting task. But there are some helpful things I’ve read that may help me on my journey.

Anne Rice and several other popular authors most commen say to write. Write, write, write. Even if it’s shit, write. Even of you don’t believe the story, you continue to write. Saying it and doing it are two totally different animals. I tell myself everyday that I’m going to write. “I’ll treat it like a job or I promise to write for five hours straight.” And you all know that if you’re writing an especially difficult romance it’s draining on you physically and mentally.

I’ve found a couple of solutions that I hope will push me over the hump.

1. Write, write and write even more. I will be okay if it’s shit- that’s what editing is for.

2. I really want to take part in the NaNo writing challenge later in the year. 50,000 words in 30 days. This gives me a specific goal I can wrap my head around.

3. Writing sprints. Instead of major writing marathons are no longer going to be how I approach writing. Short 45 minute sprints that will allow me to walk away from a story after a sprint. I can do what ever needs to be done and then come back. Either to the same story or another one that needs to be finished.

The truth is that because I couldn’t find the words to put in my Word Program and would totally give up. When I look at my word count and see one hundred or less, I end up feeling like a loser. I think to myself that I’ve given everything I am to people and it’s still not enough. I’ve allowed negative thoughts and conversations color my view when it comes to writing. I’m so tired of being in that dark place that we all try to hold at bay. I’m tired of renting out that space in my head to things out of my control. I’ve lost out on a lot of money and I’m not about to end up there again.

But I’m more than capable of writing for 45 minutes at a time and laying down 1500-2000 words in that short amount of time. My hope is to truly get it all back together and keep forcing myself to push through to discover what it was about writing that made me so happy.

At this stage of the game, I’m just done with the drama, the fighting and the self-pit , all of these things can interfere wit your words. I’m hoping that I get some kind of  relief.

I have  the plan now it’s time to see if it makes a difference.