Friday and Things...

Laughter is carbonated holiness…. Anne Lamott

It's Friday. I look forward to Fridays, not because I work deathly hard all week and deserve a break--because truthfully I work almost every day of the month. Writing never really stops, and each day has little distinction except for Friday.

Friday my husband plays hockey well into the night and I get alone time. I do things like color my hair wacky colors, or play a video game, or watch my favorite old sitcom (Mary Tyler Moore) or binge watch Poldark. That last one I've been doing a lot lately. 

I check my calendar and pretend I've met my goals, and I never make my bed on Friday. Out of all the housework I do and don't do (mostly don't do) making the bed makes the least sense. It's kind of like bagging groceries that are already in a bag. ie. potato chips.


Saturday through Thursday I live in the heads of people who only exist in my head. But Friday I live in my real made up world. I live it as me, but I pretend the world is a nice place where I needn't worry about anything, and I celebrate the good things like: my family, mochas, chip and know, all the important things. I let go of the things I have no control over and give myself permission to indulge in happiness.



Then I do the best thing of all, I drink prosecco. Ice chilled almost frozen prosecco. A good movie, my coloring books, and prosecco. 


Job Well Done

Editing Procrastination

Procrastination should be a job with a salary because it’s awful work. Tedious and boring and painful, and it takes skill to do it well.

Every writer I know has this special gift.

Last week I received my much-anticipated developmental editorial report. It’s so official. The problem is that procrastination has taken on editing as an excuse. My brain is just editing and editing and editing the edits, and writing none of it down.

What am I so afraid of?

I’m afraid of being wrong. These characters aren’t just words, they’re people who have lived a life one way and are about to get it tweaked another. Where their lives were simpler and less hectic, they’re about to get a rude awakening and find themselves in a dark alley (not literally…at least I don’t think so). But they will change in subtle ways that will make them better people and in turn make me a better writer.

My writer friends won’t let me wallow in this fog for long. They’ll poke and prod me on my way to imperfection, because if writing is anything, it’s imperfect every time.

My stomach turns until I get a gander at all the fun things I just bought to keep me from procrastinating like: colored sticky notes in every size, and special shaped stickies, and a new journal, some colored tablet paper, index cards (cuz I can always use index cards) and a coffee. Does that not sound like the perfect shopping bag full of procrastination?

And right next to these things is my Editorial Report. Which by the way, was worth every cent. Thank you Sue-Brown Moore.

In the end I’m gonna get an idea, it’s gonna hit the keyboard, and I won’t stop until it’s done. But until then, I’ll sip my cold brew coffee and eat some trail mix and decide what all this colored paper means.



Notice the inhaler and Burt's Bees lip balm...can't avoid work without these

Notice the inhaler and Burt's Bees lip balm...can't avoid work without these

Welcome to the Book Boudoir

Grand Opening...

I’ve been racking my brain for blog subjects. I have a section for Disney pins because I love my pins. I have a section for events because eventually I plan on having some. But right now, I just feel stuck.

Until today. Today I remembered what my characters are all about. They’re about falling in love. They’re about overcoming obstacles. They’re about the happily ever after. And that got me to thinking about my own happily ever after story.

I met my hubby in high school. That’s right, sickening though it is, we are high-school sweethearts. I blame romance novels on finding him so soon. My addiction started at fifteen, maybe even fourteen. Every paycheck went to books. Every book had a picture of a pirate or a castle or a flowing haired beauty with a dress worth destroying.

We married soon after I graduated. Had children. Had marital struggles. Financial obstacles. But above it all, we had each other. No matter what, he’s always been my prince charming. He’s cared about my dreams and taken care that I should be happy.

And the man has spent more on lingerie than he’s spent on my clothes. My closet is stuffed with silky sheer fabrics, stretchy lace, pretty patterns, polka dots and flowers. I love lingerie. It’s addicting. Sometimes I wear it just to lounge in. Don’t get excited. I’m not suggesting I look fabulous in it and my hair is often a mess. I don’t wear make-up most days and I’m not a size 0. Not even close. But every Friday night my mirror is his eyes. True story.

I do my best to let him enjoy what he sees and give up on my dreams of perfection (bubbly helps). My kids call before dropping by on the weekend (very wise of them).

So what does all this have to do with my books? My characters aren’t just happily-ever-after fairytale dreams. They’re women who wear naughty and nice very well. Who have men that appreciate them, love them, adore them, and allow them to be free.

Sassy. Annoying. Dangerous.


Obnoxious. Childish. Exacting.


They have huge dreams, big voices, and they bring out the best in their men. All the things my Friday night hubby makes me feel.

Desired, adored, beloved. He cherishes the woman in me.

Delicate. Strong. Fearless.


So, I’ve decided to add a section about lingerie. Because I believe that every woman can look delicious in the right clothes. And out of them too. ;)

Live free ladies.


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This week's book: Marrying Winterborne by: Lisa Kleypas / Jammies: Victoria Secret

Nothing Goes To Waste


There is an understanding among writers, at least I hope so, that nothing goes to waste. Not a fight with your neighbor, a bad waiter, a rude barrista, a friendly squabble, even a bad bout of depression. Before the Prozac sinks in, I will sometimes write down how I feel. I call it journaling. It ‘s therapeutic and useful. Even if I never come back to it, somewhere in my pea-brain it hibernates just waiting for the perfect scene.

For almost a week I’ve been sick. Good news: after fighting to take off 8lbs I’ve managed to lose the last 3 without trying (I don’t recommend it). Bad news: it’s kept me from writing. Even my characters are silent. And they’re never silent. Never, never, never. You know that far off look I get…yeah, that’s my characters speaking. Now, it’s me in a Nyquil fog.

My future characters, some whom I’ve yet to name, are running for the nether regions. Wading through the Nyquil fog, hiding behind headache mountain, because they don’t wish to be ill, they don’t want to be on their death bed speaking like a southern belle with a hand dramatically draped over her forehead. And the truth is, I don’t want that either.

Don’t worry my forever-inner-voice-buddies, I don’t have plans for you to fall ill, but if you do, I’ll be ready with the right amount of phlegm, cough attacks, and under the weather euphoric drift to get us all through it.

Be well my friends.  


Toodles is just happy I'm sitting at my desk again. Notice the electric blanket, unfolded towels, and odd shoes, not to mention the tape measure... This will be my wellness job.

Toodles is just happy I'm sitting at my desk again. Notice the electric blanket, unfolded towels, and odd shoes, not to mention the tape measure... This will be my wellness job.


One of these days I'm going to write about prioritizing, when it becomes a priority.

I have way too much to do this week and next. And with summer and the 4th upon us, far too many people pulling one way and then the other. Something's gotta give. Except that nothing can.

What to do when 7 out of 14 work days are on the line? Prioritize. 




Conversations with Toodles (my cat)...sorry bud. But you can lay under my desk and I'll look at you with longing.

Coffee - this is priority. Editing - priority. Making deadlines - PRIORITY. Wine tasting - uh, yeah, priority.

Chat later...

:D  Shannon

                    Toulouse.    aka Toodles

                    Toulouse.    aka Toodles