Spring Forward!

I dread losing an hour of sleep when we change to Daylight Saving Time. It always throws my rhythms off for a few days.

On the other hand, I love having an extra hour of daylight! It means spring is finally on the way.

After a long winter being cooped up inside, I’m ready to get out in the sun.  We head to our local parks to hike the trails, breathing deeply of fresh air and clearing the cobwebs from our minds. Relaxing and viewing nature gets my creative juices flowing, which leads to being sedentary.  It’s a vicious circle.

But back inside, there are things I can do to take care of my writerly health.

• Ergonomic keyboards. We all know repetitive tasks like typing can take a toll on our wrists.  Handeze support gloves provided relief when my wrists ached from typing all day at work, and then typing more at home while writing. When that wasn’t enough, I added an Aircast arm band to relieve the pain around my elbow.  Both items helped, but they didn’t correct the problem.  Thankfully, since purchasing an ergonomic keyboard I haven’t needed the Handeze or the Aircast, and I spend more time on the computer than ever before.

• Back support. I haven’t mastered this one yet.  I often find myself ensconced in a comfortable chair.  For years, I’ve written in the family room surrounded by my family.  The TV blaring, the kids arguing – it’s kind of like white noise for me.  Now, my kids are grown and I still find myself heading for the comfortable chair.  This is hard on my back, I know.  I find myself fidgeting, and my back, hips and legs feel stiff and sore when I rise.  I know I’m not doing my body any favors.  I’m learning I can be more productive perched on a straight-backed chair, with my computer on either the table or a sturdy wooden TV tray.  Hubby and the TV are still white noise. 

• Frequent breaks.  It’s hard to make myself get up and move when the words are flowing.  However, I know sitting for hours without moving is not good.  Maybe that's partially why I gravitate to my comfortable chair.  I know I can't sit too long without needing to move.  Writers – not just writers, but anyone who sits for long periods of time – need frequent breaks to stretch our legs and set our blood flowing.  

• Drink water.  Staying hydrated is important for our health.  Water flushes toxins, regulates appetite and body temperature, and lubricates and cushions joints.  My Bubba insulated tumbler keeps water cold longer than other water bottles I've tried. I'm not a fan of warm water, so having ice-cold water makes it much easier for me to consume a decent amount of water. 

We may love what we do, but writing takes a toll on our bodies.  Having an extra hour of daylight motivates me to get moving.  I still spend hours in a chair, but it’s much easier to get out and get moving in daylight and warm weather than it was in darkness and cold weather.

What effect does an extra hour of daylight have on you and your writing routine, and how do you stay healthy?  Please share.

Punctuation is a fabulous tool for controlling your reader - you even get to control where they breathe. That's what I call power!

- Nicola Morgan

An Interview with Maureen Bonatch

The Write Way Café welcomes author Maureen Bonatch, who finds writing as a pantser offers excitement and intrigue to her stories, as she combines nature elements with her creativity.

What was your path to getting this book written and published? What type of research did you do?
Destiny Calling went through much transition with the early stages of the story until I came across the idea for the villain. My research into Hecate helped me develop the abilities of the Enchantlings, and then I put my own twist on Hecate. I put the book aside several times over a year, as life interfered, but I always came back to Destiny Calling because the storyline intrigued me. I submitted the story to my editor at The Wild Rose Press and it was contracted for publication in December of 2014.

Why did you pick the setting you did?
I love to embrace small towns and the eccentric characters you can find there. I spend a lot of time during the warmer months walking or biking, and Pennsylvania is a beautiful state, so I can’t help but use this as the setting for most of my books. I may have stumbled across the Crossroads on the walks with my hubby deep into the wooded trails around our home, but luckily I’ve not run into an Oppressor yet (only in my very vivid imagination).

Are your main characters completely imaginary or do they have some basis in real people? Do they reflect aspects of yourself?
My characters are completely imaginary. They, of course, may have traits from people I know or see or even some of my own, because it’s easier to write what I know. But once the traits mesh— they become a distinctive character. So unique, that I discover many things about the characters as I write the story when the characters decide to reveal them to me. (Since I’m a panster. Meaning I don’t plot much of the story, but rather write by the seat of my pants).

Did you face any blocks while writing the book, and if so, how did you handle them? If not, what's your secret?
I did have some times when I wasn’t quite sure what happened next in the story or how the characters would deal with a situation. The best thing I’ve found for my writers block is if I can hitch a ride on the back of my hubby’s motorcycle. It really clears my head when I’m forced to do nothing else but hold on and think about my story. I’m always sure to carry a small tablet and a pen with me, just in case I need to write down some notes. (Which I do after we stop, of course, as I don’t want to fall off!)

What have been surprises you've encountered while writing the book and after?
I encountered a lot of surprises while writing the story. As I mentioned being a ‘panster’, when new things developed in the story, or things fell into place, I was just as surprised as the reader. After the story was done some of the surprises I encountered began when I started the second book in the series and discovered new characters entering the scene and things I hadn’t known about my original characters—so the plot thickens!

What did you learn? For instance, what did you learn about yourself, your process, the writing world; about paranormal events and the Underworld?
As far as what I’ve learned about myself, I’d say mainly that I am better if I’m writing everyday. It keeps the story alive in my mind, I can accomplish so much more writing than I’d thought was possible for me and I’m a happier person. I’ve learned the writing world is a generous community that has a ton of very supportive people that are willing to help if you ask. As far as paranormal events and the Underworld, I’m still learning new things about my stories every day.

Tell us about your writing space and how or why it works for you.
I can write almost anywhere, and take my laptop with me to make that happen. But a few years ago, I was fortunate enough to be able to convert our guest bedroom into an office…my writing space. (Sorry guests, you’re on the couch ;) Before that I had papers everywhere and had trouble finding what I needed, now I’m able to organize my books and notes a little better (this stuff still leaves something to be desired as far as my quest for organization). I have the room to set up the bulletin boards I use to gather my notes for my novels and have candles to help me relax and stimulate my mind before a long sprint of writing. This works for me because I don’t have to gather all my papers and notes to begin, everything is waiting for me to step back into the story.

What are you working on now?
The Wild Rose Press has contracted my humorous, Paranormal Romance entitled, Grandma Must Die. So I’m in edits for that, as well as working on edits for a short story with The Wild Rose Press Candy Heart Series entitled, Forget Me Not, which will be released in February 2016. As for my upcoming stories, I’m editing a story I wrote a few years ago to see if I can get it into shape for submission, and then I’ll be returning to finish Book 2 of The Enchantlings.

Would you like to try your hand at writing a different genre?  Which one and why?
I’ve considered writing a Young Adult book sometime, that and/or a Horror story. (Or a YA Horror) I read both of these genres and enjoy them. Maybe someday, if the story is right, I’ll try one.

What aspect of writing gives you the most trouble?
Knowing when to stop editing. Every time I read the story I want to tweak, add or cut, I’m always striving to improve upon the story but have to step away so I don’t edit my writer’s voice right out of the story.

Hope Doesn’t Know If The Man She Can Touch Is A Dream Come True, Or A Nightmare Just Beginning.

     Hope only wants to find out if her ability to infuse euphoria or despair with her touch makes her the devil's spawn, or his exterminator. But when the woman who raised her is murdered by something not human, she loses the only family she knew and discovers one she might wish she hadn’t.
     Drawn back to the hometown she vowed never to return to, her ability is seen as an asset to everyone but Hope, and she doesn't know who to trust. Her family wants her to help them overcome an enemy oppressing the human population, while the man of her dreams is courting her for the Underworld.
     Time is running out, and Hope’s choice may be made for her, as she discovers she’s a pawn in a bigger game played by a merciless ruler who doesn't lose.

Amazon Kindle        Amazon Paperback        The Wild Rose Press

About Maureen:

     Growing up with four siblings had Maureen familiar with escaping into a good book, or the recesses of her mind. She realized later in life everyone didn’t have characters telling stories in their heads, or weren’t envisioning magic and mayhem within the everyday. This, and long walks in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania spawned a love of writing.

     Since her desire to become a Solid Gold Dancer was thwarted when the show was discontinued, Maureen opted to pursue other paths. Attempting to conquer new endeavors proved fruitful with her first novella, while other attempts, such as challenging a fear of heights with parasailing, were unsuccessful. 

     Therefore she’s chased other interests, though none-the-less-daring, but closer to the ground, such as belly-dancing, becoming a self-proclaimed tequila connoisseur, fulfilling her role as biker babe to her alpha hubby and surviving motherhood to twins (so far).

    Penning stories boasting laughter, light suspense and something magical in the hope of sharing her love of finding the extraordinary in the ordinary world.

Find Maureen here:   Twitter     Blog     Website     Newsletter     Pinterest     Facebook     Goodreads

Tuesday Special: Taylor Nash

TAYLOR NASH

www.taylornash.com

From award winning author Taylor Nash comes another contemporary romantic suspense with paranormal undertones that will keep you riveted as you journey from the past, present, and future of Wicked Moon.

     In 1863 a wealthy sea captain, Sam Eldridge, built a 19th Century mansion on the bluff of Cape Cod Bay.  Secrets and lies not only destroyed his family, but led to the death of his seventeen-year-old daughter, Belinda, when she fell off the bluff. According to folklore, Belinda’s ghost strolled the widow’s walk waiting for her love, Joshua, to return from the sea.
    Over decades, the mansion was handed down generations.  After Hattie Hubbard went into a nursing home, the mansion suffered grave damage from neglect.  When Hattie passed away, she bequeathed the mansion to her niece, Kelli Goddard.
     Determined to restore the mansion as her aunt had wished, Kelli returns to Manomet. She didn’t expect resistance from Rod Kesson, a land developer, who claimed he owned the property. The situation is further complicated when she becomes the target of numerous threats putting her life in danger.
     How many secrets does the mansion hold? Did Captain Eldridge hide rare coins on the property? Was the house inhabited by ghosts?
     Will Kelli falter under the pressure of selling the mansion for millions? Or, will she stand her ground, risking her life to hold on to her beloved Manomet Mansion?

Watch the Book Trailer:  www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8Zj9svnPZg

Visit www.taylornash.com for ordering information or www.wickedmoon.taylornash.com

Win a FREE Autographed Book:  E-mail Taylor at taylor@taylornash.com with your name to be entered into a drawing for a free autographed copy of Wicked Moon! 

PROLOGUE
Manomet, Massachusetts
1884

  “No, Father,” Belinda Eldridge exclaimed. “I will not give up my child."
  "Yes, you will, young lady,” Captain Sam Eldridge replied. “There will be no bastard child raised in this digging, regardless of what your mother said. You will not keep this child. You are nothing more than a strumpet."
  She stomped out of the bedroom fit for a princess on the second floor of the family’s mansion, down the mahogany-trimmed, curved staircase. She ran down the steps faster than prudent, but she ignored safety in favor of escaping her unreasonable father.
  "Where do you think you're going, Belinda Sue?" he yelled. He descended the spiral staircase. “You come back. We’re not finished with this conversation. There’s no way in hell you’re leaving this house—now or ever.”
She tripped a few steps away from the bottom stair. Her hand trembled when she grabbed for the banister at the same moment her father’s fingers closed tightly around her arm.
He wasn’t trying to keep her from falling. He was doing everything in his power to keep her from leaving. If she got outside, she’d never come back to her mean, controlling father.
She yanked away her arm which enabled her to reach the glass knob. Her father slipped on the stair. The heavy door swung open and slammed into the wall, allowing the strong November wind to fill the vestibule.
The frigid air forced its way beneath her flannel robe and nightgown, chilling her to the bone. Or, perhaps it was the fear of her father and what he might do to her and her unborn child. He would never let her marry a man of her choosing, especially Joshua.
“Belinda, stop,” he yelled. He tried to regain his footing.
She dashed barefoot across the frozen lawn; her toes tingled from the bitter cold. Her father’s labored breathing indicated he was close behind. The thorny, wild rosebushes caught her robe. If she could reach the bluff and get down the stairs, he’d never find her in Joshua’s cave, their love nest recessed amongst the dense trees.
Asthma caused her chest to tighten and made it difficult to catch her breath. She stumbled over a large branch that had fallen in the recent storm. Hands and knees soiled and bloodied from the spill, she fled with renewed intensity until she reached the bluff blanketed with ivy.
Even though her father had been drinking heavily earlier, he caught up and blocked her entrance to the stairs that led to the strip of beach far below. Her pregnant condition had slowed her down.
"Father, you can't take my child away from me. I love my baby and would do anything to keep it safe. I love Joshua. He’s coming back for us. We're going to get married, be a family. You’ll see.”
"No, he's not, Belinda.” He placed his hands on his knees to support his body, puffs of mist released into the frigid air. “He’s nothing more than a no-account mud sill. His boat sank in that nor'easter fifty miles out. He's dead and you can't raise this child alone. I forbid it. You and the baby will be a disgrace to this family. You will go to a home and put this bastard up for adoption. This is the devil’s work."
"No, I won’t. He is coming back. You're lying to me. They never found his body. You’d do anything to keep me away from Joshua, I know you would. Mother said she’d help me."
When he approached, she stepped back toward the cliff. Her left foot slid underneath a tangled, thorny locust tree. She lost her balance, causing her to fall backwards.
"No, Belinda, no," her father shrieked as he extended his arm.
She reached out, his fingers inches away. Her body reeled seaward with a sense of timelessness and suspended animation.
“No, please God, no.” The hysterical tone in his voice echoed over the water.
The winds whirled around her as though attempting to soften her fall. The radiant full moon illuminated the sky; speckles of stars dotted darkness. Waves crashed on the jetty below and echoed in her ears.
Her nightgown fluttered in the wind while her body made the descent. Her back faced the rocks eighty feet below. She swathed her arms around her distended abdomen, holding her precious baby she loved more than life itself. She wailed silently within, but was peaceful as she embraced her impending doom, accepting a fate beyond the reality threatened by her parochial sire.
Instead of seeing the man in the moon, Joshua’s face appeared. His eyes beckoned before she hit House Rock.


CHAPTER 1
Manomet, Massachusetts
Present

     Kelli Goddard's stomach tensed when she recalled the letter she received two weeks ago. Compelled to deal with the property tax issue herself on her inherited mansion on Cape Cod Bay, she turned into the uneven rocky driveway on Manomet Point Road just as dusk set in. Intertwined, overgrown knotweed had created an impenetrable barrier that hid the old mansion from the two-lane road. She slowly crept up the winding drive.
At the top of the driveway, she came to a halt. The silhouette of the house reminded her of a horror flick movie set. The dilapidated mansion had obviously been neglected too long. No lights were on, inside or out. An upstairs window had been boarded on the top quarter panel, crooked steps and a slanted porch obvious even in the growing darkness.
Something creaked, maybe a shutter, maybe not. Goosebumps traveled up her arm and caressed her spine. Not knowing what she faced, her breathing quickened.
She parked and rolled up the window in her decade old Jeep and grabbed the bulky flashlight from the cracked leather passenger seat. She had been afraid of the dark since a small child. Her pulse quickened. Fallen tree limbs, uneven stones, and warped steps caused her balance to falter. It was as if the old house warned her to leave. Nevertheless, she bravely faced the ten-foot double wooden doors.
Imposing overgrown lilacs and wisteria, tangled with bittersweet, swayed with the strong north wind and clamored like a woman with long nails, scraping wood on the side of the house. The wind swirled restlessly and sounds emitted from the interior.
Was someone whining or crying? No, it was just her imagination.
With fumbling cold fingers, despite it being late June, she propped the flashlight between her bare knees and struggled with the padlock. After several attempts to unlock it, she tried to force it only for the padlock to smash her stiff ring finger before giving in.
“Damn,” she muttered, shaking her injured appendage. Then she mustered all her strength to push open the cumbrous doors. Rusted hinges creaked loudly. Her ears vibrated.
She hated to admit, but she was scared shitless. Her heart beat fast and hard; she held her breath. She focused the flashlight beam up the massive curved staircase, catching a red reflection at the top. Was that Belinda, the ghost she’d seen as a child? Strong drafts hurled dust and debris through the ray.
The batteries in the flashlight weakened and drained fast. If there had been moonlight, it might have helped her strained eyes. She’d driven over twenty hours straight from Illinois.
A board creaked on the second floor. A piercing wail reverberated throughout the house. She quivered. Maybe she should leave and come back tomorrow during daylight?
Without warning, a crushing blow smashed the side of her head. Luminous streaks of light flashed around her as the darkness overtook her.
~ ~ ~
When Kelli woke, her head pulsated which quickly reminded her something serious had happened. Her eyes darted around the pristine white room. She searched for anything familiar. An IV machine beeped next to her. Doctors and nurses scurried in the hall with stethoscopes draped around their necks.
Why am I here?
“Miss Goddard?” The doctor strolled into the room with a small laptop in his hand. “I’m Doctor Brown and you’re one lucky lady.” He stepped closer and made eye contact. “If that blow had been a quarter of an inch closer to your temple, I’m afraid the outcome would have been significantly different. The CT scan didn’t show any swelling of the brain, which is remarkable given the size of the wound to your skull.”
“What happened?” Her fingertips recognized the gauze surface which covered the side of her head, the wound tender to the touch. “I don’t remember anything.”
The young intern stepped to the right side of her bed, leaned down and flashed a bright light in each eye temporarily blinding her. “That’s not uncommon with head injuries, ma’am. Actually, Officer Scott is here to ask a few questions, or I can tell him to come back tomorrow.”
Acid swelled in her throat. Her body was sore, reminding her of the time she’d flipped over the handlebars of her bicycle at twelve.
“You have a concussion, so you may experience dizziness, nausea, or blurred vision, all normal symptoms. We’re going to keep you overnight for observation,” the doctor said. “I’ll let the officer in, but just for a few minutes. If you need anything, let the nurse know. I’ll check on you tomorrow morning.”
Before she could reply, a man, oddly familiar, in a blue uniform entered.
“Officer Scott,” Dr. Brown said, “you may find she perseverates or repeats herself. You have five minutes and that’s all.”
She rearranged her body in the uncomfortable hospital bed. Each move caused a throbbing pain.
“Kelli, it’s Gregg. Officer Gregg Scott now. Didn’t think we’d be meeting up after all these years like this.”
“Gregg?”
“Sorry about the accident. Heard rumors you were coming back to handle the probate for Hattie and do something with the mansion.”
Gregg Scott. Of course. She hadn’t seen him in at least thirty years, but she would never forget those baby blue eyes. And, how she’d felt about him at one time.
“What happened? I don’t remember anything?”
“A passerby found you lying on Point Road unconscious and bleeding from the head. Thought you’d been involved in a hit and run, but doctors said that was unlikely with your head wound and no abrasions or broken bones. Were you walking on the road? We’re hoping you could shed some light on what occurred.”
“Side of the road?” She lightly ran her fingers through her tangled hair; flecks of blood dislodged and fell on her loosely-fitting hospital gown that would expose all if she stood up.
“Try to remember, Kelli.”
She closed her eyes and laid her head against the pillow. “All I recall is going to the mansion. Just got into town and was anxious. I went inside and that’s the last I remember.”
“Were you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see anyone or hear anything?”
When she opened her eyes, two of everything danced around the room which caused her to be woozy and queasy. “No. It was dark and windy. Did someone hit me on the head?”
“Doctor said you got a dandy blow. Who would've known you were there? Maybe some plaster from the ceiling fell on you? But that doesn’t explain how you got back down the road.”
A petite nurse entered the room. “Officer, I’m afraid you must leave. Doctor wants Ms. Goddard to rest now.” The woman grabbed her wrist and checked for a pulse.
“Kelli, we’ll get to the bottom of this. Where are you staying?”
“The Blue Spruce, but haven’t checked in yet.”
“Once you’re feeling up to it, we’ll need to interview you. If you need a ride when you’re discharged, let me know.” He handed her his card. “Nice to have you back in town. Sorry you got off to a rough start.”
“Thanks, Gregg. My car?”
“It’s parked in front of the mansion. It’s not going anywhere.” He exited the room with a familiar lazy gait she recalled from their teenage days. Apparently, over the years he’d gained extra weight, especially the bulging midsection that obscured his belt. A fan of locally brewed beer, no doubt, or maybe too many donuts. Then she frowned.
Why would someone want to hurt me?

Taylor Nash resides in Champaign, Illinois and has authored award winning Uncharted Depths and The Apparition, available wherever books are sold and e-book format. Taylor loves spending time with her granddaughters, family, and golfing.

Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on. 

- Louis L'Amour

Ashley York and Wikipedia

The Write Way Café welcomes Ashley York, who has a thing or two to say about Wikipedia. Is it a good source or a bad source?

     So you're reading something and come across a term you're unfamiliar with. What do you do? Well, if you're like many, many people you look it up on Wikipedia. Bingo. That's what it is! How could you not have known that. And off you go on your merry way thinking, "It really is true. You do learn something new every day." STOP!
     I was in college during the transition from paper to computer. (Yes, that's how old I am.) It was everywhere. It couldn't be avoided. It was in your face! It wasn't long before the only way you could register for a course was through a computer and with that darn password that expired every 90 days when a semester is 105 - whose poor planning was that? That, my friends, is when the wonder site "Wikipedia" appeared. The professors, such kill joys, said "Do not use Wikipedia." So we listened (?) but that was many years ago and surely now it's more reliable or works differently or whatever their aversion to it was must be fixed, right? No!
     Wikipedia is a place where, in its own description "almost anyone can access the site [and] can edit almost any of its articles." They're not necessarily knowledgeable. They don't have to prove their credentials.
     They're not scrutinized by their peers for assessment or accuracy. They can literally put anything they want to on that site. They pride themselves on their "high openness" and "inclusion of much unacademic content."
     What does "unacademic" mean?  Not scholarly. What does scholarly mean?  Relating to serious academic study. So that term you think you know about now? And can have a knowledgeable discourse with someone about? You may not want to put yourself out as an expert when your own source is Wikipedia. I'm just saying.

A note from Ashley:
     Thanks so much for having me. I'm sharing information about the first in The Norman Conquest Series, The Saxon Bride, in preparation for the release of  the second book, The Gentle Knight.
     The Gentle Knight is about John's friend, Peter, who plays a prominent part in helping John and Rowena. Peter returns from England to find his love has died in childbirth. His own mother had died delivering him, a fact his father never let him forget. Peter is devastated and believes he must be cursed. He makes a decision to live his life alone, without love. It might have worked if he hadn't met Brighit, a beautiful, Irish woman, who is in dire need of a hero to help fulfill her father's death bed request—that she enter a Priory and become a bride of Christ. Watch for The Gentle Knight.

The Saxon Bride by Ashley York
     In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn.
     Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot. Her nobility and grace,  however, make her an ideal pawn in King William’s play for power with the Saxon people. When he decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances?
     John of Normandy is rewarded for his service and loyalty with land, titles and a Saxon beauty for a bride. John balks at the marriage, driven by the secret guilt of knowing Rowena's father died by his sword
     As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England?

Excerpt:
     "As my wife, Rowena..."
     Her eyes narrowed at use of the title.
     "...you will not allow men into your bedchamber. Other than me, that is."
     A little shiver passed through her at the idea of him coming to her in the middle of the night. She could again feel his fingers caressing her. Perhaps he had indeed returned to be her husband in truth. The possibility excited her.
     Arthur had followed her and even taken her in his arms to comfort her. In the past she had welcomed the feel of his arms around her, seldom as that happened, but she was already different. His arms no longer felt right around her. She had tried to tell him he could not be in her chamber, it wasn't seemly. He had looked so hurt.
     "Do you not understand  me, wife?" John said.
     The title bristled her. "Yes, husband, I understand you fine."
     The use of titles did not make it any more true. Men always thought it did. They were wrong. Turning to him, she felt her cheeks grow hot as he caressed her ever so slowly with his eyes, finally resting on her face before her spoke again.
     "Husband I will be soon enough."
     His answer told her he didn't miss her meaning. He stood suddenly, and the fire silhouetting his large frame caused her breath to catch at his imposing size. From his powerful legs, slightly parted and ready for attack, to his solid torso, ready to receive the assault, to his burly arms more than willing to instigate the encounter. This was certainly no complacent lord of the manor; this was a well-honed fighting machine. Rowena was confused when she realized her own longing to touch him. His brown hair looked soft and the shadow of a beard around his chin caused her hand to itch for the touch of both.
     "Know this, Rowena...:
     Her breath quickened when he stepped toward her, his eyes piercing her own.
     "...there will be no one but me."
     He stopped just short of touching her but that now familiar heat reached out to her.
     "You are mine and only mine."


Always an avid romance reader herself, Ashley York enjoys bringing history to life through vibrant and meaningful characters, writing historical romance novels full of passion and intrigue set in the 11th and 12th century British Isles. Her latest release, The Saxon Bride, is the first in The Norman Conquest series.

When she is not writing, talking about writing, or thinking about writing, Ashley relaxes with visits to the local pubs listening to live Celtic tunes. She lives in southern New England with her husband and 3 very spoiled animals.

Hair Cuts, Family and Deadlines

Writing deadlines and goals demand time. So do chores, family and friends, and haircuts. How do we manage the push and pull of different aspects of our life?

It’s not unusual for my writing plans to get sidelined.  I try to take life’s interruptions in stride, but it happens so regularly that I get upset. I’m always waiting for the nonwriting stuff in my life to settle down, be done, stop interrupting my writing time so I can have a clean slate week of writing. It’s important to me.  I HAVE DEADLINES! I want to shout “Stop the madness!”

But that is never going to happen. There is not going to be a huge, weeks-long pause in my life. The things I call interruptions are not madness, they are just a part of living. For instance, last week I planned six solid days of writing. I actually wrote very little. My regular pay-the-bills job needed attention. Family needed my attention.  My beautiful, sweet cat begged for my attention…repeatedly. Add a trip or two to the grocery store and the six days of nonstop writing I’d planned melted away.

I struggle with mixed feelings. I want to be available to family. I understand my cat’s need for attention. I have to get haircuts, dental checkups, and  vision exams. These are as much a part of my normal life as writing. I am working on being able to contain a large life, one that includes writing and meeting deadlines.

How to do that? How to keep interruptions and obstacles to writing in their proper place? Here are some suggestions others have made:
·     Quit writing. It’s causing too much stress.
·     Take an extended break. This feels like  a shortened version of quitting.
·     Extend the hours in the day available. For me, that means getting up earlier. For others it means writing late into the night.
·     Optimize your time. That’s a tough one because for many authors, the process of publishing now also requires managing our own promotions. Enter time spent on Google+, Facebook, Twitter, etc.
·     Ignore, ignore, ignore. I like this suggestion my husband gave me in my early years of writing. He told me to write. The housecleaning would always wait.

According to many experts, including author and entrepreneur Kevin Daum, for those willing to face some hard truths, obstacles can be overcome and interruptions can be transformed.

“First, it helps to understand that obstacles come in three different flavors: internal, external, and habitual,” he wrote for Inc.

There are times that external obstacles are out of our control and prompt us to rethink our goals and strategies. While internal obstacles are varied, they are issues we have control over and include available time and skill level, as well as internal beliefs that warn us to stop what we’re doing. Like internal obstacles, habitual obstacles require reflection and awareness about what is truly preventing us from doing what we want to do. Is it the voices of people who used to give you the message as a child or young adult that you were incapable of creating the life you wanted?

So what are some ways these interruptions and obstacles can be put in their place? For me, self-reflection and increased awareness has made a difference in how I use my time and how I approach my goals. It’s kind of a secret, but only you are entitled to making the choices that are right for you. Do you really need to clean the house as frequently as you do? Can you pay attention to your family and still claim enough time to yourself to accomplish your dreams? Can you take an honest look at the time-wasters in your daily life? Whether those activities are time-wasters or not is only up to you, and making a choice that supports your goals is for you to find self-discipline for. It may feel like you’re taking a big risk by implementing needed changes. What will your family say? Who will keep the cupboards full? Granted, it takes courage to stand up for ourselves and work out compromises, but expect the best and you might get it.

If trying to carve time for serious writing is getting you down, remember you can go inward and assess what is the real problem, you can take a hard look at how you spend your time, and you can use discipline to avoid too many time-wasters.

Also, to fire up your self-determination and claim your time, infuse your life with useful phrases and inspirational sayings. Follow on Twitter one or two quote sites, such as Motivational Quotes and Quote Soup. I love a good quote and I have many favorite quotes. Today, this one from Manifestation Miracle is really ringing for me: “Whatever you love, you want to make sure to hold onto it tight and get ready to fight off anything that gets in your way.”

What do you rely on to overcome obstacles to your writing goals?