How much is too much of Social Media

what it is to blog…..well I’m obviously not the person to come to.  If you want to join me in blogging 101 I could enjoy the company.  Its bad enough I’ve had to take everything I’ve had set for print into digital format.

Blogging, well I sit down and figure out when I have to time for it.  Well when do I have time for anything.  My day is busy, when I need it to be. So it’s late at night like this one.  But honestly, who really cares?  Do we seriously go through life telling people so much about ourselves through all these different forms of media?  I could get really personal, but leave that more to my personal facebook page. I’m letting it loose and tweeting a few extra things here and there but ha its interesting.  Then there is this  Was told i needed that. Fantastic, I have one.  Now what?  Tumblr?  Trying but time makes it tough to put my goals.  Instagram……Wow just the thought of anyone really caring to see my random pictures, why would they care?

All these things we share so freely as if we know each other so personal.  And I suppose we do to some extent.  If you read someone’s book you know the author more, you watch television you feel what they portray to feel, music speaks at so many different levels.  But social media?  The boom has been phenomenal.  I remember the dial up.  Oh bloody hell that dial up. Nails on a chalkboard.  (aha, I still haven’t told my age but I’ve gotten closer) Now I have a desktop, and a laptops (work) ipod touch and a droid (my R2D2 died, I had a nice funeral for it).  I’ve got a DVR and a PS3.  So much tech, but is it needed?  There are so many ways to connect to people in a whole second, but why?  Does our world get better with that many people in it? I always wondered myself.  I love a lot of my friends, and I love the ones who are enjoying my writing.  

If they want to hear about what I’m eating for breakfast I’m sure I would ablidge, but would it be asked of me? You know I’ve never thought about it.  Hmmm, where would it stop?  Someone mentions a pancake, then asks if I eat one,  I say sure. Then they ask if they could watch me do it…..and if I don’t stop there?  I’m completely amazed at all of it.

I am happy to share a lot that’s asked of me but there is another thing that I have noticed.  And it is definitely interesting.  People love to see posts (on selected social media that is) but how often do they comment?  When a question is asked, how often do they come out of their shell and actually interact with them?  Seems a little one sided. How does one go about getting them out of their shell?  I am seriously curious, and I would LOVE an answer.  I love to talk.  There, you didn’t even have to ask.  But hey, I’m an author and I love words.  I’ve been out in the public doing different things my whole life.  Buts its been in different means.  Never really sure the necessity of all this is .

Don’t get me wrong I am enjoying it.  Its interesting.  I’m sure people are enjoying my fumble in the dark way of getting through this learning curve.  I also think about the last time I spent more than a few hours outside because I am so involved in my computer.  The battery makes it where I don’t have to look at anybody for such a long time.  Is that good for us? Or is it progression? Or shall I ask….*Warning geek comment coming up* have the cybermen have begun to convert us slowly.

From a Neanderthal age of writing to the electronics age

What a whirlwind few days it has been for me.  All the anxiety and frustration about meeting my self deadline and I made it, barely, staying up till 4AM leading it’s way out of Valentines Day.  So yes, my book is out. (I will write about my thoughts on Valentines Day in a completely different post… some point.  But for now, let’s stick with the long road that led me here.

When I started Rise of a Queen it was one of many ideas scribbled down on notebook paper that lay around my desk.  Some I had gotten quite far, other’s not so much.  I spent endless nights researching about many things, the most interesting ones were of a run down state mental institution and all the things they considered treatment.  There was so much to write about regarding that.  Maybe I will pick it up again, who knows. If you know anything about my writing style it was right up my ally.  Those nights kept me awake.  But I’m veering again.

Right, okay. This book.  It really did start with chapter one.  Only chapter one.  Can I say cheesy when I say it came to me in a dream?  Yeah I dream interesting things, you can ask anyone who’s been around when I’ve woken up screaming or running from my night terrors.  Good times.  My imagery of Tessa was so clear.  It was easy to close my eyes and see such a young, beautiful, torn woman/vampire look out sitting on a nice pallet in front of a huge window at all the things she was missing while realizing how special she was.  It’s original name was Vampire Realm.  Just that, nothing else. Then I put it down.  Life happened and it happened hard and fast.  Years passed by.  Then things changed.  

I met a new friend. He convinced me that I MUST pick it back up and work on it and work hard.  Literally a muse (nothing more but a very dear friend), but will remain nameless.  He poked and prodded and helped me along the way as everything flowed back to me and I fell into the novel, immersing into the character herself.  With many ideas thrown back and forth it was getting done.   It was getting done so much I realized that I had more to say that I had to push it down to one novel realizing there was so much that it equaled three novels, each one full of so many personal stories it became its own spider web of connections, betrayal, deceit  dark history, love, (yeah I know, I’m a big un-romantic kinda girl) loss, and growth. Everything was needed and had its place.  That is how it became Rise of a Queen because it is about Tessa’s growth while not ignoring the other characters that will be important in the next novels of the series.  There might be enough to do a prequel about Greco’s past, but we’ll get to that if I can.  

Chapter Five was the last one I wrote, although I had the notes ready for it.  It was hard to find a way to do it tastefully and correctly.  I needed it to be so emotional, sad, upsetting all at once.  Never meant to be something taken lightly, because it is not a light subject.  I probably rewrote it 100 times.  So many pieces of wrinkled papers surrounded my desk you could dive into it like a pile of leaves.  

As previously stated, the tech world somehow passed me up.  Not really all of it.  But the introduction to e-books made things different.  I went from pen and paper to typewriter, then to WordPerfect, then Word, then Open Office.  It needed to be on paper.  PAPER, you know the thing that comes out of a printer with magical words are written on it, looking the way a manuscript should look. But hold up.  What happened?  E-books and formatting is what happened.  Its that kind of world and I realized how terrible thing looked when I had to reformat.  Who would have thought the tab key was a no no?  Who honestly really thought about page breaks?  I just wrote. That’s what I did.  So I have had to progress. I was against e-books.  Really I was.  I still love the smell of paperbacks.  I love the sound as the swish of the turn of the page.  I like going into a used or new bookstore and realize the magic that was involved in in each one of them.  E-books can do that, one just has to learn to navigate the whole process.  It is much harder to find what you are looking for and to find the audience that really wants it but can’t find it.  It also was very limited……the publishing world had decided to take it’s dear sweet time to progress with the times almost as bad as I had.

I think all the above makes sense.  When my mind starts going it tends to ramble on and on and on.  But long story short, that is how my first published novel began in its rawest form and how it, and I, had to grow (gently nudged or thrown into the pit of fire, you name it) with the times.  I’m quite certain I’m not the only one and each person has their own growth story, and I love to hear all of it.

For the Love of a Royal (typewriter that is)

I would have said Ode, but that would entail poetry……and I haven’t written poetry, especially in a certain style, in a very long time I doubt I am any good at that. So we’ll just go with the flow and see where it takes us.

When I say the love of a Royal I mean specifically a Sea Green Vintage Royal Quiet Deluxe manual one from the 50’s.

She was my first love, my Royal, and I dare say that I have loved anything (or anyone) as much as I have her. As much as I have had an awakening of all literature that I could stand nothing can replace the opening my mind took when she came into my life.

It was silly, actually, how I came about it. Maybe fate, we’ll never know. All I know is that I was thirteen at the oldest and took a trip to the consignment shop on base. We lived overseas at the time and my father was in the military. Most of the time I felt like I had to be dragged by my hair to go to the consignment shop. It was all the way across base and tucked into the furthest corner building a young girl could imagine. It was not impressive at all. The moment you walked in it had such a dark look to it (did it have windows? if so, they were covered completely to me anyway), it was musty and full of…….junk. But someone’s junk is someone’s treasure as I found out soon enough. Bored and waiting for my family to finish their browsing I found her, my Royal. As ugly as one would think she was I couldn’t help but see a golden halo quality to it and everything else was drowned out. It was if she called to me, but how silly of a thought. I touched her, felt the curves of the sea mist beast, stroked the metal release bar, and tapped the keys ever so gently. I called to my father that I found something, he took no time at all to find me through the maze of the shop. He was amazed at my glorious find and perplexed. Why would his daughter want such an old thing as that, I’m sure he was wondering. I asked for it, no I will say I BEGGED for it. He looked at the price tag, something I honestly didn’t care about because I was so overtaken with the wonderful find. Twenty dollars, it seemed fair to him. I asked for help with it because it was so heavy (I was quite small at that age, I was always teased that I should have had lead in my shoes so the wind wouldn’t blow me away). He closed the hard-shell case and we left the shop with the best hidden treasure I had ever found.

When we got home, I set it upon my desk. For a moment I looked at the tweed square box that housed my soon-to-be love. Such an ugly box, but I didn’t care, for inside of it was my future. I snapped open the case, and heaved the hefty typewriter out of it. It is funny that when it was built they considered it portable. Maybe for a full grown man or husky woman but I couldn’t see how it would be of any use for me to make it portable. The case got shoved away and I stared at it for moments, looking it over in all its glory. I checked out every possible thing there could be to check out and decided to grab some paper to give her a try.

Nothing felt so exhilarating as when I was typing on her. The sounds of the metal keys as I pushed them down to hear the quick clacking sound it made once it hit the paper; the ding of the moment I needed to go to the next line or even the writers best friend, the backspace key. It had its own corrector to my amazement, white strips on the ink ribbon that with the flip of the switch I could make my mistake disappear. Every day I spent time on her, slaving away at ideas that floated around in my head, ones that I used to be able to only do from writing on hundreds of papers that surrounded my room. Seriously, the odd things I wrote probably wouldn’t have made much sense to me, even back then. But I wrote. And I wrote long and hard and I got better. I got better at the action of it getting over 30 words per minute, which is a great feat for using something that had no quick plastic keys, only hard push buttons. I now can fly across the keyboard like the wind was at my back and I STILL love the backspace key. The best invention ever. Of course there was no spell check on her, which is something I have to admit is great for a first draft, or fourth, of anything written to this day. As much as I grew with the times and everyone had one of the nice electric typewriters (we weren’t at the great word-processing age that we are now, but mind you I’m not close to forty so lets not age me quite yet). I chose to stay with my Royal. My ever faithful lover of the mind.

I credit her for everything wonderful and wicked, and maybe even foul that has come from my mind and placed out for all to see (or none). As the years grew on, my imagination grew more vivid, my wording became clearer and more defined, and this passion of writing overtook me. It was at that moment I realized that it was something that I wanted to do. I didn’t care about being famous, because I stayed in reality and understood I would not be part of that minority. I wish I still had all that work that I had done, but I suppose fate pulled a cruel joke with a not-so-lovely teenager made it disappear, calling it rubbish and making me feel less worthy than I was. I put my Royal in its box, keeping it in my sight always. As I grew older I went back and forth between her and the literal pen to paper. It was much easier to carry with me a notebook for my visions than to cart her around. But she stayed there, and I loved her. I transferred my scribble (I do not say that lightly because even I have a hard time translating what I’ve written) onto my desktop, sometimes my laptop. The flash drive is the best thing ever and I can carry copies of my life’s worth on such a small thing. But I never forgot my Royal.

I am told she is worth quite a bit on the market at this moment, I could never sell her. I just know that because of her my visions turned into the written word that made me the confident writer than I am to this day, churning out idea after idea. But she sits in her box. That disgusting hard-shell Tweed isn’t the best of anything but imagine it as a cover of a suitcase with its ugly olive and brown tones. What is inside the box is the most beautiful of creatures and will continue to be such a thing. Maybe one of these days, when I feel nostalgic and pets that wouldn’t be startled by its harshly soothing sounds, I will pull her out again and take yet another spin. Until then she is safe from the world. How many people do you know that can say they still have their first love? As morbid a thought that could be, in the idea of a human, I find it comforting that she will forever be by my side to be passed on through the generations beyond even my imagination.


Coffee, Mac n Cheese, and Abba???…….guilty pleasures

I have quite a few contradicting guilty pleasures.  While a person is supposed to fit in the mold I have a tendency to be like that gelatin that just doesn’t form right and looks more like a blob that had a stroke.  I’m not even sure where that box is that I’m supposed to fit in. We all have our little quirks, that’s what makes us who we are.  Obviously I have already made that clear.

And this is why I  became a writer.  For certain it isn’t because I have mastered the English language or learned the perfect form to place on my paper, or even the concept of Point of View. (What? What’s that?  Oh yeah, that’s something other’s want to stay with.  Guess what? That’s what separators are for) From what I understand even the greatest of authors have their own quirks and how they do things. I have been informed that there is one very popular one out there that, instead of using separators, he just makes a whole new chapter!!! Good grief at the number of short chapters I would have at this point.

Oh, yeah I was talking about guilty pleasures.  I have TONS of them.  Do you have all morning?  I drink coffee and tea, dislike water.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE and kind of pasta with a cheese sauce, I could eat it every day if it were possible.  PowerPuff Girls. Yep. Bubbles is my fave.  In the same breath I can’t wait for the new season of Walking Dead to come on and the new season of Doctor Who to come on. Musical tastes?  hahahahahahahahahahaha. I’m hard core rocker.  Believe it? It’s possible, it really is.  I’m Disturbed for life, even got the stamp to prove it. That’s my preference.  But what do I have shuffling through that ol’ mp3? ABBA of course, Celtic music, some Dvorjak, and lots of dance music.  Cause I’m me 🙂  I love being me.  when I’m not overburdened with an overabundance of multiple things to do at the same time and it cause me to go into anxiety twitching then I have to hide away in my hobbit hole.  Crap. Here I am writing and what am I supposed to do?  You guessed it writing.  Just not here. Oops, you caught me.

Red out


The fall into the swirly bowl of media…….and life

As I have posted before…….As technically savvy I thought I was in regard to being social has bypassed me as everybody grabs their gadgets within gadgets and checks into whatever app that tellsImageeveryone how yummy their food is, or posting pictures instantly to make a person realize how much fun that they are having and how much they are part of the “in crowd” and how much you may be missing.

I’m not crotchety, old, or just set in my ways.  I’m learning the ropes, it is taking an interesting journey.  A few weeks ago I never would have thought I would be a blogger or tweet or have a web page alone.  But guess what?  I do and it is probably the closest to a miracle as a person like me could get. I still have few followers on twitter, but ya know, its a slow process.  What could I tweet when I don’t have an audience.  I won’t have an audience until I tweet and blog and update my author page on Facebook.  See the endless cycle? Social networking is like getting a swirly from the mean kids at school.  Or that old school merry-go-round you ran on as a kid you pushed and pushed to go as fast as you could go to see who could hold on the longest and if the person pushing it at full force could jump in to join in the mayhem of utter dizziness.

BUT SOCIAL IS GOOD. I’m definitely not one to say it is bad.  I have admitted I have a Facebook addiction.  I am sooooooooooooo in love with Pinterest.  Seriously, who can get enough of smart-ass ecards and things in regard to Star Trek, Star, Wars, The Whedonverse and the Moffotheads with their love-hate relationship as we impatiently await the next season of Sherlock and of course when the new Doctor Who will be coming.  Media is telling us all this, keeping us connected as odd as we are.  Where else can people find something involved with each other that would have never connected them otherwise.  And that is THANKFUL TO MEDIA.  I have met the greatest amount of people through all of this.  We all have our loves.

What are your loves?  You know we all have inner geeks inside of us, I proudly wear mine on my sleeve.  My biggest part of it that is still attached to the human world.  Books. I’m not talking about e-books.  I’m talking straight up book store (used has that extra bit) when you glance through your genre’s and just pull a book of the shelf.  Who really can tell how good a new book smells.  Even a used one, the thought of the many owners that have enjoyed something you know that you will love or despise.  Then in steps technology.  I will have no room to talk because that is exactly how I am sending my book out.  Through e-books, although I admit my first e-reader is some sort of Sony 5 year ago gen.  I own an ipod touch, as a gift. I LOVE it.  I get to love MORE on my Facebook and my Pinterest.  The search and maps? phenomenal.  Those damn angry birds have gotten the better of me though.  I have a kindle app where I can download my books to read, but the backlog of books keep building. I am such a bad girl. How does one balance everything at the one time?  Supermom’s/dad’s college age and those totally snarky teenager who roll their eyerytime I ask a question about my tech.  But I score points because I hold a real R2D2 Android phone.  It could fall apart but until I get another one, I will guess at the empty spots on the pull out keyboard, Yeah I’m one of those.  But once again I have brownie points. Where I volunteer and my friends I’m “cool”  (what’s the word the days? remember I’ve bypassed that era however the hell that happened because i am seriously not old, although how old is too old?). I have tattoo’s and still wanting more, I have multiple ear piercings and *gasp* a nose ring.  The drama on that one.  I’ve got bright red streaks in my hair.  I’m called “red” and “itty bitty firecracker” Cause I’m short and I don’t give a damn.

I am me, you are you and if we learn something from each other then the world will continue to flourish as a society pushing back the ways of our old and move forward which yes, I get begrudgingly on and grab that ring and hope that anybody cares about what I say.  I’m mad don’t you know?

Tis the life of a writer.  Good news on that front in about two weeks, less than a month my first book will be out.  DO NOT BE SHY please please please read what I have to offer and if you are interested.  I don’t feel it is part of the standard vampire genre and it offers a bit for each gender.  I swear they don’t sparkle and no matter what it seems it is not young adult and has quite a few tough situations. Things change, be ready, but it is definitely worth a good read. Check out my synopsis and the FREE chapter One.  Who can say no to free?  You’ll get the heads up, and if your friends might like that kind of thing. pass it on.  Pass this blog, or my website on.

Go to my main website:

the part where my book and synopsis is

Like my facebook, follow my tweets. Guide me through this.  Stop by and say something. I want to know what I am doing right and what I’m doing wrong.  We have to learn from one another don’t we?

Shameless plug over now.