Sarah Price's Blog, page 23

How can an author spend time with family members, over the holidays, when they’ve already gone on to heaven?

Sounds like a crazy question, doesn’t it? But I’ve found that in writing Christmas stories I’ve been able to revisit with family members by writing about them! When I spend time putting a family members characteristics or situations into a book it is a lot of fun and very nostalgic for me. I was a psychologist for twenty-five years before becoming a fiction author. Hands down–writing about the loved ones I’m missing is so much more therapeutic than simply spending time reviewing old memories, even if I’m fictionalizing them!

For instance in Snowed In, in Guidepost Books A Cup of Christmas Cheer Volume 1, my hero is a WWII veteran inspired by my father and a heroine (inspired by my mother) and little sisters (my aunts). The former infantryman takes his girlfriend and her sisters to his grandmother’s cabin in the countryside, and his bachelor uncle is a little put out, at first, over the visitors. My real life great-grandparents cabin is part of The Tahquamenon Lumbering Museum, in Newberry, Michigan. So during the time when I wrote the story, I shed a few tears at getting to “spend time” with my family over the holidays (even though the loved ones weren’t there and I was writing in the spring and summer!) I listened to a lot of Bing Crosby for the story and imagined how it may have been for my dad, a wounded WWII vet, to have come home from the war, and both his mother and father are gone (my grandmother died when my dad was twelve and his father died during WWII before my dad returned.) So although this was fiction, I enjoyed getting to spend time with a story world populated by my family!

For my Selah award finalist, The Fruitcake Challenge, which was published last year, I once again drew upon my mother’s feisty personality for my heroine Josephine, and Mom’s background in a lumber camp. It was fun imagining what she would do with a guy like the hero, Tom Jeffries, showing up at her camp and challenging her to make a fruitcake “as good as my mother makes” and he’ll marry her! I hadn’t planned on doing any new writing in late 2014 as I’d spent the summer working with several editors on multiple manuscripts, and I thought I needed a break. But the opportunity to have a Christmas story where I could hang out with my spunky mom again was too good to resist! She died five years ago of bile duct/pancreatic cancer. But in my story, I imagined a heroine in a lumber camp with many of her character traits and it was a balm to missing her! (The Fruitcake Challenge was included in a release by Forget-Me-Not Romances as part of an 8-in-1 collection with all of the Christmas Traditions novellas.)

This year I went a little further back in time and included family members I never knew. My grandfather grew up in lower Michigan with his British-born parents. Many of my great-grandmother’s Wenham family members also moved to the area. So although my hero and heroine in this novella aren’t inspired by family, I had fun sneaking in my great-grandparents, grandfather, and great-uncle! Not nearly as therapeutic as the other stories, but still fun! And I included a friend’s husband who departed the earth last year—way too soon. That still doesn’t seem real that he could have died so quickly from that evil thief, cancer. But in this story, part of Carlton lives on.

What about you? Do you have any Christmas traditions that help you remember loved ones who’ve gone on to join Jesus?

GIVEAWAY TIME! One person who leaves a comment will be picked to win a THREE book prize package from Carrie! For an EXTRA chance share this post and leave a comment if you do.

Winner’s package (Void where prohibited by law):

Giveaway starts today, Friday, December 4th and ends Friday, December 11th.

*Giveaway is only open to US residents*

Former “Yooper” Carrie Fancett Pagels writes Christian historical romances about overcoming. She grew up in Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where many of her stories are set. Possessed with an overactive imagination, that wasn’t “cured” by twenty-five years as a psychologist, she loves bringing characters to life. Carrie and her family reside in Virginia’s Historic Triangle, which is perfect for her fascination with history. Carrie enjoys reading, traveling, baking, and beading—but not all at the same time!

Connect with Carrie:

Website: www.carriefancettpagels.com

Blogs: Overcoming With God and Colonial Quills,  Facebook Author Page,  Facebook Personal Page

Twitter,  Pinterest,  goodreads,  LinkedIn

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Every year I hang a little beaded purse on my Christmas tree. Nothing elaborate–just a simple coin purse suspended on a length of red ribbon. But every time I look at that little purse, memories wash over me…

Christmas 1976. I was not-quite-16 and chafing a bit at the changes taking place as I moved from girlhood to womanhood. It seemed so much of life was unfair, and most especially the way we celebrated Christmas that year. Instead of going to Grandma’s house, where the air was always scented by homemade goodies, we visited the rest home where Grandma and Grandpa had recently taken up residence because of Grandma’s failing health. Instead of Grandma bustling around, laughing as she offered cookies and cocoa, she lay in a tall, institutional bed, her lined face tired and sad. Instead of a fragrant tree overflowing with time-worn ornaments, a tiny plastic tree with unlit bulbs sat on a little table in the corner of the dismal room. This was Christmas? My heart ached at all that had changed.

While my parents visited with Grandpa, I sat on the edge of Grandma’s bed and held her hand–the hand that always been so busy but now seemed like a stranger’s hand with its blue veins and parchment skin. We talked quietly about school and my future plans. Minutes slipped by, and I felt so grown up sitting there holding her hand and sharing my hopes for the years ahead.

Midway through our conversation, she instructed me to remove my gift from the drawer in the stand beside her bed. I unwrapped a tiny beaded purse from wrinkled tissue paper. As I opened it, Grandma explained that she had trusted a nurse aide to purchase my gift. She apologized, saying it was too childish for the young woman I was becoming, but it was all she had to give me.

I remember sitting there, holding that little purse, with a dozen thoughts rushing through my mind: All you have to give me? You’ve given me unconditional love and acceptance for as long as I can remember. You taught me to sing “Jesus Loves Me” and to recite the Lord’s Prayer. You’ve prayed with me and for me and have been an example of unselfish love every day of my life! Grandma, you’ve given me so, so much… But my teenage tongue only managed to tell her thank you for the gift. She smiled, and we continued to visit until tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep.

That was my last Christmas with Grandma. Less than a month later, on my 16th birthday, she slipped away to heaven. Although nearly four decades have passed, I still miss her. Especially at Christmas, that time of year when families gather. But I have my little purse and the memory of how she helped me understand, in a very simple way, that Christmas isn’t about elaborate gifts or decorated trees or plates of goodies. It’s about love–pure, unselfish love shared with those who are important to us. Grandma believed in the precious Gift offered by God at Christmastime, so I know one day I’ll see her again in heaven. I look forward to that time, to telling her how many of the dreams I shared on Christmas day in 1976 have come true. But, somehow, I think she already knows, and I’m pretty sure she’s smiling and thinking, “I knew you could do it, my Kim.”

May your Christmas be filled with wonderful memories to cherish!

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him!

God bless~

Kim Vogel Sawyer

Kim Vogel Sawyer is a best-selling, award-winning author with more than one million copies of her books currently in print. Awards include the ACFW Carol Award, the Inspirational Readers Choice Award, and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. Sawyer lives in central Kansas, where she and her retired military husband, Don, run a bed-and-breakfast inn with the help of their feline companions. She savors time with her daughters and grandchildren.

Newest Release: WHEN LOVE RETURNS

Coming Soon: ROOM FOR HOPE

Connect with Kim: Facebook~Twitter~Website

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One of the special Christmas moments I look back fondly on was the one where my parents had an open house every Christmas Eve. Friends and relatives (children included) visited, laughed, talked and ate at my home. My mother cooked for days and put out quite a feast for the guests. I especially loved her homemade eggnog.

I can still remember on those Christmas Eves a fire going in the fireplace, the Christmas tree, full of decorations, all lit up and snow falling outside (some years). Every holiday when we put up our tree I love putting those old ornaments from my childhood on my tree. In fact, my Christmas tree is full of memories from my childhood, my son’s and places and people I’ve known. Decorating our tree is a journey into the past for my husband and me.

So when my cats tipped the Christmas tree over, I was not happy. When I walked into my living room and saw the mess, my mouth dropped open. I was totally surprised. I’m not sure which one was responsible, but boy were they curious about all the ornaments on the floor. I had to wait until my husband came home to right the tree. I was afraid to look at the ones that were broken–I thought most of them were. When we put it up, half of the ornaments were on the floor but surprisingly only three of them were broken. I couldn’t’ believe more weren’t broken. A lot of the old ones I had from my mother (over fifty years old) were glass ornaments. Not one of them broke.

So next year I’ll be able to put up my tree and remember all the people and places that the ornaments remind me of. That is a special time when I decorate the tree.

What is one of your favorite memories of Christmas?

About Margaret’s latest book, Deadly Noel:

District attorney, Kira Davis, convicted the wrong man—Gabriel Michaels, a single dad with a young daughter. When new evidence was brought forth, his conviction was overturned, and Gabriel returned home to his ranch to put his life back together. Although Gabriel is free, the murderer of his wife is still out there and resumes killing women. In a desperate alliance, Kira and Gabriel join forces to find the true identity of the person terrorizing their town. Will they be able to forgive the past and find the killer before it’s too late?

Available at: http://margaretdaley.com/all-books/

Margaret Daley, a USA Today’s Bestselling author of over ninety-five books (five million plus sold worldwide), has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread and corralling her three cats that think they rule her household.

To find out more about Margaret visit her website at http://www.margaretdaley.com, Facebook, and Twitter.

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My latest novel, Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses, is a romantic Christmas story, but at the heart, it’s about family. I enjoy doing many Christmas traditions with my own family. One of which is making Santa cookies! Now, Santa is fussy about his cookies and he has a certain one that he waits all year to have. So, for anyone who’d like to try it, here’s the recipe straight from the Hale’s kitchen!

The Hale’s Chocolate Chip Cookies for Santa

Ingredients:

¾ cup rolled oats

1 cup whole wheat flour

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

½ a stick of butter (softened)

¼ cup coconut oil (heated to liquid)

1/3 cup sugar

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup 60% Cacao Ghirardelli dark chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Coat 2 cookie sheets with coconut oil or butter.

In bowl 1: Grind oats in a food processor, put in bowl. Add flour, baking soda & salt.

In bowl 2 (large bowl): Beat butter until fluffy. Add melted coconut oil, both sugars, egg, and vanilla. Beat until smooth and creamy. With the mixer running, add the dry ingredients from bowl 1. Beat on low until just combined. Stir in chocolate chips.

Drop dough one inch apart on cookie sheet. Bake one sheet at a time about 15 minutes.

An uplifting, beautiful story about never letting go of your dreams, the special magic of a family Christmas… and the rush of falling in love under the mistletoe.

Single mother Abbey Fuller loves her family more than anything, and doesn’t regret for a moment having had to put her dreams of being an interior designer on hold. But with her son, Max, growing up, when a friend recommends her for a small design job she jumps at the chance. How hard can it be?

Nick Sinclair needs his house decorated in time for his family’s festive visit – and money is no object. What he doesn’t need is to be distracted from his multi-million dollar business – even if it is Christmas.

When Abbey pulls up to the huge Sinclair mansion, she has a feeling she might be out of her depth. And when she meets the gorgeous, brooding Nicholas Sinclair, she knows that she’s in real trouble…

With the snow falling all around, can Abbey take the chance to make her dreams of being a designer come true?

And can she help Nick to finally enjoy the magic of Christmas?

When I graduated college, one of my friends said, “Look out for this one; she’s going to be an author one day.” Despite being an avid reader and a natural storyteller, it wasn’t until that very moment that the idea of writing novels occurred to me.

Sometimes our friends can see the things that we can’t.

While I didn’t start straight away, that comment sowed a seed and several years, two children, and hundreds of thousands of words later, I completed a novel that I felt was worthy of publication. The result was Coming Home for Christmas – a story about friends, family, and the magic of love at Christmas.

Many novels later, I find myself still writing. I am currently at work on my next novel.

Join Jenny on Facebook, Twitter, and itsjennyhale.com!

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I love traditions. I remember growing up that, every Christmas, we would travel to my grandparents in Pennsylvania. It was our tradition. Then we began rotating among the women (my mom, Aunt Lorraine, and Aunt Evie). It was a new tradition. After my grandmother passed away, the family didn’t get together anymore.

No tradition.

Families change.

People change.

Traditions change.

In Secret Sister, Grace Beiler is faced with her first Christmas without her husband and with a splintered relationship with her children. She is lonely and lost, not knowing her place in the family anymore. Her husband always managed that. She is also trying to adjust to her new role in the community. From wife to widow. It’s a hard transition for anyone, but especially in a male-dominated society and without the benefit of a supportive family.

Often when there is such a radical change, one that people think they simply cannot face or get through, they emerge victorious over the very situation they dreaded.

When they once felt weakness, they learn to find strength. In fact, they develop into a new person.

But isn’t that what life is about? Rebirth? Think about it. A person cannot be the same throughout his or her entire life. They must change and develop as they face the different stages of life: infancy, childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, midlife adulthood, mature adulthood, late adulthood.

Grace Beiler is at that point: late adulthood.

What Grace doesn’t know is that the last stage can be fulfilling. Someone else knows that and shows her the way. The only problem is that Grace doesn’t know who it is. She has a secret sister to guide her through the holiday and remind her that life is for the living.

I encourage you to read the book and share your thoughts about the transition in Grace Beiler. Join us on Tuesday night at 8:30pm EST for an online book discussion (http://www.facebook.com/fansofsarahprice).

And, if you know anyone that is in the midst of such a transition, consider gifting Secret Sister to this person. It might help them with their difficult journey.

P.S. A special thank you to my publisher for discounting the ebook version of Secret Sister: An Amish Christmas Tale.

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Somehow, I actually slept past 6:00 this morning. (PROBABLY because my body has finally decided it can relax just in time for alarm setting to begin again tomorrow at 4:50 a.m. Booooo). I got up out of bed, let the dog out, and walked into the kitchen. And. Just. Sighed.

On the stove was a pan of left over cinnamon rolls that my sweet mother-in-law made for us. She makes every family a pan each year at Thanksgiving. Beside that was the icing she whipped up to go with the rolls. The counter was topped with three coffee makers. (Yes. THREE) Our normal five cup pot, a 12 cup pot because the entire clan was here, and our Keurig. We like coffee in our family, but seriously? Three coffee makers on the counter?

Despite doing approximately four loads of dishes in the last two days, my sink was full of dirty dishes and the washer was full of clean dishes—not to mention the random spoons and mugs that were sitting in various spots.

Unwilling to grind fresh coffee, I put a pod in the Keurig and started my first cup of the day. I went to the fridge to get some half and half (a big sarcastic “thank you” to my brother for getting me hooked on THAT fattening little treat) and sighed again. There, inside my refrigerator were a multitude of bowls, dishes, and containers full of leftovers. Leftover gravy. Leftover stuffing. Leftover Cranberry Jell-O Salad. Leftover green beans, corn, apple crisp, pumpkin pie, ham…We had a really nice Thanksgiving dinner. The day after Thanksgiving, the family returned and we had a re-heated version of the night before. It was yummy.

But…

Look. I’m done. I’m done with dishes. I’m done with sweets. I’m done with bread (I know, hard to believe). I’m done with leftovers. Blah. I want some pizza or something “normal”. (wink, wink) Okay, maybe a really yummy salad or sautéed veggies. The holiday was great, but I’m ready for normal life to resume (minus work—not ready for that yet).

I’m ready for healthy. I’m ready for clean. I’m ready for organized.

Don’t people do the same thing with their lives? They get caught up in “feasting” on life—living the “good life”. Living life the way they want to…their own rules…doing whatever they want, whenever they want. And, you know what? It’s fun. They enjoy it. Good times. Whoo Hoo!

One day, though, they wake up and realize their life is a mess! They have left behind a trail of destruction. Broken relationships, addictions, lost opportunities—and they aren’t sure where to begin to pick up the pieces.

God is so good. You know? He can take our messes and make something wonderful out of them! He can clean up all the trash and leftover mess and make something new. Does it mean everything will be fixed?

Does it mean all of the consequences of over-indulgence will be wiped away? No. But, it does mean we can have a new start. A fresh start. A new beginning. He will clear the clutter.

What do we have to do? Ask. Just ask. He sees our mess. He wants to help. He is waiting for us to ask. God is a gentleman. He doesn’t impose. He gave us free will. He WANTS us to want Him.

Is your life a mess? Ask your Heavenly Father to help you clean it up.

“God doesn’t want something from us, He simply wants us.” -C.S. Lewis

“I will receive everyone; I will not send away anyone who comes to Me.” John 6:37b

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” 2 Corinthians 5:17

Lisa Bull sees her life as a journey along God’s divine plan. While considering herself an expert on nothing, she enjoys laughing and has made “choosing joy” her motto. Lisa has experienced God’s unfailing love and grace in her life and wants nothing more than for others to enjoy that same gift in their lives.

Lisa is the daughter and granddaughter of ministers. She has multiple relatives in ministry on both sides of her father’s family including several pastors, pastor’s wives, and missionaries. In fact, ministry in her maternal grandmother’s family can be traced back several generations. She loves being a wife and mother of two terrific young men.

Visit Lisa at Walking Bare Souled in the SONshine and JoyGurls.com

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The post I’m Done With Leftovers by Lisa Bull appeared first on Sarah Price.

Please notice that I used the word “Christmas,” not holiday. And while this is the holiday season, I much prefer the use of the word CHRISTMAS. After all, the entire holiday season for Christian is about Christ.

Too many people lose sight of that.

Two thousand plus years ago, this child was born in Bethlehem, a beautiful baby boy (for all babies are beautiful) and a true miracle. Little did anyone know how that child would change the world.

Think about it.

One baby…thirty three years of life on earth…billions of people’s lives touched and changed because of him. I’d love to calculate how many Christians over the course of the past two thousand years were impacted, supported, and drawn into faith because of this one baby that God chose to send to us because of his love for people.

In the history of time, I challenge you to find one person who has impacted humanity as much as God’s Son, Jesus.

To me, that is the special meaning of Christmas.

This year, I’m not giving gifts. I did not choose to do that because I’m a Scrooge. I’m doing that because the gift of Christmas is salvation, not an electronic gadget or new sweater or other little things. It’s so nice to give gifts to people, but I am choosing, instead, to gift to charity…to help walk with Jesus and spread his word by sending Bibles to people in countries or regions of the United States that do not have Bibles.

I had talked about doing this with Lisa at one point…going to a country to help spread the word, to talk about Jesus, to help people understand salvation. In today’s world, that’s just not practical.

Frankly, neither one of us are great flyers and, being human, I have my own fears about such a mission. (yea yea, I’m a chicken). But I can still touch people’s lives in a way that honors the true meaning of Christmas.

For my family, we will spend time together and that is the greatest gift of all which simply cannot be wrapped in a pretty little box with a bow on it.

One year, at church, I saw something that really drilled home my belief that even some Christians are missing the point of the holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ. There had been an angel tree at the church and the people who selected the name to gift some items could only use a shoebox. They could put anything they wanted in the shoebox but nothing more. On this particular Sunday, the shoeboxes were given to the priest (I was at a Catholic church on this occasion). What I saw was most interesting. The women—for it was almost all women who participated in this—walked down the center aisle to hand in their shoebox. What I overheard from several women seated near me after they returned to their seats was shocking: they kept commenting on who had decorated the shoebox the best as well as the worse.

It dawned on me that, to the women in the pews, it didn’t matter what the gift was, but it mattered how pretty the box was! They also commented on who did not give at all!

I call this Shoebox Giving, making the effort but for all of the wrong reasons.

This year, I’m hoping to transfer the true meaning of Christmas to my children: give to those in need, but give what they actually need. A family living in poverty needs food, clothing, heat. Having a doll or baseball are very nice things for children, yes. But I know MY children do not need those things. What they need is compassion and empathy for others.

That’s the greatest gift I can give them.

And it won’t be wrapped in a shoebox…

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Do you like cuckoo clocks?

I can remember visiting my grandparents and sleeping on the red couch in the living room beneath a black and white clock that cuckooed all night. Maybe it was only once an hour, but to me it felt like every two minutes during those long nights.

I’ve never owned a cuckoo clock, though when I hear one, the sound always makes me think of those childhood visits to my grandparents’ house.

I’ve been thinking about that lately, because I’ve been involved in writing the Sugarcreek Amish Mysteries series published by Guideposts. Every few weeks for the next two years a new book comes out about Cheryl Cooper, a young woman who moves to Sugarcreek, Ohio, in the heart of Amish country, and finds an unlikely new best friend in an Amish wife and mother. Somehow they always find themselves up against a mysterious conundrum.

What does that have to do with cuckoo clocks and memories of my grandparents?

Sugarcreek claims to have the world’s largest cuckoo clock—about twenty-four feet side and twenty-four feet high. Every hour on the hour, it not only cuckoos, but a five-piece mechanized oompa band comes out to play, and two dancers perform a polka. Imagine trying to sleep through that! The clock has a long history in another location and was moved to Main Street in Sugarcreek in 2010.

A group of eight authors are writing for Sugarcreek Amish Mysteries. The first six books are out, and I’m especially excited right now because my first contribution is next in line. Peace Like a River releases on December 16—just in time for Christmas! I also just turned in my second manuscript in the series, which is all about the enormous cuckoo clock and will come out next summer.

The cover to Peace Like a River is about as perfect as perfect could be in suggesting what the story is about. I love it. Here’s the back cover blurb.

Though Cheryl Cooper wrestles with her own mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day, she wants to make sure her good friends Naomi and Seth Miller have the truest love possible—which doesn’t include the obvious tension that is building between them. So when Cheryl stumbles across clues that indicate Seth is keeping an odd secret, and he gets testy and elusive whenever she asks him about it, her mystery-solving radar kicks in. Candy-heart messages left for her to find begin to make sense. Without knowing who her accomplice is, she follows cryptic leads to discover what happened in a split-second one summer day, decades ago, which splintered friendships and fostered love.

Here’s a video link to find out more about the whole series—you can jump in at any time, start from the beginning, or buy just the individual books that interest you.

If you have visited Sugarcreek, you might enjoy the way the series weaves in real places and people. And if you’ve never been, you will enjoy letting a real town with long Amish history come to life in your imagination.

Olivia Newport is the author of the Valley of Choice series of Amish stories and the ongoing collection of Amish Turns of Time, which includes Wonderful Lonesome, Meek and Mild, and Brightest and Best. Hope in the Land releases April 2016.

Connect with Olivia on Facebook, Twitter, and www.olivianewport.com

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As a kid I loved Thanksgiving. The pageantry—reenacting the Pilgrim’s meal—the costumes—the food—the fun. I remember making a turkey by tracing my hand for the body and then coloring each finger to make feathers. Some kids made pilgrim hats. We always had candy corn and wrote little essays on “What I’m Thankful For”. The calendar on the wall was filled with happy turkeys and life was—well—it was good!

Is it just me or does it seem that we are losing Thanksgiving? Do kids still learn about it in school? Do they know why we celebrate the day? What about adults? Do we remember? It’s supposed to be a day of reflection. A day to focus on all the pilgrims suffered to come here for a new life. They had a hope and risked everything to make their hope reality. They had faith.

I’m thankful for the first settlers—the Pilgrims who came so that I can live this blessed life in the United States.

Do we take their sacrifices for granted?

What about our spiritual lives? Shouldn’t every day for the Christian be Thanksgiving Day? After all, Christ gave us His everything—His Life—so that we could have a hope in eternal life.

I am indebted, grateful, thankful, and blessed because of Jesus who came and gave His life so that I could have an eternal hope through my faith in Him. Do we take His sacrifice for granted?

Something to think about today.

Love you guys.

Happy Thanksgiving!

(Pictures thanks to Cub Robertson and Chevaye Richardson.

Lisa Bull sees her life as a journey along God’s divine plan. While considering herself an expert on nothing, she enjoys laughing and has made “choosing joy” her motto. Lisa has experienced God’s unfailing love and grace in her life and wants nothing more than for others to enjoy that same gift in their lives.

Lisa is the daughter and granddaughter of ministers. She has multiple relatives in ministry on both sides of her father’s family including several pastors, pastor’s wives, and missionaries. In fact, ministry in her maternal grandmother’s family can be traced back several generations. She loves being a wife and mother of two terrific young men.

Visit Lisa at Walking Bare Souled in the SONshine and JoyGurls.com

First time visiting me? Subscribe for email updates or find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram.

The post Thanksgiving by Lisa Bull appeared first on Sarah Price.

I’m a writer. That’s what I do. I write.

Unfortunately, being a writer means I do not have external office or a “regular” work schedule. I say “unfortunately” because, despite loving what I do, there are days that I would love to have an office so that I could walk out the front door at 7:45am and not be expected to return until 7:30pm…or even later!

But that’s not the life of a writer.

Writing requires a great deal of concentration. When the creative neurons kick into gear, there are two things that can happen:

I grab my laptop and write, write, write. The world is a happy place!

I grab my laptop and try to write but find myself unsuccessful. The world is not a happy place.

I don’t think I need to embellish on #1. I do, however, need to explain #2.

Increasingly, I am finding it impossible to write. At first, I figured it was due to extreme stress due to some on-going issues in my household. Then I chalked it up to not liking my main character very much.

Today, however, I realized that there is something else going on, something that creates #2. In fact, it is the greatest threat to the writer: Interruptions.

Interruptions range from the important (“Where’s the remote control?” “I can’t find my cell phone!” and “Can you take me to…[fill in the blank]?”) to the mundane (“I’m letting the pig inside, ok?”, “The dog ate my book!”, and “Why is the Internet so slow?”).

I have become the GPS for all missing items. In fact, that could possibly be my go-to career: finding lost things for other people.

I suppose I should not complain. Hey, it’s really nice to be needed, right?

And yet…while I usually respond with a sigh as I get up to find [fill in the blank], I wonder if this is not indicative of something larger than just being a living GPS system: our world has become far too comfortable with instant gratification. Where communication used to take weeks, sometimes months, to be shared (think updates from Old World Europe to the New Colonies!), we can now share information with someone on the other side of the world within nanoseconds!

My daughter recently kidnapped my cell phone to turn on READ notifications because she thought I was ignoring her text. Little did she know that I do not monitor my texts 24×7. Sometimes when she is texting me, I actually am driving or writing. Even if I hear that BING from my phone (another interruption that creates a Pavlov’s Dog type of panic…do I stop what I’m doing and answer or ignore????), I cannot always stop what I’m doing to engage in a 10 minute texting conversation.

And while I prefer texting to phone calls, I’m starting to wonder if it’s just not better to pick up the phone and call.

I don’t think re-training them is a viable solution. After almost three years, I still can’t teach Tobi how to “sit” on command or stop barking when he’s having one of those on-going, never-ending, what seems like hours, barking fits! And he’s only five pounds! I can pick him up and put him in another room! #doesnothelp

Locking myself in a room isn’t an answer either. They’ve all figured out how to break into my hideout rooms.

I may just have to start hanging out at Starbucks (expensive solution…have to buy pumpkin spice lattes!) or going to the library (uncomfortable solutions…I can’t kick back and lounge out).

I’m not sure what the solution is for this, but I’m open for ideas!

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