Tagged! I’m it! #mywritingprocess

I have been tagged in the #mywritingprocess blog tour game! The way it works is someone who has been tagged writes a blog answer to four questions. That person then tags other authors, who answer the questions and tag someone else.

I was tagged by Kate McLachlan (http://www.katemclachlan.com/ ), author of Murder and the Hurdy Gurdy Girl, as well as the RIP Van Dyke time-travel series, in the #mywritingprocess blog tour game. It’s just four simple questions about my writing process. I’ll tag other writers to share their writing process. So here we go!

1) What am I working on?
I’ve recently finished edits on book 9 in the Lex & Amanda series, Beyond Always. Next up, I’m doing a little research and note-taking for the followup to Heart’s Resolve, tentatively titled Heart’s Salvation. Delaney and Gib have been tapping me on the shoulder for months, demanding attention. Of course, so have Sam & Janie from Piperton, Shelby & Rebecca from Diving into the Turn, and two new sets of ladies, who shall remain nameless for the time being.

2) How does my work differ from others in the same genre?
Hmm. Different? I don’t know that what I do is much different, other than my early “fade-to-black” love scenes. There are so many great writers out there who do the hot and heavy stuff, there’s really no way need for me to compete. Besides, my mom might read it, and that is just too embarrassing to think about. 🙂

3) Why do I write what I do?
All of my characters are from the same places I’m from, although I do change town names to protect the innocent, namely me. I make up locations, but they’re always somewhat based on things that I’ve done, seen, or at least been told about. For instance, most of my “ranch” experience was from taking care of critters when I was younger, as well as spending time at the ranch that my grandfather ran as foreman. Maybe I’m lazy and don’t want to learn new dialects – or maybe I’m just very comfortable in my twang. Although I don’t think I have an accent, others may disagree, LOL.

4) How does my writing process work?
Sometimes, the littlest thing will catch my attention and get a story started in my head. At other times, previous book characters will wake me and tell me that they’re tired of waiting, and demand satisfaction. A dream started the whole Lex & Amanda series, and now they won’t leave me alone. (turns and yells, “No, Amanda. I will not tell them that!”)

I tend to write linearly, which is from beginning to end. I may have ideas for scenes scribbled on post-it notes or napkins, and I’ll insert them where I need to. Other times, I write an entire story around one scene – those are the ones that drive me nuts. In Trust Our Tomorrows, for example, the only scene I had on my mind when I started the book, was where Lex was stuck in the mud. Then I had to go and build an entire book around it. Fun times! Lorrie has a lot of my attitude, as if you couldn’t tell 🙂

I have tagged:  My wife, JM Carr, author of soon-to-be-released Hard Lessons.  MJ Williamz, romance and erotica author extraordinaire of such titles as Forbidden Passions, Initiation by Desire, Shots Fired and Speakeasy. And one of the first authors I ever read, the incomparable BL Miller, whose titles include: She’s the One, Graceful Waters, Crystal’s Heart, Accidental Love, and Josie and Rebecca: The Western Chronicles. Check out their writing processes, and their books too!


Fourteen Years? Wow!

It’s hard to believe, but my first book was released fourteen years ago. I was extremely new to the writing thing, and my publisher, Renaissance Alliance Publishing, was almost as green. We learned a lot together, including how big two books crammed together could be. Ha!

Destiny’s Crossing was the result of my first two stories, Destiny’s Bridge & Faith’s Crossing, being put together under one cover. The editors at the time thought that the stories were too short to be on their own, and suggested a double-book. Wow, was that a monster! Four hundred and eighty-eight pages, in fact.

First edition of Destiny's Crossing.

First edition of Destiny’s Crossing.

reprint of Destiny's Crossing

reprint of Destiny’s Crossing

After a reprint that was still huge, we decided that it would be best to split the two books back into their original form. Destiny’s Bridge and Faith’s Crossing came out in 2003. Lex & Amanda haven’t quit chatting to me yet, even after all these years.

Next month will be their ninth appearance in print. I had fully planned on ending their tale in book five, Strength of the Heart, but they had other ideas. While I rarely plan on sequels, they just seem to happen. I learned long ago to “never say never,” where they are involved. They tend to make a liar out of me.

**This post has been altered due to the fact that I’m a writer, not a mathematician. And I’m on meds…not that it helps. LOL

My Own Take on Flashback Friday

I’m often asked the usual questions about my writing – when did you start, what made you post it, what inspired certain characters or stories. So, I thought this might be a fun time to answer some of those.

My first story, was Destiny’s Bridge, which was also the beginning of the Lex & Amanda series. Several things came together for this story, including witnessing firsthand how a flash-flood can come out of nowhere.

When I was in high school, we lived atop a hill in a rural area. The road wasn’t paved, but was heavily packed dirt. There was a small, dry creek that we drove across to get to the hill that led to our house. In the early eighties, a massive amount of rain altered our little road, as you can see from the photos. It’s hard to tell from the second shot, but the water had cut out a space that was at least ten feet deep and close to twenty feet wide. So, there’s the “raging creek” from Destiny’s Bridge that brings Lex & Amanda together.

This is the road we  traveled to get to our house. We wisely didn't cross the heavily churning water.

This is the road we traveled to get to our house. We wisely didn’t cross the heavily churning water.

Scary sight after the water receded.

Scary sight after the water receded.







As for the bridge – well, that’s somewhat of a funny story. Not far from where I now live, is a suburban housing addition called Tara. Yes, like Gone with the Wind. Anyway, somehow, *that* bridge was the one that I saw in my dream, which was where Lex & Amanda came from. My favorite thing was how I had to fight for a covered bridge on a book cover, since my publisher said there were no covered bridges in Texas. Years later, I was able to show her this particular bridge – and gloat. Yeah, I’m like that.


Basis for the covered bridge on the Rocking W Ranch.

Basis for the covered bridge on the Rocking W Ranch.


So, there you have it. A little fun trivia about Lex & Amanda, four weeks before their 9th book, Beyond Always, comes out.

More to follow!

The Loss of a Friend



When we find that little four-legged friend, we know that we will most likely outlive them, but we give them our hearts and treat them like family. And if we’re lucky, we get years of love and devotion back from them.

After Jan and I got together, we decided to find a little dog to keep me company while she commuted to and from work. We found an ad in the paper for AKC Chihuahua puppies, for only $175. Although we knew it was probably a scam, we hopped in the car and traveled for almost an hour to a home northwest of Dallas. We sat outside on the porch while the woman brought a small, trembling pup to us. She was overly skinny, cowering and covered with scabs and bites. She was the “runt” of the litter, and according to the woman, was picked on by the other puppies. She had the little doe head of a Chihuahua, but we had a bad feeling this dog was no more a registered pup than I was. But the moment she was placed in my hands, I fell in love with that stinky, shaky little thing. Jan and I had a silent conversation, and we “rescued” the pup from what was obviously a puppy mill.

When we got home, we found that the little thing was so scared of everything and everyone that she wouldn’t come out of her carrier. Jan had to feed her by hand, and she’d only drink water from the tips of Jan’s fingers. It took weeks and weeks of patience, but soon Princess ButtNugget learned to trust us, at least enough to eat and drink on her own. After a few months, she became a rambunctious puppy, demanding attention and play.

Nuggie, as she became to be called, was a year old when we decided she needed company. We joked that we needed to get a dog for our dog. I started checking the local animal shelter sites for a suitable companion.

Have you ever just seen a picture and felt an immediate connection? That’s what happened when I stumbled across the photo of a two-year old Rat Terrier, at a nearby city shelter. Jan and I hopped into the car and drove the four to five miles. The city shelter was busy, loud and the smell wasn’t the most pleasant in the world. They told us to go back and look around. The small cages were stacked three high and four across. Most of the inhabitants were either barking, sleeping or trembling in their boxes. The card on the outside of the cage read, “Vivian, Female, Rat Terrier.” Nothing prepared us for the sad eyes that looked back at us through the narrow bars. “Vivian” was so skinny you could almost see through her. The animal control officer explained how she had been found roaming the streets after having a litter of puppies. She placed a leash over Vivian’s head. The moment the cage was opened, Vivian jumped into my arms. I had been claimed. We weren’t allowed to take her home until after she had been spayed, but as soon as Jan returned, Vivian happily accepted her leash and followed Jan out to the car and hopped into the front seat for the ride home.

Our newest family member didn’t look or act like a “Vivian.” Our daughter, a fan of the movie, “Clueless,” named her Cher. While not my first choice, it worked okay for me. The moment Cher met Nuggie, she “adopted” her. Nuggie became the puppy that Cher no longer had, while Cher became the friend and companion that Nuggie needed. For the next ten years, they were inseparable.

As Cher aged, she fought through several health problems. Because of her previous life on the streets, she had bad teeth, brittle hair, and poor eyesight. Her hearing slowly left her until she could only hear a loud snap of the fingers or a clap. Her balance became shaky, and she’d undergone two surgeries to remove cancerous lumps. She’d walk along the concrete edging around the swimming pool, losing her balance a couple of times and falling in. We pulled her out the first time, and my brother spent quite a while teaching her how to find the steps to get out. The next time, she raced into the house, soaking wet. We were glad to know the lessons worked, but worried any time she was outside for very long.

Cher also had some hilarious habits. She loved to “shop” in the kitchen. She’d stand on her hind legs and walk around the counters, sniffing and seeing what was close enough to steal. Once, she grabbed a fried chicken leg, which scared Jan to death. Cher raced to our bedroom and dove beneath the bed. Before we could stop her, she devoured the leg, bones and all. Jan just knew she’d choke, but she was fine. It took us a lot longer to get over it than it did her, that’s for sure!

Another crazy thing was her hoarding. When she and Nuggie were younger, we gave them rawhide chews or pig ears to chew on. The moment one would hit the floor, Cher would grab it. The more we tossed in the floor, the faster she moved. Poor Nuggie stood by and watched as Cher gathered each “chewie” and put them in a pile. Before Nuggie could get one, Cher would lay down on top of them. Sometimes we’d toss half a dozen of the chewies around the room, just to watch the show.

The older Cher got, the more attached to me she became. I was home all the time, and she’d look to me for comfort or security. Her mind began to go, and she’d get even more clngy. She hated for me to get out of her sight, and she would panic and chase me down if she noticed me missing. I can’t even count the times she’d race between our feet, usually causing either Jan or me to trip or fall. Thoughout it all, she was still our sweet Cher. I could sit beside her and start giving her a good head scratch, and she’d give me a gap-toothed smile that would almost make me cry. She never met a stranger, and was always happy to see anyone that came to the house.

The past year was rough on Cher, and us. Her hearing worsened, and her eyesight and balance deteriorated as well. She followed me every step of every day, which at times would frustrate me.  She started losing her bladder control, so we took her to the vet. After several hundred dollars worth of tests, he came to the conclusion that she was in the beginning stages of renal failure. He also put her on monthly shots for arthritis pain, which he thought was the cause for her sitting in bed and moaning or groaning. Not only was Cher terrified when we put her in the car for the trip to the vet, but she would yell out for any shots she was given. It broke our hearts. When I asked our vet if she was in pain, he said yes, but he thought we could keep it managable for the time being. While we didn’t want her to suffer, we were glad we’d have more time with her.

The week of Christmas through New Year’s was rough on Cher. It was almost time for her next shot, and she seemed more lost than usual. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight, and she was often confused.

The day before New Year’s Eve, Cher developed a hoarse cough that I was going to mention to the vet on her next visit. She slept more and wasn’t her usual frisky self. We spent extra time with her, and when our nephew came over on New Year’s Eve day to go geocaching, he gave her lots of love, too. After he left, I fed the dogs and then joined Jan in the office for our evening of surfing. Later, I went to the kitchen to clean up. When I was finished, I did my usual headcount of dogs, only to find Cher missing. In a panic, I raced to the backyard. With the light from the sunroom, I could see her in the pool. I screamed for Jan and pulled Cher from the ice-cold water. We removed her sweater and I began to carefully press on her body in the hopes of getting her to breathe. No water escaped, only air. I raised her head and blew into her nose and mouth, and realized she was gone. Since I had lost a dog to congestive heart failure before, I knew the signs. Poor Cher had died and fallen into the pool. Our only consolation was that we know she didn’t suffer, and had passed away before she hit the water.

Jan and I were both in shock. We had prepared ourselves to say goodbye to Cher, but not this quickly.  I was a mess. It was close to ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve, and we were at a loss as to what to do. Finally, Jan realized we had a 24-hour pet hospital less than five miles away, and we called them. They were wonderful, and treated us kindly when we showed up, shaken and teary. Thanks to their help, Cher’s remains will join others and be spread at a local pet cemetery, where she’ll never be alone. I can’t think of a better way for her.

I’m going to miss my little shadow, who we lovingly referred to as crazy dog, or psycho dog. She was fun, she was loving, and she gave us the best years of her life. Over time the pain will lessen, but she’ll always be in our hearts. Rest well, Cher. And thank you for rescuing usImage

Naive or Stupid?

So, last year I had written an “It Gets Better” blog after being contacted from someone from my past. She had written a sweet apology for her hateful remarks when she severed our friendship, once I had come out. With rose-colored blinders on, I happily latched on to the friendship once again, only to find that she had ulterior motives.

While I’m no James Michener, I enjoy writing. And I’m always happy to answer questions or help new writers, even though there are much better teachers out there. But this long-lost “friend” used a fake reconciliation in order to pick my brain about writing – or more to the point, selling books. She had written a book about her near-death experience, and thought getting back into my good graces would give her an edge, I guess. We became Facebook friends, although I found out she had two different accounts – one she friended me on, and another for her friends and family. I should have listened to my gut instinct, but thought I’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

Unfortunately, she didn’t come right out and say this. No, she made a big deal about how sorry she was for her previous actions (telling me rudely that because I was gay, I was dead to her, and no contact for over ten years). She called me and we talked for a while – it was scary for me, but I enjoyed it. Then, in the same phone call, she spoke of her book, and asked me how I marketed my work. I gave her a fairly detailed explanation, but told her she really had to find a good publisher for her type of market. She thanked me, told me to call her during the day at work, since she wasn’t always very busy.

A great start, right?

Not really. The next time I called her, she was busy. I understood, and promised to call back again.

Two more times of this, and I realized that she got what she wanted from me. Not long after that, I had been mysteriously “unfriended” as she deleted her Facebook account that she had added me on. Classy.

Honestly, if she had just written me and asked me questions about publishing, I would have gladly answered. She didn’t have to go through such an elaborate hoax. At least I wouldn’t have been gut-punched twice by her. I truly considered this woman a big sister at one point in my life – and before now, I would have never thought she’d be the type to do something so underhanded. Maybe that’s why I never saw it coming.

In order to give myself closure, I wrote her an email, wishing her and her family a happy life. I told her that while I don’t really understand her motives, I’ll move on. But, deep down inside, there’s always going to be a part of me that feels sick and hurt at her deception. That teenage me who looked up to her as a big sister, and who helped her through two pregnancies when her husband had to work long hours and she needed someone to talk to, or to make sure she ate properly. That person is hurt, and will probably never trust so blindly again.