A Writing Destiny

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As I get deeper into the business of writing, I read to learn from successful authors like Jennifer Probst and Stephen King. Until reading On Writing, I never read a single thing from Mr. King because I enjoy horror. I’ve been thinking about it though because he writes the way I think. His words are simple, yet they paint the picture more than adequately. He strings them one after another into ideas that make sense to me.

After I finished his chapter on paragraphs, I flashed back to the late 80s and my adolescence. I found myself standing in the bookstore at Champlain Centre Mall in Plattsburgh, New York. I must have been thirteen or fourteen, maybe older, but I knew I wanted to be a writer. There had been teacher, astronaut, mechanic, race car driver, actress, rock star, etc. Am I the only one who notices that this might also be a series of Barbie dolls? Since I only owned a couple and made my own clothes for them (fashion designer!), she didn’t inspire the careers. Yet, if a sixteen-year-old blonde doll can be anything, so could I.

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I don’t know if Barbie was ever a writer, but writing was my one true passion. Many kids grow out of creating stories after a certain age, not me. I filled copy books, spiral notebooks, and eventually Word files. I started screenwriting when I was eight. I hadn’t discovered my love of reading yet. My parents loved TV, especially movies. I must have seen every Western, WWII and biblical epic that played on the weekends. Plus, Walt Disney presents on Sunday evenings. And I liked the comedies and musicals of the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s that played on PBS (So now, I watch them on TCM).

Exposed to all that, it’s no wonder I started honing my skill with movie scripts. I can’t remember what they were about exactly. But at eight, they were probably about Barbie, friends, and school. I wouldn’t have written about parents, because that wasn’t a comfortable topic for me. It still isn’t, but maybe one day… Strong parents do show up in my novels. Some resemble my own parents more than others. One day, I’ll write about them. Will I share it with my readers? We’ll see.

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At twelve or thirteen, curious about romance, stuck in a French all-girl Catholic school, I discovered reading. I was looking for an English love story in the school library. There wasn’t much available in terms of English novels, but I found one about a woman on a mountain, a cop with a bum leg and a killer in the woods. Until then, I’m not sure I’d read anything longer than a short story, maybe a novella. This story had over a hundred pages. One hundred seventy-nine comes to mind, but judging by the thickness of paperbacks, I’m going to guess that it was closer to the three hundred mark.

I loved reading the story. I probably had to sign it out many times because I was a slow reader. But I loved every word used to create that cabin in the mountains setting, the storm that trapped the characters, the fear, the suspense, and the lust that had me turning the pages although I could have probably watched twenty movies in the time it took me to read that novel. But through that novel, I discovered a love of reading.

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Later, I would find myself in many bookstores because of that novel. Like an addict trying to relive that first high, I browsed shelf after shelf seeking my next fix. Unlike an addict, I have found it again and again. There have been letdowns. Back cover blurbs that lied. Authors who set up a great first page but couldn’t sustain the quality of the writing. Plots that didn’t hold up. Stories that weren’t stories at all. This was all very confusing for someone who wanted to get published. I didn’t aspire to write a classic, just a good story that could stand on its own two feet.

The bookstore in Plattsburgh had lots of floor space but didn’t carry my favorite selection of books, which forced me to search for anything passable. Here, I picked novels of different genres: romance, western, suspense, fantasy, sci-fi, biography, etc. All I knew was that I hoped one day my books would be on one of those shelves.

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Now the worlds changed. The stores are huge and so much of the floor space is reserved for home décor, fashion accessories, and, strangest of all, gardening supplies. Every time I see one of those herb pots, I have to wonder about the thought process behind it:

  • “We should sell mystery novels and seeds.”
  • “We should sell sudoku books, magazines and seeds.”
  • “We should sell dictionaries, high-end chocolate, and… (wait for it)… seeds!”

Is it just me?

Anyway, I don’t know if I’ll ever hit those shelves, but I know that I love writing. I do it with a heart filled with the first novel I read, the bookstore that left me wanting but forced me to discover different genres, and the destiny discovered by an eight-year-old girl. I dreamed of my novels on bookstore shelves, but I don’t dream of writing, I do it. It is an action under my control and a part of who I am. And while Promises is with my editor, I’m writing something new.


World Book Day

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What a crazy few days! We had a four-day weekend, cold windy rainy days, sunny warm days, a full house at church, birthdays at Easter dinner, and chocolate at bedtime. How was your holiday?

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And the celebration continues! Today is World Book Day, an annual event organized by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) to promote readingpublishing, and copyright. World Book Day was first celebrated on 23 April 1995. (Thank you Wikipedia for that explanation.)

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As an only child, storytelling was a form of entertainment for me. Like every other child, it started with toys having adventures. The toy airplane that flew to my best friends house, the doll that went to school with me, the teddy bear that followed Mom to work. You get it. Eventually, I started writing scripts in copybooks. I was certain when I was eight years old that I wanted to be in the movie business. Hollywood, here I come! Make way for me and my favorite teddy bear.

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I discovered reading for pleasure at thirteen. Until then, I’d thought that the movies were the alpha and omega, but it was romantic curiosity that had me reading my first novel. A romance novel, of course. And while I don’t remember the title. I do remember the story because I had expected a romance novel to be about, well, romance. But it was so much more than that. It was actually an adventure into the Catskills as a killer, a convict and a detective vied for survival. It was suspenseful and thrilling and I was hooked. Television and movie viewing took a backseat to reading about interesting characters, their exciting worlds, and their struggles.


So this is what my bedside looks like, right now. Out of those stacks, I’m actively reading:

  • Ride Wild by Laura Kaye
  • Takedown Twenty by Janet Evanovich
  • The Kissing Booth by Beth Reekles
  • Offside My Life Crossing The Line by Sean Avery with Michael McKinley
  • How To Be Rich by J. Paul Getty

I would claim that I mostly read romance novels but looking at this list, I realize that I tend to be all over the place. I read a variety of fiction and non-fiction. And I have boxes of books in storage to prove it too.

Did you notice in the above description of World Book Day that writing isn’t mentioned? Am I the only one who thinks that’s strange since you can’t copyright, publish or read what hasn’t been written? But maybe they want to keep the emphasis on what happens after the writing.

I already hinted at the beginnings of my writing career. Out of respect for this special day and UNESCO, I will continue that story in some other blog post. For today, I’m going to leave it here.

What are you currently reading? Have you published or copyrighted anything you’d like to share/promote? Go for it, you have my permission to be shameless. I love hearing from you so leave a comment.


Bollywood VS NHL: Who Will Survive?

I’m happy to announce that Masks: A Novella is now available in print!

Amazon Masks Print Edition

Covers is with a beta editor, who will hopefully, get on with it already! I want to start rewriting as soon as possible. While this is on hold, I have not been wasting time waiting. I’ve started writing book 4.

The main story will go something like this:

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By the end of her summer, Rohini will fulfill a promise she made to her grandmother by following Indian traditional marriage customs. But when she discovers her brother in her fiancé’s arms, she flees her grandmother’s city of Mumbai for home, Montreal, Canada. Betrayed and angry, she seeks refuge among friends, but she can’t find the words to tell them what really happened in India. Thankfully, her friend’s big brother gives her a place to heal and regroup. There’s only one problem: everything she does becomes his problem.

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By the end of his summer, Ryan will be in the best shape of his life. He’ll blow the competition away at hockey camp in September and earn a spot on a NHL team. He was well on his way to making his childhood dream come true when he let his little sister’s friend move in for a few weeks until he finds a more permanent roommate. He had expected a quite incense burning  yoga-loving vegetarian. He got an undisciplined overly dramatic Netflix binger.

His life is like boot camp. Her life is like a Bollywood movie. To call this summer a success, they would have to survive each other.

Definitely a lighter and more romantic plot than my usual trauma surviving dysfunctional family stories.

So how does Book 4 sound? Let me know because you’re the reader.


Happy St. Patrick’s Day

Masks - 3D

Exciting news. As promised, I relaunched the digital version of Masks: A Novella this weekend. It has a beautiful new cover that matches the Secrets cover. Now the two books like they are part of the same series. It also got the copyedited it deserved. again. It is now available on Amazon and Smashwords. I’ll let you know when the print version becomes available for the first time ever.

Today, my daughter and I went to the St. Patrick’s Day Parade downtown. It was a first for her. As for me, I haven’t been to one in years. In my younger days, the celebration started at some downtown pub on Saturday night and continued until the bars closed at 3 AM. While some of my friends enjoyed a morning beer with their hangover, I usually ate buttered toast while we stood on St-Catherine St. as the parade floats went by.



International Women’s Day

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Before I get to the topic of the day, I have a couple of announcements. First, I finished revising Covers and sent it to an editor. I’m looking forward to reading that professional opinion because I’m tapped out. I gave everything I had and now it’s time for new eyes to look at the story.

Masks - 3D

Second is a surprise I’ve been working on for a bit. The first story in the True Hearts Series, Masks: A Novella, has been freshened up with new editing and a new cover. I’m also making it available in print format for the first time ever. I’ll keep you updated as these changes are implemented.

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Although it has been observed since 1911, there are way too many people who are unaware that March 8 is International Women’s Day. So take a moment today to call, Tweet, post or email the women in your lives and remind them that they are valued.

Happy International Women’s Day ladies!