Different Lifetimes

I know.  I haven’t been here in ages.  I apologize for that and thank you for stopping by.

I wasn’t here because it hurts too much to try and write.  Even this little bit is painful.  Not physically though my thumbs aren’t moving well today.  No, the pain is mental, emotional.  You see my publisher, who I trusted enough to place a dozen books with, ran into some difficulties and closed down.  (Or so it seems but that’s for another day.)  I became disheartened.  No, that’s not really the right word.  It’s more than that.  It sucked the writing soul right out of me and left me so hurt and angry that the characters who live in my head went into hiding.  The ones who used to whisper blogs to me got so quiet I can no longer hear them.  So all you get to today is me, on my own, trying to string words together that make sense.  It’s a new experience for me, writing on my own.  I don’t like it one bit.  Part of me is petrified that the writer lifetime of me is over.

Like the musician lifetime.  When I was a child I played a string bass.  Quite well actually.  I was good enough to be invited along for an orchestra trip that traveled to a music festival in England.  I auditioned for local events and made it all the way to the state level.  I was loaned out to other schools that didn’t have a bass player and played for their spring musicals.  I even spent several summers at a high quality music camp.  Nope, can’t play now.  Last time I tried it was bad.  Very, very bad.

For part of my college lifetime I was multi-lingual.  I took German and Spanish in high school.  German, Russian and French in college.  I had a study system where I reviewed things in several languages at one time, not just whichever class I was preparing for and English.  It worked tremendously well.  I was good at it.  I was happy making it all blend in my mind.  Sadly once I graduated I didn’t stick with it and most of the things I knew in that lifetime are gone now.

I had a job stitching original models for the design department in a craft kit manufacturing company.  Back then I did beautiful needlework.  All forms of cross stitch and needlepoint.  I remember one piece was a line of bears with sweaters that looked knitted.  Every morning I would top stitch a new expression on each of their faces so I could enjoy them as I worked throughout the day.  Even after I transferred into a different department I continued to stitch.  I drifted away from that years ago.  Recently I came across some things I’d made.  They’re beautiful.  I wonder if my fingers would remember how to do that.   I’m intimidated to try.  I’m afraid it’ll be as much of a disaster as attempting to be musical was.

 

These days I’m knitting.  I learned to do that as a child, taught by my grandmother.  I made a few things and then moved on.  Thirty years later a friend inspired me to try knitting again.  I’m happy to say that it came back.  You should see the socks I’ve made!  And the reversible scarf!

  I’m thrilled with them but not.  They seem to be draining away all my creative energy.

Which takes me back to writing.  I don’t know if knitting is actually using up my creativity or giving me an outlet to keep my head from exploding while my characters are in exile.  I’m very restless these days.  I haven’t been able to sit still long enough to knit lately.  Upsetting as I’m in the middle of several projects that I really want to finish.   I weave magic into my knitting and I don’t want it to go wasted.  That would not be cool, trust me.

So there is change coming.  A new lifetime starting.  No, I don’t know what it will be.  I’m not even sure I want to know.  My only hope is that I don’t lose what I’ve learned in the last ones this time.  Maybe, someday, the universe will give everything back at once.  Wouldn’t that be amazing?  Can you imagine me able to do all that I ever could?

Wow!

This is blog post #1500!  I thought, in honor of that, I'd reshare all my book covers since that's the reason for all this in the first place.  See any you haven't read yet?  Click on the cover and it'll take you to the appropriate page.

As always, thank you for stopping by!

My Last Dark Day

Things are often not as they first appear…

What’s a woman to do when faced with yet another in a never-ending cycle of anniversaries guaranteed to ruin her day?

Step one, respond when contacted on-line by a friendly couple.
Step two, accept the wife’s claim of the husband’s empathic sensitivities as fact.
Step three, go along quietly when the husband miraculously comes to the rescue just when he’s needed most.
Step four, have the courage to put complete control in his more than capable hands.
Step five, don’t think. Go with the flow. Be open to all possibilities. Relax and enjoy.
Step six, repeat frequently.

Available from Total-E-Bound. Click here for more information.

Just a Bit

Mouse hasn't been doing well this week. In fact, when we went to the vet today I fully expected him not to be coming home again. Yes, I've been a mess for days. Happily, he's here tonight. Arthritis, pinched nerve, ear infection, dehydrated from sleeping in the attic, with a lump on his side from the IV fluids he needed and probably will weekly for the rest of the summer, but still here.

Whew! I'll never be prepared for it but when the time comes and the vet recommends it I will do what is best for him. Even so, I must confess how glad I am that today was not that day. He's here next to me now, purring even though as he's flopping his tail in annoyance at me for stuffing him in the carrier and taking him to that place.

Since I'm feeling so wrung out and really just want to sit here and cuddle with Mouse how about a spicy excerpt?

Blurb - My Last Dark Day

Things are often not as they first appear…

What’s a woman to do when faced with yet another in a never-ending cycle of anniversaries

guaranteed to ruin her day?

Step one, respond when contacted on-line by a friendly couple.
Step two, accept the wife’s claim of the husband’s empathic sensitivities as fact.
Step three, go along quietly when the husband miraculously comes to the rescue just when he’s needed most.
Step four, have the courage to put complete control in his more than capable hands.
Step five, don’t think. Go with the flow. Be open to all possibilities. Relax and enjoy.
Step six, repeat frequently.


Excerpt My Last Dark Day - VERY Adult

“Stop thinking. Concentrate on your body instead.” One hand returned to my bare pussy, petting, rubbing, stroking. “You’re aroused. Look at your nipples,” he paused until I did, seeing the truth in their puckered state. “Your pussy is already wet just from that little bit of attention. It wants more. You want more. I’m here, hon. I know what you need. And I will give it to you. Oh yeah, I can give you exactly what you need. I can help you. I want to help you. I can make you feel what you’ve been missing all these years. I know how.” His thumb traced my slit but didn’t part it. “But not until you say it. Not until you tell me this is what you want. Not unless you ask me to help you.” A fraction deeper but no where near deep enough. I moaned. “It’s up to you. You have to say it or nothing more will happen tonight. You have to tell me you’re putting yourself in my hands, that you want me to teach you how to find pleasure.” The movement ceased, his palm resting on my mound, poised to continue if I actually found the courage to do what we both knew I desired.
“Please,” I said in a small voice.
“Please what?”
“Please. P-please help me. Show me what it’s like,” I pleaded. I waited but he didn’t respond. He merely stared with one eyebrow raised, silently demanding that I continue. “Please teach me to feel. Teach me about pleasure and passion. Do whatever it takes so I can finally get it. Give me what I need. Please help me. Oh please,” I practically sobbed.
“You’re sure? You’re turning yourself over to me willingly, knowing that if you do, I will be intimately acquainted with your entire body by the time we’re finished here?”
“Yes, I understand all that. Yes, I’m giving myself to you completely,” I said, hearing myself, wanting what I was asking for yet not quite believing I was about to do what I was about to do. “I’m putting myself in your hands because, I trust you to take care of me.”
His expression was pure satisfaction. I responded correctly and he was pleased. Until then, I hadn’t realised how important that had become, but apparently it was. Very much so. And, my actually having done so made me feel proud of myself. So proud I would have giggled with glee had he not chosen that second to curl his fingers, cupping my mound firmly. I gasped, my eyes blinking between his hand and his face.
“Flat on your back now,” he said. “You’ll be able to feel what I’m doing so there’s no need to watch.”
I hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at his wife. For a moment, I let myself get so caught up in everything that I all but forgot she was there, that she even existed at all. Now that I was on the brink of having sex with her husband I was suddenly panicked at what she must think of me. Surely, she thought me a real tramp, a total slut, begging for it, offering myself up for anything and everything right in front of her.
“I told you to stop thinking,” he snapped. “If you want my attention then keep yours on me.”

Click on the cover to find out what happens next.