Every year, the holiday season is one of my favorite times. The Christmas season seems to bring out the best in people, at least around here. People are nicer and smiles are brighter. Children seem to laugh more often, adults giddy with that small spark of belief still shining in their eyes. I must admit that when I was at the mall yesterday, I actually got excited seeing the staff setting up Santa’s Chair. Just one more week and Santa will be sitting at the mall and listening with a patient ear and a wide smile as one child after another puts all their faith and trust in the jolly man.
I must admit, even as an adult, I always get the urge to stand in that ridiculously long line so I can crawl up into Santa’s lap again. No matter what mall it is or where in the nation, Santa has always been one of the only constants in life. People move, people change, but Santa is always just Santa.
I have never seen Santa mad, angry, or sad. Santa is the epitome of happiness. Santa gives me such hope that despite all the changes in the world that are systematically destroying us, everything will be okay. Climbing up onto Santa’s lap, just for a moment, just for a smile or a promise of magical things to come will always be something I desire. Is it because I miss having such complete faith in a man that so unselfishly gives? Or is it the loss of my innocence that I am missing? I’m not sure, but I do know that Santa will always be real in my mind. Santa is far more than just a man, he is a promise of a better tomorrow, a lasting legacy that can make nearly anyone smile whether you are age two or eighty-two. Santa is hope and belief and magic. Sometimes in life we all need just a moment to believe in magic once again when the real world starts to get too serious and we need just a moment of escape. I hope that as this holiday season begins, all of you are able to grasp onto that holiday magic once more!
I have been horrible at keeping up with this blog. I must say that I am not the most computer saavy girl out there, actually I am fairly horrible with the rapidly growing internet world. I don’t have instagram (although all my friends rave about it) I just don’t understand pictures as part of a social network…but maybe that is just the introvert in me rebelling against the lack of privacy that is so obvious to me when it comes to social media. But that is my own opinion and I could go off on that tangent and bore you all with my opinions and obvious lack of social media skills.
I have been neglectful and I apologize. I could rationalize it, justifying my behavior with valid excuses, like how my computer crashed and I lost two finished books that I was about to publish and a handful of half finished stories, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have gone too long without an update.
The month of Febuary was very difficult for me, emotionally. My man was very patient with me and I thank him for that because he didn’t have to be. There is really no reason for my moodiness, at least none that I can pinpoint. Well as with most people in life, there is just only so much a person will take before they have had enough and my man’s fuse was very long before he just blew. I was thoroughly reprimanded, and rightfully. Looking back over the month I can see how inconsiderate, disprespectful, and completely childish I was behaving.
I lost all of my files on my computer and for a few days I wasn’t even quite sure if I would be able to continue using the computer. As a grad student, I live on a very tight budget and a new computer was not possible. So, as the stress compounded I literally sat on the floor and cried, and it wasn’t a cute sweet little show of emotion, it was a loud cry. My man, bless his heart, was so caring and actually paid to have my computer fixed. Although I now had my computer back and working, I still was upset that I lost everything on it. I pouted for weeks like a spoiled child, and although my man was understanding and comforting, I pushed it too far. So that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, or so they say.
I am officially back on track with school (I won’t even go into the dirty details of how horribly behind I got in just a few short weeks!) I am also back to writing. I must say that my man can be very motivating sometimes.
I was told by a dozen people over the past few years that I had a very unique writing style. I was never told if this was positive or negative, and nobody was ever able to explain to me what the meaning of ‘unique’ was. It was just who I was, how I wrote, and I have never been able to change that no matter how I have tried. I was encouraged by one of my college professors a few years ago to start writing based off a paper I wrote on statistical processes. Who would have thought I would later be writing erotic romance stories, right?
Curious, I sat down in front of my computer one day and just started writing, and haven’t really stopped since. I fall in love with my characters, celebrate with them, and get angry with them. I also get bored easily! I guess I might have a little bit of ADD or maybe I am a dreamer with too many stories in my head. My books take longer to write as I have 30-50 half-written books at any time. I always go back and finish my books within time, reading through what I had written previously with a warm heart as if meeting again with a good friend after months or years apart.
I recently finished the book Bound Together by Snow: Zoe’s Personal Fairytale. I give the description of the book below for those interested. When I returned to Zoe’s story after months of leaving it alone, I was surprised with the direction I was taking Zoe and her husband Brandon, the book is more than a bit dark and the punishments are somewhat harsh and unfair.
I realized that I had written the book when I was in a very dark place personally with a great deal of turmoil during those months. It was both sad and therapeutic to see how my personal struggles can so easily be transferred into my writing. I rewrote a good deal of what I had written in this story, but if you are familiar with my other books you will see the difference. I left some of those harsh punishments and dark thoughts as a reminder to myself of where I was and how far I have come from there. I am curious what my other books say about me. How much can someone read into an author’s life based on their writing? Or are other authors able to separate life and fiction so easily that crossover does not occur? I seem to purge when I write, the story taking over, the characters telling their story and I just follow along, watching with wide eyes as the story unfolds. They have a story to tell too.