WAITING FOR SANTA -- AND THE NEW BOOK

by June Shaw

This morning I heard footsteps padding around on my roof and had hopes: Maybe it was Santa (I mean it's the coldest day so far this winter in south Louisiana--the low forties last night.)

It wasn't such a surprise, though, when a man came down, a slim man who'd gone up on the ladder I had watched him lean against the house. That was before I felt the wind's chill and pulled my nose back in my snug house.

He came down minutes later and knocked on my backdoor again. "I'm sorry. There's a spot right over there that feels soft," he said. "I need to go to the lumberyard to get a piece of plywood to replace it and a few shingles that match yours."

At least it didn't sound too terrible. That wouldn't be such a large bill, I figured--even though spending any money on work on the house right before Christmas didn't seem right. I mean, the kids did want presents. Of course mine are grown and would be content to receive nothing, but they'll get gift certificates to a favorite restaurant or building supply place they frequent. The teens are different. They might say they don't need anything--Wait, they're girls and teenagers, and would never make such statements. But they are most pleased with cash to spend on things of their choosing so that's what they'll get.

Now me: I want to get more work done on my current book--SAVING MOM, and I am pleased to say I have quite a bit done.

I also want to get make preparations for the first book in that new series, which is set down here. It's called A FATAL ROMANCE, and it is available for pre-order now! It will be released on Jan. 24.

As you can tell, I am satisfied, even if the little footsteps from my rooftop didn't come from the person I had hoped for. Looking forward to having the first book in a new cozy mystery series is a wonderful present!

What would you like Santa to bring you?

http://www.juneshaw.com

Father Time Almost Kicked My Butt

by Jackie King

I love writing! It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. First I wrote at night, after working a day job. Twelve years ago, I was able to retire and begin living my dream of writing full time. For about eight years things were wonderful. Then my body started letting me down. I was forced to give thoughts to accommodating Father Time. My first reaction was to kick and scream and rail against this natural happening. What a waste of time.

Just living started to take all of my energy. Keeping up my 4-bedroom house, my yard and cooking meals left me too tired to write. I tried, but after about 20 minutes, I had to lie down for a while.

I fought this personal battle for much longer than I should have. Because of my own stubbornness, my  2^nd Grace Cassidy mystery, THE CORPSE WHO WALKED IN THE DOOR, wasn’t getting written. Was my life as a writer over? I asked myself.

“NOT IF I CAN HELP IT” was my answer.

 My solution was to move into an independent living apartment complex where someone else would cook, wash dishes, and clean my digs. My continuing conversations with contractors of all kinds would be over. Whatever energy I had I could use to write.

This was pretty drastic for me. I’d lived in my 4-bedroom house for 40 years and accumulated a lot of things with precious memories attached. I’d have to get rid of most of my possessions. That was hard. Each book and each item on my shelves had some kind of sentiment attached to it. I struggled.

My youngest daughter was between jobs and said that if I wanted to downsize and move she would help me. She’s a genius at organization, and I knew she could make it happen. I have learned to follow my intuition, which some folks call their gut-feeling. Whatever one chooses to call this inner-knowledge, I believe it comes from God. I had such a feeling about this move.

Signing up for an apartment and calling a realtor to set everything in motion was a bit like stepping off the roof of a skyscraper into nothingness. But I wanted to continue writing. So I took a deep breath and marched forward.

To complicate things, I contracted pneumonia about this time. And sleep apnea. And a-fib. Downsizing and moving was a nightmare. Adjusting, traumatic. I had one serious melt-down which my sweet daughter talked me through. But I did it. And guess what? I love it. I call my 3-room-apartment My Writing Nest.

I finished book 2 in my Grace Cassidy mystery series, wrote a novella to include in an anthology, and am well into book 3.

I’M WRITING. Every day. And that’s what makes me happy.