Dishware

....yes, I'm writing. There, now that that's out of the way...

We've had a complaint around here lately about dishes disappearing. There are NEVER enough plates! And bowls? Forget about 'em! After cereal, mac and cheese for lunch, salad with dinner, or any combination there abouts.... there are never any bowls left for ice cream, the MOST important meal of the day. So, finally, I went out and did some second-hand shopping for dishware. You wanna see?

WHAT's left of my original set, 8 of each: plates [small and large], saucers, bowls, and cups

This is what's left of the lovely dishware my mother-in-law bought be because she knows I like roosters in my kitchen....and needed plates! 4 of each: dinner plates and bowls

The one plate I'm sure I will never lose: Mother's Day 2006

More bowls than plates, this is what's left of the Corelle I bought a few years ago. I think I added bowls to that since then...they're pretty cheap at Walmart

My trip to the second hand store a few months ago for sandwich plates

Even before that [apparently these are not in chronological order], I bought these awesome plates...I think. Could have been a Walmart buy...

Yesterday, it was a hodge podge at Goodwill with these whites....

these awesome 80's plates....

I think I had a friend who owned those brown plates...or maybe that was my aunt, back in the 70s....

and finally, the blue and orange striped plates of which there was almost an entire set!



NOW, my cabinet is full. [note the lone custard cup, of which my mother bought me a complete set just months ago...][where did they all go?!?!?!]


Anyone want to come for dinner?


TITLE

FICTION FRIDAY
FIVE SENTENCE FRIDAY [that's unlikely!]
FANTASTIC FICTION FRIDAY....Oooh, yeah. That's good.

So, we've hit the new year, and we're all busy making ourselves better.
But what I want to know is WHAT ARE YOU READING? When you get to sit down for two minutes [or more] by yourself, what is your fiction of choice?

Here's a sample of my newest paranormal romance: One Heartbeat.


With only two weeks left on earth, the saucy granddaughter of Mother Nature gambles her soul in a task meant for a guardian angel.



“Is the black t-shirt supposed to be funny?” She was talking to his back. He wore black jeans, black boots, even his hair seemed darker, and it was short. He was filthy from their bout with the ground in the alleyway. She didn’t want to think about how she looked.
She cleared her throat of the rash case of tears welling up inside of her.
Aarden stood hunched over a small desk with a laptop on it. A gray thermal blanket was strewn over a cot in the corner and a folding chair was lying on its side, as if it had been kicked over at some point.
She hadn’t known what to expect, but this utilitarian existence in an underground bunker was not even close to what she imagined. “Aarden?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was hoarse. “How in heaven did you get here, anyway?”
Was it possible for him to be bigger? Broader? Everything about him exuded menace.
“I merely thought it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head. “Apparently that’s how it works for immortals. No more spirit transport for this old girl.”
Aarden scowled. “This isn’t funny, Rachel.”
At a small chiming noise, he turned back to the oh-so-important computer behind him.
He still had a nice ass in those jeans. That hadn’t changed.
You’re not helping.
I wouldn’t dream of trying to help. A hello would be nice, though.
When Aarden turned this time, his eyes blazed with the light of passion she remembered. She took a small step toward him. “Please.”
It might have been a lifetime since she’d been in his arms. It had taken the sharp cut of denial after seeing him again to feel his absence like the great hole in her heart that it had been all along.
“I can’t.”

Sneaking a few minutes in at the end of the day...

After four days of five kids with the stomach bug, I'm sneaking in a quick minute to blog...and maybe even get some editing done. Shhh... it's really quiet here. Everyone is sleeping, including the baby who fell asleep on the couch and will probably stay there for the duration.

As a mom, I don't often get the house to myself. When I started waking up at 5am to write, I lost those night time hours. And even though 5am is quiet, it's not quite as relaxing as sitting here in my office with Pandora playing a mix of my favorites. So peaceful...

I feel like I'm the only one who exists. Weird sensation. I hope you all are having as relaxing a Tuesday night as I am.

With Love,
Bethanne

Nothing to talk about

The real truth is that I have nothing to talk about.
With two kids back in school this week, and two more doing "project week," a week in which they work at home putting together a research project, I have most of my kids home at this point. Even though the two older ones are definitely deep into studies--they have to do 30 hours--I feel as if Christmas break is never going to be over.

I'm on the cusp of the New Year...still. It's a weird feeling. I've hesitated starting anything new. I'm waiting...which is THE DEMISE of forward movement. LOL :D Ack.

How about you?
Did you week and new year start with a bang? Or are you hanging back as well?

For all my inspiration, I wait on The Manager's Diary. I know...how original of me. :D
Check it out, though. The Manager's Diary. And LIKE it. You might find a few reasons to keep working.

Wounded Warriors in Action

If you're on my blog at all, you've notice the new image in my side bar. It's the logo for Wounded Warriors in Action, an organization motivated to get soldiers back into the game. Hunting. I know not everyone likes hunting or likes the idea of the hunt, but but for those men and women who do appreciate its value, not being able to get out anymore would be tough.

My husband is one of those guys. He loves a quiet morning in the woods, in a tree stand or even on an overturned bucket. He finds it peaceful, and I find it rehabilitating...for me too! haha. He's a much happier person after a day in the woods.

My point is, I like this organization for its focus. There are others I looked at, like the ever popular Wounded Warrior Project. That one's really big. I'm kind of a small-town girl myself. :)

Indefinitely, all proceeds for For Love or Duty will be donated to WWIA.

My husband says, now that I've made that statement I'll make thousands. That's okay with me. The average self-published novel makes $125. That's it. Well, I've made a little more than that....and the numbers keep falling. So before you think I'm some wonderful philanthropist...

I have so much on my plate right now...new submissions, new manuscripts. I have high hopes for this year to sell a few manuscripts and make headway in this industry. Hopefully that will help my first book sell a few copies, too. Either way, I don't expect much...

But if Murphy puts a foot in it, you never know. I might make the bestseller list!
It's a new year so enjoy it.
With Love,
Bethanne


The perfect Review

I know it seems almost comical... but there is power in the written word and in the visual interpretation of the well-written book. I have heard more good things about this movie than any movie released...since, jeez. I don't know. Maybe Schindlers List?

The message of mercy in Les Miserables is powerful. I would love to see it, but I don't cry in public...if I can help it. :D So I think I'll wait for the DVD version. My sister posted this video review that sort of sums it up, nicely.


Conflict

I was sitting at the library today with my pen and paper.

Yes, you heard me. Pen and Paper. There's this area at the back of the main room with tables and chairs. I sat at a table, facing a wall of windows. A WALL OF WINDOWS.


So I got to look at that for a couple of hours... wheeehoo! See that line running down the mountain on the right?? That's the incline... I have NOT walked up the incline. My husband, on the other hand, has done it twice and plans to do it again ASAP. Perhaps someday I will be able to do it, too.

Deciding to work on the plotline for an already written story, I went through some really old notes, really old critiques, really old...everything. I thought about what I'd learned over the years and how I could apply it to this OLD manuscript. I've written a few notes about the hero, who he is and his backstory. I remembered seeing in those old notes, a question: What does the hero want?

I thought...and thought...then there was this flash of lightning!

Not, what does the hero want. That's too easy to answer. He wants her. He'll get her by doing A, B, and C. Story over in this case.

What DOESN'T the hero want? And why?

See. Cuz, I have this story in which the hero loves the girl and wants to marry her. And she's not completely out-of-love with him, either. They have history, and a very boring love story, I might add!!

But if I ask myself, "Why doesn't the hero want the girl?"

I get a whole new picture. Better questions to answer, like what made him that way. What will he do to avoid her? And in the end--hopefully--more emotion, more conflict, and a better resolution.

So, tell me, what conflicts do you like? Which ones make you cringe?

2013

How does the New Year look from the rear?
It looks a little FAT.
Like it needs some discipline and maybe a good run or two.
It looks like it needs to cut out carbohydrates!

Still, the year is anxious to get started.
It has big plans. And I just hope I can keep up.

Overall, I have five manuscripts to write this year and at least two or three more that I'll be editing and revising and subbing to publishers. I plan to stay very busy...and happy, too. I love writing!

This will be the first year in two years where I don't have to move. No grand plans, no change in career, no roller coaster. I'm sitting up, leaning forward into the New Year, and hoping for success. I hope you'll stick with me and stop in for a visit every now and again.

God Bless 2013!
With Love,
Bethanne

Merry Christmas


And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) to be taxed with Mary, his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid: And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it, wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the child, his name was called Jesus, which was so named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

The After Life, Mission: Unknown

I have to imagine how it would feel to be a soldier cut down in the prime of his life--because that's where my current WIP has taken me. I have to imagine the reaction of a 24-year-old, alpha male. From BDUs and fellow soldiers, dreams of young ladies and the next cold beer to white linen attire and an awful lot of singing and praying. :D :D I think there would be some resentment there... in spite of the fact that he's in heaven--the ultimate goal for a Christian. The idea of heaven leaves so many unknowns. As a writer, I'm fascinated by our human reactions, our human tendencies. Combine that with the afterlife... well, it's just plain fun. :D

Here's an excerpt from my current work in progress. It made me smile, because I could very well hear any number of soldiers respond in this manner.

Setup: Aarden, a guardian angel who lost his wings and has been recruited to start a new army consisting of Angels, Fallen ones, and immortals--three factions. Dominic, a human, a chosen one who will one day help lead an Army against the powers of Lucifer. His life on earth has ended and he has been brought to heaven.

***

Heaven broke loose with a mighty roar.

Powers, the sixth order of angels, stampeded the pathway to heaven. Their strength of spirit alone could fell an army of demons. They would have to fight a thousand armies today…

Aarden’s heart swelled. He was wingless now, but he would still fight for this soul. He waited for the passing as dark clouds closed in around the waiting celestial army. The beating of hell’s footfall drew nearer. Come on.

Impatience filled him when finally Dominic, in his tattered BDUs, came over the rise of clouds with a countenance of great displeasure. Dark eyes, that missed nothing, stepped into this new battle with ease. But it wasn’t the thrill of war that drove him. He was pissed, and if Aarden didn’t intercede, he would quickly lose that drive. After passing over, it didn’t take long for the soul to need and find rest. Even in difficult situations like this one.

“Dominic, here!” Aarden tossed him a sword.

He caught it by the hilt, finding a balance in his hands as a puzzled look came over him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Aarden grinned. “You feel like fighting?” For your soul.

The first wave of demons threw in with blades swinging and fists thrashing.

Aarden’s heart pounded. By far, this was not like fighting a demon as an angel.

He maintained vigil at Dominic’s back. After a while, they were countering each other’s movements, each guarding the other, as they took down the enemy. Dominic would be a greatly missed team member. The thought alone sent a spirit of peace to those left on earth.

A shadow marred his peripheral vision. “Incoming, from the left.”

They turned in unison, swords raised.

“Lucifer.”

“This one is mine, Aarden of the Fallen Ones.”

Dominic sent Aarden a questioning look, his eyes immediately drawn to Aarden’s back.

“Like hell.” Aarden answered, swarthy and earthy, and just plain ticked off--another difference since he’d lost his wings. “Nothing he did before rates higher than giving his life to save his brothers.”

Dominic’s gaze wavered, his spirit was quickly flagging, but his mind stayed strong--a true warrior.

“I’m surprised you even bothered to be here,” Aarden spoke, taking a protective stance in front of Dominic. “You aren’t welcome here.”

Sounds of the battle behind them faded as angels felled demons and heaven claimed the victory. Lucifer swelled in size. His face mottled in anger. “You think one man will be enough to stop me and mine?”

Aarden gave a nod, not bothering to answer a question answered many times before.

Lucifer raised his hands in mock appraisal of the world around him. The winds blew, the dark clouds rolled in. Lightning flew from his finger tips and streaked across the pillowed atmosphere. The lightning stroked blue through the sky then turned to fierce red. With a flick of his wrist, a line of light blazed the sky.

Aarden lifted his sword in front of his ward’s heart, but the devil’s ray melted the blade and pierced Dominic’s skin. He clutched his chest and looked at Aarden with a what-the-hell expression. “Son of a--”

He fell to his knees.

Lucifer threw his head back and laughed. “Marked for eternity. This isn’t over, human. Even in death, I can take your soul.”

Aarden lifted his broken sword and swung at the devil, but there was no winning at this point as the enemy was already gone.

“Come on, Dominic. Time to face your maker.”

Dominic was shaking off the effects of the devil’s play. His weary soul sought a rest Aarden was too impatient to allow.

He grabbed the young man under the arm and dragged him. “Up we go.”

They arrived at the gates where Aarden was immediately reminded of his fallen status.

“We’ll take him from here.”

“And you’ll bring him back, as well.” Aarden declared, again annoyed by the helpless feeling, the uselessness of being in a place where he was not fully welcome anymore.  Now Dominic would be given his choice…remain within, or take a place amidst the newly formed guard of fallen and immortals.

He paced. He hummed. He thought of Rachel, waiting for him, and of being with her again when this was finally over. He prayed that Dominic would take a chance on him, on the chance that they could do more as immortals than as saints eternal.

Time does not exist in heaven, he kept telling himself, even as his new self wanted to check the time. Finally, the clouds broke open before him. Clothed in a white linen robe, Dominic walked toward him. His face a cloud of understated rage. Not surprised, Aarden couldn’t help but smile.

Dominic’s gaze took him in--he still wore jeans and a t-shirt--then scowled at his own attire. “I feel like an asshole.”



Listen to it...

What are you listening to right now?

Me? Jim Croce. Okay, it happens to have a Christmas theme--It Doesn't Have to Be That Way, which is appropriate. Wouldn't matter, though. I love to listen to Jim Croce sing.

I'm often inspired by music, titles, themes...

The Guardian Angel story I'm writing has been aptly named One Heartbeat in the Darkness, which is a line from a Darius Rucker song, True Believers. I wrote a story and called it Shake the Sugar Tree for a while...it's now called 'Til Death do Us Part.

I hear songs on the radio...and get inspired.

What about you? Do you write to music?


Woman of Faith...

Please come to the front office. Woman of Faith...your Father is here with your lunch.

That's kind of what I feel like right now. Embarrassed because all my classmates are looking at me funny, a few are snickering, and my good friends will say, I'm not laughing AT you, I'm laughing WITH you. I forgot my lunch. I would rather my father not have brought my lunch to school at all. How embarrassing! As I walk down the hall, he's standing there by the office door holding that brown bag up and waving it a little. As if I might not recognize the lunch I made this morning. Or as if I don't know I left it on the counter when I walked out the door. I quickly look behind me, to make sure no one is there, relieved when I find the hall empty.

I'm taking my writer's hat off...again. It's possible you think I'm crazy by now. Or perhaps you have stopped following my blog because it's too unpredictable!! If that's the case, you aren't reading this anyway...so I move on. :D

I struggle with Christmas every year. Keeping this time of year joyful and peaceful has become a trial. First it was so easy when the kids were little. No one complained. No one had lists... every year, it gets a little tougher to hold onto the true meaning.

This year feels like a crisis. With a teenager and an almost teenager, there are times I feel like cancelling Christmas. I even thought of this great idea to encourage goodness and kindness by having the kids earn Christmas points throughout the year[next year]. Not a punishment where they would be taken away if they were bad. Just complete a reward system. Simple Acts of Kindness. Helping one another. We can do these things...and be naughty on occasion. So this seems the answer! My kids must EARN what I spend my hard-earned money on.

But then I hear someone say...Christmas is about giving. God gave us Christ. We didn't deserve Christ. Or deserve the sacrifice he made for us. We were already a broken race. Humans hurting humans. We did not have perfection. Our gift from God is life eternal. This is the true meaning of Christmas. This is why I will set aside all the ugly that keeps popping up. If we are to love as Christ loved, then we should be able to show love even when we want to rip people's heads off instead. Christmas can be [will be] peaceful because I do not have to worry about how good my kids have been. There is no list of naughty or nice. There is only Love. I love them.

In light of the tragedy in Newton, CT. I have so many thoughts on love, on children, on consequences. Sometimes, it's hard to realize that if my children were to leave this earth, they would not recognize that I love them. Punishment must come with the gentle hand of teaching and love. Love your children unconditionally. Do not let them think that they must earn your love by being good.

That lunch up there? It's Love. It's the eye-opening reminder that I am not perfect but my Father loves me anyway.

Now that I've Christianed all your asses...
Enjoy the coming weekend!
With Love,
Bethanne

Sunday Summation

Another week closer to my Lord's birthday.
I'm sitting at my desk with not quite all my Christmas shopping done.

But I don't even care...
There are too many more important things to be worried about...to be THANKFUL for than to worry that everyone has X number of presents. Or that they're going to be happy. Maybe being happy isn't really the final answer.

Today, I enjoy life and my family.

Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.


...in writing. I write. And edit. :P

December 14, 2012 -- A point in Time

Today, 26 people were killed at an elementary school in Connecticut, 18 of them children. I have to write that down...hold it close to my heart...make sure it's there for the years to come when I decide to look back on life. I can only imagine the heartache. It's not possible to write, in fiction, the sadness people are feeling today, and I keep having this urge to go get my kids from school.

Two parts make a killer--the mind and the weapon.
It's okay to admit that you want a change...I admit, I want a change [no, not Obama]. If that means gun laws, I'm willing to go along. This is not a revelation for me. It's just bone-weary sadness over the tragedy that has struck our nation once again. Something has to give. Something has to change...

I know the answer. Any Christian knows the answer. Unfortunately, the world does not know the answer. So instead we will continue to try to moralize the law. It's impossible, of course. Changing the laws will not fix that 20 year old's mind. The laws will not heal a killer, nor will the laws make guns disappear.


Today I was called an Asshole.
It bothered me a good bit.

After the lengthy, bullshit election year, I have to admit, being called an asshole was like icing on the cake. I want to bite back. I want to shut the world up and tell them all to mind their own F-ing business. I want a nice deserted island where I don't have to deal with people at all...ever, even if they are sort of family.



I want to know how a young man can shoot a gun 26 times...and no one stops him. How? How does this happen? How can this country survive in this divided state. It is true that a tragedy like this is merely a symptom. I fear what our country will go through in the after-math of this tragedy.

I grieve for the families...
I pray for peace.
With love,
Bethanne