Fragile. For all their desire to live, two-week-old kittens are incredibly fragile. I give a lot of credit to cat mothers who nurture and raise strong, healthy kittens. I’ve found it takes hard work, sacrifice, and stamina to keep a kitten alive. The picture you see is Mojo at three-almost-four weeks old. I finally feel confident that he’s not going to die.Continue reading “Kitten Wins by #TKO Against Introvert”
Because being a writer means following the advice of Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit and feeding your head.
Submitted for your approval: the details of one head-feeding session….Continue reading “The Introvert and the Odor Mortis”
It all started innocently enough. I needed to create a cover for SOUL SIGN, the third book in the Zackie Stories of Supernatural Suspense. But when Photoshop madness set in, it irrevocably changed my world and I may never be the same again.Continue reading “Book Cover Hell and the Introvert”
She bit him on the ear. It wasn’t a serious bite, but in this battle of wills, the little puppy wanted to make it clear to my husband Rich that she did not want to go potty outside. Outside was for playing and sniffing. There were far more comfortable places to go potty inside.Continue reading “When a Plott Hound Adopts an Introvert”
I thought that the act of writing would be like reading, but more intense. You know that feeling you get when you’re transported by a story? You’re snug under a blanket on a gray day, sipping cocoa and surrounded by contented, sleeping dogs. The German word is gemütlichkeit; in Danish, it’s hygge. An NPR article on hygge, describes it as the pursuit of everyday happiness, the art of creating a nice atmosphere. Hygge builds in elements of togetherness, savors simple pleasures, and emphasizes relaxation and comfort on an everyday basis.
Writing is the exact opposite of that.Continue reading “Introvert’s Writing Epiphany”
He wore a poker face. I couldn’t tell if he was kidding, serious or playing some kind of complicated mind game. My brother didn’t blink. I held his gaze, but my right hand crept along the table top until it located the knife I’d used to cut the turkey.Continue reading “Never Play an Introvert”