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It’s the cranky mornings when someone didn’t get enough sleep. It’s the body odors that are NOT yours along with the grunts, groans, and grumbles. It’s extra laundry, and another person to cook for, hoping it is their taste too. It’s the “not fair” moments when someone gets blamed for the spot on the rug, or the lack of milk in the carton, or the birthday card that didn’t get sent out when it should have. It’s the interrupted TV shows you are trying to hear, but someone needs to tell you just one more thing, or simply prefers to be the program commentator for the night. The sentence in your evening book that you have read at least a dozen times, but still don’t know what it says because the someone special next to you in bed is telling you something far more important…the book will always be there, but their story may not. It’s having stuff put away that you like having out, but it drives the other person crazy to have the clutter. There are the battles over bills, travel plans, decorating styles, ideas on politics, religion, and childrearing. It’s the blended family of new lives, adding extra reminders of birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions. It’s the “I want” but “I don’t” moments that come up over the silliest things. The name calling…yes, at any age…and the things said that you wish you could take back.
It’s the quiet conversations over dinner, and the “thank you” for a meal prepared with love…perhaps even two hours of love (a little inside joke). It’s the laughs you share when you watch reruns of King of Queens or some other sitcom you have watched every episode of…but still laugh together. It’s knowing that you are protected, and nothing will ever harm you as long as he is around. It’s the smile on someone’s face when you bring in flowers or hide anniversary flowers in the washing machine so you can plant them in the morning…the last place in the world you would think he would look, but he did. The moments when your spouse doesn’t feel well, and you want to take their pain away. It’s watching them sleep and hoping they are having sweet dreams. It’s saying whatever you want because with them you are free just to be.
It’s knowing when you’re about to fall asleep each night that you love that person enough to give it another day…that’s love…and it’s called marriage.

Where do all those characters come from for my story? They are all the people that are chatting away in my head…the joys of having a vivid imagination. My first task is to determine the personality of the person within the story. How will they behave, what is their goal, are they the protagonist or antagonist? Sara, who I love in my Sara Series, is the main character and also the protagonist. There is an antagonist in each book too. In my Sara Series, this is the person (per story) that is fighting against Sara…shame on them. There are dynamic characters, (another description of Sara) or the opposite, static. Another character could be a round character, or the opposite, which is flat. All that said, I don’t worry as much about what my characters are as much as who they are…the story will develop them as it goes along.

Each character has a role, whether it is for a moment within a chapter, or hours within the time frame of the story. What matters is that each character is important to me, and how they build up the story in my mind.

Next part of developing my characters is what do they look like in my mind. It depends on who they are to me. Sara is a combination of my two granddaughters, Savannah, and Jo, along with the personality of my daughter, Kristin. How is that, you ask? Let me explain. The dark hair, blue eyes, and serious side are Savannah, where the curls and tenderness come from Jo. The spicy portion of her personality comes from my daughter. How can I not love Sara, right? Some men might resemble someone good, such as Brandon, who is a spin-off of Jason, Kristin’s equal half. Then there is the antagonist who is likely someone I have bad memories or experiences with…I’ll just leave it at that.

When I see my characters, I see what they have chosen to wear for the day. Sometimes that description is added, other times it’s not as important to me. It depends on if it has to do with an event in the story. Sara’s daughter Liz is a typical child gaining her independence with her style. Maybe I should put more descriptions in, but it’s a personal choice for the writer.

Everyone’s writing style is different. Visibly picked out as you read a book. For instance, if I choose a Nicholas Sparks book to read, I know I’ll need Kleenex when the story is ending…and I’m okay with that. I mean, who doesn’t love a love story. The Notebook will always be my favorite.

But let’s not forget their names. I try to keep names as separate as possible. I’m not a fan of having too many names sound alike…such as Stan, Stewart, Susan, Sally…you get the point. The names don’t have a deep set meaning as the character themselves, but if I like a name, I’ll usually find a place for it. However, in my mind, they somehow match the person. I just can’t say how it happens, because it’s all in my head.

And that, my friends, is the long and the short of how I create my characters.

So, until the next blog….happy writing.

Self-doubt…self-image…self-confidence…

Something we all suffer from now and then. Is it justified, or did someone put the bug in our head that we aren’t as good as we want to think we are? I believe the culprit becomes an issue, in part, because we compare ourselves to others. For me, when I look at other photographers work, my immediate reaction is to put my camera away. Bury it somewhere in the back of a closet and never think about it again. And as for my writing…well, there are times when I look at the books I’ve published, and all I see are “fire starters”…or scratch paper.
Then I get an email from someone, either a relative I rarely see or Facebook friends who like my photos and it encourages me to go on. Or someone that came across my blog and decided to join my website, and I realize that it doesn’t matter how many times I doubt myself, someone out there appreciates my efforts, and suddenly I’m able to pick up the camera, or start clicking away at my keyboard just one more time.
If I could go back in time and take classes to enhance my passions with actual “know-how”, I would…and I might be less likely to bash myself during times when doubt becomes the focus for the moment…or hours. Now I encourage children to utilize the resources and hang onto whatever comes their way to help polish their passions. I also take advantage of opportunities that come my way that contributes to my growth as an author or photographer.
Today I read a new blog entry by J.A. Jance. If you have never read her books, you are missing out. I am a follower/fan, so when she posts, I get notices…and I find myself anxious for the quiet moments I can spend reading about her adventures. She travels a lot and makes the adventures fun to follow. When I read her blog this morning, I realized “self-doubt” isn’t my issue alone…nope, she has it too. An accomplished author of her caliber and she has confidence issues…wow. So, instead of spending my time bashing myself due to my incompetence, I lift my head a bit and tell myself “it’s okay.” Some people love what I do, and suddenly being only an amateur author or photographer is just fine with me. I am who I am, and I’m having fun.
So, for those days when doubt tries to work it’s way into your day, find a mirror and tell yourself how proud you are of who you have become. Most importantly…I hope you believe it.

I’m excited to start blogging about writing…the in’s and out’s of the process. If you are thinking about being an author, I hope you find my “writing” blog useful to you. There could be days, perhaps like today, that are meant to give you background only, but there’s always the chance it may trigger an idea for you.

Let’s start at the beginning…with paper and pen.

I started writing poems as a young girl. I was quiet and shy, so this was a way of expressing myself…and it still is today. I’d only mildly ever entertained the thought of writing a novel because the poems seemed to satisfy my need to vent, cry, explain, celebrate, or whatever the emotion was that needed to be released. Then the desire to expand my writing got stronger, like a craving for a favorite food or addiction that you can’t escape. It was the need to write a story, actually, my story. I didn’t want to tell it as an autobiography but to spin it into fiction. I hadn’t taken any writing classes. In fact, I wasn’t all that great with language arts to be truthful (yes, I know that’s obvious..lol) but the power to write was building in me like an atom bomb. I picked up a tablet and pen and began my first novel. At the time, I was extremely busy raising two children, and hanging onto a career that kept the bill collectors at bay and food in our tummies. But because the need continued to tap on my shoulder, I kept my tablet close by and would jot down a few words. One day my sister, Cathy, read the first few pages and began to cry…it was obvious she knew where I was going with the story. Perhaps she felt the sting of our childhood at that moment, or maybe it was the way I expressed the scene I was creating in the book. Either way, it felt good to draw that emotion out in her, and it pushed me to continue. Unfortunately, my real life became overtaxed and the book was put away.

Fast forward to retirement…and a new story unfolds. What rekindled the desire to write more than poems again began in a doctor’s waiting room. As I flipped through a magazine I came across an article that was titled “Write About It”….and so, I did. I started out with my blog, which follows my experiences, my opinion on subjects not everyone wants to deal with, and life in general. Then I started a journey of writing short stories for contests…nope, never won one, but it sure was fun. There was also writing exercises where they gave me three words and I wrote a short story based on them. It’s a fun process, and it has a way of getting the creative juices flowing. I’ve been asked where I got the idea for my first book, and as mentioned in a prior blog, it was an old memory. When I was in grade school, I met a boy. We had recently been taken in by our grandparents, and as shy as I was, going to a new school was painful. But this one boy, William, befriended me. For the next three years, we were, as some might mock, in love. He’d blow kisses across the playground when we ended our day and went our separate ways. The love story ended when we moved back in with our parents, and a new school was on the horizon. Now, all these years later…obviously a lot of years since I’m now retired…I woke up in the middle of the night and wondered what happened to the first young man who stole my heart. Of course, I have no idea, nor was I willing to take my investigation too far, where this boy (now a man) was because, though I remember his name, I’m not entirely convinced I have it right. Also, since I’m married, I didn’t think my husband would appreciate my digging up the past. But as the memory unfolded, I thought about times we lose track of someone and wonder who they became as adults…and a story was born.

It’s all about the idea that unfolds in your mind. Then, (and this is the fun part) how does it end.  So, here I am, three published novels later, a fourth in the editing process, and a fifth in the writing phase, and a “starving artist” is born. I never claimed to be a Longfellow with my poetry or a Margaret Mitchell stringing words together to create great literature, but it’s okay because I love what I do…and in the end, that’s all that really matters.

Today is all about blended families…and the love that grows within. I have five sisters and a brother…add to that three stepsisters, and a stepbrother and you have a team of kids that filled a three bedroom, one bath house with crazy times, lots of laughter, and, of course, some fighting, but in the end…lots of love. I have lost two of my sisters, two of my stepsisters, and a stepbrother. I have nieces and nephews who fill the gap left behind, our love for them in our hearts forever.

I’ve talked about my children, Mike, Kristin, and Brook. Along with my grandchildren, Lindsay, Savannah, Jo, and Cameron…these seven people are simply the heart and soul of my existence…my blood. As much as I love them, there are others who have entered my heart…and stayed there. We have built memories, shared stories, and enjoyed adventures. I’ve already mentioned my stepsiblings…the others are my stepchildren. Two from a previous marriage, Jamie and Jesse…who, though they are no longer my stepchildren in the legal aspect, will always remain in my heart. When I married their dad, they were part of the package, and I’m blessed to have shared time with them, and to remain in contact with them today. Now, thanks to my wonderful husband, Dan, I am blessed with three more children, Shannon, Jessica, and Nathan (who we recently lost to suicide), and three more grandchildren, Ember, Phoenix, and baby Kaidence…life just kept getting better. I spent four years living in Colorado, and part of that time Shannon and Ember lived with us. Shannon and I quickly built our relationship, and Ember, daily, brought fun and adventure to our home. After they moved out, time was spent having them over for visits, sharing dinners, and the occasional escape for Shannon and me, as we left Ember in Grandpa’s care while we enjoyed time at the movies. In the summer, Nathan, and Jessica came for visits as their schedules allowed. Other times, Dan and I would travel to Ohio where Jessica and Nathan lived, or would meet them in Escanaba, Michigan for our winter hunt. While in Michigan, we spend time visiting other Vermote family members. I have two sister-in-laws, a brother-in-law, their spouses and families, along with cousins, an uncle and aunt. I also have a sister-in-law, her spouse and family in Wisconsin…so as we travel, my heart continues to be filled with stories, laughing till our sides ached, and making more memories.

I have also been blessed with my daughter-in-laws, Silver (Mike), Maureen (Jesse), and son-in-laws, Jason, (Kristin), and Brandon (Shannon)…they add an element of love as well. They are all wonderful people, filled with love for their children (step or not), and for my children as well. I have, at times I’m sure, been the “mother-in-law from”…well, we all know where that is…lol…when giving advice that wasn’t solicited, but hopefully the love I have for them is mutual. Then there are the parents of the children my children love…though some I never had a chance to meet due to their passing, others have welcomed me into their lives without hesitation.

However, the story doesn’t end quite yet…there are three other people that I’ve grown to care about…yes, even love, and they are the mothers of my stepchildren. Barb, (Jamie and Jesse’s mom), Janet, (Shannon’s mom) and Monica (Jessica and Nathan’s mom). Whether our connection is simply through Facebook, or the occasional family gathering, they are special because they are the mothers of my stepchildren. I’ve spent more time with Monica, most recently when Jessica and Monica (Nathan was there in spirit) came out to Washington and stayed with Dan and I for a few days before Christmas. I shared a few photos of our adventures in downtown Seattle, along with our Space Needle ride, and I look forward to their next visit. No matter how/where/when I spend time with one of these mothers, we share a bond as mothers, and I am grateful for their friendship.

As I look at all the people in my life, those who my blood runs through their veins, or those who came in via marriage(s), I recognize how lucky I am. If I ever wondered if my heart was big enough to love just one more person, my question was answered with a resounding yes. There are people that pass in the night, people that stay for a while before venturing off to new places…acquaintances that have touched our lives in many ways, at many times…then there are the people we have become connected to through another…my blood may not travel through their veins, our history may not be the same…but love has no boundaries, it can’t be contained…love is love, and I’m blessed to say my “family” is plentiful and rich with love.