Of Kilted Pleasure is a REAL Book Now.

 Well there you go, my book, my first novel, titled "Of Kilted Pleasure" is a real live book now. It has been registered with the Library of Congress, and it has its own ISBN number. Woot! I can do the dance, but I have to reserve my entire enthusiasm for when it is released to the public for purchase. Right now, it is still in the production stages. I have been going through the PDF to make corrections.  

    About 100 years ago, when I wrote my first book through Xlibris, I had to wait for them to send me a hardcopy galley to go through and that was really tough. Not only did they send it in 11-point font, but it was also squeezed together to save paper I guess. I was NOT a happy camper when the finished product came out the same way. I was LIVID because I had made it perfectly clear that I wanted 12-point font, and I wanted more space between the lines. This was my first experience with book publishing. The ONLY thing they could or would do for me is to scrap that project and make a 2nd Edition, and in doing so they really only fixed those issues, not the 100+ corrections I had sent in to be changed on the first edition. Talk about FURIOUS! That book is a mess.

    This is my sixth or seventh book, I'm not sure. It's my first novel. I do know that. I have more experience and I've been working with other publishers as well, so I know a thing or two now, about standing up for myself and telling the publisher exactly what I want. I'm paying for it, right? That's right. So yes, they will listen. Xlibris has been pretty good this time around. I had a few minor issues with the cover designing team not wanting to do an illustration, but after speaking with my project manager, and then paying a little bit more, not the full price by any means, they were able to get that going. The project manager was able to give me the best discounts because he had failed to explain there would be an additional cost for illustration vs. photography-type covers.  I want illustrations, realistic, not photos. This is a Highland Romance book, not another genre.

    Well, I sent off the manuscript last Thursday I think, and it has already been returned to me in book format! Wow, that's really good. I was quite impressed with that. I do have to go through the PDF and make corrections. I am FLAT amazed at how many mistakes I made. Not even gonna lie about it, I suck! I wrote the book in a month, and got it on the screen, but didn't take the time to make sure I had spelled everything correctly, I was more concerned with getting the Scots words spelled correctly. I didn't go flow-blown on using the Scots language because I didn't want the reader to be completely confused. I wanted them to taste the difference, but not be overwhelmed by the flavor.

    So, now I have to go through the PDF, and I am. I will submit the mistakes and the changes I want. They'll redo it on their end and send it back once more for the last and final look-see.  I hope we can get all of the corrections done this time. I hate having that fear that I missed something, but I know it's going to happen. I have people writing to me now to tell me about the first book's mistakes. LOL  Well, that's about it, I'll go back to work now. I just wanted you to know the book is in production and about to be released in May 2023.  The cover will come out soon and I'll post it when it does.

Photo Credit: Me.

The Gourmet in Me.

Cooking and baking have always been something that I've enjoyed doing. I can't give Mom credit for that one; sorry woman, Daddy gets the title of Cook in our family. My mom did bake, and she was decent at it, but her daughter, my sister Linda, is the ESSENCE of awesome! She really does "take the cake"...OMG, I went there. Did you see that? Yeah, OK, that was dumb, but she really is great at what she does. I think Lin should write a book and she should show you just how wonderful she is. Mom and Linda both were cake makers in the 80s and although they have slowed down their work in that area, it still remains that they are both really gifted and talented people when it comes to making and decorating cakes. I am not that kind of a baker. Nothing I make will be baked for a wedding, anniversary, or birthday. I just bake it, and then I eat it.

    What I decided to do is to write my own recipe book since everyone seems to think that recipe books are the way to express yourself.  I mean, I get that, but mine won't be just a book with recipes in it, it will have to be a storytelling type of book as well. I'm thinking something along the lines of a blog book with 100 recipes and stories in it. I'll likely tell a story, share a recipe, and add a photo of what it turned out to look like rather than what it SHOULD have looked like. No one, including myself, is going to call me a gourmet chef. Nope. I cook. I will add that I cook well, but I am not a true gourmet. I use great ingredients.

    My culinary experiences began as a kid when my dad cooked and I helped. I can't remember my siblings helping Dad. I don't know why I can't remember that. I'm pretty sure they had to. Andie (my big big sister) always brought the green bean casserole to the family dinners, so I know she can cook that. Linda (my little big sister, she's under Andie and before Mike. I'm the baby.) was in charge of all the good stuff. She put herself in charge, and we didn't argue. She was really good at it, so yeah, we let that happen.  She brought the sweets and jello stuff. Mike brought the ice...and that tells you a bit about his kitchen skills.  I brought the sweet potatoes and occasionally I'd step over the boundaries and bring a cake or something. 

    When I really got serious about learning to cook well I was really super old. I had already earned my Masters at Oklahoma City University, and I was teaching at the Platt School of Culinary Arts in their General Education department.  I won't say it was the best job out there, but it had its perks that is for sure. All of my students were culinary chefs in the making.  They made us lunch EVERY day, and often they made something in the afternoon that I could pick up and take home with me for dinner or dessert. One student, in particular, decided to teach me the tricks of the trade and he took me in as his personal student since I was giving him extra credit to make up for his lack of writing skills.  It worked out.  He learned not to plagiarize and I learned how to cook really well! Thank you, Patrick.

    The one thing I remember about the school was Master Chef saying to the students, and I was present when he did, that there should always be a party in your mouth when you make something worth eating. You mix salsa and you think it's great, but did you add apples and cayenne to that salsa? Did you add bacon to your taco? He would throw out things that made you think. He had written at least two successful recipe books and he had more than 30 years of culinary experience in Dallas, so I think the man had a bit of experience for the students as well as myself, to glean from -- so we did.  He was a true Artisan with the creations he made. It was mostly about the presentation; the quality of the food, he said, could be secondary. I didn't really like that concept.

    I told myself that I didn't need to present the food in a way that made my dinners memorable, I wanted the guests to say it was good, they liked it, they wished they could do that, you know  -- that's the concept I was hoping for. When it comes to food and anything else, it's OK to disagree with someone. It doesn't change the way we love it. Presentation is definitely a good thing; but not the most important; to me, the person I'm serving is the most important. Does that person like the food? That's what I'm interested in, so that's what I try to achieve. I use my kids as guinea pigs all the time. They usually don't seem to mind. If they do, they've never said so. I like my kids.

    I'll end up going to Pinterest and finding breakfast ideas, lunch ideas, dinner ideas, snacks, appetizers, and dessert ideas. I'll end up taking photos of them and giving credit to the photographer if I can, and then I'll end up making the dish(es) and taking photos of what my food actually looks like. I may need to set up a cool corner in the dining or kitchen to show off the dish(es) before I devour them. I also want my book to be a book that suits a single person or maybe only two people. I'm not into making a lot of food anymore. Those days are very long gone for me. I'm just out there making a good meal for me and my daughter. If I ever do move out, which I hope is sooner than later, she can come over to eat. I can see her that way. 

    There you go. There will be ANOTHER Blog book and it will be the Gourmet Book. So, it will be "Jude's Almost Daily Blog: The Gourmet in Me"  No one can steal that idea because that would be the gourmet in them, not me. I'm the only me there is. Ha! Some are really happy about that fact.  I know I am. So, what's for dinner tonight? Well, I think I'll make Grilled Cheese Brie sandwiches with bacon, spinach, and a tangy avocado balsamic drizzle on top!  Sounds good. Here's a photo of what the Pinterest suggestion is. I'll add spinach and avocado to mine.

Photo Credit: Pinterest. (Yammie's Noshery)

The Hound of the Baskervilles. (Or is it)

 Being an avid reader, when I was less than ten I remember reading every Sherlock Holmes mystery that I could get my hands on, and that was literally every one of them since I was often hanging out at the library. Yes, I was that kid.  You'd catch me walking from 2212 N. Mueller to the corner of 35th and Mueller so I could be at the Bethany Metropolitan Library, and you know, I loved it. It was MY hiding hole. I would find a good spot to sit in, usually up against the wall and on the floor between aisles of reference books since no one ever went there. I would bring my pillow and to my surprise, one of the staff members said I could keep one up there so I didn't have to drag it back and forth with me. What a thought! I did that.

    When I was less than a teen I was in the spot where I found such peace, and I had in my hands the hardcover bound book titled "The Hound of the Baskervilles". I remember the story. It was ONE hound. It wasn't the HOUNDS of Bakerville, as some people would call it. My freaking teacher called it that and YES, I corrected her. I know, I'm not really supposed to do that, but I did. I was in the 5th grade when that happened and my mom was called to the office to speak to me. Can you imagine if that were to happen today? A kid corrects a teacher, and then their parent is asked to come up to discuss it? No. That is what is WRONG with our society today. I was in the wrong for trying to openly and publicly correct my teacher. I get that now. I don't know that I got it then. I was right. I knew I was right. My mom even told me I was right, but it wasn't the best practice. It was in fact, WRONG to correct the teacher the way I did it.

    What I remember about the entire event is that our school media center didn't have that particular book as it was considered too scary or something for elementary kids. We had other books, but not those written by Sherlock Holmes. That was the year I found out (I was corrected) that the books about Sherlock Holmes were actually written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!! WHAT? I knew him. I knew he was a writer too. I just hadn't put two-and-two together until the 5th grade. It was likely because when I went to the library to get the books they were all in the same area (Thank you, Dewey Decimal System), and all the books I was looking at said "Sherlock Holmes" on them; so naturally, my ten-year-old brain assumed he was the author. Also, I was flat upset about the fact that Holmes didn't narrate the books, his friend Dr. John Watson did. I couldn't figure that one out either.

    So, here we are so many hundreds of years later, and I am still correcting people when they bring up the book in conversation; or they make a reference to it. They almost always say "The Hounds of Bakerville" as if Baskerville is a place and there were multiple hounds. Nope. It was ONE big dog, and the Baskervilles were a family who lived in a fictional manor on a fictional moor. It's kind of funny really. I mean, I am wrong, absolutely wrong, about so many things. I'm not as wrong as I could be because I get really really upset with myself when I am wrong, so I tend to fight to my own death about decisions I need to make so I'm not wrong. I kick my own ass, no one else needs to stand in line to do that.  

    My good friend got it right! I called her and I said "OK, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a book about a family who lived on a moor, and one by one the head of the household was either killed by or chased by a big black dog. Do you know the name of the book?"  She answered yes, "but I didn't know his name was Arthur. I thought it was Conan Doyle." I did laugh.  She did however get the title of the book correct, so we're still best friends.  If I turned that around and I had to answer for her who sang this or that song, or what the title of it was, I would be lost in the abyss because I'm not going to get that unless it's a Bee Gee song. 

    I sat myself down this past week and read the book on my Kindle. I recalled so very little of the book from when I was ten. I really hadn't remembered most of it whatsoever, so that makes me think I now need to go back and read every last thing that Doyle ever wrote. Yes, I do. Did you know, and maybe you don't care, but did you know that before he was an author Arthur Conan Doyle was a medical student and he is a graduate of the University of Edinburgh Medical School? WHAT? Yes, he really was a doctor, and Dr. John Watson is not. Dr. John Watson is a fictional character. I can't tell you how hard I took that information when I realized that neither he nor Sherlock Holmes were real people. Just devastated me. I think I was about 12. I had to question my entire existence at that point.

    If Sherlock Holmes wasn't a real person, I asked myself, were the other people in the other books real? That was when I had a long and drawn-out conversation with Sheila Parker; the teacher who lived behind our house. She had kids that we played with, and since she was a teacher, and I had seen her in the Reference section of the library, I figured she might know something about it. She did. She set me straight on fiction vs. non-fiction, and she even told me about TWEEN books and that was fascinating. I didn't do too much reading in that section, but for some weird reason, I loved the Betsy and Tacy books. Geez, now I have to go back and read those again. I have NO clue what they did, but I remember I loved it.

Photo Credit: Audiobookstore.com

I Bought Drumsticks.

 I have an acoustic guitar that I named Wally. I bought him on Facebook Marketplace about two years ago. A drummer in a country rock band owned the guitar and he never played it. He bought it so he could learn how to play, but he never got around to it.  Wally sat in the man's garage for over two years and outside of needing new strings, the instrument was pristine. The sale price for the exact Yamaha model number was over $500 when I first bought Wally for $100; so I feel like I got a really good deal. I don't know if the drummer paid that much, he had a friend at Guitar Center who used his personal discount. I know the entire story.  

    When I brought Wally home I had intentions of learning to play him as well. I bought a book, I bought a CD on training yourself, but my fingers are not being very cooperative with my brain. My brain is not the issue here, the fleshy tenant of my skull is directing my fingers to do this or that, but they just sort of sit there; without being nimble and without being the least bit motivated. I can only do what I can do. So, what I'm doing now is intellectually training myself through reading, videos, etc, and if my hands ever do get around to wanting to partner up with my mind, I'll have a really good time playing Wally.  Until then, I just strum along, sing little songs to my dog Ginger, and pretend I'm some sort of master.  Don't laugh, we all do that.

    Did you read the title of the Blog? I bought a pair of drumsticks. There was NO reason whatsoever for the purchase. The ONLY reason they ended up in my hands was that I took them from a toddler who was about to try and put them in his mouth again. His mother wasn't paying attention and the boy could have thrust them down his throat if he fell. Yep, that's me, Granny, on the spot! I was on top of that boy in less than a flash and grabbing those sticks from his open mouth. He stared at me, but I stared right back at him. I wonder if he actually has ever experienced a Southern Grandma before. He could be traumatized, I don't know.

    Anyway, I walked around with them because they were covered in his drool and I didn't want to put them back on the shelf where someone could pick them up unsuspectingly; I'm so nice sometimes. Then, because I was walking around with them, trying to find the hand sanitizer, I thought I would just go ahead and buy them, clean them when I got home, and use them to torment the animals. Good plan. They are the best tormenters out there really. I have no idea what I'm doing when I beat and pound on things, I'm just channeling my memories of Alex Van Halen, and trying to make some sense of the world.

    I did however because I'm cool like that, email the guy who sold me Wally. I told him the story and he said he would have grabbed the sticks and beat the mother with them. He and me both really. I can't blame or fault the woman though, you can't watch the baby 24/7/365. It's impossible. That's why God made angels, and that's why angels use Grammas.  Reuben was about 17-18 months old when I had to let go of his hand to open a door, and he took off into the street behind us. I about died myself that day. I had put the thing I was holding in my left hand over the safety of my child. It happens. We are all fallible.  God is great all the time.

Photo Credit: Musicworks.co.nz

Forced to Look at Handsome Men Today.

 One of the perks of being an author of Highland Romance novels is that I get to design and approve the illustrations that appear on the cover of my book.  If you go into Barnes & Noble, Half-Price Books, or other wonderful places where they sell books, you'll find an entire section for ROMANCE in the larger Fiction section. In the Romance section, you'll find an enormous amount of books written with Highlander men either nearly naked or trying to get to that stage of undress; they are usually wearing a kilt, or some sort of Scottish traditional garb so you know they're Highlanders. I think there needs to be, if there isn't already, an entire genre dedicated just to Highland Romance. That's my thought.

    Because I want my new book "Of Kilted Pleasure" to be up there with all the other fine Highland Romance novels in terms of good-looking Highlander men who are barely dressed, I have commissioned the illustrators at the publishing house to use their digital artists (bots) to create for me the perfect Craig Allan Mackenzie as he is seen throughout the book, holding Aria Campbell from behind, and he's just about to do things that don't require a kilt. The good news I suppose for any Highlanders is that the kilt can be on or off of the man and not really get in his way when he does what he needs (or is expected) to do.

    After a bit of an argument today, my publisher has asked me to go through Getty Images www.gettyimages.com and look through the hundreds or thousands of photos necessary to create the right cover images for my book, and I had no problem agreeing to do so.  You go to the site, you put in what you're looking for, (sort of like Pinterest) and you just pick and choose. In my case, I was allowed to send three images for Craig Mackenzie, three images for Aria Campbell, and three images for the area where they are standing, which are called "the Ruins".  Basically, the Ruins are 500-year-old walls that are the only things standing from a huge manor house from yesteryear. This is where Aria and Ewan go separately and together to dream, pretend, and meet.

    Ewan will not be on the cover of this book but he will be on the cover of the sequel. Craig is the Highlander who needs to be holding the woman while heaving and panting. It's sort of the way things go in the Highlander Romance book genre expectations. Only after you become a successful Highlander Romance book author can you deviate from this expectation...I'm absolutely making that up, but it sounds good to me. Bring me more bulked-up, good-looking, muscular, half-naked Scottish men with their beards, longer hair, and somber faces. I don't mind looking. 

    Now, if I was asking them to print me off a 3-D image of one he would be about six foot, 200 pounds, rounder rather than too bulky, he would have good strong arms, thighs, and butt, and he'd have that three-day beard going on. I do like the longer hair, but as long as it's thick and easy to grab a hold of I'm good.  I'm not into the whole six-pack abs thing. I like a man with life and experience on him rather than him having nothing else to do than hang out at the gym staring at himself in the mirror. Give me a man every time.

    So, that's what I did tonight. I looked at a bunch of men. I found a few and I sent them in to be mixed together, blended if you will, to become Craig Allan Mackenzie. Now, the real Craig Allan doesn't look like that. He's my personal Naked Bearded Man, and he's older, has a lot more life than these guys, and he's nowhere near as fit either. He's been with me for a few years so he's been eating well and resting; when he can. Like the one in the book, my Craig, the real fantasy man, also only speaks Scots Gaelic so I can absolutely not understand him unless he tells me he is OK and has a kitten and a bus. I have those words down pretty well. I'm doing better on Duolingo. Love the content. 

    If you have nothing else to do when you go to the bookstore next time, take a look at the Fiction section, find the Highland Romance section, and just feast your eyes on the big bulky brutes of the moors. You'll not be sorry.

Photo Credit: Gettyimages.com

The Murder Book : (It's Taking Shape)

         You may not know this, but I'm an author. I am a writer. It's what I do. I write. The "Sex Book" as my daughter calls it, has been written, it's been gone through 10 times, and will be gone through ONE MORE TIME before I send it off to the publisher. I am in the middle of a discussion/argument over the cover right now, so there's that. I am not happy, and if you know me, you know I don't do inconvenience very well. I am probably the first person who will snap at you if I'm inconvenienced, but luckily for everyone I was born and raised in the South, so I try to smile through it and make the person realize they've pushed me too far before I actually stand there blankly staring at them without saying anything - - that's when hell breaks loose. If you know your Southern women, you know that. As long as you can make her talk, you'll survive another day. 

    After the Historical Romance book, which is what I call the Sex Book, I will write the Murder Book. The really cool title for the Murder Book is; wait for it, The Murder Book! Yes, it's so classic, I know, right?  I'm actually in the thick of it now. I have a green notebook, I'll show you, and I'm writing the notes in it that will become the written notes, which will become my paragraph guidelines. The paragraphs then get put into chapters, which are later organized into chronological order, unless I'm using flashbacks.  It could happen.  I write from the ground up, and keep it as organic as I possibly can. 

    Today, I was working out at the YMCA here in OKC, and I asked the manager Sherry, a lady about my age, African American, tall, quite pretty, and active if she wanted to be in the book. She said she did. She and I worked out her role. Now, the book takes place in Oklahoma City, Chicago, and Edinburgh, Scotland. Sherry will be a manager of a fitness center, a YMCA in 1929 in Oklahoma City...as a BLACK WOMAN, can you believe it? She will be so progressive, and so talked about, both good and bad. The man who dies was a co-worker. He was a bigot, a racist, and a narcissistic bastard, and those were his good points. Sherry was NOT upset that he was dead, but she did inform the police of all she knew. She just didn't tell them what she had heard or seen. You can't believe half of what you hear you know, and most of what you see, so when she informed the police, she did so in a very minimal way.

    For me, it's never about the murder, but about the disposal of the body. We'll have three murders, or at least 3 attempted murders. One will survive, I won't tell you which one, but it wasn't the guy in Oklahoma. He died. He was dead the minute he stepped foot onto the ranch. He was and will be enjoyed for years to come by various fish species in and around the greater metropolitan area of Oklahoma. I won't give much more away, you'll have to read the book. I have to write it first, but I'm on my way!! This is gonna be fun.

    This is the first novel in the Nick Posh series. Nick was born in Scotland, his family moved to the U.S. when he was a boy, as his dad was U.S. Army. He has dual citizenship. He broke the OKC case and was loaned out to Chicago Police to help with one of their cases. This case leads to one in Edinburgh, and that's where it gets really good - - love me some Greyfriar Kirkyard shenanigans. It will happen. We'll go up on top of Arthur's Seat, through the wynds of High Street, across the tailored lawns and gardens of Holyrood Palace, and even make an appearance at Hogmanay up under the Castle Rock!  So many things to do, and so many places to visit, and we can't do it without finding out a few interesting facts about my favorite city of all time; Edinburgh.

    So sit back, rest, and relax, you'll be invited to curl up with my good book, and find your way through the herringbone cobbled streets of one of Europe's most incredible cities; Auld Reekie. I'll explain later.

Photo Credit: Me

Still Finding Mistakes

 The thing about life is you're going to always find mistakes no matter how perfect the thing looks or feels. You just can't get it right every time.  No worries. I'm OK with mistakes as long as I know I've done what I can do. I downloaded Grammarly to help me with the issues I was having in my book, but when I used it, believe it or not, where it certainly did a bang-up job on some of the issues, it caused others. I had to go back and reread and rewrite the changes I had allowed Grammarly to make. My writing wasn't necessarily MY writing anymore. It was more polished, more sophisticated, less edgy, and of course, less raw. 

What I found myself doing in writing my book, was that I would write as I speak, and then I'd try to dress it up with language used in the 18th Century. I did that on purpose since the book takes place from 1731-1746 basically. I mention other dates, but the book actually takes place over that period of time. I used Wilson's Border Tales series to find like language and style, and I think it worked out pretty well, thank you very much.  I did find that I had to change a few words so I'm not repeatedly saying the same words too close together. CHALLENGE!!

Reading your own work is hard work, let me tell you. I tend to gloss over my own mistakes the first several times. I have to put the book down, or in my case, not open it on the desktop, and then I have to give it a few days before trying to read it for issues. I have probably gone over it more than 10 times. I've read and reread my own book at least 10 times. It's not something I can say I have ever done with someone else's book. I thought I had it all done, and ready to send to the publisher, but then I found another mistake...in Chapter One.  Only six pages in and I'm screwing up. I can handle it. I'll go back over the thing ONE MORE TIME and look for tiny details that need to be changed.  Geez!

I had to laugh.  I was so happy about having finished it, and having it ready to send to the publisher, that I sent it out again (again) to the 10 people who have been reading it for me. They tell me about mistakes and they make suggestions about the Scots language or tell me when I should have been more specific (or less) about a certain Scottish city, site, phrase, idiom, etc.  I love it. I was so excited about getting the last revision to them that I accidentally sent the dang thing to a man I have been purposely NOT speaking to; at his request.  Yes, I can be an annoyance at times. I was asked not to contact him, and there I go, sending him a sex-filled crazy historical romance novel that takes place in his own country! OOPS!  Well, maybe he'll enjoy himself after he begins to read the first few pages. (Maybe not, he may think I'm a total whack at that point.)

Anyway, the point of the blog is you can't make things perfect and if you did someone wouldn't like it. Someone would disagree with you. Someone would say it's this way or that way. I do know I need to go through the book to change the wrong words; I get that, and I'll work hard on it for sure, but I won't be going through it to change much about the landscaping, or the type of things one may expect an 18th Century whore to say to her husband; sorry....it stays the way it is. I like it.

This brings me to another point. I like the book.  I have literally read this book 10 times and I like it. I did move a few chapters around to make it more chronological, and that was a good decision, but I like this book. I like the characters. I like the colors, I like the way they make decisions. I like the way it ends. I like the dog...she's my dog, of course, I'm going to like the dog.  I really hope others like the book too. I don't measure my success by how many books I sell, but by whether or not I think the book is worth reading. It is.  I tell people I would rather be a successful author with books I love than books that I don't like that made money for me. I'm not lying. I prefer quality over what could get someone's attention. That being said...I think Chapter One is bound to get a few people's attention. Just....just... sayin'. 

Photo Credit: Incomediary.com

Chapter One: Of Kilted Pleasure

Of Kilted Pleasure

Chapter One

 

Once more, she watched as he removed his tartan, folding it carefully and laying it on the stand beside her bed. His approach familiar, quiet, and without words. He held her face tenderly in his calloused hands, his breath gentle and confident. Tonight, unlike so many other nights, she dreamed the two of them were alone in her room at home, lying stripped of their clothes; naked flesh melding into one as they joined. Often in these dreams, she would find herself beside her imagined handsome, ruggedly dark Highlander lover in a secluded glen, a moor with rolling fields of aromatic heather and the hardy thistle. The last rays of a nonchalant setting orb beating orange and rouge as it began to close its eyes to the day as dusk began to creep into her mind's vivid and lucid apparition. He would be with her all night.

She urged her lily-soft palms as they pressed against his bare and naked chest to feel his heat, inviting him to warm her thoroughly; he could warm her deeply as no man, in reality, had ever been capable of doing. His warrior heart beat steadily upon her skin, pulsating, sending rhythmic vibrations through her wanting form. If she closed her eyes even a slight bit more, she could feel each pulse as it penetrated into her soul.

            Softly, only barely moving his strong long fingers, he traced along the softer form of her breast. Erotic quivers of desire rippled over her, tiny pinpoints of pleasure now vivid on her nude exposed flesh. She trembled with excitement, the anticipation of his hardness pressing inward on her thigh. Gently, he moved his right hand to drape hers to assist her with his desire for touch. She never fought him.

            Was he indeed only an imagined lover? Would he ever manifest himself, showing her that genuine and sustainable love does exist in a world so cruel as to have enslaved her mind to this, her only means of escape from what others would call reality? She had never seen his face entirely; he had never revealed it. Perhaps he was just that, an image, a thought, or maybe he was waiting for her to leave her true and sustainable reality for what would be a better and more fulfilling fantasy; his idea of truth.

            Their passion continued. Craig repeatedly thrust his tongue inside her taut body, her long, muscular legs clamped about his neck. Her deepening moans sent shivers down his spine; he couldn't stop himself; he wouldn't stop. No sounds on earth could soothe the man as the music she created each time he took her. She was his instrument to hold, to play, so perfectly tuned. With each movement of her hips, another string plucked, pulling him deeper within her; raw, delicious cries of a woman, his woman. She gave herself entirely to the moment. Grabbing him abruptly with both of her hands, his head near hers, his mouth open and wanting. She kissed him hard, allowing herself to hear him pant and taste him breathing his very life into her lungs.

            Sweet, moist drops of perspiration flowed between them as she turned upon her back, asking him for his fullness; her request now his command. He quietly spoke in his native language words of love as they repeated their motions; he worshipped her with his mouth, not leaving a single inch of her passioned-craved body without his touch. He entered her fully extended, his cock engorged, wet with excreted sweat. They moved together in an undulated rhythm, rising, lifting, falling, holding their breath together as he plunged devotedly over and over again. The moment's explosion intensely increased to the point of exhaustion, yet neither man nor woman was willing to cease their calling. The evening's hour wore the cloak of twilight before the fire of their lust subsided and began to wane. As she slowly opened her eyes, reality returned to herself, she sighed a mournful breath of loneliness.

            For Aria, the truth was too tormenting to bear. For three long and enduring years, she had been the bride to a man whose hands were brutal and unforgiving. She couldn't think of herself as ever being able to rest assured in them. Why not fantasize about Craig now? Hadn't he been there for her all these years, since before she was given to that monster James McFarlane? She was now known to the village as Mrs. James Fraser McFarlane? Wasn't her name hers anymore? No one ever called her by her real name now; it was always "Mrs. McFarlane" or "James' wife"; even the sound of it repulsed her. She closed her satin brown eyes to think only of the one man who held her close and always knew what to feel and think. He alone was her refuge now. Craig Allan Mackenzie. Though he was only a vision, a mere apparition, he was more real to her than the agonizing truth of being made to bed a man who she despised.  Given to him some sort of property, kept alive only to bear him a child. Would the truth ever be known of the actual cause regarding the young Mrs. McFarlane before her? What became of her? Where had she fallen? Was she alone when it happened? No one challenged the man upon his statement that his first wife had simply fainted while standing upon a hilly glen; her fall not only took her life but by good fortune, freed her from a life with an angry bastard.

            Craig, though only in her imagination, had been with her since her early childhood. He began as she, a child, only inches taller and a bit faster than she. Aria's clear mind could conjure the best of stories, and these are the things that kept her patient now. Only through her lovemaking with Craig could she withstand the physical touch of her husband. It was Craig's words she would say and Craig's thoughts she would have in order to wane off the pressure and the hideous breath that met her each night. That she could imagine herself with another man was not a sin, not in her mind, not as long as he lived captured within the confines of her emotions and inward eye. No one would be the wiser. With his strong voice speaking the sweetest of Scots Gaelic, she could also pretend to be far away from the oversight of Cobb's Row and all of Gorbaldis with a million eyes and tongues to watch and lie about her, to her. Some would brand her a witch if they could feel what she felt each time Craig's hard fingers moved gently between the softer lips of her groin, keeping her mind as far away from what was indeed her existence. Even in his better moments, James could never be as caring or as sensual a lover as Craig Allen Mackenzie had grown to be.

Photo Credit: The Scottican.com

Email: jude.stringfellow@gmail.com

The book "Of Kilted Pleasure" will be published by Xlibris in 2 months. To read more keep watching this blog.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/judestringfellowauthor/

First World Issues. I Have Them.

 If you know me you know I LOVE LOVE LOVE Scotland, but I'm not going to move there on a permanent basis because I can't be inconvenienced to the point that I can't just jump into my car and go down the road to get ice cream, crickets to feed my lizard, or to the store when I'm out of creamer. The whole concept of moving to Scotland was to make my life easier....and in ways, it would, but I can't wait in a queue to catch a bus. It's just not going to happen.  I can do it. I'm not above doing it. That's not the problem. The problem is I'll cuss and fuss about it so often that I'll be known as the THAT American, and I really don't want to do that to my fellow countrymen. Just thinkin' about you guys!!

    Why am I telling that in a blog titled "First World Issues". Well, OK, here it is, I had two First World issues today that if I had tried to remedy them while living (or even visiting) in Scotland, I would have pulled my hair out, pissed off a few folks, made an absolute ass of myself, and I would have possibly used my "get out of jail free" card. I'm saving that one.  Actually, there were three issues. Geez.  Yesterday I had one too. I went to work, which in and of itself would have been a nightmare in Edinburgh. I left the house at 8:35 a.m. and drove the 9.1 miles, I arrived at 9:00 a.m. which it should never take that long, but it's in the city, so there you go. The same distance using a bus in Edinburgh, if I used the same type of route from Point A to Point B would have taken over an hour using the bus system. I was already pissed it took 25 minutes.  Then, I got there, and I had forgotten my reading glasses. Thank God, I don't need Rx for the glasses, because since it was just a pair of readers I hopped in the car and drove 1.2 miles to the nearest CVS and I got another pair.  Driving from that Point A to Point B (and back) was only 11 minutes. Bam!

    The issues I had today were so minimal. I am almost embarrassed to say it, but it's me, so there you go. It's the day after Valentine's Day and that can only mean ONE thing...cheap candy. So, I wanted my cheap candy. If I wanted to go to the store I wanted to go to to get said cheap candy in Edinburgh using the buses and/or trains, it would be an all-day (or half) event. As it turned out, I was able to drive from my house to three stores since two of them didn't have any half-price candy, and I finally ended up with one that had a bit left. Wow...these people around my neck of the woods are FAST when it comes to scarfing up half-price candy. Let me tell you. Again, it's one of those issues that may not even be a thing over there, but it is here. The second issue was returning an item from Amazon. I order and order and order, and yes, I return, return, return. It depends on the timing, whether or not they were able to get it to me in time, and whether or not I needed it if they took too long. I even have Prime and they've been late lately...that may have been redundant. 

    So, there I am heading back to the car to drive the 0.8 miles to the nearest UPS store where I know there are no queues to stand in. They have six workers and they are really fast. I took a set of headphones back...another set of headphones. Here is where the really embarrassing First World issue comes into play. I've ordered four sets of headphones in the past week. I've returned three. We'll see if the one I get tomorrow is going to have a permanent home with me. The first one was too big, I mean, I have a normal-sized head, but the lowest setting was too big, and that's really odd.  The next one didn't have a USB cord for wireless even though it was advertised as having one. The 3rd one and this one really upset me, folds. I don't do folding headsets because they inevitably pull out one hair at a time on the side of my head when I turn my head - - OUCH! Sorry, not doing it. So yeah, First World much? I think so. The 4th set should be good. It's a Logistics gaming set. I don't actually game, but I can have non-folding headsets and pretend I game.

    So, it would seem that the use of a car is the one really big thing that is keeping me from moving over there. I could learn to drive I suppose, but I don't know if the world at large is ready for that. I already get pissy when people drive in the same direction as I don't drive well.  I'm the worst at gripping my steering wheel and cussing under my breath at people. I've stopped honking and flipping people off because this generation can't be offended without bodily injury occurring. It's so sad. I miss the days when you could roll your window down and really let someone have an ear full when they deserve it.  Another First World issue I suppose would be that we can't pull up in front of someone who cut you off and then drive so slowly they get pissed.  They shoot you now, or ram your car and drive away - - bastards. (and another reason is I can't say "pissy" in Scotland. It means being drunk. Dang.)

    OK...here's a First World issue that doesn't involve using my car. I walked my dog today and we went near the pond where she can poop and no one asks me to pick it up because the geese poop there too. Well, Ginger...because she's that way, pooped at the pond, then when we were coming back to the apartment she pooped again, and I didn't have a baggie on me. That's a crime in these parts. You can't even know how I stared at my dog!! I told her she was a good girl because I know she is, but I don't like that I had to put her up in the apartment, grab a bag, go back to the poop, try to find it, and then pick it up before a neighbor complains about me to the landlord. Geez.  Can I catch a break?

    So, there you have it. I was just not in the best mood today after realizing that Valentine's candy was being shipped back to the manufacturers, and then they have outlets where they can get more out of the boxes. I hate that. All my life I've been a day-after candy buyer, and now I have to rethink it. How sad this world has become. LOL...and yet, I am blessed. I know I am blessed. I'm really really blessed.

Photo Credit: Borgenproject.com

GRAMMARLY. That is All.

 Apparently, I suck at writing. I say that because I downloaded Grammarly and used it to edit my book "Of Kilted Pleasure," and let me just say I made more mistakes than Carter has little pills. NOT joking. (and yes, Grammarly just told me that I wrote a fragmented sentence.) I am the worst about writing as I speak, and you can't always do that when you publish a novel.  I mean, you can, but you probably shouldn't. 

    First, I was pretty sure I had done a really good job at my personal editing. Then my friend in Greece went through only about 100 pages and was coming up with so many errors on my part that I thought I had to try Grammarly. I have used it for emails and Facebook, but I bit the bullet and I paid the $30 monthly fee to use it for ONE month. When I write the next book, I'll do the monthly service, where I pay for a year for a reduced price each month. I think it's $12.99 or something like that when you pay for it all at once. I'll do it. I will DO IT, PEOPLE!  It is so worth it.

    Not even going to laugh about it. I was so far from being a good writer that I decided to ask myself what the hell I'm doing every day on this keyboard. Well, turns out I'm writing!  I actually do write the blog as if I'm talking to you, so I'll use colloquial terms, and I'll shorten sentences too. I'll throw in some trash if I need to in order to make my point. I can't even say "in order to" with Grammarly. It stops me and says it's too wordy; it wants me to say "to" instead.  FINE!  You should have seen the errors it was throwing at me when I wrote the spoken dialogue in Scots! LOL...that was funny.

    Well, as it turns out, I am not a poor writer, just a poorly disciplined writer. I had 84% of the mechanical structure, which was good, and the average is 68%, so I don't feel too bad about that. My comma usage was hovering at 68-70%, so I could work on that for sure. My tendency to use words I don't need to is WAY up there; I don't even want to talk about it.  I have an old-school (1800-1900) way of writing, and the darn thing wants me to step up my game and use more modern words. I was using gender-based words, offensive and defensive words, and words that could be considered non-inclusive. A few of the words just made me laugh.  Grammarly wanted me to use another word other than "battle" because the word was combative....you think!  It wanted me to use "competition" instead. I'm thinking the Battle of Culloden was, in fact, a real and actual battle. It wasn't a competition.  Another one that made me giggle was the phrase "old woman."  Grammarly said that it would be considered disrespectful.  The woman I was speaking of was in her 90s. She's OLD.  I kept the words and added "elderly" and "grandmotherly" a couple of times.

    The bottom line is, I was so very lost without it, and I'm swimming in the best pool out there with Grammarly. You need it. Get it. Use. It. So worth it. I'm only speaking in fragmented sentences now to make Grammarly work for the $30 I put out for it.  (Psst, Grammarly doesn't like it when I say "boo bear". It's never heard of one.)

LOL....it doesn't like LOL either.

Photo Credit: Grammarly.com

EDITORS and READERS of my BOOK - - PLEASE READ THIS BLOG.

 So, this is a blog for the 10-12 people who I have sent the book for the purpose of reading through it.  I can't remember which version each of you has, so in a few days, I will resend all of you the newest PDF version which will have new corrections.  If you are writing your corrections down on a piece of paper or something, you can go back over the new PDF to see if those corrections have been made.  Leti (my REALLY good friend) is going over it with a fine-toothed comb. She pointed out 100 things I missed.  THANK YOU LETI!!!

    I went through the entire book today and where there was a blue underlining (I can see it so I assume you can if you're reading it in WORD) I realized that these were mostly places where I had missed a comma or a word was needed to make it sound better.  Some of the time, however, this was not the case, as the computer didn't recognize my attempt at writing in Scots.  I can't correct the spelling for those words and oftentimes it seems to the program that I need a comma or another letter to complete the word. These words will remain spelled the way they are spelled. I did, however, use the word "wad" for "what" and that's not the correct word to use. The word "would" is spelled "wad" in Scots.  Geez...one would think I would know that! LOL. I don't have to worry about Jeannie making any corrections to the Scots words...she will likely just skip over them and later ask me what I meant. Tony and David, this one is more of your expertise for sure.

    To say this book has been a blast to write is an understatement. I'm learning so much about myself as a writer, but also just the process of editing my own mistakes. You can't do it really.  You need to have others read through it to find the mistakes because you tend to glaze right over your own mistakes. I know I do. I'm realizing now, that after I have walked away and come back several days later, I can see the mistakes much more clearly.  I will not get them all.  I'll still rely on you guys and then after I've made all of your corrections, and my own, I will submit to an editor for another round of viewing; this time using their professional programs. 

    In about a week I will send all of you the revised book to go back over if you want, but keep in mind when the real book comes out I will send each of you a copy for having helped. I will also thank you in the thank you section. If you'll give me one of your favorite words I'll be sure and acknowledge that as well in the acknowledge section. It's where I get to have fun with the audience and say weird things that other authors would never say.  I'm thanking people for suggesting words. It doesn't matter how odd the word is, if I use it in the book, which I will find a way to do so, I will give you credit for suggesting the word.  

    OK, so that's about it. I'm just laughing at myself for the 189,998, 492 mistakes I've made so far. The silver lining of all of this is, I wrote a freaking novel in just under a month's time.  It'll take that long to correct it, but yeah, I wrote a freaking novel in just under a month!! Woo Hoo!! THANK YOU ALL for your help, and I really really mean that.

Photo Credit: ryanavery.com

Playing at the Guitar.

 Many of you may know that in the early 80s, I had the biggest crush on Edgar Cruz, and yeah, I would have married the man if he had (a) taken notice that I liked him (b) taken the least bit of interest in me, and (c) had he asked.  Edgar was and is one of the world's best (and I mean that) flamenco guitar players. He is just amazing, I'll leave you a link to his site so you can check him out on your own.  It was Edgar who inspired me to buy my first guitar and try as I want, I just can't remember much about it. I really can't. I want to say it was a Fender. I know I've owned a few. When you own a guitar you're really supposed to play it too, it sort of works that way, but I think having one in the house was good enough for me. It kept me thinking about my youth, and of course, about Edgar! (OK, if he ever finds himself single again, I may have to approach.) I used to say that Edgar was the GREATEST guitar playing I've ever met, but I have actually met Eddie Van Halen, so maybe I should give Edgar 2nd place since he never taught me how to play.

    So, years ago I had a guitar that I really loved. I bought her at a pawn shop when I went in to sell the owner a bit of insurance. She was really old by musical standards, but I didn't think much about it. She was a Spanish guitar, I know that. I named her Stella because I lived in an apartment complex called Lake Stella, and she fit right in with the ambiance of that place. The complex was older, relaxed, just sort of friendly, and in an urban setting, not rural at all. Stella was stolen from me right after I had her cleaned, restrung, and tuned. I am not sure, but I think the owner of the guitar repair store waited until I went to church, and then he snuck into my house. I can't prove it, but a man fitting his description was seen at my apt that day. So sad. I guess he actually knew what I had, and knew I wouldn't really ever use her the way he could. He could have asked! I may have just sold her to him.

    Well, I've gone through a few guitars. I gave one to my granddaughter Sailor last year; one that I love so very much. I call him Checkers for a reason. He's a black and white checkered guitar. He's of lower quality, but that's because I didn't want him stolen like Stella was stolen. She was kind of expensive, to be honest. Checkers was right at $100; so yeah, if he was taken I wouldn't have felt it so hard in my wallet. OK, about 2 or maybe 3 years ago now, I was just looking online and found a guy on Facebook who was selling his Yahama acoustic; I always have acoustic guitars. He was selling it for $100 and I knew the model was worth more than that. The guitar was new, it was never really used, and I thought I needed to go get it. I'm glad I did.

I named the guitar Wallace and call him Wally.  I have been playing at him for about 2 or 3 years, not really making anything happen. I just like holding a guitar and playing with it, you know, pretending I know what I'm doing. The dog likes it too. She sometimes nudges my elbow and looks at Wally when she wants me to play him. I love that. Today, I took Wally to Guitar Center in Oklahoma City to be cleaned, restrung, and tuned but I told the guy (Hector) I wanted to stay while he did so I could look around. He agreed and got right on it. It didn't take him 30 minutes and that was in between customers. Good kid. He did a great job.

    The guitar tuning and new strings ran $24.99, and I ended up buying two shakers to drive the dogs crazy, and they had a clearance sale on a few things too. I bought my first EVER pair of drumsticks. Why? Do I play the drums? No. I do not play the drums, but I do have dogs and cats, and I love teasing them. I can beat on things around the house, knock them together, and just really be annoying. I like that. For $4.99 I think I got the best deal in the store!  I also bought an LP of Simon and Garfunkel.  I asked Hector (he's 19) if he had ever heard of them. He had not. I nearly cried. They had a double LP of Credence Clearwater Revival, and I didn't need to buy it because I have it. I asked him if he had heard of CCR....he had not. I don't know who Hector's parents or grandparents are, but they really failed the man. My kids knew EVERY S&G song from the day they could sing. They knew the Bee Gees, The Beatles, Billy Joel, Elton John, and of course Eric Clapton, Kansas, Foreigner, Journey, and Boston. 

    Sadly, and I mean this, not one of my children plays the guitar.  I absolutely failed them, but then again, I can blame Edgar for not marrying me. If he had we would have had at least two or three kids and they would have in the family band. I can't get any of my kids interested in forming a band with me. I'll have to go solo. That's the only choice I have. At least with the little shakers I can drive them nuts and force them to either join me or leave me alone to my madness. The dogs both hate and love me at this point. The cats don't care. They never care.

 

Photo Credit: Me.  (This is Wally) Take note of the tip jar. When I pretend, I go all out.

www.edgarcruz.com 

Mental Awareness in My New Book

 I honestly did not start writing the book with the idea of having the hero (one of 4) being a sufferer of mental illness. I did however after it became apparent to me that I was in fact writing about it, decide that he should live with the condition and not be "healed" or "cured" of it.  By allowing him to work through his issues he is a stronger character in my opinion. He recognizes that he is weaker at times, but that he is also capable of greatness at other times. He worries. He has depression. He has bouts of anxiety, and he has some self-doubt.  I think I like the guy because he's still trudging through the days and nights, months, and even the years. He isn't quitting or throwing himself over the cliffs. He's upset, but he manages his emotions, and he gets help. 

    Ewan Hastings is the character.  He starts out as a young kid whose parents leave him in Scotland when they make their voyage to Nova Scotia. They have just enough fare for the rest of the family, but at age 11 he'll be considered full fare, and they don't have it. He's left with relatives. He is then brutally attacked by scoundrels on the hills where he lives, he survives it but it leaves a lasting memory.  He falls in love early, but she's older and has her life to live.  He kills a man in honor of the woman he believes he loves, and there is a story that goes with that. I won't ruin it for you.  Ewan grows up, matures, he marries, he suffers, he lives, he laughs, and he loves. 

    There are another two mentions of mental disorders in the book. One is a true disorder in that a girl is born with a deficiency.  She is a twin, and that can happen. She was malnourished in the womb perhaps. She grows up somewhat normal, but it is evident that she is incapable of caring for herself as she ages. She is institutionalized and her treatment is not what we would expect in the world today (not by any means). The other instance is a historical one. It is a glimpse into the mind of a historical figure, and it is a mere mention of his sickness; it is believed he was a product of incest, and his was a life of violent outbursts. He is not alive during the time of our characters, he is mentioned in their past. He is not related to anyone in the book.

    Why did I do that? Why did I purposely write about these and other issues? I think it's good to do so and to bring about wisdom, awareness, intel, and possibly dialogue about it. We need more dialogue. We have a lot of folks with a lot of different issues; why not talk about what we can do to ease their suffering? I think we all share a part in that. We are the larger community, and they are, as we are, a part of that community. I say we, I mean me. I have a few mental issues of my own. I am not full blown unempathetic, but I am somewhat so. I don't have the capacity to be as compassionate when I should probably be more compassionate. I try. I really do try, but it's not in me. I have been hurt and feel that, but that's not compassion. I have been broken, I have been touched by stories or images. I just don't have the wherewithal to truly understand it at its core. I see things so very differently than others, and I can come across as being rude, blunt, uncaring, or harsh when really I'm thinking of ways to ease someone's pain -- efficiently as possible. I need to be aware that being more compassionate would assist in these endeavors.

    So there you have it. I am finished with the book. I went through it today to check for spelling. I am using the Scots language in some of it and needed to be consistent. I am not going all out on that either, as I want the English-only audience to be able to read what the characters are saying to each other. I think I managed it well enough. We'll see. I have sent it to about 20 people to read and give me feedback. If you think you would like to read it, please send me your email address and we'll talk to see if I think it would be a good idea to do that (since I don't know you). I have registered the book with the publisher and it is being registered with the Library of Congress, so I'm not worried about anyone stealing the idea. It's mine. I can prove it. Besides, there's nothing new under the Sun, right? Highlanders have been making love to their friends and family for centuries.

    Hope to see the book on shelves by May 1. Wish me Jesus...I don't do luck.

Photo Credit: Montclair.edu

email me: jude.stringfellow@gmail.com so we can chat before I hand over my book to you to read. LOL

Done! Done! Done! Done!

 I have finished writing the book "Of Kilted Pleasure".  I spoke with the publishers today, and they asked me to send them a completed chapter so they could entice readers with it in the advertisement during the production stage of the process. I sent them the rather sexy chapter of course, as I want people to know it's a romance book. I later received a call from the publisher stating that the book would be really popular and that they felt that it could be picked up by a major house!! Woo Hoo!!  They have a hand-shake sort of arrangement with actual publishing houses, so if my book is well received, that could mean that it would be purchased by a bigger house and have more backing!! I like that.

    The book is just over 71,000 words, which is a bit shorter than I wanted, but I'm OK with it. The story is told. I read the entire book in a few hours' time, so that's good, and I made the adjustments needed for the formatting. I added things, I took things out, and I created the quotation portion to resemble (as best I could) that of the 18th Century Scots language for some of the speakers. Not all of the speakers spoke Scots, but enough did that I found myself really paying attention to the words. I need to go back over it tomorrow to be sure I got it all right. The second time I go over it doesn't take as long as the first time.

    Let me just say, I like the book. I really do. It's not as sexual as I thought it was going to be, but it does have its heavy heated moments. It's a good book in that I like the characters. I like their exchanges; it's a good book. I hope you like it too.  I could possibly add more descriptions to it tomorrow, believing that a reader should have a good idea of who it is they are reading about. I was good with most, but I bet I skipped a few. The hardest part was getting the time frame to work out. I had skipped around a bit, and at first, I was going to have Aria be 10 years older than Ewan, but she's only about 3-4 years older. I had to change dates and data.

    Let's see, 70,000 words = 280 pages when you add the dedication, thank you, acknowledgment, and blank pages. There are typically 280 words per page, but that's in 11 font. My book will be in 12 font, so that's about 250 words per page. We'll see how it works out. It will be a 6x9" book, I know that much. The cover will have lavenders, roses, and greys, and showcase the hillish moor where the manor house ruins are situated; you'll see Aria dreaming with Craig Mackenzie behind her, making love to her or about to, and you'll see Ewan Hastings as a lad making his way up toward the ruins; where they meet for the first time.

    I had to give an "About the Author" blurb, and an "About the Book" blurb, and that's interesting too.  I hope I did it well enough to drive a few more viewers and readers my way!!  Here's to writing! I love it. This being the 6th of February, I can say that I started the book on January 4, 2023, and finished it in just over 4 weeks. Start to finish...wow. To think, Aria Campbell and Ewan Hastings didn't even exist 5 weeks ago....of course, Craig Allan Mackenzie did. LOL

 

Photo Credit: (Edinburgh 1700) Pinterest.com

Mental Awareness: God is Real

 I have a friend in the UK who has been dealing with, even battling PTSD, and anxiety, as well as being diagnosed as being depressed. He suffers and he realizes that he suffers so he does exactly what he's supposed to do;  he listens to the real Physician and follows His direction.  Mental illness is exactly what the two words imply. It is an illness, a sickness, and it affects the mind. From time to time, it could probably be said that literally everyone who walks the planet has been victimized or subjected to at least some mental illness. I'd say (like a cold, or flu) that it can come upon a person without any notice whatsoever, and it can last for a little while, or it can linger. If it's not treated, it can remain dormant within one's mind for the duration of their life. This is when the problem(s) can become chronic and much harder to control.

    I've said it before, and I'll say it now. Mental illness is not the same, did you read that, read it again, it is NOT the same as being insane, or having a mental deficiency. The two are very distinct; if you are truly mentally incapable of something, that's not an illness, that's a physical issue and where it may be helped by behavioral changes, medication, or surgery, it is not, and it never will be the same as having periodic depression, anxiety, or self-doubt. That's the first thing that needs to be addressed.  You can't put a Band-Aid on an open gaping wound and think things are going to be OK. You need the right tools, and the right solution, and you need to adhere to the advice of those professionals who have been trained to do what it is that you need. That being said, you should also refer back to the original thought of the blog, and go straight to God for help. There had to be a reason for the disorder; ask Him to help you live with it, and ask Him how it can bring HIM glorification and praise. It can. I know, it sounds really crazy, but it's true. Our inferiority issues can bring Him great glory if we surrender our issues to Him allowing His healing to be seen by many. 

   There are legitimate reasons for otherwise normal behavior in a person to turn angry, ugly, sad, unruly, etc. We get upset, we become frustrated, we owe money, we can't find work, someone has left us, or someone we love has passed, there are just too many reasons or excuses to go into depression or become anxious about something. We know this to be true. The old adage of it's not what happens, but how you respond to it, can be used in most if not all of these external cases. Go to God. Be still, sit in silence before Him, meditate on your breathing, and seek His will accordingly. It's not easy; no one said it was. It's the worst! The hardest pose in yoga is the "corpse" pose because you literally have to lay there and NOT move or do anything but breathe. It's really hard to do, but that's where it all begins. Be still. Be quiet. Stop the madness. Let go of the thought that you are in control, and KNOW that HE is God.

    God calls Himself "I Am".  He didn't call Himself "I Will Be" or "I Was".  We can't live in our past any more than we can live in our future even for a second before the second we are currently living. HE IS, and He is the GREAT I AM for that reason. He is always I AM, and you will always be who you are. I think we can all agree that none of us is greater than He. LET IT GO!  The greatest king, not the wisest king, the greatest king known throughout history could very well be Nebuchadnezzar. He reigned in Babylon 500+ years before Jesus and was the same king who Daniel the prophet spoke to regarding his dreams. He's the same king who threw the friends of Daniel into the fiery furnace. He's the same king who crushed his enemies and was known as the great warrior, etc. etc. etc....well, he went mad, but he didn't go mad on his own. Read the Bible. It says "Then God spoke with Nebuchadnezzar" and he was driven out of his kingdom and made to live in the wild, literally crawling around naked and eating the wild grasses and berries. His nails grew like claws, and the hair on his body grew like feathers on a bird. I don't know about you but that doesn't sound much like he had much to do with his transformation. GOD did that.

    What's my point? Nebuchadnezzar knew about God. He knew God's power, but because he was in control of so many others, and had such power, he thought he was in a position to be worshipped but God thought otherwise. It wasn't until the king in his lowly lowly state (which took seven years) lifted his head to God that he was healed and restored. God chose when to restore him. God put the boundary of it. God knew how long it would take. We don't know that about ourselves. We think we know what we want, don't we? We think we know what is best. We think we can handle all of our problems, but some of our problems are not illnesses, and some of them are not disorders. Some of our problems are very much GOD driven, and we will NOT be healed of them until we lift our heads and realize we are weak, we are unable to do what He does. Don't let it take seven years. Learn the lesson faster. Think of how much the man lost during those seven years; family, friends, wealth, kingdom, wars, dignity, reputation, status, all of it - gone.  The Bible says old Neb was restored to his greatness, but that didn't happen overnight. How often do we suffer and how deeply do we suffer because we simply refuse to lift up our heads to the God of all, acknowledging that He is the Great I Am? 

    I am so proud of my good friend, I really am. He's been struggling for years with chronic depression and anxiety over things he can't control. To a degree, I think he has a few wires short of a full circuit, and he'd have to agree with me. We're built the way we're built, things happen to harm and hinder us, but hey, things also happen to heal and help us. Who do you think can do that? A doctor? Maybe a drug? No. If we are to be who we were made to be, we need to go to the Designer; simply put. You don't take your car to a chef to be examined for engine trouble, do you? Well, I mean if you do, that's one talented chef!  Think about it, use that mental part up in that brain of yours.  You have it there for a reason. Keep it healthy by seeing and talking to the true Physician often. He knows you by name. He made you. He loves you. I promise...but so much more importantly, HE promised.

Photo Credit: YouTube.com

UPDATE: Fluffing and Stuffing

     The good news is that it doesn't take another three weeks to fluff and stuff, but it will take about a week to do it. I'm on Chapter 4 now, and I'll do another one today before calling it quits and starting again tomorrow. Tomorrow being Sunday, I will probably do five or six chapters, then I'll regulate myself and force myself to do about two or three chapters a day during the week, so I can get the job done by this time next week. Once I have the first rewrite I'll then go through the book again to see if I like it. If I like it I'll leave it alone. I know I won't like it that much.

    I'll end up tweaking it a bit more, and then sending it off to be published the next week, so sometime around Valentine's Day I'll send it off, and I'll have it published. I have to send off my ideas for the cover art this week.  I have an idea of what I want it to look like, but that's so hard for me to even think about. I'm being asked to write a blurb about the book too, the one that goes on the back of the book, and it's the one that they use to market it. It's so hard to condense a book of 300+ pages down to 150 words!!  I have to find a way to do it. I can do it. 

    Today, I took my flash drive with the notes I've been writing for the fluffing and stuffing sessions to the FedEx store to print out the pages on the flash drive. I should have my printer up and ready, but no, I don't. Anyway, I took the flash drive there and realized that I had just been there three weeks beforehand with the same flash drive that had the idea (the concept) of the book, and now I have the entire book on the same flash drive as well as the 20 pages of notes I want to add inside the manuscript in one way or another.  Three weeks!!  I can't remember ever writing a book in just over three weeks. Crazy!  

    I came home with my 20 pages of notes and now I'm going through the book reading it and trying to figure out where I want to add the imagery and the filler stuff. I like my writing, the style, and whatnot, so adding to it in the arrears is a bit challenging for me. I don't tend to see the points where I can stop, put in a comma, and then add something. I tend to think I should leave well enough alone. Then I run across a note that says "When you introduce a new character be sure and add four very distinctive characteristics about that person."  Apparently, four is the accepted number of characteristics one is supposed to use in these instances. I looked it up - - it's four.

    One of my notes reads: "I met a respected old man by the side of the well who had only a ring of hair about his ears. His were kind enough eyes, and as he gestured to me to come closer I noticed he wore about himself the very plaid of my ancestry. This man, unknown to me  was at least kin, and perhaps important."  These are the types of notes I write along the way thinking I may need to expand my thoughts inside the writing.  If I added all of these notes I would have another 20 pages to the manuscript, which would not be a bad thing. 

    I'm reading each line of each paragraph and I'm adding what is in my head as I go along, without consulting the 20 pages of notes!  I need to consult them just in case I have already thought of something that would be a benefit to that particular paragraph.  I really do need to be more disciplined in my manner of writing however I can't see how I could be more disciplined than I am now. I am such as taskmaster to myself.  At least I allow myself breaks, walks, coffee, tea, etc. I'm not completely a shrew.

    OK, so that's it. That's the update. I'm digging in, and I'm filling in. I'm taking out, and I'm rewriting. I'm on Chapter 4, and by this time tomorrow I'll be on Chapter 10 I think. We'll see. Whatever the outcome I know I'll take the time to do it right because I won't send the book off unless and until I satisfy my strictest critic; myself.

Photo Credit: Howtowiki31.blogspot.com