Norah Bennett's Blog

April 1, 2017

Do you want to help an author out?I am looking for reviews!

I am looking for reviews! If you’re interested in reviewing either one of my books RILY Forever or Everything I’ve Dreamed Of, please respond to this email and I will send you a free copy. Then, once you send me a link to your honest review, I will enter you to win a $10 Amazon gift card. All reviews must be posted by April 30th and a winner will be chosen the first week of May. 

Let me know which book you want to review or if you want to review both. For every platform you review on (Amazon, Goodreads, iBooks, B&N, etc…)it is an additional entry. The more places you review the better chance you have of winning!
PictureR.I.L.Y. Forever 
Remember I Love You Forever...


When Julia Walker unexpectedly runs into Dr. Ethan Sullivan, the man who stole her heart twenty-two years ago and whose heart she shredded in return, their reunion is emotional and explosive. While sparks fly and their passion reignites, the past rears its ugly head and the lovers soon discover that a foundation built on secrets and lies will always crumble. Can Ethan and Julia overcome their painful past and learn the lessons of honesty, trust, and forgiveness in time to save their love?


Everything I’ve Dreamed Of
Kate Willowbrook dreamed of a life filled with beauty –– a man who loves her, friends, and a home. At eighteen, Kate's dreams were replaced by nightmares when she witnessed a crime. Kate fled, never settling down and never trusting anyone until at the age of the thirty, she discovers the small town of Lakes Crossing and CEO, Noah Reed. 


When Noah’s wife was killed in an accident, his world exploded. Noah settled for an empty, loveless life until the day he met Kate. When he learns about Kate’s past and finds she is still in danger, Noah takes over, becoming over-protective—to the point Kate feels stifled and controlled. 


As Noah and Kate struggle to put the past behind them and find a balance that fulfills both their needs, they learn that there are no guarantees in life, but in Lakes Crossing they have been given a second chance at love.


Norah Bennett
Escape your world and enter mine~ people and places you'll never forget!
Http://www.norahbennett.com
https://www.amazon.com/Norah-Bennett/e/B01IFN2V46
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Published on April 01, 2017 12:00

August 10, 2016

What Comes After the Last Sentence is Written?

Picture Editing, hours and hours of editing. 
So you think you have a good story? It’s possible, but without great editing, your good story may never be great. Hell, it may never go beyond your computer.
A couple of weeks ago I finished In My Dreams, the companion novel to R.I.L.Y. Forever. Did I celebrate? I sure as hell did. It's a big deal finishing a novel, a very, very big deal. Then I stared at my computer for a couple of days, terrified to start the editing process. I knew that once I did, the elation I felt upon typing that the last word would turn into frustration and doubt. That's just how it is with me.

I write the very best first draft I can, keeping a list of areas and issues of concern––timeline issues, changes in character names, location, pacing problems, tense issues, adverbs, repetitive words to check for, passive tense, …The list is long. 
Then, when I’m brave enough, I tackle my novel from the beginning. Sometimes, I love what I wrote, many times, not so much. Sometimes I question if I was blind or drunk when I wrote a chapter. There are days I fall in love with my characters once again and days where I cannot stand to hear their voices in my head. I scream at them to shut up and let me get some sleep at night. Often they disregard my wishes. 

Some days I fall in love with only one of five chapters I’ve tackled that day. Worse, in a moment of pure idiocy, I get a great idea to revise Chapter One heavily, which causes a cascade effect on all the other chapters. 
Why, why do I do this? I want to bang my head against the wall when this happens. I want to throw my computer in the lake. It would be less painful to stick a pen in my eye than to revise all twenty chapters! 
Still, I forge on. I drink cup after cup of coffee. I read the work out loud. I cry as my ears bleed from the dribble I just read out loud. I send chapters to my beta reader, others to my editor asking, no begging for guidance. 

Then, out of the blue, it hits––the magical moment when the prose is crisp and clear, when the characters come to life, and I actually like them, when the story is something that makes me smile with pride. I don't know the exact moment this happens. It's different for every story, every author. For me, it comes when my daughter, who is a cut throat critical reader calls and says, "You got it right this time. I'm proud of you mom.”

Then, my friends, all is right in my world and I say to myself, “It wasn’t that bad. I love writing and I like editing. I think, I’ll do it again.” Picture
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Published on August 10, 2016 06:00

August 3, 2016

OUT WITH GOOD, IN WITH BAD!

PictureOUT WITH GOOD, IN WITH BAD!

If you had to pick five things that you couldn’t live without, what would they be? Now come on, have fun with this. I’m not talking about humans, animals, or necessarily material things; just five things that make your life easier, fun…worth living. Still hard to come up with five things? Let’s narrow it down to food/beverages. Any easier?

I was recently at a party and this question was floated around the group. Actually, each spouse or significant other had to answer for the other, a sort of how well do you know the other person torture game. I normally HATE games such as these. They’re stressful, they put people on the spot, and quite frankly, they’re stupid. What’s wrong with going to a party with friends, drinking and eating, and drinking, and drinking, and drinking…then Ubering home? You get what kind of party I enjoy best.

Anyway, sorry, I digress.

My beloved husband was asked this question and he, being much more of an extrovert than I, played along as I sat in stony silence in the corner—eating and drinking enough for the both of us. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when my man, the show off that he is, listed about 20 items I loved rather than the required five. 


Below is an abbreviated list.

Coffee--good, strong, rich, freshly ground coffee. Not Starbucks, not Dunkin Donuts… something worthy of the high blood pressure and heartburn it causes me.Brandy—nothing too fancy. Actually, I like the cheaper varieties more than the expensive French stuff.Candy—chocolate is good and there is a time and a place for it, but my world isn’t complete without some Hot Tamales, Starburst, Mike and Ike, and Red Vines…You get the picture.Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, fried okra, and corn bread—I recognize this is an entire meal, but I seriously could eat this everyday—and then die of clogged arteries. What a way to go! ☺Red cherries—several pounds at a time.Biscuits and sausage gravy. Bacon Kettle ChipsHot dogs– with ketchup, mustard, relish, and onion.Ice cold beer and pizza—any pizza, all pizza.My so called friends turned to me in horror and in judgement. They raised their eyebrows, looked me up and down and shook their heads slowly. One friend, a nutritionist, even had the gall to look at me, shake her finger, and threaten, “We are going to talk, missy,” as if I was an errant child. 

In response, I stomped my foot, as I shoved a chip in my mouth and garbled, “Uh-uh. Stay away from me you fun-sucking, torturing voodoo queen from hell.”

Here’s the thing. For two years I gave up soda, coffee, gluten, dairy, AND anything that looked, smelled, or tasted good. You know what I got for all of my trouble? Twenty-five extra pounds, ladies and gentlemen. Twenty-five freaking pounds! I am now roly-poly and not because I eat bad. No, this is because I actually ate good, more than good, freakin’ fabulous…think of a food-nun and that was me. No more I tell you, no more! 

Two weeks ago, I threw caution to the wind. I threw out the “good” and welcomed the “bad” back into my home and into my life. Now I run around naked (see previous blog) singing…"I feel good, I knew that I would, now….”
Has anyone ever had this experience or am I alone in the world?  Come on, peeps, don’t leave me hanging. I know it’s PC to be all healthy—fruits, vegetables, watch your portions, lean meats,… no meats, no cheese, even better…no food. But I know you’re out there. You do all of the right things and you’re still roly-poly. Come in to the fold, all are welcome. Picture
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Published on August 03, 2016 06:00

July 27, 2016

The Weeble Wobble Club

PictureMy Weeble family guarding my Mac. Do you know what a Weeble Wobble is? No? You are missing one of the greatest toys every created and a hell of an inspirational tool! 

Here’s a little history for you. Weebles are small egg-shaped toys that originated in the early 1970’s by Hasbro’s Playskool division. They were designed to look like people, animals, and a variety of other things. Weebles fit into the palm of your hand and have cities, tree houses, airplanes, etc…that they can hang out in. (Wikepedia -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weeble)
​ Here’s why they’re awesome.
                                         "Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yr83YRkbXpw

This popular advertising catch-phrase/ song tells the story. You can push Weebles around, but they are un-phased by life’s traumas and always pop back into place. 
Strong winds, devastating storms, heavy objects, rejection letters from agents and publishers, and request for rewrites which impact every chapter of your book– these can all hit poor Weeble. 


*******Here is the important thing--some wobbling does occur, but they don’t fall down!********


Now – what you may not know about me is I LOVE TOYS. I love toys so much that on Black Friday, when all the adults stand in line to buy the latest and greatest holiday toy for their child, my husband attempts to reign me as I run wild through Toys R Us saying, “Ooh, it’s on sale. I want it. I have to have it,” as I pile toy after toy in our cart. 
Again, no judgement please. 
We all have our quirks. This toy obsession of mine is one of many quirks yet to be unveiled.
As a kid, I fell in love with Weebles and I never lost my fascination with them. When I start teaching at the University level, I gave them out as motivational tools for students who received bad grades and felt their lives were over.


I’d say something like, “Son, you don’t need to be a genius to be a healthcare provider, you just need to have persistence and perseverance. You must learn to take the hits, wobble, then immediately bounce back or your career is definitely over before it even begins.” 
Believe it or not, college students loved the Weeble. After a while, I had students lining outside my office pretending they were struggling just so they could get a Weeble and enter the elite Weeble Wobble Club. To struggle and persevere became a badge of honor rather than a scarlet letter.
A few days ago, I sat at my writing desk going through a pile of emails I’d received over the last two years from a variety of agents, publishers and editors. All were kind rejections of my work. I wondered, what kept me going. What kept me writing and submitting over and over again, despite being rejected too many times to count. Actually, that’s not true—I know exactly how many rejections I received, don’t we all? 
Perhaps I’m too naïve, too hopeful, too starry-eyed to quit, but I don’t think that’s the case. I think I’m a Weeble. I sure look like one these days thanks to menopause, but that’s a different story. Read my previous blog.
I’m a Weeble who loves challenges. I wobble A LOT, but I want this badly. I want to be good at this writing thing. I want to write a story for you that you can’t put down. I want you to read my stories and laugh, and weep, and dream of places you’ve never been and people you’ve never met. I want the characters I create to become so important to you, you dread reaching the end because you have to say good-bye. So, I’ll Weeble and Wobble until I get it just right!
Now every Weeble needs a community of wobblers that teach them the ropes and who help knock them in the right direction should they come close to falling down. Here’s a shout out to my favorite Weeble friend who led me to my new home at Evernight Publishing: (http://www.evernightpublishing.com/)

******Jules Dixon – You Rock! Thanks for your continued help and guidance!!*******
Make sure you follow Jules! She's pretty amazing. 

FB  https://www.facebook.com/JulesDixonAuthor/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel
Twitter https://twitter.com/JulesofTripleR
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9868691.Jules_Dixon
Website http://julesdixon.com
Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/JDixonAuthor/
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Jules-Dixon/e/B00PUSNF90/
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Published on July 27, 2016 05:30

July 20, 2016

The Makings of a Great Marriage – Celebrating Thirty Phenomenal Years

Picture

 Today I celebrate my 30th wedding anniversary! Unbelievable! Unimaginable! Extraordinary! 

A little over thirty years ago, at the age of nineteen, I walked into a relative’s house to attend a family gathering and met the love of my life. One month later, I was engaged and five months after, I was walking down the aisle. 

I didn’t care that my beloved was ten years older than me. 
I didn’t care that neither of us had a job.
I didn’t care that we didn’t have a place to live or a means of supporting ourselves. 

I just wanted him.

When my mother, sister, aunts, and friends tried to get me to plan the wedding, I said, “I don’t care. Do whatever you want. Invite whomever you want. Choose the colors, the flowers, the cake. I don’t care. I just want him”

When my family and friends planned a full day of wedding dress shopping, I walked into the first store, tried on the first dress I saw on sale, and said, “I’ll take this one.” I caused an uproar. I ruined all their plans for the day. My mother was beside herself. Still, I looked into her eyes, held her hands and said, “Mama, you still don’t understand. All this is unnecessary. It doesn’t matter what I wear, where the wedding is, or who attends. If he is there, I’ll be there because I don’t care. I only want him.”

And so the day came. The limo came to a stop outside the church and my father helped me out of the car. He stopped us outside the church doors and turned to me. “I love you,” he said. “I only want your happiness. I don’t care about anything. We can get back into that limo and drive away. You don’t have to do this. I don’t care about the expense or what people will say. None of that is important. Your future, your happiness are the only things that concern me. Are you sure you are ready?”

I gazed at my father’s face, so filled with love and outright fear for his baby girl. His soft brown eyes were brimming with tears as he begged me to think, to reconsider. I turned into him, embraced him in my arms, and whispered into his ears, “I love you daddy. No one will ever take your place in my heart. I may not know what I’m doing, may not have thought the future out, but my heart is certain. My heart knows the path to a life overflowing with joy and beauty. I don’t care what life will bring, where it will lead us. He’s it. If he is there with me, beside me, I can go anywhere and do anything. I don’t care. I only want him.” 

And so we were married in front 500 of my family and my parent’s closest friends, on a sweltering July day, in a church in Colleyville, Texas.

Some may say marrying a man from a different country who didn’t have a visa, didn’t have a job, and didn’t have any money is the most foolish thing they could possibly think of. But I’ll tell you something—that decision was the BEST decision, the only decision I could have made. I have lived a life filled with beauty.

Sure, there have been challenges. There have been times where I wanted to take a frying pan to his head and then to mine, but then comes…beauty, grace, understanding, compassion, forgiveness, and love. 

Together my beloved, the love of my life, my heart and soul…and I have created two beautiful daughters. We have lived in seven states and visited many, many more in good times and bad. We have weathered illness, deaths, births, tragedy…the list goes on. Here is what I can say, “I don’t care. I still only want him.”

So, here’s to you my love. I have lived every love story ever written in your loving arms. My cup runneth over and I thank God for you every second of every day. Happy thirtieth, baby!  ​ Picture
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Published on July 20, 2016 05:00

July 6, 2016

Dammit Dolls and Good Friends

Friends,
 
Do you know the joys of owning a Dammit Doll? If you don’t, please let me be the first to introduce you to world’s best stress reliever. A few years ago I was on a bit of a writing break (i.e., writer’s block galore) and strolling in a nearby shop when I came across a collection of Dammit Dolls.  They were twelve inches (although they come in various sizes), soft, pillowy dolls, made of bright polyester fabric. Each had a different design, no face or other distinguishing features except wild yarn hair and a patch on their chest as seen below. Picturehttps://dammitdolls.com/classic
 
I fell in love and bought a massive toddler-sized one that I beat up on a regular basis. I named mine Gerty. With each slam and shout of “Dammit,” the words began to flow once more and I finished my first novel. Thank-you Gerty!

Gerty’s job wasn’t done however. The poor thing continued to receive beatings with every bout of writer’s block and with every rejection email that followed, and there were plenty. She never tore, never exploded, never talked back, and never looked at me with accusing eyes – even when I added a few other expletives other than what she was used to. She was so faithful, I bought another just to use for my day job.  Since my initial purchase, I have purchased several dolls for my stressed out friends and colleagues and I received many hugs for my thoughtfulness. Recently, however, I purchased a doll for a rage filled colleague who I thought needed to vent more than anyone else I knew. She was thrilled with her gift, mainly because it was accompanied by 12 bottles of flavored vodka. I forgot about the gift and frankly didn’t think she would actually use it. Apparently, she did use it rather vigorously--possibly because of me. You see, I’m not only her friend, I’m also her boss – in my day job.
 
Due to her excessive use of the doll, an unfortunate incident occurred which she had to report to the manufacturer. Today, she sent me a copy of an email she sent Dammit Doll.  Picture ** Not the exact doll, but close enough. Dear Dammit Dolls,
 
Dammit!!!!!
 
A friend gave me this adorable Dammit Doll for my birthday this past May.  Apparently, she has built a reputation of frequenting your website for gifts as it seems everyone she knows has a beaten victim mascot.
 
I was having a rough week last week, and reached for my masochistic office mate (the doll, not my friend).  One forceful slap of the little guy (do they have genders?) on a chair in my office and he exploded in half, his stuffing flying like fresh snow from a snowblower.  Or a freshly made pina colada without the blender top.  But I digress...
 
Either I have superhuman strength, or this little guy was the runt of the litter, in no way a match for a hormonal 46 year old single mom with two jobs and twin 12 year olds just entering puberty.  Perhaps my breed needs the triple reinforced wine soaked version (excellent marketing ideas for you right here for free!).
 
I already had a funeral for the little guy last week, but did think to capture this photo of my eviscerated aggression casualty.  Today my friend (who also happens to be my boss--you can add that to the list) advised me to send you his post-mortem image in full poly-fiber fill glory.  Picture ​If you offer to send a replacement, I can promise to try to be more gentle next time.  
 
Pretty please?  
 
Hugs and Kisses and lots more dammits,
 
 
Dammit Doll is awesome and replied right away. Below is one of their responses. They did offer to replace the doll at no charge and it is being shipped as we speak. Adrianne, at Dammit Doll, was prompt, funny, and very accommodating. Great customer service!!!
 
Greetings ____,
 
Dammit, Dammit, DAMMIT! We're so sorry to hear that happened with your doll. In order to replace it, we need a little more information about the purchase. Was it made via our website or purchased in a store?
 
Sincerely seeking an unfrazzled existence,
Adrianne


 
Thanks to my rage filled friend and Dammit Doll for giving this stressed out writer something to smile about at the end of a long day.
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Published on July 06, 2016 12:56

June 25, 2016

 Why I Walk Around Topless

Dear friends,
In my last blog I described waking up at night to take the dog out while topless and running into a houseguest. This, I’m sorry to say, is a nightly event in my home. Although the great majority of the time we don’t have houseguests. I wish I could say I was embarrassed, but at this point, I really don’t care who knows and I venture to guess that many of you in my age bracket do similar things. 
It started one night completely out of the blue. It felt like I was being broiled from the inside out. I sat straight up in bed, threw off the covers, and stripped as sweat poured down my body. Now, it was winter in NJ and we were having a particularly cold spell. 
I didn’t care. 
I had to cool off or my head was going to pop off like one of those cartoon characters.
Picture  I went to the nearest window and opened it, letting the frigid night air dry my sticky skin. Snow blew in, covering my face, hair and shoulders.
My husband, feeling the quickly dropping temperature of our room, sat up and said, “What in the hell are you doing, Norah? Are you trying to freeze us?”  - These, and other stupid questions and statements, he has made nightly for the last year. It’s a good thing I’ve been married for 30 years and love the man or I swear to God he would have been dead that first night.

Back to being naked. ​​

By now you have figured out what the issue is. I, like many of my sisters in menopause, have tried many solutions. From vitamins, minerals, special foods, not so special foods, drugs, cooling pads, cooling towels, cooling socks??? – I tried them all. ​Still, nothing helps like running around naked, especially at night. I used to start the night with the best of intentions, i.e., dressed. Now, I say, “screw it.” Why bother? ​So here is the problem…this feeling of being roasted while not being a chicken or side of beef doesn’t only happen at night, it’s also a daily occurrence. Do you see where I’m running into trouble? If not, for the love of God, go back and read my previous blog. Again I remind you – double life – suit wearing administrator in meeting after meeting with high level executive type men who constantly ask me if I’m feeling okay. They ask this because I’m either red as an Elmo doll or stripping my suit jacket off, freezing, and putting it back on, then stripping…rinse and repeat.  The other thing I think that may draw attention to me is I tend to wear summer clothes all year around and haven’t bought anything with sleeves (other than the damn suits) for well over a year. But, my favorite story is when my boss – a truly awesome man, came into my office and had the nerve to ​ask me to turn off the air-conditioning since it was February. Yes, he was being brave and incredibly foolish. To my credit, and because I need my job, I didn’t say anything, not a single word. I stood, took off my suit jacket, walked to the A/C unit and lowered the temperature even more all while staring him down. I knew my message was adequately communicated when I heard him mumble, “At least she doesn’t run around naked.” Picture Picture  Feel free to offer me some advice because I find that running around naked when you are in your own home writing is thought to be eccentric or plain weird. But running around at the office, is frowned upon.
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Published on June 25, 2016 09:00

June 22, 2016

I'm now part of the Evernight Publishing Family!

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Hi, everyone!! I am excited to tell you that my book  R.I.L.Y. Forever has recently been picked up by Evernight Publishing. I am excited about this and cannot wait for you to meet Julia and Ethan. Here's the blurb.

Julia and Ethan meet at the age of sixteen and are drawn to one another, first as friends then as lovers. When everything and everyone Julia holds dear is threatened, Julia is forced to do the unimaginable. Under a veil of secrets and lies, the young lovers are violently separated. The last time Julia sees Ethan, he gives her a heart-shaped silver locket with the inscription, R.I.L.Y., Forever.

Twenty-two years pass before Ethan and Julia’s lives intersect again in a small town in Northwest Jersey. Their reunion is unexpected and emotional. Their passion reignites and their relationship flourishes despite Julia’s abusive ex-husband and Ethan’s possessive ex-wife. But the past rears its ugly head and the lovers soon discover that a foundation built on secrets will always crumble. Can Ethan and Julia overcome their painful past and learn the lessons of honesty, trust, and forgiveness in time to save their love? 
I'm hoping to have a cover and release date very soon. Please make sure you add it to your TBR on Goodreads and follow me on Facebook to get all the latest updates!!


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Published on June 22, 2016 16:59

June 4, 2016

Leading a Double Life Ain’t Easy, But It’s a BLAST!

Picture Two years ago, one evening, I took off my Alfani suit followed by my prim and proper Anne Klein black pumps and dove head first into the crazy world of romance writing. I’d written two textbooks and a dozen or so journal articles, but I’d never been brave enough to follow my heart and imagination and write what truly inspired me. I’d been mulling around the idea of my first book, yet to be published, Forget Me Knot, for six months and I was now ready to write.
The words came easy and I instantly fell in love with my characters and my story. More importantly, to me at least, I’d finally found my passion – the thing that made me want to wake up in the morning and stay up to the wee hours of the night. I LOVED writing fiction, especially romance. I was home and I never wanted to leave. I had a lot to learn and still do. I experienced a lot of ups and downs and spent an additional year learning the business – social media, marketing, querying, critiquing, beta –reads…eek a whole new world, a whole new language. I stumbled, I fell, I pulled myself back up and my friends kept me there, encouraging me and telling me one day I would get published. I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED all of it. I wanted to do it full time, all day, all night. I missed my characters when I was away from them for even an hour. I wanted to write a good story, a great story that would make people smile, laugh, cry, fall in love…all of it! I needed to write, like I needed to breathe.
Picture BUT – there’s always a but, isn’t there?
 I couldn’t write full time. I had to feed my family. Therefore, I had to continue working at my day job as most author do, leading a double life and excelling at it so no one would guess that by day I was a prim and proper professor, researcher, clinician and administrator at a conservative Catholic University and by night I was a pajama wearing, brandy guzzling, wild and free romance writer who delved into topics of love, loss, secrets, lies, infidelity, sex (sometimes explicitly), abuse, etc... 
Then there was my conservative, religious family. They liked it when I was an upstanding, well-renowned professor and University Administrator with a PhD that was respected for her accomplishments- books, articles, lectures nationwide - in the academic world. But how would they deal with me as Norah Bennett, pushing the envelope…hell, tearing the envelope up? Leading a double life, I found, is a hell of a lot harder than it seems and probably makes for a great novel one day. You see, it’s not as easy as waking up, putting on a suit, guzzling coffee, giving lectures, going to meetings, and more meetings, and more meetings….then coming home, taking off said suit and replacing it with PJs. Nope, that’s too easy and thus cannot be my life.

​Just to give you a glimpse of my world, here’s how a day goes in my life.

1:00 AM:    Wake up to Rocky, the Great Dane puppy, barking the house down. I stumble down two flights of stairs in teeny tiny
                  PJ shorts and no top to take out puppy forgetting we have a house guest and forgetting I’m topless (more on why I’m
                  topless later).
3:00 AM:    Wake up to puppy whining in crate, but ignore him. Screw the dog, I’m wiped!
4:00 AM:    Wake up to puppy barking the f…king house down and run down stairs in same attire of only shorts to find male
                  house guest attempting to calm puppy. Scream my head off and run back to my room. Husband, Maltipoo (Lucy)
                  who also sleeps with me, and parrot (Misty) are now up and also barking and screaming…. Husband and Lucy
                  barking...you get the picture.
4:15 AM:   Clean up Great Dane lake of pee, look for houseguest, but he’s hiding in the bathroom probably trying to scrub the
                  image of my semi-naked almost fifty-year-old body out of his mind...it’s not possible, I’m remarkably memorable I’ve
                  been told.
5:00 AM:   Dogs walked and fed, now feeding parrot who bites my finger so badly, I probably need stitches, but who the hell has
                  time for stitches? Out comes the crazy glue – do NOT judge me, besides I’m a medical professional. I threaten to
                  relocate her for the 200th time if she bites me again and head to my bedroom to dress.
5:45 AM:    Showered, dressed in another suit – I’m beginning to feel a kinship to Hilary Clinton went she went through that
                  horrible pantsuit phase. You remember, right? Jesus, I need some new clothes!
6:00 AM:    Lucy is barking a storm as is the puppy…again. The bird hasn’t stopped screaming and is now using her mind
                  shattering screeching on me. I shouldn’t have threatened her. She always wins.
                  Ignoring the insanity around me, I make coffee using the Keurig – at least I make an attempt to make coffee. The
                  machine hates me and although I speak nicely to it, begging it for even a half a cup, I get steam, spluttering, and
                  some weird grinding sound…what I don’t get is coffee. I throw fruit and yogurt in my purse, run upstairs to turn music
                  on for Jaws – the bird – and run back downstairs to take out puppy again. House guest still hiding.
6:15 AM:    It’s raining …NO, NO, NO!!!! Puppy dashes outside pees and dashes back in and on me. My life officially sucks. I
                  crate Rocky, change my clothes, slam the door shut on the screeching bird, give Lucy a treat and get into the car.
6:30 AM:    I’m in the car, on my way to work, running 15 minutes late, stuck in traffic, but listening to a GREAT Kristen Ashley
                  book. I LOVE YOU KRISTEN ASHLEY . I listen to how she writes funny, bantering dialogue. I listen for the building
                  of the storyline, the characters’ POV, the use of tense, humor, emotion, etc… I dream I will get as good as she is one
                  day. I turn off the book and run through my own storyline and how I can improve it, but I have had zero caffeine and
                  can’t think. Back to the audiobook.
7:45 AM:    I’m at work with a Starbucks in hand thanks to my awesome boss who I pick up from the train station on my way to
                  work each morning. I have stowed Norah Bennett to the side. She must be silent so that I can act the part of Dr. S.
12:30 PM:  I have attended 3 meetings, solved an argument between two faculty members, addressed a serious student issue.
                  I’ve answered well over 40 emails.  I’m exhausted, but love what I do. Never mind lunch, I have an unexpected
                  meeting with the Provost. That’s fine because I forgot to refrigerate the yogurt in my purse and in all honesty, I hate
                  yogurt and I’m allergic to milk. Not deathly allergic, but enough to cause havoc if I actually eat the yogurt. Why did I
                  consider eating it? We have no other food in the house because I spent the weekend writing instead of grocery
                  shopping, doing laundry, paying bills, picking up dry cleaning, finding some new clothes, etc…
3:00 PM:    I’m sitting in yet another meeting, this time about some research and I have NO idea what the hell they are talking
                  about. I smile and nod and take notes and then excuse myself to get my 7th cup of coffee. Falling asleep is frowned
                  upon.
6:00 PM:    On my way home. The day was a blur and my to do list is outrageous. Still, its been a great day. I love my day job
                  and love the people I work with. But, today they’ve sucked the will to live right out of me. I talk to my mother, my two
                  daughters, and a colleague on my way home and then blessed Kristen Ashley comes back.
7:30 PM:    Subway sandwiches in hand I pull into the garage. Home! Bird screaming, dogs barking and a new puppy gift – a
                  pool of Great Dane diarrhea! Oh shit, not again!
9:00 PM:    Bird fed, Lucy and hubby fed. Great Dane given rice and chicken which I cooked from scratch – I’m talented that
                  way. Crate cleaned. I’m showered and scrubbed from poop.
9:15 PM:    In basement at my writing desk with a mug of herbal tea…no that’s such a lie…it’s brandy…a large tumbler and the
                  Subway sandwich which is now kind of witty and I shouldn’t eat it anyway since I’m allergic to Gluten. Why did I
                  consider eating it? You know the freakin answer. Again, do not judge me. PJs on, houseguest scared off. Norah
                  Bennett is ready to start her day/night whatever.
                  Sighing, I stretch, turn on Gertrude (my Mac) and smile. I answer emails from my writing friends, attempt to figure
                  out twitter and Facebook, and then give up. It’s time to meet up with my friends Julia and Ethan, my characters from
                  R.I.L.Y., Forever. They’ve been waiting all day and it’s time to write their final chapter. I’m going to miss them and as
​                  I write it, I cry. I’m happy for them, but I miss them already.

We all lead a double life. What’s yours like?
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Published on June 04, 2016 09:44

May 3, 2015

Welcome to my blog

Thank you for coming to my site, I hope you become a regular visitor. Check back soon for upcoming blog posts & updates. 
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Published on May 03, 2015 14:45