Jodi Stone's Blog, page 5

Addicted to the written word

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"Supporting Authors One Read At A Time"

I must say, I am addicted to the written word. I love to read, write, and hope that I can pass that love and passion down to my children. When I first began writing many years ago, I wrote mainly to heal from the sadness I felt while my husband was on deployment in the Navy. But after we started having children, the writing I did took a different form altogether. I wrote for my husband still, but I also began writing for my daughters. I would read them stories at night, tuck them into bed and wish them sweet dreams. After awhile, I began writing my own stories after telling them to my children and making the girls into different characters. Sometimes I would add fairies and sometimes sprinkle my own fairy dust hoping that my stories would bring smiles to thier faces. After I began on the track to the land of publication, and after much rejection, I realized that I'd lost track of the importance of writing. I even took a break from the writing world until my beloved mama told me one day: "everyone receives rejection...it's what you do with it that matters, and if you stop trying, how will you ever know?" My mom was not only right but wise as I finally found myself published, I realized I would only stay within the world of writing if it brought my happiness and if the purpose stayed clear, and that is one for my children. So obviously, it still makes me happy as I love to write and illustrate and because such wonderful authors like Kelly Abell and Wendy Nystrom who didn't know me from Adam told thier friends about me...I pay it forward by sharing this wonderful network: "supporting Authors one read at a time Magazine", and by telling everyone in blog land about other authors as I will be doing in a monthly blog dedicated to those on the same pursuit as I.
Happy Writing!

Just another day

Life is busy. Some days I wake up and feel so tired. It's then I wonder if I've even slept at all. Isn't that lovely thing we call sleep supposed to re-energize us? I laugh when I think of sleep because my once well-known friend seems to have disappeared. I woke up this morning feeling exhausted as I usually do on Thursdays. Three days of classes have passed, and I begin my homework which seems to never end, and I think to myself "here I am. It's just another crazy day." But something hit me when I thought that. I annoyed myself. I was whining and here I am given the blessing of the joy I've been given: being able to go to school full time while my husband works, and the joy I've been given to be able to stay at home for the past few years watching my babies turn into these beautiful creatures. This week I suppose something emotional hit me: my middle daughter, Alexis, turned 9. She is growing up. Then my oldest daughter, Brooke called me last night as I was rushing out of school heading home and something else hit me: my sweet daugther's voice will change. It might sound strange, but I couldn't help but choke up to realize they are forever growing and changing and one day I will blink and my babies will not be babies, but they will be teenagers, and then grown-ups which is even crazier considering I don't even feel grown up yet. I realized in that moment that it's little things that make this "just another day" exactly the opposite of that...it's not just another day...it's a beautiful day to watch my young butterflies spread thier wings and grow into this world with all that they have. It's a day to thank God for giving me another day and blessing me with such beauty in my life. I say a prayer as I type that I can hold onto this feeling that knowing each day gives us beauty, and though days bring new changes and challenges, I welcome those days with open arms because I know life is short...too short to stop believing in fairies and pixie dust and dreams. I have many dreams I want to fulfill in this beautiful life, and most of those dreams have everything to do with my family and friends and realizing day by day how blessed I am to watch the amazement through my five year old's eyes as she learns ballet and how to spell; and how blessed I am to watch my nine year old learn to play softball and make me laugh everyday as she does; and to watch my beautiful eleven year old grow somewhere between a child and adult though her voice is still like a doll's to me and music to my ears. I could go on and on and my only goal in this blog is for you readers out there in this writing space take this away: today is not just another day...it's a new day and a new chance to hug those you love and go after your dreams.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas! I cannot believe it is only ten days until Christmas. I remember being a child and waiting, impatiently, for Christmas to arrive. I would hang my stocking and dream of what treats would soon fill it. I would make sure my brother and I didn't argue on Christmas Eve just in case. I look back upon those memories of growing up and realize how fortunate I was to have such an amazing childhood- one filled with keys to doors that opened to anywhere I wanted to go. Although I didn't take all of the roads, I know now that I was lucky to have options. So many negatives are displayed upon the news everyday. Kids being mistreated, and not because they deserve any punishment but because they were simply given the crap hand of the draw when it comes to parenting. Yet I, spoiled as i might seem to some had it all. As I grew into an awkward teenager, I had no idea the luck I'd been given. I had two amazing parents that loved me, even though I was known for trouble sometimes. I had a roof over my head at all times, warm blankets, food at my disposal and was given choices. There was structure too, it wasn't all luxury as if I didn't eat my veggies I would be sent to bed hungry. And if I messed up, mama was always there to give me that look-the one that scares you into heart attack mode-and sometimes a spanking or grounding. As I started to grow out of the awkward stage, I realized a little more that my time at home was limited. It's strange to look back and realize somehow that you are not invinsible. Life is going to continue, and your parents will age. Looking back through wiser eyes, I wish I'd spent more time sitting on the couch talking to mama and daddy instead of barracading myself in my room for hours on end listening to the newest cd or talking on the phone. But we can't look back, can we? All we can do is appreciate the time we did have. Christmas finds me nostalgic as I miss my mom more than ever during the holidays. It is an ache that is indescribable. I long for smelling her perfume, and laying my head upon her shoulder if I need a good cry. I long to read 'Pride and Prejudice' one more time with her and cry together when we watch the latest version. I long to simply hug her and see her lovely face. But I can't do that, so for now I simply treasure the time we did have and hold onto my daddy and stepmom knowing that even if we have another thirty years together, that time is somehow limited too. Now I treasure the time with them, but also with my husband and three beautiful daughters, and hope they somehow find the time as they get older to spend precious moments with me. I pray that I have many, many years watching them grow and become mothers of thier own. I will hold onto traditions my mother and father gave me and pass them onto my own family as we make a few of our own. With that said, Merry Christmas everyone. Hold each other and love one another. That is the greatest gift of all.

Traditions, Tinsel, and Tea

My daughters and I put up our Christmas tree this past weekend- okay, don't judge. I can't help it. I live and breathe Christmas. I mean who doesn't love all of the traditions Christmas brings? Everyone seems happier, the air seems a little cooler and who doesn't love thirty versions of Jingle Bells? As we were pulling out our ornaments from years past, I couldn't help but feel a little emotional-there was the ornament from when Jon and I first got married. Here we are 13 1/2 years of marriage later with three beautiful girls, a loving home and a lot of laughter and tears in between. Jon is my soul mate through and through. I remember the first Christmas we were together, he was in the Navy and could only talk by phone. I cried off and on that day missing my love. I hate that some days I take for granted that he is home every night safe and sound and we made it through those Navy days. Today, I am thankful. As our first married Christmas passed, Jon was again away-on a six month Navy deployment. I cried again that Christmas missing him so much. We'd only been married for six months when he'd left, and I vowed to treasure him every moment as he returned. The second Christmas we were married he was home, and we awoke in Virginia thankful we were together and that a blessing (Brooke-our first daughter) was warm in my tummy and just months from making her appearance and changing life as we knew it. I remember a very pregnant me going Christmas shopping that year and I bought Jon a Navy ornament that still hangs on our tree every year. Our third Christmas we found ourselves happy to be able to leave Virginia for a brief visit to our home state of Florida. Our parents were all still living and the joys of seeing them and having our first born with us were more than we could imagine. Years passed and as more babies blessed our lives, our Christmas tree grew bigger (and the presents underneath), and our home grew smaller. When we only had two daughters, I began a Christmas tradition of having a tea party every year, and it's hard to believe this year we will be having our 7th. Traditions surrounded me as a child, and the fact that it is only three days until Thanksgiving...my cup of what I find myself thankful for runneth over. I am thankful my mama and daddy handed me such wonderful traditions- the smell of the turkey my daddy cooked every year; the taste of the pancakes mama made every Christmas morning and the blue robe she wore while she cooked and I sang Alvin and the chipmunks in her ear; the way my brother and I could fight like csts and dogs but come Christmas Eve we loved each other to no end; the way as my parents got older I knew to hold onto those traditions with all of my might-knowing somehow deep down they would be a treasure; the way our family grew but somehow shrank with the loss of my husband and my mothers; and the way I felt this weekend looking at all of the memories as well pulled out ornaments one by one recalling the day they came into our lives. I hope to be blessed with many more Thanksgiving and Christmas's and many more ornaments to place upon the tree with happy memories. As I write this, I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet. I have a house full of love and laughter, a husband I adore, children I would give my life for, an amazing family outside of our home and the greatest friends anyone could ever wish for. I don't know how else to say I am thankful as we approach the holidays-but I am. God bless.

My broom, my hat and a smile

As a busy mom, sometimes I wonder how the day goes by and I am still smiling. Okay, I don't want to sound like Mrs. Prissy Perky or anything, as my husband will attest-I am not always smiling. Somedays between the hustle and bustle of laundry (missing socks-I curse them!), food to prepare, three daughters, a husband, a full time course load in college (I curse this too,sometimes), the unorganized papers with my to-do lists, dirty dishes, toys to pick up, new story ideas to either work on or file, parties to plan,hugs to give, boo-boos to kiss, tears to wipe (and sometimes booties,lol), barbies to dress, books to read, checkbooks to balance, breathing (which I forget sometimes), and all of the in-betweens-I wonder how this can all occur in one day-24 hours that go by in a flash. Just writing the list makes me yawn. Not from boredom, mind you but from pure exhaustion. How do we mothers keep up? Fathers too-I am not excluding you, but from my own personal perspective as a mother, I truly forget to breathe sometimes. Thank goodness we do not need reminded to do that, or I'd be dead. Six feet under. I occasionally go to Starbucks in that fifteen minutes of free time I get once a year and sip my outrageously priced frappucino and look around. I see other mothers, like myself, writing-typing-sometimes smiling. I look curiously among thier stacks of books or magazines and wonder how long thier to do lists are for today. I was cleaning yesterday, feeling a little under the weather, doing homework, juggling children and thier schedules, when it hit me. I need a broom. I was in a rotten mood and because of the time of year, with my Halloween decor up I noticed a witch. She was smiling. Curse that witch who mocks me with her broom-her mode of escape. And it hit me that I need a broom. Not a broom for cleaning-oh, no I know that broom all too well thanks to my children's daily escapades among our floors and our two hairy dogs. I need a broom of escape-metaphorically of course. I would never want to leave my life permanently. Just for some brief moments of me time. We forget how important it is to care for ourselves among the bump and grind of keeping up. Our to-do lists keep getting longer and longer and the only way we will keep up is to give ourselves permission to kick back. My husband works very hard every day at his job-never complains about it, just does it to provide for us. When he gets home, he gives himself permission to prop his feet up and watch his favorite show, have a drink-whatever it takes to unwind. Me-I keep going like my batteries will die if I don't. Oh no, I say: there are baths to give, mouths to feed, hairs to pluck (curse them too), clothes in the dryer that need putting away, get-togethers to plan,etc. No time for me to sit and do that...what is the word? Relax. Well no more. Okay, maybe it won't happen overnight, my imaginary broom. But I am going to take baby steps to realize it's okay to slow down. Otherwise, how will I truly be happy? I am afraid somewhere along the path of finding success that I will lose my smile, and I don't want that. I want to revel in my children's laughter, and pay attention when my youngest wants to show me what she learned in Ballet. I want to watch my favorite show, or read a book that is not assigned. I just want to learn to give myself permission to take my "broom" and escape for awhile, but know I've got my witch's hat just in case things get too out of hand to keep me in line. And I want to keep my smile. More than anything. Because on my grave when I go to the great beyond, I want it to say: "here RESTS Jodi Stone, a great mother and wife and friend and daughter and sister. She didn't always have a perfectly clean house, and the to-do list wasn't always completely checked off, but she lived life to the fullest with her friends and family and always had on her: a broom, a hat and a smile."

Homework

For those of you who don't know, I started back to college last week. As a busy mother of three small, vivacious daughters and a wife, the thoughts of homework scared me a little. But as I went to class Monday night, I came to the realization that I had become a homework professional in the past few years. You see, homework comes in all types. I have taken classes here and there for some time. In between school, life became filled with marriage, raising babies and singing lullabies, an ill mother, and many ups and downs. Yet something always drew me back to school. It took me forever to obtain my Associate's Degree, and though I thought that would bring me happiness, I knew deep down that my ultimate happiness was not complete. We fulfill our own destinies, and I knew eventually it owuld be up to me to complete school with a Bachlor's Degree. As I started at USF on that journey, I found out that I was pregnant with a third child. At first, I questioned how in the world I would ever finish school. The thoughts of me being a mother to three, when two was already exhausting put my mind in a frenzy. Of course, that all changed the moment I laid eyes upon that child. I'll never forget what my mom said to me when I became discouraged about ever finishing school. She said, "don't worry honey, school will still be there when you're ready to go back". That stuck with me, alhtough a part of me knew my mom wanted to see me graduate more than anything. So I became a parent with three little girls, and was completely devoted to being a mom and when my mother became ill, I became completely devoted to helping to take care of her. The sicker she became, the more I thought about school, and when I found out she was dieing, I felt saddened with the loss of her, and that she wouldn't be there to see me graduate. Don't get me wrong, I have the greatest family in the world filled with a loving and devoted husband, my precious girls, my loving dad, and many extended family including "mama" Anne, my brother, my Uncle Jack and Aunt Bev, and many other Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and the greatest group of friends in the world. But when mama passed, for awhile I wondered why I even needed to worry about school. I hate admitting that. I've never had the desire to quit school, but life always threw "Homework" of a different form my way.
But as time went on, I began to desire my degree more than anything. I could picture myself wearing that cap and gown, with family and friends watching me. And now that I've started back and know that in a matter of eleven short months I will finally reach that goal of graduating, I am pushing even harder to finish. Next August, 2012, I will walk proudly in that cap and gown across the stage and know that although life has thrown so much our way, that I have overcome hurdles, and will finally finish my homework. Or maybe I've just begun. I'm learning this journey called life is filled with rainbows. You just have to decide whether you want to let the rain get in your way, or push your way past the sun and over to your pot of gold.

Author to author

If you are a published author or an aspiring author, you know that the writing path is not always an easy one. It is a journey filled with winding roads, clouds of writer's block, rainstorms of rejections and yet we still search for that rainbow at the end known as publication. But as exciting as seeing those rejection letters finally turning into acceptance is, being published becomes just the beginning of a new path filled with clouds of marketing, and being the new author in the world of many is harder than it seems. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade in my published life for anything in the world. I worker hard to get here, but I had help along the way. My husband never complains when I spend hours at the computer or drawing board. My children know that when I have colored pencils in hand that I am working, and they happily color next to me.
My family and friends are the best support system imagineable, yet there area others that I also could not do this without. There was a time amidst the rejection that I started to question my path, but then I was given a newspaper article by my Dad with an author in it. My Dad suggested that I write this author and ask for trip to becoming published. I did and she responded and asked if she could see my work. From there, a friendship was formed, and this author helped me to find a publisher, asking nothing in return. And she believed in me, this author to whom I owe more than I can explain. Kelly Abell is a terrific author of paranormal romance blood. She is on her way to the top, this I know for sure. So even though it is not merely enough, I would like to pay it forward by helping her and other fellow authors. Please support these authors by visiting their sites, buying their blood, spreading the word. If you are an author that needs help getting your name out, leave a comment with this blog and list your name, work, and links. Happy writing!
Kelly Abell' s website: http://www.kellyabellbooks.com
Gail Hedrick: http://www.gailehedrick.com
Patricia Puddle: http://trish-mollygumnut.blogspot.com
And don't forget me:)
Jodi Stone: http://www.Facebook.come/JodiStone.Ch...
http://www.jodistories.mysite.come

Scaredy Cat

Do you ever feel afraid? I remember as a child being so afraif of the dark, my basement, and my reflection in the morning, and during puberty.
I guess as I got a little older, some fears diminished, yet as a 36 year old, I suppose I thought most fears would go away, yet somehow now, I feel like a kid as I think about what truly scares me. Why is it that becoming a parent instills you with fear? I mean where was the real manual about parenting fears? I read 'What to expect when you're expecting' but where is the book entitled, 'What the hell was I thinking in preparing for this?' There is no warning manual on how scary parenting is because that would be the end of life as we know it. I mean why didnt someone warn me that making sure your babies are still breathing every single night would continue when those babies are no longer babies? Yes, I check on all three of my daughters every night. I know worrying about thiet safety is normal yet there I am still making sure that even in sleep mode that they are safe.
And whoever writes that manual needs to mention worrying about kids getting hurt, wearing enough sunscreen, broken hearts and the day they leave. Ahh I loathe you said day, and I wonder after years of hearing,the nightsongs and pitter,patter of little feet? Oh and it will just be my husband again and myself. Sure, he will fill in the nights of song with his own rhythm of snoring, and the occasional passing of gas, yet I worry that wr will still find ourselves longing for these days of little girls, bows and bikes. So I know I probably worry too much, but I wouldnt have it any other way. Bring on the challenges, but beware, I have my worry wart on high alert as I pray again tonight to keep my loved ones safe. My cup runneth over.

Friendship

I am a blessed girl. I have more friends than I can count. I have friends that I met as a young girl, and a best friend that remains in my life, even though we met at ten. Some friends have come and gone, yet my group of best friends is solid, and are an integral part of my life. As a writer, I have friends that are also writers, and we find ourselves on a similar journey. I first met an author, Kelly Abell, over a year ago. She became a mentor and a friend. She inspired me to follow my dreams, and thanks to her help, my dream of seeing my work in print came true. You can see her fabulous books at http://www.kellyabellworks.com
Recently, I had the fortune of meeting another author/illustrator who I now call friend. A writer joined my writing group atgoodreads and shared much more than just her books. After several emails, I learned that this author had overcome so much to finally reach her dream of being published. As a young girl, she was treated terribly by a teacher, and never taught the proper usage of spelling, punctuation, or proper grammar. After three years with this awful teacher,another hardship unfolded when she had to leave school to help take care of her ill mother. Years of working to help her family coincided with teasing for lack of proper teaching. Though a desire deep down to share her story persisted. Though it would be nearly forty years later, this special friend found her own path through years of writing classes, a supportive husband, and children and grandkids-she finally saw her dream of writing a reality. This story taught me to not take this journey for granted. If she can overcome that, we authors can overcome writers block, rejection letters, and any hardship this jungle, aka the writing world throws our way. To see her fabulous books, visit her site at http://childrens-books-author-p-puddl...
Her name is Patricia Puddle, and she is a true inspiration.

My sanity

Do you ever question your sanity ? I ask as I write this blog and laugh because on most days I find that I am either talking to myself or saying frequently, «what was I thinking?????!!!!!!». I am a mama of 3 girls and that alone should allow me a free pass on the insane train. Can't you just picture the train, full of overworked,exhausted mamas who cry at the drop of a hat or laugh for fear of crying. We mamas board the train with hopes of a little time for a cup of coffee, maybe an unintertupted bath, the chance to maybe even rediscover what sleep looks like? Yes, I can wish for said train because I am a writer , and perhaps writing is how I stay somewhat sane in all the madness of this crazy life. But then again, I cannot imagine my life without my three girls. They are as necessary to living as breathing and provide me inspiration far beyond my expectations. And if I come across as ths slightest bit insane and in need of a trip on the insane train, then so be it.