Sarah Price's Blog, page 9

Winter is Terrible!

This morning, I awoke to a freezing cold house. Our heater has not been working properly– it’s old and former tenants messed around with the wiring. Fortunately, I have a fantastic company that had patiently tried to fix it over the past two seasons. Unfortunately, it will have to be replaced in the not too distant future.

This winter, all of us seem to be in the same situation. This winter is just terrible. It’s hard to garner sympathy from anyone when everyone is struggling to stay warm. and, of course, there isn’t much we can do about it.

I do, however, wonder what the Amish are doing to survive. In Lancaster, those old farmhouses do not have the luxury of central heat. Many do have propane heaters in the main room, but those upstairs bedrooms? I bet they are freezing!

I’m going to find out what they do; I’ll ask some of my Amish friends. In the meantime, I really hope this cold snap disappears soon.

I left New Jersey in October because I suffer severe seasonal affective disorder. The gray days, cold air, and occasional snow just send me into a severe depression. S-E-V-E-R-E. My husband is a real saint and, for the past three winters, has taken me to Belize and then Florida for the winters.

Now, here I sit in a freezing cold house (it’s almost warmer outside than inside) in the very weather I wanted to avoid. So do hundreds of thousands of other “snowbirds” as well as the millions of people who live in the south to enjoy nicer weather. And lets not forget the Amish, a majority of them elderly, who also come to Pinecraft, Florida to escape the cold up north.

The good news is that the weather looks like it’s going to improve soon. In the meantime, I hope everyone stays warm and says a little prayer for those people who suffer in the cold weather or do not have central heat.

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Should Writers Go To Writers Groups?

Here’s something that I always wanted to talk about but never quite felt brave enough to tackle it: Writers’ Groups.

Some people have great success working with writers’ groups. Those are the roups where people gather together, usually once or twice a month, to read and critique a sample of each other’s writing. I attended one or two in the past few years and vowed that I wouldn’t do it again.

Here’s why.

When I was taking dance lessons at Fred Astaire Dance Studio in Morristown—my favorite non-writing activity, btw—my instructors always critiqued me during the lesson. One instructor, however, always praised me. Praise, praise, praise. It got to the point where I finally turned to him and said, “It’s nice to know what I’m doing ell but, that doesn’t help me improve. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Unfortunately, many people don’t want to hear honest criticism.

Writing a story is a little like pouring your soul onto paper. Reading it to others (or having them read it privately) is a terrifying experiences…at least in the beginning. Will they like it? Will they understand the dichonomy between the characters and the setting? Will they appreicate my dialouge? Will they approve of my writing style?

That’s what most writers think.

I, however, add one more question to the mix: Or will they simply tell me what I want to hear?

Both of the writers’ groups that I attended were more of the former and basically none of the latter. Some of the writing was great but the storylines completely narrow and dull. You found out you were adopted? Very interesting. You wrote about your experience which was nothing over-the-top in the drama department? Not very interesting.

This happens a lot. We all have stories in us. But how many people (I.e. Audience size) will want to read your story vs. talk about their story.

And that’s the problem with writers’ groups.

If I said to a particular writer that her story about adoption was, frankly, boring to me and the writing far to literary as if trying to prove a level of intelligence that was definitely not required for that genre, I’d have been seen as negative, unhelpful, even mean. People don’t want to hear that they have poured their soul onto paper for what appears to be self-centered and egotisitical reasons and that no one really wants to read it.

That hurts.

But it should be said.

So many people want to write a book and publish it. THose words are like little newborn babies. Prescious and perfect, beautiful and angelic. Surely everyone else will see that, right? These writers spend time and money self-publshing their work and then wonder why no more than a handful of people purchased it. Worse, some of these writers search for an agent and then criticize each one that turns them down as being ignorant, unintelligent, completely passe.

In my opinion, writers group definitely serve a purpose for practice and commrodierie. No one else will know the pain of writer’s block or mania of writing non-stop for hours because a scene moves you. But to critique each others’ work? I find that shallow from the perspective of how a true critique actually improves the writing but glorious wonderful for building up the ego.

I would love to start a real writers critique program where I could dive into a chapter and mark it up, returning the comments, changes, suggestions, and edits to the writer in the hopes that she or he would learn from my critique. I just don’t know if most aspiring writers are actually ready for it.

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Love at First Sight

Not only do I believe in love at first sight, I believe that it might just be the strongest love out there. Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing romance stories so much.

Not quite a year ago, I fell in love. Hard. Fast. Dangerous.

Obviously I couldn’t tell my husband. I knew he’d be very upset. Besides, I also knew that it would be an unrequited love that would never go beyond my secret longings.

Maybe my strange love affair started years before I even met her. Marc had given me a black baby horse during our wedding ceremony and oh! how I loved Undee. But, at the time, I worked full-time (blah) and it was hard to ride her. Whenever I went to the barn, people stopped and talked to me or the riding rings were crowded. Some of the (now former) staff were…a bit judgmental so I felt conspicuous riding him. Especially because he was so young and I’m not exactly a top-notch cowgirl.

And then I got cancer.

That put me out of commission for almost two years so Cat took over Undee and eventually found mustangs and Undee got snatched up into the schooling program.

Bye bye wedding present and a small piece of my heart.

So the day that the girls picked up their 2017 mustangs and I saw this photo, I fell immediately in love.

I admit it. I fall for black horses. And this one just took my breath away. But I knew it was not meant to be. After all, my daughter’s best friend, Sam, was training Malibu and probably going to keep her so I didn’t breathe a hint of my love for this amazing horse. Instead, I stayed in the shadows, watching the progress she made with this horse and silently cheered them both on.

One day, Cat came to me and made a comment that Sam was concerned that Malibu wasn’t ready to be sold. She had been a difficult horse to train and understandably so. She was captured in the wild when she as about a year old. It was a horrible capture and then she was thrown into short-term holding for six long years. No one adopted her and she eventually became a three-striker (meaning one more strike and she’d have gone to slaughter).

The problem, however, was that Sam couldn’t keep her. Cat’s words were music to my ears.

“I’ll adopt her.”

Cat’s eyes widened. “Really?”

I’m sure Cat thought I was nuts—which wouldn’t be the first time.

Fast forward a few months. I managed to adopt Malibu and we’ve had a rough start of it. Sam did a great job training her; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was and remains me.

Malibu seems to be a one-person-horse and I haven’t been so great about being that person. I have deadlines to meet, obligations at home, and trips that take me out of the state for a while. Poor Malibu had a person (Sam), then had a new person (me), than I disappeared and days later returned and then Sam returned and….

Well, you can clearly see the problem.

Six years in a short-term holding pen is almost like being in prison. For those long years, Malibu wasn’t allowed to be a horse. She didn’t have the chance to run in a field, kick up her heels, nicker in the wind, or feel the love of a person. She has to be taught how to love and, even more importantly, how to trust.

Shortly after we arrived here, Malibu cut her leg. It was basically gross and, thankfully, our neighbor Super Sue helped tend to it and then showed me what to do. Every morning I went out there and tended to Malibu. Slowly, something changed. I noticed it almost right away. I began feeding her in the evenings and letting her out in the morning. Slowly, Malibu began to trust me. I could even touch her ear, the one that she hates anyone touching.

Today, she jumped out of her pasture and ran to another one. She wanted to be with her buddies (but we keep her separated so that we can catch her…for now). Cat came inside and called for Sam to help her catch Malibu. I hurried out and slowly I walked up to her. I think all of us were surprised that she didn’t fly across the pasture, tail and mane waving as we stared at her backside. Instead, she let me put a lead around her neck and take her to the round pen where I worked her for a few minutes.

Nothing is easy in this world, especially gaining the trust and love of any living creature…human or animal. I cannot explain why I fell in love with this amazing mustang from one picture. I cannot describe how excited I was when I learned Sam wasn’t going to keep her. And I cannot begin to recount how hard my heart beat on the night that I bid on her in Springfield, Massachusetts in order to ensure that she came home with me to her forever home.

No, it’s not easy. But like anything else, if you want something bad enough, you have to work at it. Life does not hand out short-cuts. By staying true to yourself and persevering, I believe you can do anything. You cannot rush success. You cannot buy success.

Too many people think that success is a given, a natural extension of desire. What they don’t realize is that success is not (nor should it be) the end goal, but it should be the journey that takes you there. People forget that and, in their rush to reach their ideal of success (which usually includes McMansions, jetsetting the world, fancy cars, hobnobbing with A-listers, etc.), they forget about the journey and miss out on everything in between point A and point Z. And a lot of time in their rush to propel themselves to the top of their company, game, or career, they step on so many people along the way that they leave a long line of carnage behind them.

No, those people will never truly be successful.

And I’ll tell you why.

You see, success is much more that just jumping on Malibu and yee-hawing across an open field while waving my cowboy hat. Success is a gentle pat, a good grooming, a slow walk down a dusty lane while the sun sets. Over time, all of these things will cement that bond that I’m developing with Malibu. And, hopefully, in that time, she will forget about those horrible six long years in short-term holding and nicker when she sees me coming to fetch her with a big carrot in hand and my heart full of love to shower on her.

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Writing for a Living

Many of my readers who follow my blog and Facebook livestreams know that I’ve been writing since I was very young. When I was in ninth grade, I submitted my first manuscript, The Europa Princess, to a publisher and, Lo and Behold!, I received a contract. Unfortunately, because I was fourteen, I had no idea how to read a contract (see? I knew I wasn’t qualified to be a lawyer!). I showed it to my parents. I don’t know if they read it or not, but I never heard another word about it.

I wasn’t disappointed, though. I told myself that I was only fourteen-years-old and who wants to achieve their lifelong dream at fourteen? I knew that I had plenty of time to write and publish more novels. So, instead of pursuing it, I focused on fine-tuning my skills.

As a child, that was my dream: writing for a living. In my mind, I saw myself sitting at a typewriter—computers weren’t invented yet—plucking away at the keys until the wee hours of the night. I saw myself standing before crowds at bookstores, talking about my latest book and then, after my lecture, sitting down to sign copies of my books. And I envisioned myself packing up my typewriter and traveling around the world, sitting in cafes in France or on the beach in the Caribbean.

Simply put, I wanted to write for a living.

I imagine most writers have a similar dream.

Unfortunately, not all writers can write for a living.

According to , the average published author earns $500 in royalties. That might sound very low, however it’s even scarier to realize that $500 is the average. Factor in the James Pattersons and Jodi Picoults who earn millions on the one end of the spectrum and you’ll realize that the majority of authors basically earn nothing.

One of my friends wrote a book and I helped her publish it. Frankly, the book’s premise was interesting, the writing was funny, and the overall book should have been a category killer⁠1. She did everything right: she knew her target audience, she knew her material, and she knew how to write. When we put the book up for pre-order on Amazon.com, she could hardly contain her excitement.

“Everyone I’ve told about the book is going to order it,” she said to me. “And I have dozens of cousins who I know will buy it.”

She was well-connected and did a ton of marketing. Everyone knew about her book. Everyone promised to pre-order it. This book was destined for greatness.

In the end, she sold twelve books. Maybe less because she might have bought a few copies herself and didn’t tell me. All told, she earned less than ten dollars.

It’s frustrating.

The problem is that writing for a living is only part of the equation. Marketing and timing are everything. While there are always exceptions to the rule, my opinion is that, in today’s society with information overload creating so much noise, no one can be a truly successful author without an enormous focus on marketing.

And there is the major stumbling block.

Most writers write because they are creative and they are storytellers. Most writers don’t understand marketing.

For almost fifteen years, I was a college professor. I taught marketing and communication as well as other courses. Most people who have attended college took a Marketing 101 course and, therefore, think they understand marketing. I can assure you that Marketing (with a capital M) is much more than the four PS: product, pricing, placement, and promotion. In keeping with the P theme, I say that it also takes perseverance and presence.

Product

Obviously, the product is the book. But what is the book? It’s more than just the story. It’s also the cover, the description used for marketing it. Just as important, if not moreso, is the amount of time spent editing the book. Editing is not just reading the manuscript for typos, spelling errors, or grammatical mistakes. Authors should invest in good, quality developmental editors, too. The greatest education that I ever had in regard to writing came in the form of my editors. Every comment, change, deletion, and addition was an education. I studied everything they did to my manuscripts so that I could learn from them. They specialize in editing. They are the experts. They have a lot to teach us.

Pricing

How you price your book will depend on your goals. If you want to make money, you’ll price your book higher. If you want to create a ripple effect and target your rankings, you’ll price your book lower. Pricing strategies are complicated and you need to understand the good, the bad, and the ugly. This also goes hand-in-hand with understanding your audience and what they are willing to spend. Additionally, this will change over time. A new and unestablished author will not command the $9.99 price tag for eBooks that we often see (and cringe at) from our favorite popular authors. The pricing that you set will help influence sales.

Placement

Where you publish your book is important. Do you need an agent? Will you self-publish? If you self-publish, should you publish on Amazon.com exclusively or publish on other platforms as well? These are important considerations for any author. There are pros and cons to these different platforms that authors need to understand before self-publishing their manuscripts. If, however, you are fortunate enough to have a traditional publishing house pick up your manuscript, that’s a whole different story. Publishers dictate where your book gets placed and for how long. Their decisions and connections can either make or break your book.

Promotion

Regardless of whether you self-publish or go through a traditional publishing house, you will need to promote your book. Promoting is not a simple “BUY MY BOOK” post on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or website. In fact, in my pinion, that’s the sign of a true neophyte. Think about it: have YOU ever bought a book from an author who posted something like that? Promoting your book is more than just a flash mob of pleas for people to purchase it. Promotion is an on-going, never-ending process that is just as much work as writing the book in the first place.

Perseverance

Misconception: If you build it, they will buy it. Baloney. Any author who thinks that readers will flock to their books needs to reevaluate their dreams because it will turn into a nightmare. Truth: Successful authors spend the majority of their time marketing, not writing. And it’s not a one-stop marketing effort. It takes time and patience, organization and structure, and planning and strategy. Without perseverance, no author will ever see more than a few dollars of sales (if that).

Presence

In today’s world, this is probably the most important aspect of writing. You’d think it would be the product, but I can assure you that I’ve bought dozens of books (products) that were horrible: poor writing, awful dialogue, horrendous editing, and silly storylines. And yet, I bought them. While that doesn’t make for a huge fanbase, the author did get my money. Without a presence on social media, no author can survive. You might have the greatest publisher promoting your book, but if you want to truly earn a living as a published author, you need to create a presence on social media.

The next blogs will examine the different aspects of the Marketing Mix for Authors individually.

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Everyone’s a Storyteller

“So, I have this idea for a book…”

“I have a great book for you to write…”

“I’m writing this book and I have a question about…”

“I always wanted to write a book…”

Whenever I meet someone and they find out that I’m an author, nine times out of ten, I will hear one of those statements. It seems that everyone is a storyteller or, at least, wants be.

Stories are an important part of society. As children, we hear stories about our grandparents and parents. In church, we hear stories about the Bible…from Adam and Eve to Noah to Moses and, for Christians, Jesus. At school, we hear stories about what people did over the weekend or who is dating who. At work, we hear stories about our colleagues or future products/services that the company will be offering. And in the evening, we might settle down with a coffee or glass of wine and listen to our significant other tell stories about his or her day.

Life is about stories.

Telling a story, however, is vastly different than writing a story. And writing a story that people want to read is the most difficult of all.

To me, writing is an art form and, as with any form of art, it takes years of practice to fine-tune our skills. And yet, because everyone is taught to write from the earliest age, many people do not realize how much hard work goes into the craft of writing.

Imagine the following three scenarios:

The year is 1512 in Italy. You walk into the chapel in the Apostolic Palace. Your eyes are drawn to the ceiling where you see the most magnificent of paintings. The Sistine Chapel truly takes your breath away. The colors, the figures, the amazing detail. All of them tell a magnificent story. You simply cannot stop staring, absorbing the beauty that hovers over your head. A man walks toward you, his wizened face covered with speckles of paint as he cleans a brush in an old, dirty rag.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“It’s fabulous.”

“I painted it,” he says, a little more than a touch of pride in his eyes.

“Really?” You reply. “You know, I have this idea that you might want to paint. It’s a lake scene with a deer dipping its head into the water while a young woman watches as she sits on a nearby rock…”

Michaelango rolls his eyes and sighs, shifting his weight as he listens to you share your idea which, frankly, he’ll never paint.

The year is 1879 in New Jersey. You enter a room and are surprised to see that it is illuminated but there are no candles burning. You turn around, trying to find the source of the light. It’s a small, round object made of glass and the light burns much brighter than a candle. Amazed, you approach it and bend down, staring at the object in complete wonder.

A man in his thirties approaches you, his hands in his pant pockets and a smile on his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“What is it?” You ask.

“My latest invention. An electric light bulb.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re an inventor?”

He straightens and lifts his chin with a touch of pride. “I am.”

“I’m an inventor, too. I created this pulley system for my elderly mother to use so that she can open and shut the bathroom door from her wheelchair…”

You don’t notice Thomas Edison grimace as you continue explaining your invention.

The year is 1984 in Maryland. You’re attending a cocktail party at a friend’s house and overhear a man talking about a recent surgery he conducted. It turns out that he’s a famous neurosurgeon who specializes in neurological and congenital disorders. He’s even separated conjoined twins.

“That’s amazing,” you say. “You know, I always wanted to be a doctor.”

Ben Carson stares at you, a blank expression on his face.

Everyone has ideas and that’s not a bad thing. In fact, the idea for the painting is lovely—I’d hang that on my wall. And the idea for the door opening system is certainly helpful for people who are disabled. Clearly people have ideas for any profession that involves creativity.

The difference, however, between an idea and a tangible product is what you do with it.

I’ve always loved to paint. I’ve taken painting classes and, frankly, done quite well. However, as soon as I leave the class and return home, I couldn’t paint a simple fruit on a table without it looking infantile and ridiculous. In the class, my paintings were superior to my classmates. At home, I might have passed kindergarten art with a B.

What’s the difference?

Studying art under the guidance of a seasoned professional is easier than just jumping in with both feet. It’s not as easy as it looks. Nothing is. In fact, if it looks easy, the painter (or teacher) is doing a great job. But no one can master painting without practice. Lots of practice.

As for the inventor, for every successful invention, I guarantee you that there are dozens, if not hundreds, of failed attempts. Additionally, just because you can invent something doesn’t mean other people will buy it.

Finally, in the scenario with Dr. Ben Carson, the idea of being a famous neurological surgeon seems glamorous. I mean, who wouldn’t want to save people’s lives or improve on medical advancements? However, the years of study of medicine, the human body, and logic cannot be replicated without devoting your entire life to the profession. Just because you want to do something doesn’t mean that you can.

If you want to write, and earn a living at writing, those three concepts are extremely important to understand. It takes years of both study and practice as well as understanding your own capabilities and the needs/wants of the marketplace.

Writing for pleasure is one thing. Writing for a profession is quite another.

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Happy New Year!

New Year’s is my favorite holiday for a reason. It’s a new beginning, a fresh start. Of course, there is the added benefit that the holidaze are over. For me, I could really do without the stress of Commerial Christmas and simply enjoy Religious Christmas. But I don’t live on a desserted island so I know it doesn’t work that way.

Regardless, New Year’s is a great time to reassess where I was twelve month’s prior and how far I’ve traveled during that period of time. I also use this time to reflect about the future and plan my goals for the year.

Sometimes I make a Vision Board. It’s a simple piece of paper where I print out (or cut out) photos that I glue to the paper and eventually laminate. It’s not for anyone else to see but me. Usually I do five-year Vision Boards. This year, I’m going to do one just for 2018 so that, in twelve months, I can see if I’ve achieved my goals.

In addition to my personal goals, I have professional goals and, in order to achieve them, I have to make a few changes.

Last year, I began the Amish Fiction Authors blog. So often, people ask me for recommendations for authors to read or a list of authors to avoid. While I won’t do the latter, I’m happy to help with the former. So I’ve invited authors that I like and respect to write on the blog. You might notice some names missing. That doesn’t mean that I don’t care for those authors. Either they were busy, don’t like to blog, or were not invited.

In the world of writing, I’ve found that many authors operate in cliques. Over the years, I’ve tried to invite other authors to do things together. I’ve done interviews, book reviews, posted blogs, etc. Surprisingly, very few reciprocated.

That’s not very nice and it hurt my feelings.

Thank You!

Thank you all for your messages, emails, and postings. I’m feeling a bit better and will be resuming Morning Coffee on Monday.

What is it about life that causes us all so much stress? So many people contacted me to share their own stories and how they, too, suffer from bouts of depression (and I don’t mean little blues here and there).

Sometimes I think we do it to ourselves by putting too much pressure on what we should or shouldn’t do. For me, it’s very hard to say the word NO, even to myself. Perhaps that is something I have to work on for 2018.

LOOKING AHEAD…

I’ve taken this week hiatus to really think about what fun things to do next year and I want to hear from YOU. So I have a few questions for you.

Why I Haven’t Been Doing Morning Coffee

Depression. It’s a very serious affliction. And I’ve been suffering it for years. The good news is that there is medicine to help with it. But sometimes life overpowers even the best of medicine.

In church yesterday, the pastor talked about the veterans and how they sacrifice everything for the rest of the country. These men and women (and their families) give up everything for others, Many lose their lives for us. The rest give up portions of their lives for us. They deserve our respect and support for those sacrifices.

And yet, NFL players think they have the right to take a knee during the anthem, in protest of Lord knows what. Maybe they don’t even know; surely some feel pressured to do it by their peers who berate them if they don’t agree with the “popular” consensus of their teammates.

This is the perfect symbol of what is wrong with this country, politicizing their disagreement with the way the country is going by showing complete disrespect to the country and those who gave their all is the epitome of the self-serving attitudes that permeate our society. And yet, they don’t realize that what is wrong with the country is exactly what they are doing: thinking only of themselves.

The pastor’s sermon really struck a chord with me and, afterward, I was talking with my friend about it. It’s hard to remain a giver in a world of takers. The pastor talked about helping those veterans, helping those fellow Christians who need help. He talked about not putting ourselves first, but putting other people first.

As my friend and I discussed, how is that possible? The givers give and the takers take. There is no fair balance for the givers and I’m not certain there is a chance for the takers to see the errors of their ways.

While I don’t want to become bitter and change who I am, this problem creates an emotional unbalance within me. I am, after all, a giver.

There is a saying that no good deed goes unpunished. How many times have you done something to help other people and it bites you in the rear end? How does a person remain sane when this happens over and over and over again?

To make matters worse, when you are feeling down in the dumps, there are people who like to kick you so that you are no longer on your knees but face first in the dirt.

I know there is Scripture that I should refer to, Scripture to make me get up instead of give up. But depression doesn’t always work that way.

And some people delight in knowing that.

When I had cancer, I did my best to be brave and positive–for me but also for other people, people who were close to me. Some people took advantage of that. A few weeks ago, I was looking for an old email. I happened to find a string of emails from friends and strangers mixed in with emails from another person. While the strangers and friends sent me emails of encouragement–best wishes, prayers, love–this other person was constantly asking me for help with a self-serving project. Over and over and over again. Seeing it in black and white like that was shocking to me. I think, at the time, I had become immune to it.

Another example: On a recent Morning Coffee Livestream, I spoke  about the woman who flipped off President Trump’s motorcade. A 50-year-old woman who, as a result, was terminated. The mother of two children. She became the poster-child, in my opinion, for the values that are being taught to our children. Rather than apologize and taking responsibility for behaving so poorly, this woman is speaking out in support of her action and people are rallying against the company for terminating her, rather than applauding the company for having morals and reprimanding one of their corporate citizens for engaging in moral turpitude.

So here is my question. When did our country begin losing civility? Manners? Concern for other people? Respect? I believe it happened a long time ago when society lost sight of people’s roles. Instead of it being about taking care of each other, it became focused on taking care of oneself. And as those adults had children, that is what became the norm in those households. Think about yourself first and screw how you hurt other people.

This is a terrible lesson and, for me, it’s very, very distressing.

But there are other things that add to my distress. Little things that have knocked me down on my knees. People who pass judgment without knowing the facts. Fathers who abandon their responsibility for their children, especially because they just want to inflict pain instead of being concerned about their child. Children who never say thank you or show appreciation. Courts that are unjust and, at times, completely nonsensical and unfair. Parents that let their children dictate life changes to them–without a thought for who they are hurting in the process. People who have no qualms about stabbing others who helped them. Life that doesn’t let up on giving us a break from time to time.

So that is why I haven’t been doing Morning Coffee. Sometimes I share too much and, when it’s not positive and Sarah Sunshine, I get negative emails and messages from people. The way that I am feeling right now, I knew that I couldn’t be Sarah Sunshine, but I also knew that I couldn’t handle hate messages. So I’ve taken a step back to regroup.

I thought that being in Florida would help me overcome the depression. It’s only gotten worse. The plans that we (my husband and I) had for this winter have changed, thanks to some unscrupulous people who selfishly did a number on us. I know that it has only delayed the good times that are ahead, but it’s painful in the meantime. And a lot of unforeseen hard work which, after so many years of giving, giving, and giving while sacrificing on our own part is a tough pill to swallow.

Anyway I promise that I will get up and not give up. But I need some time.

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Life Off the Grid: Sarah Price’s Take on a Not-Quite Amish Farm Life Part Two

On October 31st, my book Belle: An Amish Adaptation of Beauty and the Beast dropped. It was a day of celebration.

Or, rather, it should have been.

Cat and Sam left early, well before the sun rise, to go to Disney. Happy Halloween, girls. It’s not my favorite holiday (if you can call it that) by any stretch of the imagination. You’ll learn more about my reasons for hating Halloween in my upcoming book, Broken Vessel. Anyway, I had to do some work on things at home such as meet with the heat repair man, work on some legal paperwork, stop at the city office to ask a question, and go to the bank. After all of that was finished, I was treating myself to my one favorite thing in the world: a manicure and pedicure.

It was sorely needed after the week+ of building the barn.

The only problem was that it took almost FOUR HOURS.

Now, when you have farm animals, going away for a day is not as simple as feeding horses and driving off. Both Sam and Cat were counting on me to bring in the horses and feed them dinner.

Granted, they had most everything set up for me (water, grain, hay). But I needed to bring in eleven horses, make certain I got them in the correct stalls, and give my own three fuzzies their supplements.

Well, by the time I finally drove down the lane to our farm, the sun had already set. It was cold and I was wearing sandals and a sundress. But rather than go change, I immediately went to the horses.

The first horse, Lynx (Sam’s mustang from the 2016 competition and, btw, the champion of the Extreme Mustang Makeover, Youth Division for Massachusetts) decided to run away. He ran and had a grand ole time with me chasing after him trying to catch him without him stepping on my newly painted toes. Once he was corralled (and that was NOT easy), I brought in my own baby, Essie, and Sir Ritz of a Cracker (my mini-horse). Crackers decided to take off and say hello to the ladies in the mare’s paddock.

Nothing was going well.

After I captured him, I brought in the mares which, thankfully, wasn’t disasterous. And then I brought in Sam’s huge draft mares, totally petrified that they might crush me. These horses are HUGE.

Two hours later, the girls returned from Disney. I was already in bed, reading, when Cat called me. She was most unhappy.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MINNIE?”

I had to think. What did I do to Minnie? I captured her from the paddock and led her into the stall. Was this a trick question?

“Uh…what’s the problem?”

“You put her in the wrong stall, Mom! She had no food for two hours. I can’t even leave you with my horses for one day and you messed it up!”

In my world, big deal. I can go entire days without food. What’s two hours? But what really bothered me was the fact that Cat did not have her horses stalled in a logical order. Instead of having her horses in a line, she had them in a box: two across from each other. That just didn’t make sense to me.

“How was I supposed to know you had them in weird stalls?” I argued.

She hung up on me.

Part of me was laughing. She sounded like a mother, fretting over her toddlers. The other part of me was irritated. It was almost ten at night, I wanted to sleep, and the horse was just fine!

Ring. Ring.

Figuring it was an apology, I answered the phone with a hesitant “What?”

“Um, Mom?”

Gone was the hostility in her voice. Now she was sounding contrite. I felt better already. “Yes?”

“There’s a problem out here.”

Immediately I thought of wild boars attacking the ducks, coyotes taking down little Crackers, martians landing in the far paddock. “What happened?”

“There…um…seems to be an explosion in the water line and…well…water is gushing everywhere and…yeah. It’s bad.”

To make a long story short, one of her rescue mustangs must have kicked the water line in a far paddock (basically the same thing as a martian, I suppose) and the water from the line was pouring out everywhere. Now, mind you, it’s late at night, dark as all get out, and cold. Really cold. Somehow I found my lantern and, with a blanket wrapped around me, I tried to turn off the well pump. No such luck. It took me almost an hour to figure it out (and only with the help of my neighbor Sue). In the meantime, Cat was drenched, Sam was frowning, and we no longer had water in the house.

There’s always something going on at the farm. It’s a full-time job running this place. I cannot imagine how the Amish do it. They don’t have the luxury of breaker boxes and cell phones, high beams and electric pumps. I give them so much credit for being so strong and smart. I continually find myself amazed at how little I know about life off the grid…and I’m not even really off the grid at all!

BTW, first thing in the morning, I sent Marc a photo of the broken pipe and, with his guidance, I managed to fix it all on my own! I am so proud of the fact that I fixed it rather than call a plumber. Now, let’s keep our fingers crossed that the horses keep their hooves on the ground and not kick it again!

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Life Off the Grid: Sarah Price’s Take on a Not-Quite Amish Farm Life

As many of you may be aware (if you watch my daily Facebook livestreams), I’m down at our farm in Florida for the winter. We’ve been here two weeks and already it feels as if I never left.

Sorta.

When you have a remote residence and you leave for a while, returning is not as simple as walking in the door and unpacking your bag. This year, we are fortunate enough to have Sam Van Fleet with us. She’s one of Cat’s best friends…well, no. Make that she IS Cat’s best friend. They met through the Extreme Mustang Makeover in 2015 and have been like two peas in a pod ever since.

When Sam wanted to join us for a gap year in Florida, I was excited. While I like to think of myself as great company (ha ha), I know Cat gets bored of me so having a friend with us for the winter is awesome.

And, like Cat, with Sam comes horses.

BIG horses.

Last year, I did a livestream about building a barn on the property. Yes, we already have one. But one of the (terrible) tenants we had in the past started a structure. In reality, it was six posts and one half wall. That’s it.

Our first project was to build the barn so that Sam and her BIG horses could have their own space. I know Cat loves managing her own barn. I figured Sam would like having her own, too. Plus, it was motivation to get the barn done.

Fast.

We started working on it on Wednesday, October 17th and finished on Saturday, October 28th. Let me tell you, those were the LONGEST eleven days of my recent life. Every muscle and bone in my body was killing me. And I was sooooo tired of driving to the lumber yard. Every day I went…and I was always thinking that THIS was the last trip (wrong).

There’s a lot of work that goes into building a barn, especially when you arrive at the farm to realize that you have new tenants—unwanted tenants. FOUR LEGGED tenants.

MICE.

I definitely cried once or twice while trying to clean up the destruction left behind by our new tenants. Fortunately, I brought five cats and four dogs with us so the mice population has quickly simmered away in the house. Instead of three or four killed each day, we’re down to one or two a week.

In the house.

The barn, however, is a different story. Poor Cat (my daughter, not a feline) is battling major mice issues. Interestingly enough, the house mice are small and the barn mice are big. Not rats but bigger mice. I never realized that there are so many types, shapes, and sizes of rodents! Almost every day we are finding families of mice “sleeping” in the horses’ water buckets. I hear Cat scream and, with a sigh, I shut my laptop and wander outside to dispose of their little wet bodies.

At night, I often think about the Amish. I wish my house was as clean as the Amish keep theirs. Maybe then I wouldn’t have mice. But with four dogs, five cats, four pet rats, and three parrots, a clean house is found only in my dreams. L I wish my barn was as orderly as the Amish keep theirs. Unfortunately, the temperate climate and dust make that impossible. Between mice, lizards, GINORMOUS spiders with yellow things on their butts, and palmetto bugs, a clean barn won’t happen either.

But I do like living off the grid a bit. Sure, we have electricity and (sometimes) heat. Our farm is so remote and secluded that it’s a welcome change from Morristown. It’s quiet. I like the quiet. The people are so nice. I like nice people. And, overall, it’s just a happier place.

In my mind, I know it’s probably as Amish as I’ll get. But I’ll take it…mice, spiders, bugs and all.

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