As you know, multiple stories of mine were removed from publication due to my publisher changing from a publishing company to an asset holding company. As they weren’t going to be publishing any future stories, I decided to take mine back so I could do more with those worlds. And I am.
I just re-released “Her Lover’s Face” for pre-order. It will officially drop on March 15th, 2024, so not much longer to go now.
Her Lover’s Face Blurb:
“Laryssa Mitchell is one of the lucky ones. The death of her abusive husband finally allows her to live again on her own terms, making her own choices. Her first official decision is to take back what was lost – her independence and her old job. But she soon finds herself in a living nightmare when she meets her new boss. If her husband is rotting in hell, then who is the man standing in front of her with a dead man’s face?
Alexander Richards doesn’t expect to catch an unconscious woman in his arms on his first day of work, nor does he envision himself willingly setting foot in hospital again, reliving his painful loss. But that’s exactly what he chooses to do when Laryssa needs his help. Why?
She has a story to tell. He has a mystery to solve. In the midst of danger, passion sizzles between them, taking them by surprise. What will happen when all is brought to light? Will they be able to overcome their traumatic pasts and find love in each other, or will their ghosts have the final say?”
This also means that I’ll be dropping book two, “Her Ghosts Reborn,” shortly as well. You should see this one hit the virtual bookstores by the 10th of March. The full release will be on April 2nd.
Her Ghosts Reborn Blurb:
“Joanne has had anything but a typical life. She almost died in her twenties, lost custody of her kids, through no fault of her own, and lived a lie. Now, in her sixties, she’s going traipsing about the country with a man she barely knows, who claims to be her daughter-in-law’s uncle.
But what happens when you put a man and a woman in a motorhome for a week? The usual, of course…spanking, sex, and a delicious game of cards. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that she is about to see the man who ruined her life so many years ago. Will her father be different, or will he be the same man he’s always been?
Deceptive and evil…only time will tell.”
Not only that, my goal is to re-release “Not You Again” and put it up for pre-order on April 15th for a May 7th release. There is so much more I have planned, but that’s the next few months in a nutshell. I hope you’ll tag along for the ride.
I’m hoping this year brings even more experiences and joy to my life as much as last year did, and I hope you get a chance to live your dreams and soar to new heights. Never let yourself settle for anything less than what your worth! Speak what you want. Believe you will get it. Know you will get it. Create a plan to achieve it! Dreams won’t find you. You have to go after them!
I’m happy to announce that Beneath His Hands, Book Two in the Psychological Thriller and Romance Duology, is now available for download on Amazon. I wanted to do a rapid release so that both books were available as soon as possible.
I’ve been asked whether there will be a paperback version of this duology, but I haven’t wanted to say much until now because of some complications that arose over the last month; however, I’m happy to announce that I am working on the paperback copy and hope to have it released in the next month. I’m also hoping to do a audio version as well, but I’m uncertain as to when that will be released.
It’s very exciting, to say the least, because these are the first two full-length stories that have been published in the last four years. And I do plan on releasing another three-five stories this year, time and life permitting.
But in the meantime, please take a moment to enjoy the two new releases. Her Prison, His Game and Beneath His Hands:
Her Prison His Game Blurb:
In the middle of a forest, in an unknown location, is a game. A psychological game designed to play with the mind until it breaks.
The man responsible wants fresh meat. Someone who hasn’t experienced the horrors of the real world. He wants to see how long it would take to make them fall apart, to make them wish for death.
Combing the city of Surrey, he spots his next target…a young librarian named Jenna McCay.
When Jenna McCay turns nineteen and goes out to celebrate, she doesn’t realize that her easy life is about to end, and the horrors of life set in, in unimaginable ways.
Will she find the strength to survive the game, or will she break before the final curtain falls?*Trigger warning: contains scenes that some readers may find disturbing*
“Ethan Barrett loves his solitude, hence his boat the Em-Dash and the wide-open ocean. It is exactly what he needs to finish his script and celebrate his 30th birthday in peace.
His hopes are quickly dashed when two storms roll in. One with reddish blond hair, and the other which sends him overboard in an attempt to rescue the ninja lady from the worst storm he’s ever experienced in his lifetime.
As his boat goes down and their hope for survival darkens, will he be able to gain the trust of the mystery woman full of secrets, and work together to survive? Or…
Will she be their downfall in an already merciless environment?”
Two stories born out of one idea. One is as dark as dark can be, and the other is about learning to love and trust others when no one has ever given you reason to before. Both are about finding strength to keep going when all the odds seem to be against you. And all the odds are against them as you will come to find out when you read both “Her Prison, His Game” and “Beneath His Hands.”
Her Prison His Game – Book One Blurb:
“In the middle of a forest, in an unknown location, is a game. A psychological game designed to play with the mind until it breaks.
The man responsible wants fresh meat. Someone who hasn’t experienced the horrors of the real world. He wants to see how long it would take to make them fall apart, to make them wish for death.
Combing the city of Surrey, he spots his next target…a young librarian named Jenna McCay.
Jenna McCay didn’t realize that when you turn 19, the easy life she knew would end, and the horrors of life would set in, in unimaginable ways.
Will she find the strength to survive the game, or will she break before the final curtain falls?”
And low and behold, Book Two has just dropped for pre-order on Amazon:
Beneath His Hands – Book Two Blurb:
“Ethan Barrett loves his solitude, hence his boat the Em-Dash and the wide open ocean. It is exactly what he needs to finish his script and celebrate his 30th birthday in peace.
His hopes are quickly dashed when two storms roll in. One with reddish blond hair, and the other which sends him overboard in an attempt to rescue the ninja lady from the worst storm he’s ever experienced in his lifetime.
As his boat goes down and their hope for survival darkens, will he be able to gain the trust of the mystery woman full of secrets, and work together to survive? Or…
Will she be their downfall in an already merciless environment?”
I’ve had this book on my shelf since the year it came out. I hadn’t read it due to having a concussion following a few car accidents that made reading difficult. Today, though, I decided to spend some time reading and let me tell you something, this book is riveting and spellbinding.
I’m about a quarter of the way through it, and it just keeps propelling me to read more. The story starts with a young woman wanting to avenge the death of her sister, and then it morphs into so much more. A fascinating tale of a woman breaking the confines of what’s expected and becoming more than what their world thinks they can be.
And I think this can be said of any of us. Although for most of us here, the barrier is our own mind. Our mind stops us from reach our potential because we listen to the negative thoughts. Those thoughts overwhelm us like a shroud shroud that we can’t see through.
What if we just pushed ourselves beyond what we think we’re capable of into the realm of what feels like the unknown. What could we do then? How much more could we accomplish if we push beyond the fears?
Maybe we could rise up and take control of our own chrysalis and emerge with a new form, a heroic form or beyond. Sometimes that takes us stepping out of our comfort zone and standing without fear, even though fear might be clawing away inside, in the face of the unknown. Kind of like the quote, fake it until you make it.
People will always try to stop you from going after what they believe is unattainable to them, but that doesn’t mean it’s unattainable to you. You have more strength inside you than you think you do. You have unspoken abilities that are just beneath the surface, waiting for you to believe in yourself.
Maybe you should become your own iron widow towards anything mentally negative that you might be telling yourself about who you are, and fight to take back your life and live your dreams.
That’s my plan anyway. 🙂
Have a great day!
Have you pre-ordered Her Prison His Game?
In the middle of a forest, in an unknown location, is a game. A psychological game designed to play with the mind until it breaks.
The man responsible wants fresh meat. Someone who hasn’t experienced the horrors of the real world. He wants to see how long it would take to make them fall apart, to make them wish for death.
Combing the city of Surrey, he spots his next target…a young librarian named Jenna McCay.
Jenna McCay didn’t realize that when you turn 19, the easy life she knew would end, and the horrors of life would set in, in unimaginable ways.
Will she find the strength to survive the game, or will she break before the final curtain falls?
It’s been a long time coming and many years in the making, but it is time and it is finally here. The pre-order link will be available shortly.
Welcome to my Psychological thriller and romance diology, Her Prison, His Game:
Blurb:
In the middle of a forest, in an unknown location, is a game. A psychological game designed to play with the mind until it breaks.
The man responsible wants fresh meat. Someone who hasn’t experienced the horrors of the real world. He wants to see how long it would take to make them fall apart, to make them wish for death.
Combing the city of Surrey, he spots his next target…a young librarian named Jenna McCay.
Jenna McCay didn’t realize that when you turn 19, the easy life she knew would end, and the horrors of life would set in, in unimaginable ways.
Will she find the strength to survive the game, or will she break before the final curtain falls?
——-
Chapter One
Jenna cringed and dropped her books as a clap of thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the window beside her.
“Miss McCay, if you damage those books, it will come out of your pay cheque,” Ms. Hampton said, her dark eyes narrowing. She had her gray hair tied up in a bun and looked a lot like a scary kindergarten teacher with her dark grey three-piece dress suit. The one that made you hide behind your mother on the first day of school.
“Sorry.” She knelt down to pick up the books, biting her tongue from saying anything more. The woman acted like she owned the library and wouldn’t hesitate to fire her if Jenna responded with a sassy remark. She acted so high and mighty. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dropped a single book in her life.
Wicked ole’ witch!
All Ms. Hampton needed was a broom, and Jenna could envision the old lady flying off into the cloud covered sky. She was probably the one who cast the spell and caused the storm that was pounding the West Coast of British Columbia.
Lightning lit up the room, and she held the books close to her chest, her heart thumping as she waited for the thunder that she knew would come. Damn storm was going to turn her own hair gray before its time. But hopefully she could avoid the grumpy attitude when her time came, unlike the old mistress of the library. Ms. Hampton was probably older than the library itself.
“Teens these days, always careless,” the older woman mumbled as she walked away, shaking her head. Jenna stuck her tongue out at her and then quickly closed her mouth when Ms. Hampton turned to face her. “Just for that, you can clean the children’s area before you go home tonight.”
Definitely a witch!
Children had been coming and going all day. The place was going to be a disaster with garbage everywhere. Even though parents weren’t allowed to bring snacks into the library, they often snuck them in anyway. Why couldn’t Ms. Hampton pick on one of the other girls or Derek even? He could do with cleaning the playpen every once in a while. Especially since he needed to be knocked down a peg or two, always thinking he was mister hotshot.
“Seriously, we work in a library and yet somehow he thinks he’s god’s gift to women,” Jenna mumbled.
Ya. Okay. He had the looks, but his attitude stunk. She couldn’t wait to get away from them both. The only reason she put up with them was because she needed the money. Her plan was to save up and see the world. She didn’t care about cute guys or wasting her entire adult life working in some library. Nothing was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream, not even a beady eyed old grouch who watched her like a hawk.
Placing the last of the books on the shelf, she strolled down a side corridor and entered the children’s section. The place was virtually deserted and had an eerie Alfred Hitchcock feel to it. She hated this time of day, hated it with a passion. But one more year and she’d be free. Walking over to the toddler play area, she plunked herself down in the soft cushioned chair and laid her head back.
“Just another ye—” Jenna didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence as a loud crack filled the air, shattering the window beside her. She screamed and covered her face. Shards of glass dug into her hands, sharp and painful, like being stung by a colony of bees
The wind howled through the window, blowing the papers off a nearby table. Leaves swirled into the room like mini tornados, making an even bigger mess than before. “Great,” she groaned. “Just great.”
Getting up from the chair, Jenna surveyed the damage. The culprit was a huge branch that broke off a large cedar tree. It was sticking half way through the broken window. Next to her feet, she saw red marks on the carpet. And when she looked at her hands, she could have sworn she dipped them in tomato soup.
Not good!
So not good. The all too familiar woozy feeling washed over her as her head started to spin. “It’s just blood. It’s no big deal,” she said, taking a deep breath in through her nose and then out through her mouth. “I can do this!”
Would she ever outgrow her fear of blood? Cautiously, she stepped over the glass and moved away from the window. “I’m not a kid anymore. A little bit of blood is no big deal,” she mumbled, but her stomach refused to agree as it twisted with nausea. “You aren’t dying, you idiot.”
“What are you doing bleeding on my floor?”
Jumping at the sound of Ms. Hampton’s voice, Jenna turned in her direction, scratching her ankle on the tree branch. Cringing, she came face to face with the woman as a flash of lightning lit up the room. When the adjoining thunder rumbled overhead, she hunched her shoulders. Oh, how she hated storms.
“What happened to my window?” the woman growled. “That one is definitely coming out of your pay cheque.”
“It wasn’t my fault. The wind broke a tree branch,” Jenna said, pointing to the branch on the ground. Its leaves rustling in the wind.
“Don’t you dare sass me, girl.”
“But, Ms. Hampton, I need the money. You can’t charge me for something I—”
“Margaret, darling,” Derek said. “How’s my angel tonight?”
Jenna shrieked at the sound of his voice, her nails digging into her palm. She hadn’t expected anyone else to come barging into the room.
Holy crap.
She really needed a chill pill. Storms always set off her anxiety. All she wanted to do was head home and hide under the covers. The library felt like a crypt with all the spooky shadows lurking around the corners. During the day, it was okay. But in the winter, when it got dark at like four o’clock, it drove her crazy.
Ms. Hampton’s eyes brightened, and she beamed a crooked smile in his direction. “Where have you been hiding?”
“Stuck in the archives,” he said, winking at Jenna.
The hair on her arms stood on end as a shiver rippled through her. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the resident makeout spot, and he had used it to make out with just about every girl in the library. There was a cozy little nook in the back corner that he had claimed as his own.
“Don’t worry about the window. I’ll get a hold of someone to fix it,” Derek said, running a hand through his wayward blond hair, flashing his oh-so-perfect smile.
“Really, dear? You’re such a breath of fresh air. You could teach that girl a thing or two,” the older woman said, pinching his cheeks before walking away.
“And that, sweet Jenna, is how you deal with Ms. Hampton,” he said, sitting down on the arm of a chair.
Jenna rolled her eyes and proceeded to head to the bathroom. It was on the way to the first aid room. She needed to wrap her hand or she’d bleed all the way there. And there was no way she was going to get down on her hands and knees to scrub blood out of the scuzzy green carpet. The crabby old woman would make her do it too.
The building was silent, but not the usual library silence. It was the creepy one that made you feel like someone was watching you. Maybe it was just the storm, but her nerves were on edge more than normal. It was almost closing time so the only people left were some die-hard students cramming for an exam, and the employees who were slowly trickling out, one by one.
As she walked into the bathroom, the door swung closed behind her, leaving her in the dark temporarily. “Stupid automatic lights.”
Soon she heard the hum and the room filled with light, making her jump when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her strawberry blonde hair, more blond than red, was a disaster, bits of glass were stuck in her loose curls. Her clothes were stained with blood. “I’m never wearing a white shirt again.”
Turning on the tap, she ran her hands under the lukewarm water and then examined them carefully. It didn’t look like any of the cuts needed stitches, thankfully. Not that she could get a good glimpse, though. They kept filling with blood faster than she could rinse them.
Grabbing some paper towel, she wrapped her hands and continued her trek to the first aid room. Another collapse of thunder made her jump. “You’re a grown woman, Jenna. Relax.”
She was eighteen, almost nineteen. Her birthday was coming up in just a few short weeks. And yet, some people still thought of her as a kid, despite her having graduated high school earlier in the year. They all kept saying she was stepping into the real world now. Really? What were the last eighteen years of her life? A virtual reality game?
Shaking her head, she unlocked the door to the first aid room and stepped inside. Well, what else did she expect people to think? She couldn’t even get over her fear of thunderstorms and blood. She seemed to be the most nervous person in the world, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Thank you, Mom.”
Her mother would wrap her in bubble wrap if she had the means to do so. That was why Jenna had to get away. She needed to get out and see the world, break free from it all. Her mother’s anxiety most of all. The last thing she wanted was to be afraid of everything for the rest of her life.
A sharp sudden jab of pain from one of her deeper cuts made her cringe. Her hands were going to be hard to hide from her mom. If she saw them, she’d freak out and demand that they go to the emergency room to get them checked out. And then, she would never let Jenna go anywhere again. Maybe there were gloves in her locker.
Scrounging through the cupboards, she searched for a bandage. On the top shelf, she found some gauze and non-stick pads and placed them on the counter. Staring at them, she wondered how on earth she was supposed to wrap her own hands. Both were a mess.
Jenna removed the paper towel from her left hand, carefully peeling it away from the spots where it was sticking to her skin. A stinging sensation crawled across every inch of her hand, her eyes watering in response.
Well, there was one upside to all this. She’d get out of doing dishes for a few days. Oh crap, she groaned. That would mean telling her mom what happened.
As she started to wrap her hand, the lights flickered. “Please don’t go out. Please don’t go out.”
She kept chanting the words over and over. Praying and hoping the electricity would stay on just long enough for her to finish what she was doing and be on her way home.
Cutting a piece of tape, she slapped it on the side of her wrist, securing the bandage in place. She turned her hand over and examined her poor wrapping job. It wouldn’t win any first aid contests, but it should stay on until she got home.
The right hand was going to be a little bit more challenging as she was not left-handed. She was removing the paper towel when she heard a buzzing sound and the lights flickered again. Looking in the mirror on the first aid counter, she noticed that strands of her long hair were pulling away from the rest.
As she was contemplating her whacked out hair style, a loud explosion shook the building, knocking her feet out from under her.
Click here to Pre-order now for only .99 cents USD
Seems selfish doesn’t it? Investing in oneself as opposed to other people. Isn’t happiness found most in when you serve others? That is true on one hand, but to truly be happy, one must be happy with who they are too.
So often we live for other people that we forget to take care of ourselves, and we invest so much in others that we forget that we are important to. This is something that all mothers will relate to. When we have kids, lives become about the kids. Keeping them safe and happy, and alive. Not always an easy task to accomplish when they are sitting there crying or screaming that their bread wasn’t cut the right way.
I used to get up every day and just start focusing on others. Feed the kids. Dress the kids. Make sure hubby was happy and all the while forgetting to take care of myself. I didn’t do my hair. Didn’t do makeup. Didn’t dress up. Didn’t care to dress up really, just give me sweatpants, leggings and a t-shirt that I shared with my husband and I was ready to go for the day. Heck, I rarely went for hair cuts. I just recently got my hair cut for the first time in like 8 years.
But over the last few years, and especially last year since my husband passed away, I’ve been rediscovering myself. Trying to find my style and who I am at 45 years old.
Funny eh? I’m still learning who I am at 45. Does the learning or growing ever end? Do we ever stop evolving into the next person we’re going to be? Ever changing, ever learning.
I’m wearing dresses, and trying to take pride in my appearance. I’m also attempting to style my layered hair. I’m currently failing miserably at styling, but I’m trying to invest in myself because I’m worth investing into. And so are you.
Of course, being happy with yourself isn’t based on how you look on the outside, but whether you are happy with who you are on the inside. And when you are happy inside, it shows on the outside in your smile…in your eyes…
However, don’t forget to spoil yourself too…you deserve it. Get that dress you love. Get those shoes. That purse that screams YOU. Walk down the street with your head held high, not because of anything you wear, but because you know who you are. And YOU ARE WORTH EVERY PENNY YOU CAN INVEST IN YOURSELF! Get that new job. Take that new class to learn something new. You are smart and amazing. And can do anything you set your mind to!
Vortex of Desire is an amazing adventure into perilous worlds and exploration of hidden desires which lie beyond the wormhole; discover a torrent of new and exciting stories on earth and throughout the universe while experiencing love that will not be denied. Ride the waves of the multiverse and get ready to experience the twists and turns of desire. Enjoy the voyage.
Def: an action or event marking a significant change or stage in development.
I surpassed another author milestone yesterday in a month that I needed something good to happen to stave off the sombreness of a terrible event that happened this time last year. I won’t go into what happened last year, but I want to share my new exciting news.
My book received a Five Star Review from Literary Titan and went on to receive their Five Star Gold Book Award, with the following review
“Her Lover’s Face by Patricia Elliott is an intriguing and captivating novel that offers readers a whirlwind of twists, turns, and surprises. This family drama interweaves romance, suspense, and danger to create a beautiful and complex novel. The story centers around two imperfect individuals, and the novel opens with the death of Laryssa’s abusive husband. This sets the stage for the struggle that Laryssa, who is pregnant, must face as she navigates a new life free from her abusive partner.
What sets this book apart from many other romance novels is its depiction of the complexities of relationships. Elliott expertly portrays the flaws in her characters, ensuring that readers are unable to identify a clear hero or heroine. Instead, the novel explores the gray areas that exist within human relationships, effectively capturing the nuances that make them so intricate. The author also skillfully portrays the differences between the ways men and women think and react in certain situations, creating a narrative that feels true to life.
Laryssa’s character is the backbone of this story, and the author has done an excellent job of portraying her struggles as she tries to come to terms with her newfound freedom. When she meets Alex, who bears a striking resemblance to her late husband, the attraction between them is undeniable. However, Laryssa is determined not to surrender her power to anyone and seeks to define the terms of her own love and life. Unfortunately, both Alex and Laryssa are plagued with trust issues and a lack of understanding of each other, making it clear that they both require therapy to resolve their issues.
Her Lover’s Face is an excellent read that offers a nuanced exploration of human relationships, filled with engaging and multifaceted characters that will keep readers captivated until the last page.”
Do you find yourself unable to finish a story? Do you get half-way through and lose your interest in it? Do other ideas sound more appealing?
What if I was to tell you that what you feel is perfectly normal? It’s a phase that every writer goes through when they reach a certain point in the story, usually about half-way or three-quarters of the way through. Sometimes it can happen earlier if you don’t write on a daily basis and keep your mind engaged in the story. As writers, our minds move a mile a minute, always searching for the next story, and new ideas feel like a brand new toy.
But that doesn’t mean the story you are writing now is boring or that it isn’t any good; so, don’t let your excitement for that new idea make you think that your current one sucks. I can tell you 100 percent that if you stopped your old story and started the new idea, you’d have the exact same problem mid-way through when another idea came your way. Ideas never stop, so write it in an idea book and stay the course, my dear writer. Your new idea will still be there when it comes time to write it.
Once you learn the pattern and phases a writer goes through, it gets easy to continue on the journey instead of giving up. And once you finish one story, it gets easier to finish the next. But if you keep giving up, you build a pattern too…one of never finishing what you start. And you don’t want that to be you.
It’s the same with any goal really. After doing something for a while, the initial excitement ebbs and other things look more fun; but, if you push through it and keep writing, you’ll make it to the end. Be stubborn!
What do you think of when you see this phrase? I know your thoughts have probably drifted to those who are commissioned to write a story that will ultimately have someone else’s name on the cover by the end of it.
ghostwriter – a writer who gives the credit of authorship to someone else.
But like so many words in the English language that have more than one meaning, I feel that another definition fits this word to a T. If your a writer, you will likely relate to what I’m about to say in some way. Have you ever made a post on social media and received little to no interaction? You try anything and everything, and yet, you can’t seem to hit the viral cord like others do.
You might even try what others have, but still you seem to remain the wallflower like we used to be at high school dances. We’ve become the virtual wallflowers now. *lol*
Some might assume that you are just posting boring content, but I think if someone makes a post and states they are buying books and asks for recommendations, and no one posts, then the problem definitely isn’t you…because who doesn’t want to sell their books?
Every writer wants to be seen and to sell their books. And I’ve seen hundreds of similar posts with tons of interactions, so what relegates some users to the virtual wallflower corner while others hit the viral overload? And is there a way out of it’s deep dark web once the infamous algorithm has assigned it to you?
So I think the term fits us well. We’re ghost writers without even meaning to be. haha
What do you think?
New Release by Virginia Wallace
Most of us are used to having our relationships handed to us. Siblings, parents, family friends …
But sometimes those relationships don’t quite work out, do they? Sometimes the relationships that matter most are the ones that we chose for ourselves, or that Fate chose for us. Sometimes, the dearest family is a family of friends.
Thus I present to you these four stories, stories about the relationships that matter most. They may not be ingrained into our DNA, or forced upon us by society, but their influence lingers on nevertheless.
Life isn’t always about blood, or social familiarity. No, life more often consists of the bonds that we forge during our most vulnerable moments.
‘Eternally October’ is a book about those moments, and how they define our lives.
Our thoughts are full of negative comments. If we wrote down every negative word that took up residence in our thoughts, they would probably fill an entire book. And most of the time, we let them sit there and fester, creating more and more negativity until we are down in the dumps, curled on the couch with frown on our face, wanting to hide from the world.
Some people will tell you to take actions in your life to change what you hate. Hate your job, get a new one? Someone who hates their life may leave their spouse in search of the grass being greener on the other side.
But I say it’s not always our life that we have to change as such. We could have the greatest life, yet still be down in the dumps. Because it’s not really our life that has us depressed. It’s the way we allow ourselves to think. That is why when someone attempts to make physical changes in their life, they may be happy for a bit, but it won’t last. The negative thoughts will come back as strong as ever, and they can’t figure out what the heck is happening and why they aren’t content. So the cycle begins again as they seek to find the one thing that can make them happy. But it won’t work.
To change our life, the first thing we have to change is our mindset…our thought patterns. We have to stop saying things like, “I hate my life” Or “If only I had this, then I’d be happy.” We need to filter out the negative words before they ingrain themselves in our mind.
And while we can’t necessarily control what we think, we can control whether we accept it. We can be mindful of when negativity pops into our head and counter it with better words, positive words. We can retrain our brain to accept better information.
Shouldn’t this year be the year we do that? The year to stop letting negative thoughts overcrowd our minds. What if when you hear that first negative word, you say “Stop, not today! Today, I’m gonna love my life. I’m gonna live, and I’m gonna breathe. I’m gonna look for something amazing in today.”
Harrison Hot Springs
When you can start to train your mind to see the beautiful things, the positive things, then they become your focus and while life may not perfect, you’ll start to see amazing things at the perfect time. And contentment will follow. But it all starts inside you.
Your emotions will mirror the way you allow yourself to think. I chose this year to be the year of less negative thinking. What about you?
We all make them, don’t we? And many of us fail to keep them. As a writer, my New Year’s Resolution always revolves around what I want to accomplish writing wise in the coming year. Sadly, over the last while, I allowed life to get in the way again, like I did so many years ago when I stopped writing for ten years.
But I’ve come to realize that life is always going to have something that gets in the way and if I don’t learn how to work around it, I’ll never accomplish the goals I set for myself. My excuse this past year has been my lack of energy, fulltime work, family, and my recovery. I was in an accident last November and caught covid at the same time, and honestly speaking, I’m still recovering. I have more chronic pain than I did before, this time in my hand, so that makes writing difficult.
But as they say, you can always find an excuse not to do something. It’s very easy to come up with a reason to wait, but that’s not the way I want to live anymore. So, you heard it here first. My goal is to prepare all my stories for future publication in the coming two years.
I have a duology that I’m working on, part horror and part romance, which I will be self-publishing this coming year. The working titles are “Her Prison, His game” and “Beneath his Hands.”
Also, the sequel to Her Lover’s Face, “His Sweet Addiction”, is almost ready to go. I’m just rewriting the first chapter to give it more zing. I can’t wait to send this one to my publisher, Black Velvet Seductions(if you haven’t already, check out their website, especially if you like spicy romance), and finally complete the story of Her Lover’s Face. Maybe it will see the light in 2021. 😊
I’ve also sent another short story to BVS to be included in an anthology. It’s a dark romance called, “Out of the Mouth of Babes.” It’s part of a series that I’m working on called, “Resurrection Hour.” Fingers crossed that he enjoys it because then that will be another story coming out in 2021.
Today, I just emailed another publishing company in hopes that my story, “Into the Fire” will see publication again in another anthology. I’m quite attached to this one.
Aside from these, I have four other completed novels that need to be edited and will hopefully see publication either this coming year or in 2023. But if I don’t set my mind to do this, I probably won’t because editing is daunting to me, especially when the unedited story pile keeps growing and I keep putting it off. Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this? *lol*
I’d love to hear what your working on. Drop a line in the comment section below. 😀 Let readers know what’s coming up for you, too. If you aren’t a writer, please post your own resolutions for the coming year.
One of the most interesting things I’ve come across when it comes to someone’s passion is that whatever it is transports them to another world. When I stepped onto the ice—my sport of passion was ice hockey— it felt like I entered a whole other world. I was no longer me. I dawned a helmet and gear, like a gladiator, unafraid at the prospect of falling or being hit by another player. I became a whole other person, or maybe I become the part of me that was hidden deep down.
Passions are something that engulf our entire spirit, consumes our person. They make life worth living every day. They make your career come alive. Jobs are great in the sense that they allow you to have a roof over your head and food in your bellies, but they don’t feed you the desires of your heart unless you are following after what you are most passionate about.
Sometimes we spend ages trying to figure out what we want to do with our life, but usually one certain passion hits you when you are young. Me, I’ve always enjoyed writing ever since I was little. I’m not by any means popular, but I like following the ideas in my head and making them a reality on paper. My son, ever since he was little, had a passion for diseases. He used to go school and scare the teachers with his knowledge about them, and they’d be calling us, worried about him. My daughter loves science. My other son loves cooking and the idea of being a chef. He’s starting his first ever college course on becoming a chef today.
Do you know your passion? Can you think back to when you were younger and recall what it was that you enjoyed most? Are you doing that today or are you just going through the daily motions of a job you hate because you don’t think you have a choice?
Life is far too short to not live your dreams. Sometimes we think that we’re too old to go after something new. I turned 43 years old last year, having survived my fifth car accident and Covid, so I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on who I am, and what I want to do with the rest of my life. I don’t have a fancy house or a fancy car. I am not worth millions of dollars, but there is one thing I do have and that I’m following after, my passion for the written word while doing security.
Life has been really bizarre this year. Everything seemed to go normal, even amidst covid, until I lost a job that I had for like 7 years. No one needed a concierge to welcome a virtually empty building. My last day was the day before my summer vacation was supposed to start and months after Covid had already started.
That took me by surprise because I’d been there for so long, so I had to find a new position. Since I do security, finding a new position wasn’t necessarily difficult, but because of my seniority within the company, they couldn’t just place me anywhere.
I spent some time working at the Provincial and Supreme courthouses in downtown Vancouver before finding my way to a Youth Forensics Unit. I usually try to avoid working in health care, so it was a brand new and slightly intense experience for me.
My new job started in September and by November, the position had grown on me; but, it wouldn’t be 2020 if that transition went smoothly, right? On my way to first aid training on November 26th, my life was once again derailed by a car accident and a trip to the hospital.
If that wasn’t enough, about 4 days after my hospital visit, I got sick with Covid. It started off feeling like I had a cold, but then I lost my sense of smell. That’s when I realized that it wasn’t your average cold, so I went for a Covid test and it came back positive.
One would think I had the worst luck in the world. I mean seriously, lose a job in 2020, get into an accident that totals my minivan, then catch covid. The year was not playing nice. The rain was falling and darkness was trying to brew it’s way into my life.
But in every storm, there is a rainbow…
I have just signed a publishing contract with Black Velvet Seductions for a short story of mine called “The Cowboy’s Heritage.” It is going to be included in a Cowboy Anthology set to be released in the new year.
My life goal is to always focus on the positives, the beautiful things that exist in our lives and the world around us. Sometimes it feels like the bad outweighs the good, and sometimes my anxiety is off the charts, but I want people to know that you can make it through anything that comes your way. You just have to focus your gaze on the good things, even if it’s just a tiny pretty flower or maybe even a minion twinkie. 😉
For the last 20 days, I’ve been hard at work tackling Nanowrimo. This has been a goal of mine for the last four years, but I’ve never attempted it until now. What is Nanowrimo? It’s basically a challenge for writers; where you have to write 50k words in the month of November to win. The idea is to write a novel quickly, but anyone who writes knows how easily life can get in the way. There’s work, chores, family, shopping, spouses, internet and whatever else you can think of that detracts from your free time.
In previous years when I thought of trying Nano, I was always in the middle of another project or, well, I just chickened out. I’m a mom of four(three at home), who works fulltime, so finding time to write can be tricky. Now, I could have just let this year be another one of those years, but I said no, “This time I’m gonna do it.”
I already had a few novels under my belt, along with a few short stories, so I knew that I had the ability to follow through on a goal; but, this type of goal required me to write every day, which was not something I was doing, especially not over the last year. We’ve had a lot of hardships over the last year, and that’s not including the trials we’ve had with Covid affecting our world.
If I was going to do this, I had to dig deep inside of me and bring out the person that I knew was hiding in there. The one who had finished goals before and never let anything get in the way. No matter how tough life is, I needed to show myself that I could do it. And like I’ve mentioned in previous blog posts, I’m all about setting a daily goal and keeping it.
So exactly how many words do you need to write every day to reach 50k words in a month: 1,667. Now that isn’t a lot to some writers, but when you have a crazy life, that can be a challenge. I wasn’t going to let that deter me though. I was determined to see this goal through to the end.
When I’m in a good writing grove, I would usually write 1500 words a day between Monday-Friday and wouldn’t write anything on the weekends, except social media posts. But that wasn’t good enough for this type of challenge. I had to up my game. And to be honest, I wasn’t even sure that was possible as I haven’t written much all year, and near the end of the year, I lost the job that really allowed me time to write. That was a devastating loss.
Life had changed so much for me that I either could hide my head under a pillow or change with it. I decided it was time to pick myself back up and this was just the way to do it. I made it my mission to write 1700 words a day, overshoot the goal. The question was, exactly how badly did I want it? Unless you’re determined, the chances of completing what you set out to do is unlikely. You need to believe it’s possible.
Below you can see my daily word count as the month progressed, culminating at today, November 20, 2020.
Some days I didn’t write as much, but I did manage to stay above my daily goal. Of course, that meant that sometimes we had dinner late, easy meals, takeout. Sometimes the dishes piled in the sink(Okay, that one was not so good*lol*). My son, Ethan, helped us not get buried under a whack load of them. And now that the goal is done, I’ll be doing a deep clean of my house, which somewhat looks like a tornado ripped through it. Clean laundry is piled on our loveseat, having just been plunked there after the dryer was finished. I did manage to get garbage out on a regular basis, so I had that going for our house. Haha.
Really though, I wanted to prove to myself that there was still a writer inside me somewhere, even when the world is crazy. I wanted to prove to my kids and others that you can do anything you set your mind to, as long as you are willing to do the work it takes to get there. It won’t always be easy. Sometimes it will feel almost impossible, but that’s what separates the doers from the dreamers. Doers keep doing even when the way seems dark. Dreamers just keep dreaming…
Congrats to all the Nanowrimo winners out there! What’s your dream? Share it in the comments below.
Here’s the opening to my Nanowrimo story, “Resurrection Hour: Hidden in Ice.” This is a rough first draft, so you’ll see it in all it’s raw glory. *lol*
Xavier stared at the young woman, who couldn’t be more than eighteen, walking towards him on the tarmac. One woman and man followed in her wake, carrying all the luggage, while all she carried was a backpack. She couldn’t be who they were expecting, but, for some reason, the description he was given fit her to a T—bright red hair peaked out of her parka.
When she stopped in front of him, his heart did a triple thump as her vibrant green eyes locked with his. There was something otherworldly about them, and he found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t see much else, but it was enough.
“You must be Xavier. Hi, I’m Doctor Hannah Fraser,” she said, shoving her gloved hand at him. “And these are my assistants Cheryl Blakely and Flynn Peters.”
He stared at it mindless a moment before he cleared his throat, trying to get his mind back on track. The last thing he could afford was getting distracted. Being the head of security it was his duty to keep everyone safe, and get the doctor inside before they froze to death. It was 30 degrees below zero. Far too cold to stand out there and do idle chitchat.
“It’s nice to meet you.” After shaking her hand, he gestured towards the door a hundred feet behind him. “Right this way.” Xavier shivered as a chill blew underneath his hood, ruffling his dark brown hair. It was one of those colors somewhere in between black and brown that could be one or the other. It gave him a hell of a time filling out security applications or driver’s licenses.
Punching in the security code at the door and opening the door, he allowed them to enter first. Once the door was closed, he turned to face the newcomers. They were now in a small foyer, not any larger than a small bedroom. There was a desk on one side with a computer. Xavier pulled off his jacket and hung it on a hook in the corner before sitting down.
“I’ll need to see your identification.” He sat there patiently while they dug in their bags.
Hannah placed her bag on the edge of the table and pulled out a make-up bag, a small bag of medicine, two books-romance by the looks of it, and a bra. He glanced up at her and noted her cheeks turned a pretty hue of pink, making him grin. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was wearing a bra under all her clothes.
She chuckled nervously and continued digging through her bag’s contents. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”
In the meantime, her companions handed him their id’s. They had flown up from Vancouver, British Columbia. She was well-known in her paleontology field, which in a way surprised him. By appearance, he wouldn’t have pegged her for a doctor. She was someone who could have had her face splashed on a magazine, or even snagged a rich sucker to pay her way.
A shiver rippled through him and he pushed the thought out of his mind. He wasn’t going to go there. He’d transferred up here to get away from the memory of Catherine. Away from her bleeding him dry and ruining his life. What was Hannah trying to escape from?
“Ah ha! Found it. I must have put it in my suitcase when I was trying to find my notes.” She handed him her license and he couldn’t help but take a peek at her date of birth. He looked between her and the ID. There was no way she was twenty-eight. “I know. I know. I look sixteen, right?”
“I was going to say eighteen, but ya.”
After checking everything over, he leaned over and pulled out their access cards from the bottom drawer. With a few clicks on the keyboard, their cards were activated. “Your cards will give you access into your rooms, as well as any medical and research rooms within the facility.”
“Funny to have such high security in the middle of nowhere,” Flynn, one of Hannah’s assistants, commented.
“You can never be too careful, even out here. We have at least two hundred people in this facility and sensitive information.” That included his twelve man security team who covered all six floors. Not much has happened since he joined, so it was a nice quiet job.
“Speaking of which, has the specimen arrived?” Hannah asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“One second.” Xavier picked up his radio and contacted one of his teammates to man the desk while he showed the newcomers around, and then responded to her question. “It should arrive later today.”
“Were you apprised of its condition?”
“They don’t tell and I don’t ask.”
She tilted her sweet head to the side and studied him. “You aren’t the least bit curious?”
Truth be told, when he first started here, he wanted to know everything. But they had enough on their plate without knowing every little thing, and the director didn’t like them prying into the research.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not paid to inquire.” The less he knew the better because then he wouldn’t get accused of taking something if it disappeared or was misplaced. If it posed a threat that would be a different story, but a fossil frozen in ice was the least of his worries. They had the proper isolation rooms on the research floor to separate it from the rest of the population of Finley’s Research Station.
“I don’t think I could do that,” she said. “I like to know every detail.”
“Makes sense. You wouldn’t be a doctor if you didn’t like to know what makes things tick.”
As they were talking, one of his men walked in, dressed in their usual attire- white shirts with a security logo on the front and Finley’s Research Security on the arm patches, along with black pants and polished black shoes.
“Man the desk, please. I’m going to show Dr Fraser and her associates around the station.”
“Sure thing,” his buddy replied, taking up a position behind him.
Xavier nodded towards him, then turned his attention back to the newcomers. “We’ll put your luggage in your room before we do the grand tour.”
“Can we have 30 minutes to freshen up? It’s been a long flight,” Cheryl asked, her wavy hair standing on end from static after pulling off her toque. He fought to suppress a grin. It looked like she stuck her finger in a light socket.
He looked at his watch. “We might just have to wait until after dinner for the tour then because Director Adams wants to see you in the conference room in an hour.”
Pushing the chair back from his desk, he stood up and moved over to the sliding door. He pulled his access card from his pocket and held it in front of the scanner before punching in the code. The sliding doors opened and they walked into a hallway. To his left was a set of stairs that led down to the lower floors.
“You have two options. We can take the stairs or the elevator. Your pick.” He pointed down the long hallway to the elevator.
They had a pile of gear, so they opted for the elevator, even if it took them farther away from their room. As they walked down the hall, a square black case that Cheryl had stacked in her arms started to slip off.
“Oh no!” she cried as it tumbled towards the ground. Xavier snatched it out of the air, pulling it safely into his arms. Cheryl let out a visible sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”
Instead of piling it back on top, he opted to carry it. By the look on Hannah’s face, the girl would have been up the creek without a paddle if whatever was inside broke. She held herself together though and didn’t say a word.
It didn’t take long for them to head down to the second floor. They walked halfway down the corridor and turned to the left, then a short bit later turned to the right. “Geez, this isn’t confusing at all,” Hannah said with a wry grin.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. We’re essentially a great big square and if you get lost, there are security phones along the outer hallways-one in each corner.”
Xavier stopped in front of a room. “Dr. Fraser and Mrs. Blakely, this is your room. Flynn will be sharing a room next door with one of our resident engineers, Levi White.”
“Please, it’s just Miss Blakely. I’m not married,” she made a point of saying, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
Xavier smiled. “Duly noted.” Cheryl was a cute little thing, but she wasn’t his type. Besides, he had no interest in pursuing a relationship while stationed out here. They may be in the middle of nowhere and fun activities were slim to none, but he was here to do a job and that’s it. Anything else complicated things more than they needed to be right now.
Hannah swiped her card on the reader and stepped inside the room after the doors slid open, placing her gear on the table before turning to him. “If I need to speak to you specifically, where will I be able to find you?”
“Our main office is on the main floor where we came in, to the right of the elevator. I’m there from 0800 to 1600.”
“Good to know.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
Hannah nodded her head and then turned to Cheryl. “Did you want the washroom first or me?”
Special visitors to the island were given the best suites, which had a full bathroom, as opposed to the normal crew which only had a sink and toilet inside theirs. Only the director and assistant director had the same. Xavier didn’t really mind. It’s not like he had any entertaining plans.
Stepping out of the room, he allowed the doors to close behind him. Just as he was about to head back to the front his radio squawked. “Alpha-1 to Delta-1, the elevator has malfunctioned. The Director is inside. Repair crew has been dispatched.”
When we have a negative mindset, our determination and stubbornness can become a problem. We become too stubborn about the wrong things. I’m ugly. I’m stupid. I’m worthless. I’m fat. I’m too skinny. I’m too flat chested. I have too much acne. Who’s going to love me? I can’t read, so what can I do? I can’t see. I can’t walk. Or any number of things that are sometimes drilled into our psyche by others and by our own mind.
What we accomplish or don’t accomplish in life is based on the mindset we have. Whether we can be happy or whether we’re just plain miserable is based on what we allow ourselves to dwell on. If we keep telling ourselves that nothing ever goes right. This sucks. I hate my life. Then that is what we are training our brain to think and to perceive. They call this neuroplasticity. It’s our brain’s ability to re-wire itself. This is something I learned a lot about while fighting with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder).
When I was at my worst, I had what you could call a can’t mindset. People would tell me to just stop doing my compulsions, and I would say, “That’s easy for you to say. I can’t do it. I can’t just stop.”
“Why?” they’d ask.
And that right there was a very good question. Why couldn’t I stop? It’s because that’s what I taught my brain. Now, I’m not a doctor—nowhere close to being a doctor—I just have my own experiences which has taught me things along the way. I’d done my compulsions so much that I’d developed a habit, an addiction of sorts. If I didn’t do them, I have such a feeling of dread that it would drop me to the floor in tears.
Can’t is a very powerful word, very destructive. And likewise, the opposite is also true—I can is equally powerful. Don’t tell yourself you’ll try, tell yourself you will. The words, I’ll try can set you up for failure, set you up for the idea that you might not do it. Instead, we need to be speaking positively to ourselves, not just for our mind’s sake, but for those around who hear us, who witness our journey…especially kids, who soak everything up like sponges.
How many more successful kids would there be if they saw us going after our dreams…if we were telling them that their dreams had value, that their dreams are important. Your dreams are important, too, and no one should be able to tell you otherwise. Biggest thing to remember is that what you allow your mindset to be is what you’ll become, whether good or bad. You tell yourself you can’t, you won’t. You tell yourself you can, and you will.
“But what if I fail?” you ask.
Did you know that believing you failed is a mindset of its own? What is failure? How do you define failure? Do you remember how I mentioned Thomas Edison earlier? A reporter once asked him about how it felt to fail 1000 times. He said, “I didn’t fail 1000 times. The light bulb was an invention that took 1,000 steps.”
Sometimes you won’t succeed right away. Nobody does, but it’s those who stay persistent that eventually get to where they want to go. You never truly fail until you give up, and even then, what’s to say that somewhere down the line, you don’t finally succeed? I put my writing aside for a decade, but I still came back and accomplished what I set out to do.
You are never too old or too young to start living your dream, setting yourself on the path to fulfilling it. If Akiane Kramarik, Hanalei Swan, Caroline Bercaw, Isabel Bercaw, and Alina Morse can believe in themselves and go after their dreams, why should we be any different?
As adults we sometimes forget how to dream, how to believe. I think this is where kids have a leg up on us. We become more logical minded and less fanciful, and in this I believe we are doing our kids a great injustice. They need to see us going after our dreams if they are to go after theirs.
And if they have a dream, they have to know that we believe in them. Their dreams are not stupid or unrealistic, that’s our own mindset that we are putting on them. They don’t deserve that. They deserve to know they can follow their passion. I know not all of us are rich. Some of us can’t put our kids in city sports(too expensive). We can’t buy our kids the moon as some may be able to, but we can help them reach for it by encouraging them. Believing in them. Letting them know that their dreams have value. That they have value.
As a mom of teenagers, I watch mine struggle through various issues, and I try to be there for them. They’ve seen me struggle with certain things myself, but I make a point of standing right back up and trying again. My goal is to teach them that they can do whatever they set their mind to, nothing has to stop them. One day at a time, one step at a time is how we get to where we want to go.
Life really is what you make it. We have to get rid of that negative mindset because life doesn’t stop for it. We keep aging, so we have to make a choice as to what that is going to look like for us. All I know is that I don’t want to lay on my death bed wishing I took the chance on my dreams.
You are never too old or too young to follow a dream. As long as you have breath, your dreams are waiting for you. So why don’t you decide today to go after them! Let today be a fresh start. I believe in you! The only thing left is for you to believe in yourself. If you find the strength to take that first step, please let me know. I’d love to hear from you.
This article is a continuation of the Achieving Your Dream blog posts…
My dream started when I was a kid; but, of course, at the time, I didn’t really think it could go anywhere. Kids couldn’t do anything, right? You just go to school, come home, do chores, homework, play sports, and hang out with friends—the typical childhood life.
But, I experienced something that I hope you, my dear reader, never had to experience. I was bullied. When I was growing up, we lived in Port Alberni. One year, my parents decided that they no longer wanted to live in the city, and we moved out to the country. This meant that I would start my Grade Three year in a new school. Before this point, I had no negative experiences that I could recall, aside from failing my first attempt at Grade Three. The teachers and my family decided that I wasn’t catching on to things fast enough and felt that another year would help me out.
Anyway, shortly after I started at my new school, the kids had me pegged as someone not worth hanging out with. So, I’d just sit by myself and read. Since I had a lot of time to myself, I’d also bring my bible to school to read. When the other kids saw this, I became more of an outcast. I can remember the kids asking me to read it out loud to them, and as I was reading, they would laugh and giggle. Needless to say, I stopped doing that pretty quickly. They would call me names; throw spit-wads; pull my hair. You name it.
If any new kid joined the school, they would quickly be told not to hang out with me or they’d have the same fate. So they would either join in on the teasing or just stay away from me. I was called an ugly dog and my self-esteem plummeted. And as time went on, the bullying even became physical, so much so that the police had to get involved.
This carried on until my 12th year in high school. Our city had about 22,000 people roughly and only 1 high school. That meant all the kids that tormented me in my earlier grades joined me in high school. There was nowhere else I could go. But I’m grateful for the four girls who befriended me during those years and the library clubs.
Back then, we didn’t really have the internet like we do now. Social media didn’t exist, so class bullies couldn’t get to me at home. And during the time we lived in the country(between my Grade Three and Grade Six year), we didn’t have a full cable package either, so we had to find other things to do with our time. I signed out an endless supplies of books from the library. I can remember reading Sweet Valley Twins, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, and whatever other book I found enjoyable. I just devoured them.
It was between grades 3-6 that I found out that I loved to write. I loved to tell stories because it allowed me to dream of better times, away from the harsh reality of bullying. I’d write about being a famous pro hockey player or a teenage mutant ninja cat(yes, I wrote fan-fiction about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). I could be the popular kid that everyone loved, or a mermaid, or a musician. Anything you name it. Being able to dream through my stories gave me hope, a belief that there was a life beyond the bullying.
There were times, when living out in the country, that I would sit on the railing of our porch in the back of our house and write. Poetry was my go-to genre when I was particular upset or sad. My emotions would pour out onto the page, and it would help me feel better. It was my release—my healing power. Bottling things up inside never ended well, so all my anger and pain was focused on something constructive instead of destructive.
But never did I think that my newest passion would ever become anything more at that age. As mentioned earlier, there was no worldwide internet. There were no writing websites, like Wattpad and Raddish. There were no eBooks. If you wanted to publish anything, you had to send an actual paper copy to a publisher. It was one of those seemingly impossible dreams. But I was okay with that because I didn’t write to get published, it was a way of life for me—a way of coping with the difficult times.
Since my mind was always active and very rarely quiet, I had a difficult time sleeping at night. My method for falling asleep was to tell myself a story in my head, which I would end up writing down the next day. I guess writing has always been in my blood, my passion.
I dare say that every kid has a passion for something. Sometimes, to us parents, it can seem unachievable and we try to get them to think more realistically, but we need to let them explore because that’s what life is all about. My oldest son was always fascinated with diseases right from when he was little. He’d read about them endlessly, and often tried to talk to his teachers about them, and they’d freak out because it was almost like he was obsessed with them, and they didn’t think it was healthy. Sometimes he even knew more than the teachers did . It was his passion. Today, at 28 years old, he is working on becoming a pharmacologist.
If only we could all learn how to tap into that passion when we’re young and utilize it. I believe we’re all given a gift that ties in with our passion. Take Akiane Kramarik, for example, she is an art prodigy and started drawing complex, realistic paintings before she even turned ten. I don’t mean stick people. I mean full-on realistic looking paintings of people that would blow your mind.
I think we vastly underestimate our kids today and their potential because we have gotten too used to underestimating ourselves and what we’re capable of. We project that onto our own kids, leaving them with the thought that maybe their dreams are too impossible. Having been bullied, I didn’t have too much confidence in myself and that affected my choices in life.
Despite writing a lot as a kid, I didn’t officially write my first novel until I was about 26 years old, and it was more than a decade later before it saw the light of day and was actually published. My first book was published two months after I turned 40. And now I look back and tell myself, what could I have accomplished had I believed in myself?
You see, after I wrote my story, I was so excited that I shared it in a critique group on yahoo. In my mind, I’d written a gem of a story and thought it was going to wow everyone (new writer dreams *lol*). Wrong. They tore it to itty bitty pieces, and it broke my heart.
After that experience, I put the story away for a few months. But eventually, I had the courage to pull it back out and really examine it, taking into careful consideration their critiques. I realized that much of what they were saying was right, so I re-wrote my story.
When I finished it a second time, I attended a writers’ Conference and had the chance to pitch my book to one of the Big Five, and the gentleman said that I could send him my full manuscript. I was over the moon, elated like you wouldn’t believe. Excited that someone seemed to like my story idea, especially after the critique group tore even the idea itself apart.
Anyway, not long later, I received a rejection in the mail. I don’t think anything hurts as much as that first publisher rejection, especially when you just found the courage to let someone else read it after an earlier rejection. With my low self-esteem, and ultimately two rejections, I just gave up my passion and threw all my focus into my young family—I was a married, mother of four. That was in 2006.
It wasn’t until 2016 that my passion came back to life with the help of a writing/reading website called, Wattpad, which my daughter introduced me to. She happened to find it and was writing a story on it, and I thought I’d check it out. One could never be too careful as a parent. After I joined the site and began to explore, my passion began to burn inside me again. That’s when I pulled my story back out of the dusty recesses of my usb drive, and I started to read it again.
Having been away from it for so long, a decade, I was able to approach it as a reader and could see everything that I needed to improve, so I started working on it again. Re-writing what I had to and editing everything else. As I started to share it, it took off and people seemed to love it. That’s when I learned that every story will have an audience, and every story will have people that don’t like it.
One of the ladies on the website knew of romance publisher and told me that I should submit it. After much debate with myself, I sent it off again. This time through email (yippy, I no longer had to send a papercopy, which I did the first time *lol* That was far too expensive). After one agonizing year, and a couple of emails back and forth, I received the wonderful acceptance email from Black Velvet Seductions.
I was finally going to be a published author. That was something I couldn’t believe. The dream that started when I was a kid was finally coming to fruition. My first novel, “Her Lover’s Face,” was published in February of 2018. My second novel was published in 2019, and there are many others in the editing stage.
Aside from my novels, I also have 8 short stories published in anthologies. I have to admit that I am partial to an anthology called, “Slow Burn: The Fires That Bind Us,” released by Little Quail Press, which was created to help support the first responders in Australia after the Wildfires ravaged their countries. All the proceeds will be donated to the NSW Rural Fire Service. This anthology will only be up until May, so if you haven’t checked it out yet, I hope you will and support our hard working men and women.
Everyone needs support, especially when life gets away from us, which can often impact our drive or ambition to follow after our dreams. Sometimes, it’s our own mind that gets in the way. But that’s when we have to be stubborn and not let anything hold us back. We need to stay determined and keep on the path that will lead us to our dreams. I’ve learned that there is a good and bad side to being stubborn, and a good and bad side to being determined. We don’t always use determination and stubbornness in a good way, and it can hamper us rather than guiding us forward.
We’ve all seen them—the productivity memes. You know, the ones that say something like:
“You pick up a cup and attempt to go to the kitchen to do the dishes, but get distracted by a dirty table. You put the cup down to clean the table, then you find a bill that needs to be paid. On your way to the computer to pay the bill, you get distracted by dirty laundry on the floor. On your way to do the laundry, you get distracted by something else…and by the end of the day, you haven’t really accomplish anything at all.”
*Phew* Even reading that made me exhausted, but you get the general idea. There is a lot of stuff we want to do and have to do, but there is always something else that distracts us, and for some people, even more so. It’s not always easy to stay on task when so much is going on around us. Our dreams often take a backseat to life because them seem so impossible to accomplish.
Over a decade ago, I started playing an online game called Runescape. It’s this immense online multiplayer game and very addicting. You could interact with other players, chat with them, and train skills with them. Each skill could go up to Level 99, and as you raised your skills, you could do more and more things in the game. Some skills could take months or even a year or more to hit 99, depending on how much you play and how focused you are.
When I first started playing, I jumped from skill to skill, much like a person jumping from chore to chore or dream to dream. But I noticed after a while it felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. That’s when I decided I needed to focus on one skill if I ever wanted to reach 99 in anything in a reasonable amount of time. So I chose to focus on their Woodcutting skill. I made a plan. I figured out how many logs I needed to cut and how many I could reasonably cut in a day and then counted out the number of days it would take to get to 99.
I started a daily journal on their forums to hold myself accountable to my goal. Each day I refused to do anything else in the game until that goal was done. People in the community were so used to people failing that they would tell me that my goal wasn’t possible; however, slowly but surely, I watched myself succeed, as did the community. Other people became inspired and started to believe that they, too, could hit the infamous 99’s. We even created a group to help inspire each other. We called it, “Achievers United.”
It was during this time that I learned the importance of focusing, making a plan, and giving myself a deadline—making sure that I didn’t let myself get distracted. Without a plan, a big goal can seem daunting because you can’t see the end in front of you. And without a daily log, you also can’t see what you’ve accomplished so far.
At some point, the novelty of working on something wears off and you find yourself in a dark tunnel, where you start losing motivation. You begin to wonder whether you can actually do it or not. Having a daily log lets you go see how far you’ve come from where you used to be, and that helps you start to believe that you can keep moving forward. If you’ve come this far, you can find the strength to keep going.
This is also where a daily goal comes in handy. If all you had to look at was the end goal and how you needed to, for example, cut 150,000 logs, you may get discouraged by the sheer size of the number. And likewise when you write a book, if all you focused on was that you needed 80,000-100,000 words, it might feel like too much. But if you break it down into a daily goal, and just focus on what’s in front of you for that day, it makes it so much easier.
How do you find out how much you should do on any given day? Well, work on your goal for one week. Do as much as you can each day so that you can see what you’re working with. At the end of the week, examine those numbers and pick something that you know you can do reasonably on a daily basis. In terms of writing, I know I can write 1500 words a day, so that’s my daily goal. If I do that, it’s possible to complete a book in 53 days, not counting your days of rest. Your daily goal may be different, it may be higher or it may be lower. Some I know can crank out over 7,000 words a day. For me, I think that would make my head explode. *haha*
But when you break it down into manageable chunks, your dream becomes a lot easier to envision. My favourite part of having played Runescape was that I learned valuable transferable skills that I put to good use in my life. It’s how I’ve managed to write “THE END” on so many stories. And I’m telling you that you can do it too. You just have to set your mind to it and follow through.
The road may not always be easy and you may fall short at times, but don’t think of it as failure, just think of it as a step towards your goal. You never truly fail unless you give up.
“Laryssa Mitchell is one of the lucky ones. The death of her abusive husband finally allows her to live again on her own terms, making her own choices. Her first official decision is to take back what was lost – her independence and her old job. But she soon finds herself in a living nightmare when she meets her new boss. If her husband is rotting in hell, then who is the man standing in front of her with a dead man’s face?
Alexander Richards doesn’t expect to catch an unconscious woman in his arms on his first day at work, nor does he envision himself willingly setting foot in a hospital again, reliving his painful loss. But that’s exactly what he chooses to do when Laryssa needs his help. Why?
She has a story to tell. He has a mystery to solve. In the midst of danger, passion sizzles between them, taking them by surprise. What will happen when all is brought to light? Will they be able to overcome their traumatic pasts and find love in each other, or will their ghosts have the final say?”
Have you ever looked at Mt. Everest and wonder, “How the heck does anyone climb it?” It looks so daunting that you couldn’t even imagine trying. What if I was to tell you that double amputees and blind people have scaled the mountain and reached the Summit?
Would your view of what appears impossible change? Here we are, with all our limbs and with all our senses, staring at the mountain like it’s an impossible feat. We couldn’t even imagine taking on such a daunting task.
And when we see disabled people, many people look on them with pity because of what they think that person is missing in their life, but I ask you to step back and really examine the situation. Are they really lacking what they need in life or is it you and me?
Surfer Bethany Hamilton had her arm bitten off by a shark, but she went on and became a professional surfer. I just watched her story and it’s incredible. She’s surfed some of the most dangerous waves in the world and won a national title in 2005.
Erik Weihenmayer is blind, and he reached Everest’s Summit in 2001. Mark Inglis was the first double amputee to climb Everest in 2006. Arunima Sinha lost her left leg and had a rod inserted into her right leg after being run over by a train, and she scaled the mountain in 2013.
The first step to accomplishing something is to believe in yourself, believing that you can do it. If these men and women can do what seems impossible, why should you believe any differently for yourself? That alone is half the battle—believing that you can.
As we age, we tend to lose faith in ourselves and our abilities because of all the negative things we hear. People tell us that we need to be realistic, that we need to aim for something more doable so to speak. Some hear that they aren’t worth anything, that they won’t ever accomplish anything in their lives. We just get bombarded non-stop with negativity. So what do many of us end up doing? We give up. We begin to believe that our dreams are out of reach.
So we just do what everyone else is doing. We find a job, often one we’re not happy in, and live a mundane life. We get up. We go to work. We go home. We sleep. And we don’t really think about our dreams until we get close to retirement again—when we finally say, “heck with what everyone else thinks. I’m going to go for it.” And we create a bucket list of all the things we want to do. All the dreams we once had come to our mind again.
What if we started our adult life differently? What if we helped our kids believe differently?
Hanalei Swan
Caroline and Isabel Bercaw
Alina Morse
These are all kids who successfully started businesses when they were kids/teenagers. They had a dream and they went with it. Hanalei has her own six-figure fashion brand and her fashion is eco-friendly. Caroline and Isabel have a multi-millionaire bath bomb company. Alina created a sucker that helps fight cavities and became the creator of what is now known as Zollipop; also, a multi-million dollar company. Kid entrepreneurs are changing the way we all look at our lives.
We need to help them see that they can go after their dreams by going after ours. We have to stop telling them to be realistic and help them believe that they can do whatever they set their mind to. We have to believe that we can do whatever we set our mind to.
Think about Thomas Edison and the invention of the light-bulb. Can you imagine how many people were telling him to just give up after his first few hundred attempts? What do you think people were telling him by his 800th or 900th ‘failure’? The man tried a total of 1000 times to do it before he finally succeeded at 1001. That’s determination, people. That’s what we need if we have a dream.
So here are my top three things I believe you need to succeed in whatever you set out to do:
The hopeless romantic believes that a soulmate exists for each of us. That there is one person who makes us feel how good it is to love them. For some couples, things trigger them to push that love away. They find out too late they’ve lost true-love. Sometimes genuine love deserves a second chance at the happy ending that eluded them the first time.
Desire Me Again is an eclectic assortment of short stories exploring a second chance at love. The collection is as diverse as the authors who wrote them. Here’s a chance to read the work of talented writers you may not have read before. Within these pages, there are blends of tender, often moving, and thought-provoking stories.
By this time last year, I only had three stories published:
“Her Lover’s Face” (Novel) “Wanted: Courage” (Flashpoint: The Inner Circle Writers’ Group Flash Fiction Anthology 2018) “Never Far Away” (Rapture: The Inner Circle Writers’ Group Flash Fiction Anthology 2018)
It’s amazing what can happen in a year. I’ve had a number of ups and downs since June of last year, non-writing experiences that could have made me give up again, overwhelmed by my challenges; but, if there is one legacy I want to leave my kids, it is that no matter what happens in your life, you never give up and you never quit. Follow after your dreams and never let anything stop you. Did you get knocked down? Well, get back up and try again. No one else can forge your path for you. You have to find the strength inside yourself.
In the last year, I had the following stories/poetry published:
“The Stranger” (poem published on Spillwords) “Love Knows No Apocalypse” (Mystic Desire: a Supernatural Anthology) “Love from the Mist” (Mystic Desire, a Supernatural Anthology) “Not You Again!” (Novel) “The Dinner Call” (OCEANS: A Dark Microfiction Anthology (Dark Drabbles Book 9) “The Ocean’s Thief” ( OCEANS: A Dark Microfiction Anthology (Dark Drabbles Book 9) “Poseidon’s Revenge” (Forgotten Ones: Drabbles of Myth and Legend) “Into the Fire” (Slow Burn: The Fires That Bind Us Charity Anthology)
“Patricia Elliott” (Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020)
Upcoming publications:
“The Handcuff Proposal” (a novelette being published in a Black Velvet Seductions anthology)
I also have four, just about five, completed novels and two novellas that need editing, and another series I’m working on that revolves around a zombie apocalypse, in which two stories are already done. And I have two other series in mind. I guess the point of my blog post is that we can live our lives dreaming, wishing we were doing something, or we can get out and do it.
Has someone told you that your dream isn’t realistic? Show them that all you need is motivation to prove them wrong. Want to be a doctor? A writer? An astronaut? Then it’s up to you to set that in motion and never give up, even when the road gets tough. Life will always try to throw you curve-balls, and some of them will be doozies, trust me I know, but you can’t let the negative experiences determine your path.
Rise above them! Life is what you make it. I believe in you.
“The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you can.” – Neil Gaiman
Interested in her books, check out her Amazon Author Page:
As we near the end of another year, I can’t help but notice that time feels like it’s moving faster. Mind you, that might just be because I’m older now, and I’m so busy that I don’t have much time to stop and smell the roses. I like it when my work days go by fast, but not so much my downtime.
Some moments I’d love to just freeze in time, like when my kids were born or their high school graduations. Two of mine have graduated now and the other two are in high school. That’s hard to believe. It’s even harder to believe that my graduation was back in 1996. Heck, I’m getting old. *haha*
If you’re like me and a little on the older side, can you still remember your high school years? Can you remember your first love? Some people were lucky enough to marry their high school sweethearts and are still together today. The rest of us are left wondering about the one that got away, while others may be trying to forget all about them. I can expressly remember mine. Even though we didn’t end up together, I still have fond memories of our time together.
My new release, which you can read about below, is all about second chances. What would you do if you ran into the one that got away? Would you be excited or would you go into hiding? Would you want to hit him or hug him? This is the dilemma that Emma Praught finds herself in when her first love contacts her out of the blue.
Not You Again! blurb:
“Emma Praught has everything a woman could wish for: a house, a husband, and a teen daughter who she wouldn’t trade for the world. But when she receives that fateful call, everything falls apart.
Her husband is dead. The life she knew is over. And before she has a chance to make sense of it all, death threats roll in and so does a man from her past. One she never expected to see again.
Devon Matthews, in the stupidity of his youth, broke the heart of the only woman he ever loved. Something he has never gotten over. Now he has a chance to make it up to her by protecting them. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll find it in her heart to forgive him. If he can keep her alive, that is.
Will they make it through this unscathed, or will Emma’s stubborn nature make it difficult for them both?
One way or another, he’s not giving her up this time.”
Book excerpt:
“Mom, who keeps texting you?” Skye asked.
“No one,” Emma muttered, turning back to the sink full of dishes.
“That no one wants to talk to you like super bad.”
She had tried to discourage him from messaging her by not responding to his text messages over the last week, but he was still going strong. Okay, so she’d sent the odd text back, but only to tell him to stop contacting her, and that had made him respond all the more.
Skye picked up Emma’s phone off the counter and turned on the screen. Drying her hands quickly, she snatched the phone back.“Get those prying eyes off to school,” she said, snapping the dish towel at her daughter.
Hopping down off the stool, Skye picked up her backpack off the kitchen island. “You’re so bossy.”
When the front door slammed, she thought about yelling “don’t slam the door” but it wouldn’t do any good. Skye was already long gone. Her phone dinged again, and she looked at the screen. Devon again.
>I’m serious. If you keep ignoring me, I’m going to come down there.
>Then come :p
>Okay
“Oh damn,” she said, resting her forehead in her hand as she shook her head.
What attire do you think of when it comes to the Zombie apocalypse? Are you the practice type that would only choose the things that would benefit you, or would you say, heck with it, and wear whatever you want, anyway?
For me, I think I’d wear much the same as Samantha in the following sample of Love Knows No Apocalypse:
—-
“I have to get this baby food back to Naomi.” Samantha grabbed a backpack off the backseat. “We’re only about thirty minutes away.”
“We’ll get drenched.”
“Are you afraid of the rain, Stevey?”
He looked down at his Hawaiian t-shirt and matching shorts, and she had to laugh. If you couldn’t be in Hawaii, dressing like it was the next best thing he had told her.
She shook her head. “You were the one who wanted to wear it. I told you to be practical.”
The storms of Autumn were upon them, and they weren’t overly pretty. The warm weather for wearing t-shirts and shorts was long gone, but she loved the rain and being covered up. That’s why she was wearing a pair of utility pants and a compression shirt, and her favorite leather jacket. She grabbed a pink Nike jacket that she’d found for Naomi off the floor. It was on the larger side. “Try this,” she said.
Steve shook his head and recoiled from her offer. “If I walk into the house wearing that, I’ll never live it down.”
Sam laughed. “Suit yourself.”
—
Why cargo pants? Well, they have endless pockets for storing things and are super comfortable. And as for the leather jacket, zombies can’t bite through leather; at least, not to my knowledge. It’s not a theory I’d want to test though. I like breathing, thank you.
Now, in contrast, Steve isn’t as practical as Samantha. Stubborn man would rather wear what his flowery Hawaiian shirts to remind himself of yesteryear. But make no mistake, he’s alert and very much on the ball.
With being an apocalypse, you’re not complete without a weapon. What would you use? I’ve had my experience with a variety of weapons—staff, sword, bow. My favorite would have to be the sword, as long as it’s nice and sharp. The only downside is having to get up close and personal with the undead. Getting splattered by them is not my idea of a good time.
So let’s hear what you think. Share with me your zombie attire.
Love Knows No Apocalypse Blurb:
“Getting stranded in the middle of a storm was not Samantha Wheeler’s idea of an ideal situation, especially in a zombie apocalypse. But fighting zombies was the easy part; her heart, though, was a whole other matter. Thanks to a man named Steve Jones.
When they find themselves in danger, she has to decide what’s more important – dying for someone you love or surviving.”
I’ve never been a blogger, but here’s hoping that will change. Most of my ideas get turned into books, rather than posts on a website. Today, I’d like to talk about one of the more common questions we, as writers, get asked.
I’m not sure about anyone else, but most of mine come from real life experiences. There is the odd time where an idea will just pop into my head; for example, while I was lying in bed, an idea came to me, followed by an image of a large wicker lounge. Of course, I can’t remember the idea, but I do still have a vivid picture of this lounge.
A fellow author thought it sounded like the title of an upcoming horror novel. I can’t exactly remember what the idea was that went with the image, so I’ll have rack my brain on that one and see if it comes back to me. Who knows, maybe it’s about a bar called The Wicker Lounge which could have something unexpected happen on its premises. The sky is the limit really. The idea will come when the time is right.
My first story, Her Lover’s Face, was born out of a new found desire for romance novels. I can’t remember exactly which book I was reading at the time, but when I reached the end, I thought, Hey, I can do that. (A quick note: it wasn’t as simple as it looked *lol*)
I thought back over my life at my experiences, and my mind kept returning to high school when I dated my first love, who happened to be an identical twin. And so the main question of my story was born. What if a woman’s abusive husband dies, and suddenly, she’s faced with a man who looks exactly like him?
Her Lover’s Face Blurb:
“Laryssa Mitchell is one of the lucky ones. The death of her abusive husband finally allows her to live again on her own terms, making her own choices. Her first official decision is to take back what was lost – her independence and her old job. But she soon finds herself in a living nightmare when she meets her new boss. If her husband is rotting in hell, then who is the man standing in front of her with a dead man’s face?
Alexander Richards doesn’t expect to catch an unconscious woman in his arms on his first day of work, nor does he envision himself willingly setting foot in a hospital again, reliving his painful loss. But that’s exactly what he chooses to do when Laryssa needs his help. Why?
She has a story to tell. He has a mystery to solve. In the midst of danger, passion sizzles between them, taking them by surprise. What will happen when all is brought to light? Will they be able to overcome their traumatic pasts and find love in each other, or will their ghosts have the final say?”
And that was it. That was the birth of my first ever novel that is now gracing the digital and paperback world. All thanks to Richard Savage at Black Velvet Seductions. I would like to thank you for reading my blog post. If you are reading this and you are a writer, I would love to hear how you come up with your ideas, too.
If you are interested in purchasing a copy of Her Lover’s Face, feel free to click your preferred link below.
Patricia Elliott 