You want fries with that?

I don't ask for much in life. Healthy children; a happy husband; enough income to make ends meet. You know -- the basics of clothing and shelter.

But I would really like at least six more hours in my day. For writing.

I have all these stories floating around -- some in the process of being written, others simple ghosts of ideas -- and I can't seem to find the time to get them down on 'paper'. The ones in process elude me when I do have a spare moment in the computer chair.

So, along with my nice, comfortable life, I want a little more. Don't we all? Oh, there are other things I'd like as well, but the writing issue is uppermost in my mind today. Because when I don't write, I'm not 100% happy. It's like I'm being cut off from my inspiration -- being kept from one of my main purposes -- my battery in need of a good charge and the power is off.

Let me tell you, an unhappy mama makes for an unhappy family. Just ask my kids.

Of course, if you can't get me those extra six hours, how about a babysitter and another computer?

No?

Figures. Guess it's time .... shudder... prioritize. :-(

Working out... food for thought.

I learned how to use the gym equipment today at my local YMCA. Yes, I am somewhat behind the times -- one of the last to jump into the fitness frenzy and actually start 'working out' at the gym.

Uh, we'll see how long it lasts. I am not an athletic person but I am determined to age as ungracefully as possible. Meaning: I'm going out kicking and screaming, gray hair colored, weight under control and abs, glutes and what-have-yous as firm as I can get them before gravity takes over and it all starts to sag.

However, as I wandered around the fitness center today and tried out the machines, my imagination kicked into overdrive. Oh, great. Not again!

I have a love/hate relationship with this thought process. Yes, I can always use good material for new stories. No, I do NOT need a new story right now. But muses being fickel, difficult little sprites who rather enjoy making writers/painters/artists pull their hair out by the roots -- a new story is exactly what began to simmer in my brain.

Maybe not completely new. But I think I have a new twist to one I've already begun. A new dimension to both plot and characters. Yes, it just might work.

And if I keep working on my form, maybe the rest of the story will fall into place as easily. I guess this means I'm stuck working out for while. Oy.

My cover!

Here's my baby! Isn't it gorgeous? (GGG)

Pats on the back

I like reviews. Okay, so I haven't gotten a *bad* one yet, but I love those little pats on the back. I revel in those comments that tell me -- YES, this story made sense; NO, I didn't figure out the secrets by page fifty; YES, your hero is as yummy as you think he is AND your heroine is not too stupid to live. ;)

Logic dictates that someday I will get a bad review: one full of snark and criticism -- or one that is just a little luke warm in response. I'm sure I'll mope about it a bit, but I'll pick myself up and put that one aside. Then on to the next story. Because I realize everyone will not adore my stories, and that's really okay. How boring would the world be if we all liked the same things? And how much more difficult would it be to get published, if that were true?

Let's not even think about that.

***By the way, check out my new Fallen Angels reviews for Secrets and Shadows & Romancing Jenny.... HERE.***