Category: My Books

Total 18 Posts

Fall is in the Air

Maybe it’s because of the coming of Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, or my birth month, November, or maybe because it’s the change of foliage, but since I was a kid I’ve liked autumn best. Oh, I miss the summer sometimes. I enjoy going to the beach, time to travel, and more free time, but I prefer the cooler temps and the feel of autumn.  While I never liked raking leaves, I do enjoy walking through the nature trails under a canopy of golden, rust, and brown leaves. I enjoy the sight of pumpkins, mum, and baskets of squash at the countryside stands or nearby nurseries. Thoughts flick back to hay rides, pumpkin and apple picking with my family, and viewing a Harvest moon light the night sky. Speaking of harvest time, I remember going as a youth to a place called Delicious Orchards, a farm and grocery outlet in Colts Neck, New Jersey, a long time ago with my maternal grandmother who loved to buy tons of potatoes, fresh-baked pies, and other produce. Before we left, we bought hot apple cider and apple cider doughnuts.  The place still exists as do others like it. Although many towns and cities now have farmer’s market days, I think it’s wonderful to be able to go out into the countryside for fresh farm goods you can either pick yourself or buy right from the farmers.

For some reason too, this time of year inspires my writing as I think about the coming of Halloween and stories I heard years ago about ghosts. My Irish grandfather enjoyed spinning a yarn or two about the ghosts back in his native County Meath, and decades later I still remember them. With cooler days ahead, I find myself wanting to both write more of my own tales and to read. My muse beckons me to both, and come November as I’ve done in the past, I hope to once again submerge myself in the task of NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. No easy feat, but it’s  one I have accomplished and successfully so as I completed two novels, A Kiss Out of Time and A Dance Out of Time, in two different years.

So, with fall in the air, my muse and I will enjoy a bit of the harvest, the colorful foliage, and tales to come.

Time to Dance

I love to dance! Yes, I do. I dance at home to show tunes, Irish folk music, the Oldies, and then some.

Maybe it’s in my blood. Being of mixed descent including Irish, Spanish, and Italian ancestry. In one of the older home movies my grandparents took, I am a child dressed as an Indian princess dancing on a rooftop in New York City. Back in the day, rooftops became the place to socialize, take pictures, and take the sun. The name “tar beach” referred to sitting on the roof and sunning oneself. I have vague memories of that.

Having grown up in the time of the Sixties and Seventies, I enjoyed such dances as the Twist, the Monkey, the Hustle, line dancing, and other types of dances. More recently I took up Swing and ballroom dancing thanks to classes I took in Nutley, New Jersey.  I also enjoy ethnic dancing at weddings provided there’s a DJ or someone who teaches beforehand.

Dancing is freeing, helps let off stress, and good exercise. I prefer dancing when other people are on the dance floor, since I’m a little shy about it.

What does dancing have to do with being a writer? I’m not exactly sure, but I think it involves moving, music, and listening to oneself. As a writer, I have to move, listen to the music of the words I use, and listen to my inner voice as I compose a story, a poem, or something else. It’s also great fun to move to music, and it’s great fun to create with words. I even used dancing in my writing. Most recently it appears as the title, A Time to Dance, and some of the most romantic moments in my stories.

So, whenever and wherever you can, take time to dance. Enjoy!




Excerpt: Wildflowers

“God you are beautiful.” Ryan cupped her chin.

“Not like Evening Star.”

Ryan lifted her chin. “More beautiful than a thousand evening stars…more than a field of wildflowers on a summer’s day…more…”

She held up her hand. “Stop, Mr. Majors,” she said, with a soft chuckle. “Your words are kind, but…”

“True. Oh, I can’t write fancy poetry like RM did. But tell me, Miss Wade, did your RM make you feel this way.” He kissed her. A long, full-mouthed kiss that sent her head spinning, her heart racing, and left her breathless when his lips left hers.

No, she knew the truth; Robert McEntee loved her but never made her feel the way she did at this moment in Ryan’s arms. She leaned against his chest for support, lest her own legs give way and she fall.

Ryan studied her a moment. “For all his learning, your precious RM must have been a damn fool! Yankees!” He shook his head. “Maybe we both learned a lesson today.” He turned, lifted the carton, and headed down the path toward camp with a very puzzled and flustered Johanna trailing in his wake, her lips still damp from his kiss.


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