Do You Love to Write, or Write to Love?

Some days it feels almost impossible to get down to the nitty-gritty of writing. Today is unfortunately one of those days.

The weather's been a bit brisker as of late. I noticed it on my morning walk. The sun has yet to warm up my little section of the planet or my cold fingers.

And the trees are shedding their summer attire.

This weekend as I textured and painted my living room walls, I allowed my thoughts to once again wander back almost twenty-eight(ish) years ago and to the one man whom I (I can say with certainty...probably) truly loved. Timing apparently wasn't right for us and it all just, I don't know - dissipated, maybe? I'd been struggling with that question all day yesterday, and finally went to bed with the admission that it's true: people enter our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. He must have been either a reason or a seasonal lover. I wish circumstances had been more accommodating for a lifetime one--he would've made a good one. I've wondered about him over the years. I also wonder why a week can't go by without thoughts of him popping into my mind. And I wonder what I did to deserve that particular type of hell.

I hope he's living a fulfilling and loving life--he deserves nothing less. I'd best stop writing about him or risk breaking out in Adele or Taylor Swift song lyrics.

We have our niches in which to write, so they tell us. I predominantly pen children's books. I find it rewarding and calming. I started writing mainstream fiction while still in high school. I shared my short stories with my closest friends, who always asked for more. It became my drug--my reason. I've yet to publish a true fiction novel. Hopefully that changes this year.

At the same time I published Daddy's Boots, I started writing Living with L.V. Brown and have been working on it ever since. The problem with novels, especially fiction novels (for me) is you can't tell when you're done. I had a college professor once who told me, "When you can't make it better, that's when you know you're done."

Great... except I always think I can make it just a little bit better, so...

Another professor said, "There's going to be a point in your writing where you have to say, 'this is good enough' and walk away. But don't walk away for good. Come back to it in about a month and see if you still think it's good enough. If it is, you know it's done." Not really having any luck with that suggestion, either.

It is what it is, I suppose. It'll be done when it tells me it's done.

Like love, maybe?
The words between you melt away so you think it's done...but maybe it wasn't supposed to be a short story. Perhaps it was supposed to be a full-length romance novel, and that's why you can't get him out of your head. Maybe you both closed the book too soon, when so much more needed to be written. Perhaps coming back to it... yeah, I guess I'll never know.

And, hey, my niches are children's books and (hopefully) mainstream fiction. I question my skills at creating a good romance novel, anyway.

In Joy & Enjoy

Off with the Old

Purging:

The best process one can undertake when one feels a shift in consciousness.

Recently a program fell (figuratively) into my lap which literally changed my perceptions, and therefore my life. I don't recall how I stumbled upon it. I'd heard it mentioned here and there -- like a side-note, or a post script -- but never got the gumption to investigate it further. Then one day something clicked, and my entire outlook on life and love changed in one distinct moment.

And when I say stumble...

I'm not going to bore you with details or my own personal journey, but I am going to reach out to anyone I may have insulted or abused within these blog posts. Although inadvertent on my part -- or at least I told myself it was, disguised as biting humor, sarcastic or sardonic commentary, or deeply meaningful insights -- I do sincerely apologize. We live, we grow, we learn. I hope you find a way to forgive me. 

I've known for the majority of my life we draw into our lives the people and experiences we need to grow as infinite beings. I finally fully understand this concept. If at one point you were in my life, it's because we both needed to learn a lesson. My lesson was undoubtedly different than yours, but both of us (hopefully) became richer from our mutual experience(s). For that I am grateful. All life experiences, especially the tough ones, help create who we are, and who we will become. Therefore I am most grateful to people in my life who have caused me the most pain and suffering. I am also very grateful you are no longer part of my life, because, honestly, who needs that much negativity in their life?

You, no doubt, feel the same about me.

If it calls to you, please investigate The Tapping Solution -- Emotional Freeing Technique (EFT), and listen or subscribe to Tony Robbins (on Facebook). If you're in a place where these messages reach you emotionally or spiritually, you'll be glad you did. If you're already a student, you know of what I'm talking. I've been a fan of Tony's for years now, (as well as Louise L. Hay, Wayne Dyer, and Abraham Hicks) but Tony's message is resonating more with me now than ever before. I told someone in an interview recently I want to swim in Tony's pool, and I will someday. I don't know how or when -- 

maybe they'll ask me to house sit

-- but I know I will. Eventually.

I have a good life, and am grateful -- from the bottom of my heart. My books have won multiple awards and are mentioned in plethora articles. I'm humbly proud of the messages and comfort they provide children. I endeavor to remain worthy of the title: award-winning author. 

From this point forward the focus of this blog will therefore be on writing, my works, and tips of the trade. It's been said if you do something for fifteen years, you become an expert. So, here I stand -- apparently your resident expert, of sorts. Drop me a line (sandra@sandstarbooks.com) or leave a question in the comments section. I'm here for you. 

Thanks for being here for me.
In Light & Love

Aw... shucks.

Hearing nice things said about your book(s) from an uninterested party pretty much makes the world go 'round. I mean, my mother always gushes about my creations, but she's supposed to, right?

Imagine my pleasant shock and surprise when I see my titles show up on stranger's blogs, websites, or mentioned in articles.

For the military family - the boots books series:

A deployment book for Daddies to read to their child(ren)..

12 Veterans Day Books for Kids features none other than the above favorite, Daddy's Boots.

Daddy's Boots is included in the top five "best books for military kids to help them THRIVE within this military life..."

A book to address anxiety when Daddy's headed home.

Operation We Are Here gives a shout-out to Daddy's Boots and But...What If? in their article, Books for military children with a deployed father.

Another article, 9 Books to Help Military Children lists But...What If?, and says about it, "Homecomings are often – and for good reason – painted in a celebratory light. In this book, however, the author highlights some of the worries children might experience and be hesitant to voice as deployments come to an end. This is a great book to begin exploring feelings and expectations as homecoming day approaches."

A book to address anxiety when Momma's headed home.

Operation We Are Here also gives Momma's Boots and Grandpa, What If? a shout-out in Books for military children with a deployed mother.

A deployment book for Mommies to read to their child(ren).

Momma's Boots also garners a proud mention on the Women Veterans, their Spouses, Caregivers & Family Members Resource List.

...And the list is growing. 

Another of my books that makes the headlines(ish) is Pickysaurus Mac. Proud of this little book, too, I am. It's given practically dozens of individuals with Sensory Processing Disorder a book to call his or her own.

An awesome review by Growing Book by Book on Pickysaurus Mac states, "...is one of very few books I could find that addresses the sensory challenges that some children deal with at mealtime."

And another from Eyas Landing: "This clever book encourages children to experience new textures in a safe, unenforced environment that increases sensory tolerance and lets them know that other kids share the same discomfort with food."

Mac can't find anything to eat to save his life.

Though, I'd be remiss if I failed to mention Mac's friend, Brooke, and her icky picky sister - a newer addition to my family of books. So new, in fact, nothing has been written on or about it (or I'd have added it)... pretty sure only my mother has purchased it to date. But, that's okay.  

Add it to your wish list today!

There you have it. Endorsements from people I don't know who don't know me. It gives this author a great deal of encouragement, I can attest to that. I appreciate every shout-out. 

Thanks for reading.

Enjoy & In Joy

Don't Label Me

I am pleased and proud to announce my new picture book, Don't Label Me:

The artwork is amazing, too.

Enjoy & In Joy

Frustration

I wrap my fingers around you.
I've longed for the feel of you in my hands; your hardness pleases me.
I caress you while I imagine the heights you'll take me.

I slide you in...
I slide you out, ever... so... slowly...
I position you... I pause...

My heart beats a bit faster. My breath catches.
I bite my lip.

I'm not quite ready.  It's been a while...

Slower... we have time.

I slide you in, and hold you there.
The seconds pass. I sense your energy - our potential...
I dare not move for fear of ruining this perfect moment.

I slide you out.
I bring you to my lips; my tongue plays with your tip and my lips barely dance across your shaft. My mind is already where we could be together.

Okay. I'm ready.

I place your tip in the proper position and slowly move with you... and with every stroke I become more excited, more alive... more me.  My passion pours out through you.
Each stroke melds us, you and I. Entangled in a divine purpose, fate brought us together.
I feel your power as you allow me to guide you. My hunger builds.

Our strokes come faster now, more powerful; raw with desire.
My mind races; my heart pounds, I grip you tighter.. I am lost in the moment with you...
The phone screams from its cradle...

...My passion evaporates; gone.

I slide you back into your cap.
I place you on our half-written page...

There will be no more writing today.

In sickness...

I ache.
I shiver.
I flush cold with fever.
I nestle my shoulder deep
into the warm cave of your armpit.
My heavy head finds soft purchase
in the valley between your shoulder and chest.
Your strong arm tenderly cradles my back.
The cadence of your breath lulls me...
I sleep.
I dream.
I heal in your love.

As the bonds of sleep release me
I slowly awaken.
Your arm morphs into my blanket.
I stir.
Your chest reveals itself as my pillow.
I rise.
My shoulder has no cave.

I feel your absence.
You exist only in my dreams.
You've yet to enter my life.

You.
The one
who'll snuggle me
...in sickness and in health.

I'm told I don't come across well.

There's a reason I seldom leave home.
There's a reason I enjoy my solitude.
There's a reason I don't get close, and keep my distance.
There's a reason...

So, don't come into my world and tell me I'm rubbing you the wrong way.
My world doesn't touch yours...
     and, I never invited you in.

You click on the bookmark
*no referring link*
so you can find something which incites you
between my words.

You love to hate me.
Me... the mother of your offspring?
The one who got away?
The reason for your failed relationships?
The reason for your failed life?
The reason you burnt your toast this morning?

You think my words are directed at you.
You anon yourself into my blog.
You cajole and you quip;
You twist and you turn and you lie
safely
warmly
snuggly
inside the blanket of a mask
you stab me with your keyboard.

You know who I am.
I'm the reason you're miserable.
I'm the reason you fight.
I'm the reason you can't sleep at night.
Me...without even trying.

I
am
just
sitting
here
putting
one
word
after
another
on
this
page...

You read the words and go berserk.
"What a moron!; What a jerk!"
"What a worthless piece of work!"

So... stop reading my blog.

I write to express, to talk, to feel...
something.
A gift I've not had access to in my non-virtual world,
as I feel my soul slowly dying...
like my skin - shriveling up and thinning; blotchy; tired

...and so very much alone; untouched.

Words I speak aloud are seldom heard;
they fall to the floor and seep into the cracks
where they cushion the soles
of the people I pick up after.

...until I put them down here
and you read them
and decide for yourself what I'm saying
and it's never pretty...

for you don't see me as pretty
you can't see me as pretty
you won't see me as pretty
...on the inside

I write for myself
I write of my feelings, my thoughts and my fears.
I don't write for you.
I don't know who you are.

Were we once friends?
Did you once care?
Because if so, I don't know you anymore...

and you most certainly don't know me,
...if you ever did.
So, stop reading my blog.

In Joy & Enjoy

.

I love it when a plan…

…..“Did you guys see th...?” I turned back to see I was standing alone in Blue’s front yard. I looked again at the sky above Grandfather’s ranch and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The snow fell silently. Except for the trail of white behind my eyelids when I closed my eyes, like an imprint of a camera flash, I would have never believed I saw anything. I ran toward Grandfather’s home.
…..I got almost completely through the field when I spotted Grandfather’s prize bull lying on the ground next to the water trough. Steam rose from its body. A strange chemical-type smell surrounded the still body of the bull.
…..“Nebesiibehe!!” I screamed through the silence. “Nebesiibehe!! Come quick! I think the bull got shocked.”
…..“What is it, Hono’ie Neeceeebi?” Grandfather emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a towel. He saw me standing next to the bull and came running toward me. He knelt down in the snow next to the bull.
…..“I haven’t seen anything like this since the summer of 1976.”
…..“Like what, Nebesiibehe?”
…..“See, here. Look where the bull is. There are no tracks, no prints leading up to this carcass. Except yours and mine. But the snow has... has poofed... yes, good word, poofed up like the bull was dropped from height of maybe two... three feet in the air. And, see, here, where the parts of bull have been surgically cut away... almost burnt, cauterized. No blood. No blood anywhere. And, he’s missing his eyes. And, his eyelashes...”
…..The white snow all around showed no signs of blood anywhere, not even under the animal. A shiver ran up my spine and I took a step back. The smell rising from the dead animal made me gag.
…..Grandfather took his Leatherman tool from his belt and opened the knife blade. He plunged it in and out of the bull’s neck easily, but no blood spilled from the wound.
…..“What does that mean, Nebesiibehe?” My hand still covered my mouth.
…..Grandfather stood up and looked into the sky, as if searching…

That was an excerpt from my chapter book, The Elementary Adventures of Buck. Want to hear more? Buy the book! hehehe (Now available at a store near you - or you can click on the Target.com link on the left of this page.) That was easy.

Now, if you find that just too out-there… read this:
http://www.chieftain.com/articles/2009/03/10/news/region/doc49b5fcf251ae5358562333.txt

(If you’re lazy, like me - It's a newspaper article from the Pueblo Chieftan dated 10 March 2009, and it starts out by saying:

TRINIDAD - A cattle rancher made a horrific and mysterious discovery Sunday when he found the carcass of one of his cattle that was missing its udders and other female parts…

...plus a lot more.)

Enjoy & In Joy

p(m)s. Hey - read my book! (please and thank you!)