Archive | June 2013

The storm comes

The rain is falling.
Drip, drip, drip.
The roof is leaking.
Drip, drip, drip.

The thunder is crashing.
Boom, boom, boom.
The chimney groans.
Boom, boom, boom.

Lightning is flashing.
Slap, slap, slap.
The screen door is shaking.
Slap, slap, slap.

The wind whips the trees.
Snap, snap, snap.
The windows rattle.
Snap, snap, snap.

The rain is falling.
Drip, drip, drip…


The horse in the valley of yesterday

Ageless spirits, beautiful at play.

Hooves once thundered across the valley floor

Backs of brown, black, roan, and grey,

They are free no more.

The wild mustangs have all gone away.


Taken from their homeland, shipped across the sea.

Curried, combed, and kept all alone.

Nostrils flaring, heads head high, only their spirit remains unbroken and free.

The wild ponies of the plains have all been tamed.

Gentled and loved, the way the cowboy says it should be.


How to write with humor

Gwen Bristol asked me to write about how I add comedy to my writing. Well, honestly, I am not sure. Most of my books lean more to the serious side. However, I have found that sarcasm is the easiest way to make my readers laugh. My main characters are usually lacking in self-confidence, so they always poke fun at themselves. I like my characters to be humble, even thought they have great responsibility and are awesome in action. That seems to always end with some sort of humor, no matter how dry.

I really liked this question because it made me think. But tell me something: how do you add humor to your books?

One more new cover…maybe

Okay dear friends. I have changed my cover yet again. Dirk has pointed out that my cover really didn’t stand out. Well, I do love my cover image, but I’ve changed the setup. Also, Victoria thought I needed a new subtitle, one that sounded more like fiction and less like a memoir. I stuck with a soft color palate, so let me know what you think!


My perfect day

While searching for blogging inspiration last night, I ended up talking to cnmill about writing ideas, and I gave her an idea to write about what her perfect author day would be. Well, than she asked me to write about the same thing! So, here goes.

My perfect author day. I’d get up about 7am, have a cup of coffee and a fresh fruit salad (hold the bananas, please!) Go out and say ‘good morning’ to the sheep, goats, and cats. Then I’d go to my “office” and write without interruption until lunch. Maybe for lunch I’d have some cucumbers, carrot sticks and ranch dip. Then with a lemon Brisk tea in hand, I’d return to my office and write some more. And when I say write, I don’t mean edit old books or make blog posts. I mean write chapters and chapters of the new book I’m working on. I’d listen to my Garth Brooks CDs and not have to worry about anyone hollering at me to get off the computer. Maybe I’d go out on the deck for a few minutes to soak up some fresh air, but then I’d be back to work. (Ideally, this would be a day where inspiration does not cease to flow and my books grows tenfold.) I’d then check my blog before bed to see what my friends are up to, then I’d be off to bed before nine.

Yep, pretty simple, but that would be the most wonderful day I could ask for as an author.
What would your perfect day be?

A Ranch Girl’s Life

After my post asking what you all wanted to hear, there were several people who asked me to talk more about ranching, cows, and my life as a farmer/cowgirl. Also, L.Marie asked for a picture of my favorite cow, Fluffy. So here she is!

(Fluffy is the short, white faced heifer)

Okay, and now more about my day riding fence.
Firstly, I was amazed at all the flowers! Hot pink, baby pink, bright yellow, white, red, purple, and blue. Sitting in the passenger seat of the Gator, I was taking pictures one after another as my dad sped down the road. I felt like Jim Carrey in that movie, “Yes Man” after he’d drank a case of Red Bull and went to his girlfriend’s jogging and photography class. Yep, that was me, flying down the road, camera flashing. Here’s a few of the pictures I was able to capture.





Okay, so after three hours of climbing vertical hills and sliding down the other side, stringing up wire, putting in stays, cutting up dead trees, and standing up the fence, we stopped to drink some tea at a little reservoir. This is what I found there.
(Yes, that’s a bear track)

After that, we moved on to another stretch of fence. No more steep climbing, but the oak brush and undergrowth was very thick and if I hadn’t been born with an innate sense of direction, I’d have easily gotten lost. 😉 Saw some deer, whistle pigs, and chipmunks. Here’s what I’ve decided about our mountain permit: we need some escalators. A little less oak brush would be nice. Whoever planted all those dead aspen trees had better hope that I never catch up with them. Also, in 100 degree heat, sweat seems to turn bug spray into something like human frosting for the hordes of flies and mosquitoes that hide in the underbrush.

Nine hours later, I am so glad to be home. I’ve had two big glasses of chocolate milk and just finished eating a sloppy joe and some french fries. The boss says that we’re a little more than halfway done. So I think I’ll be headed back up on Saturday. But until then, I’m glad to be back to the ‘mainland’.

What would you do to make me stay?

The whiskey is talking.
Tis’ no more than the usual nightly rant.
You say that you love me,
I say that you can’t.

I say make your choice: that bottle or me.
But if you loved me, truly loved me, you would not have to choose.
You’d toss out the bottle and I’d be yours.
What is there for you to lose?

It is not that easy.
There is more than that, you say.
I can’t expect you just to give up and quit such a habit.
You will rue this day.

I pack my bags; take my coffee cup and my cat.
You want me to stay.
You say that you want me. You need me. You love me.
My love for you is too strong. I cannot stay here and watch you drink your life away.

Goodbye my love.
I wish you the best.
I climb into my car. I watch you. I wait for you.
But you turn around. You failed the test.

You don’t love me. You never have.
The whiskey holds your heart in its deathly black fingers.
I’ve been washed away in a tide of amber.
My memory will not even linger.