My first magazine story was published in the current edition of New Love Stories Magazine!

My story is a historical-paranormal romance. Could they have given me a less inspiring photograph to depict my little ghost story?

Ah well, it was maybe the first short story I ever wrote. It’s nice to be able to dust something off you thought would never see the light of day, submit it, and get a paycheck for it!

I’m home again. I arrived later than I should have last night because I got pulled over by a state trooper. He said, “Ma’am, don’t know if you realize it, but you were speeding.” I was tired enough I just shrugged and said, “Probably.”

I’m still tired, so guess what? I’m going back to bed.

Tonight around midnight, when the red-headed hellion arrives home from work, I’m packing up and heading home. I’m supposed to attend the monthly meeting of the Diamond State Romance Authors tomorrow morning, but that’s looking iffy because all I want is uninterrupted sleep—about 10 hours worth—before I pry my eyes open. Last night, I pulled down web sources for my daughter’s college assignment, and stayed up to help her work on it. She was too exhausted to get it done quickly on her own. Our heads didn’t hit our pillows until 2:30. The 6:30 alarm came ALARMINGLY fast. Couldn’t resist that. Sorry.

Dogs are walked, baby fed. Wonder if she will oblige me by going back to sleep so I can nap a little this morning. Do you know how you start to ache all over when you’re really, really tired? I should probably try to get a shower and wake up enough to write, but I’m not sure my brain’s gonna cooperate.

I should have the copyedits for Darkness Captured (my September Avon release) waiting for me when I arrive home. Can’t wait to see what changes the editor wants. Or if she wants huge revisions. My guess is not because she would have gotten them to me sooner if there were huge issues. I’ll be surprised if that’s the case though because DC is way out there. My heroine ends up in the Land of the Dead and has to be rescued. All kinds of strange things and creatures, and kinky sex happen. Oh wait, she should know by now that’s what happens in one of my “dark” books.

~DD

I don’t get those women who want to bear children after forty or, God forbid, fifty! Children are for the young. I’ve only had a small three-day dose, but I’m exhausted. Have you ever tried to tell a 1-year-old that the reason she cries is that she needs sleep? Or that dropping her toy over the side of the playpen out of reach isn’t a screaming offense? There’s no reasoning with her. And although the 5-year-old has some verbal skills, she still doesn’t get the concept of let’s sit so the dog doesn’t get overexcited and stops barking. Nope, she runs circles around the couch yelling at him to shut up. There’s a reason I had a house husband. I don’t have the maternal gene.

It also doesn’t help that there’s so much Irish running through their veins. Everything that happens, happens loudly.

Yesterday when the 1-year-old went down for a nap, I did manage to finish another chapter of the big book, but I didn’t make it back to any of the smaller projects. Maybe I’ll work up the nerve to put the shock collar around the neck of the barracuda with a tail (the dachsund) so he will stop barking and I can think. He’s old and grumpy and likes to check you with a bruising (not puncturing) bite. Or maybe I can just shoo him out the door and he can go play with the pit bull next door.

For stories, that is. I love it when readers tell me they’d like to see a story about a guy and girl who…

Yeah, and I’ve written a few custom stories like that. It’s fun and challenging to take input and then craft something special and unique. So, if you had a writer willing to take suggestions, what sort of story are you dying to read? Tell me, and you might see it in print.

So be creative. Or just have fun. Sometimes the most off-the-wall ideas make the most interesting stories because then the writer has to think a bit about how something like that might actually happen.

You would have laughed if you’d seen me this morning, standing on the back porch watching two dogs, butt-to-butt, getting it on. My life. The 5-year-old is off at school, and I’ll be writing my fingers to the bone while I have some quiet time (if the 1-year-old cooperates).

Yesterday was not a good day. One of the little Yorkies I loved tangled with a logging truck and lost. I watched it happen and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it. She slipped out of the fence and ran for it. This morning I’m still down. Such a sweet little thing, but my only consolation was that she didn’t suffer.

I’m back at the red-headed hellion’s house for the next few days, and since she’s on dial-up, I limit my access to Internet. Her menagerie is a lot of work. The chickens are the easy part, if I can manage to dodge the rooster—he’s just plain evil.

I did get a short story out the door yesterday before I left. Cross your fingers it made the cut! Thanks to Brandy and Heather who read it to make sure it didn’t suck too badly. Today, I’ll keep my laptop on my lap (imagine that) and work while I keep the 1-year-old away from the light sockets.

Between this blog, the After Midnight blog and Facebook, there were 43 entries in yesterday’s contest! So without further ado (another of those phrases I don’t understand), the winner (by random number generator) is…Christiana Toups! Christiana, email me!!

Another unproductive week. Only 17 pages progress. But understandable given family obligations. All I can say is thank goodness I was way ahead of schedule when real life intruded.

I caught up on sleep last night. Watched a really terrible disater flick—2012. I’ll watch it again, no doubt. I completely love cheesy, end-of-the-world B movies, and this one had several real groaner scenes. I wish there had been a surprise or two, but everything was pretty formulaic. The only character I truly enjoyed was Woody Harrelson’s (did I spell that right?), over-the-top portrayal of the crazy prophet of doom who stays to watch the fireworks when Yellowstone blows. The lesson here—never, ever trust my taste in movies.

Monday night, I head back over to my daughter’s house. I sure as hell hope I can figure out how to get some sleep and that the dogs are exhausted by their good time. I’ll take my laptop with me and try to get some work done. If I’m still struggling, I won’t beat myself up. I have time to finish the big book. The shorts might have to fall by the wayside.

Y’all have a good week. Thanks to everyone who expressed their outrage on yesterday’s Facebook posting. I knew I wasn’t crazy to be outraged!

Daughter has the weekend off, so I made a mad dash for the door—after dropping the 5-year-old off at Saturday detention at the high school. I mean, really, what can a 5-year-old do that warrants three Saturdays of detentions? She looked so small and lost with all those teenagers when I dropped her off. Grrrr… Stupid administrators. I think they meant it as punishment for the parents because my daughter refused to let them spank the kid when she got into a fight at school.

But I’m home. Not that I’ll be getting any work done today. I’ve had a total of 7 1/2 hours of sleep the past two nights. Those damn dogs kept me up. The shepherd and the malinois tied again last night at 1:00 AM, and daughter and I held both dogs’ collars as the dogs stood butt-to-butt, joking about how dirty we felt. The male must have been insulted because when he finally withdrew from the bitch he sprayed our feet with doggie-cum.