Thinking of getting a Golden Retriever? Please read this!

I want to share something that I have learned while going through the grieving process with the loss of our beloved Golden, Baylee. There has been extensive research (most notably by UC Davis) that shows that hip displasia, which is the terribly crippling condition that our furry baby suffered from, is most often brought on by spaying or neutering the dog too early. I find it agonizing that I did not know this when we got Baylee 9 years ago. The study was done for Labs and Goldens, which are both incredibly popular breeds, but the results were most dramatic for Goldens. 

The solution is to wait until 6 months (or up to 2 years) to spay or neuter (and be responsible with your dog's interaction with other dogs beforehand, lest you be joined by many new little fur balls) or for females you can ask for a modified spay which leaves the ovaries intact, so that the much needed hormones can still to their job in building the bone and cartilage plates.

I know that someday soon we will welcome another Golden into our lives, and we will do things differently this time.  

Always in our hearts...

For the greatest Golden Retriever who ever lived: Thank You.

We had to let you go on Thursday, May 21st, and I couldn't bear to write about it until now. I truly believe we'll see you again someday, so I can't bring myself to say goodbye, but instead I'll say thank you.

Thank you for always protecting us. People say Goldens aren't watchdogs, but you always made sure you slept in a central spot where you could guard everyone's rooms at once. You'd have never hurt a fly, but we'd have a hard time convincing that plumber who peed his pants that time. Sorry, Mr. Plumber.

Thank you for keeping the lizards in the backyard in line, they were far too cheeky and you always let them know their place. 

Thank you for your constant unconditional love, and for always giving us the best of you, even when you were in pain. You always put us first, and even though I know we'll never be the same without you, I am glad we were brave enough to put you first when it really counted. Even at the end we could tell you were more worried about us than yourself. 

Thank you, Baylee. We love you, and will always miss you. You will never be forgotten and you can never be replaced.

Book Review: E.M. Powell's The Fifth Knight

Okay, so George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire notwithstanding, I'm not usually a swords-and-castles type of reader. (And even though I read the first SoIaF novel, A Game of Thrones, I ultimately decided not to read the subsequent books because I was already firmly ensconced in the TV series and enjoying it immensely. I'd rather read books I'm not seeing.)

I can't clearly remember what made me purchase the book I just finished, E.M. Powell's The Fifth Knight, but I'm definitely glad I did. I follow a lot of writers and agents and editors on Twitter, and I think maybe someone tweeted about this book, or perhaps its sequel, The Blood of the Fifth Knight. (Since I've only finished the first one, the title of the sequel makes me a bit nervous. I've grown attached to that Fifth Knight, and I don't want anything to happen to him.)

The story revolves around Sir Benedict Palmer, who has been sent with four other knights to murder the The Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket and kidnap a nun and her daughter (also a nun, or more like ultra-nun, known as an anchoress).  Finding he doesn't quite have the stomach for the task, he finds himself in league with the stronger-than-she-seems anchoress, Sister Theodosia.  Together they seek out her mother and the truth behind the contract on the Archbishop and Sister Theodosia's past.

Being far removed from the life of a nun, I found the extreme piousness and guilt a bit unsettling at times, but that only added to the authenticity. Sir Benedict is an unlikely hero, swashbuckling as he is, simply because his original goals were simply monetary gain, but he is ultimately as likable as they come.

Historical fiction is becoming more and more interesting to me because of books like this. I got to enjoy a great story and learn some actual facts as well. I'd recommend this book to anyone who likes a fun mystery, and a chance to step out of the modern world.  Five out of five.

Flash Fiction for Janet Reid

Hey all! Um, yeah. I just realized it's been a reaaaaally long time since I've posted here, and that I just generally suck.  Sorry.  I promise to be better about it in the future.  The good news is that I've been writing, and I hope you have, too.

So here's an update.  I'm still writing my novel, and working on a couple of other ones as well.  I've never been good at narrowing down my interests.  I also keep things fresh creatively by jumping on any writing challenges or contests that crop up.

 One of my favorite websites for all things writerly is a blog run by Janet Reid, who is literary agent with Fine Print Literary in NYC.  She is also known as the Query Shark and Queen Of The Known Universe, wearing all hats equally well.  If you're a writer, please read through her archives before sending out your query letters.  Her advice is worth its weight in gold.  I wish she repped YA, but I'll definitely send her my mainstream novel when it's finished. Anyway, she holds quite a few flash fiction contests where she gives a few key words and you are asked to write a 100-word (or less) piece containing those words.  I've entered 3 times, and I've enjoyed the challenge of coming up with something on the spot.  The first one I entered, I didn't place, and that's okay.  I loved reading the other entries, there were some that blew my mind! Some people are so talented.  I'm determined to keep entering each time she holds a contest, until I win. The second time I entered, I was a semi-finalist! Woot! Here's the entry, in case you're interested.  The key words were ice, shower, oil, boom and mother.

Alice’s breath puffed out in visible plumes as she carried her mother’s belongings across the ice-encrusted driveway.  She dropped the box on the passenger seat and put a hand to her lower back, wincing.  Nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix.

In the distance, the oil derricks stretched up from the snow, motionless.   Ashland’s economic boom had ended long ago, and she wondered why her mother had stayed.  It was a ghost town.  

Alice turned and looked at the house, the reflection on the windows concealing whatever ghosts wandered there.  Finally of the living, she would not cross that threshold again.

My most recent entry just went in this morning, so I'll post here later and let you know how it went.  By the way, anyone doing NaNoWriMo this year? I am.  Maybe it'll keep me motivated.  Do my blog posts count? :)

Today's DWA: Daily Writing Advice

Ooooh, I almost forgot the writing advice/inspiration of the day.  This came from Harlan Coben, and I literally chant this every day to myself, because it's something I struggle with constantly in my quest for writing perfection.

"You can always fix crappy, horrible, awful pages.  But you can never fix no pages."

True dat.

Flash Fiction Challenge: Random Song Title

I just discovered Chuck Wendig's fab website 'Terribleminds'. Apparently he presents some cool writing challenges from time to time, and I thought I'd give this one a go.  

The challenge was to choose a random song title and use it to create a short piece of fiction.  I had to cheat a little and use the second title that came up on my iTunes playlist, since the first one was an Indian hip-hop song with a title in Hindi, and I'm not sure I'm up to writing a story titled "Ashiquana Hai Dil".  Especially since I haven't the slightest idea what it means.  Thankfully, the next song generated was Second Chance by Shinedown.

Sooo, without further ado, here's my entry:



Second Chance


Anna stood staring at the pool, her thoughts lost in its blue depths. How long had she been standing here? Long enough for the neighbors to become concerned?  Were they even now calling her husband, pitying her, wondering if she would ever recover from that horrible day in June.  She could feel eyes on her, and whether they were real or imagined, they felt heavy, and bored into her like nettles.

The neighbors can go to hell, she thought. They had no idea what it was like to lose a child, to drag your beautiful, lifeless six-year-old from the water, to scream and beg and pray for some light to return to those lifeless eyes. No idea what it was like to bargain with God on a daily basis, please, I beg you, I'll do anything for a second chance, anything at all.  

Blinded by tears, she stepped into the water, first to her knees, then her hips.  The water was chilly, as it would be in early October, but she barely noticed.  This was the monster that took her son from her, all around her, but she knew it was her fault, she had only looked away for a moment, just a brief moment, and everything in her world had changed forever.   Why had they insisted on having a pool?  Josh had wanted the pool, said it would be a great way for the family to spend time together, and now they had no family, no child, it was just her and Josh and she couldn't bear to look at him and see Caleb's brown eyes looking back at her and oh God why, why, why?  She closed her own eyes, remembering Caleb's touch, his small arms around her neck, how he smelled, the feel of his silky hair against her cheek.

The water was up to her collarbone now, but it was something else that made her body shiver. 

A voice, a whisper at first, then more insistent: What will you give?  She spun around, scanning the deck, the yard, the surface of the water.  

"Hello?" She whispered, feeling absurd. "Is anyone there?"  After a brief moment, the voice came again: Second chances are expensive. Are you willing to pay such a cost?  

Anna burst from the water, running for the towel draped on the patio chair.  Was she losing her mind?  Was God answering her?  Surely God didn't make bargains, especially in matters of life and death.  She looked around wildly, searching for the source of the mysterious voice but knowing she would find none.  She backed against the pine fence, crying now, and slid down until she was seated on the concrete patio, shaking her head, covering her ears.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not.  Go away, please, I don't hear you," she used the towel to cover her face, willing whatever was happening to stop.  "Please, don't do this. I would do anything, but he's not coming back.  My baby isn't coming back." 

A small arm slipped around her neck, softly, and she felt warm breath in her ear as a small voice whispered, "Mama."

She was shaking violently, pressing the towel hard against her face, unable to look.  She knew now that she was going insane, the death of her son had driven her insane and she would never be the same again.

The sweet voice was insistent, the small hand stroking her hair.  

"Mama, we can be together.  But this is what you have to do." 

Then came the other voice, stronger, clearer, asking the unspeakable. A feeling of horror spread through her, and she felt ill.  Slowly she pulled the towel down, and looked into those sweet brown eyes.  Her heart swelled with joy and relief.  Her baby.

"Caleb," she whispered, and took him in her arms. She closed her eyes, and gave her answer.

"Yes."

An Introduction

My name is Lisa.   I started this blog with the intention of having a way to talk about the frustrations joys of being a writer.  I'm currently at work on a novel, and although sometimes it writes itself and is the most exciting thing I can think of doing, other times it makes me want to hang myself in the nearest closet.  I know many others are in the same boat, so come along with me...share your stories with me, enjoy some quotes and advice from published authors, and generally enjoy the ride.  Why not?

It is sometimes said that a writer's worst enemy is procrastination.  Is this blog my way of procrastinating?  Avoiding work on my novel, and the short story that I'm working on simultaneously?   Probably.  But hey...at least I'm WRITING while procrastinating.


Writing inspiration for the day from Patrick Rothfuss:

via Wofford.edu

Um, yeah.  Go.