"Do just once what
others say you can't do,
and you will never pay
attention to their
limitations again."
--James R. Cook

"Everything is funny as
long as it is happening
to somebody else."
--Will Rogers

"Honest criticism is hard
to take, particularly
from a relative, a friend,
an acquaintance, or a
stranger."
--Franklin P. Jones

I used to tell people that I started writing in 1996. And that's partly true. When I think about it, that's actually when I started writing...again.

"Cassii! You're spacing out!" Growing up, I heard this too many times to count. Mom has her own theories about these episodes. I know what they were. I was there, you know:-) To anyone outside my mind, it might seem that I was "spacing out" or "going blank". The truth is...what was going on inside my head was a helluva lot more interesting than the things going on in the real world. There were two reasons I did this, and one was the stories.

I had stories about soccer-playing fish and one about castaways stranded on an island (gee, wonder where I got that one!). Poetry about death were always a big hit in junior high (you know, anything that has verses ending in "dove" and "love" and "from above"). A friend and I wrote a 20 page or so play starring the two of us and many voices. And then there was the radio show, "The Cricket That Ate St. Louis!" (have NO idea what I was thinking of there, but the class found it amusing).

It would be quite a few years until I thought of writing again. There's a point in your life where many things get left behind. This was mine. This is also when I met my husband. Whenever the kids ask us how we met, we tell them it was at Kentucky Fried Chicken (and this is my husband's version) where I chased him around with a live chicken and forced him to say "I do." The real story isn't quite that amusing:-) We married about a year later. I was your typical bride of the 90s--chaste, virtuous, innocent...nine months pregnant. Our firstborn arrived a month later. Our second child came shortly thereafter.

FAVORITE QUOTES

"Do, or do not. There is
no 'try'."--Yoda

"I'm all in favor of
keeping dangerous
weapons out of the
hands of fools. Let's
start with typewriters."
--Frank Lloyd Wright

"Women and cats will
do as they please, and
men and dogs should
relax and get used to the
idea." --Robert A. Heinlein

"I am what I am."--Popeye

"Always forgive your
enemies; nothing annoys
them so much."
--Oscar Wilde

FAVORITE MOVIE LINES

"Fozzie, where did you learn to
drive?"
"I took a correspondence course."
--The Muppet Movie

"Let's dance, you and I."
--A Knights Tale

"Is this where you wanna be
when Jesus comes back?"
--Joe Dirt

Somewhere along the line I borrowed a hideous typewriter from Doug's grandmother. I'd rather pull teeth than work on that contraption again. Since I was a one-finger wonder, I grew a nice hard-as-nails callous on my index finger from banging on that thing. Luckily, I was only writing letters. Still no stories. Maybe there was poetry back then, but it wasn't any better than the "dove, love, from above" stuff I'd been writing in school.

Eventually, I worked my way up to an electronic typewriter. Oh, yeah, I loved that thing. In fact, I loved pushing the keys so much that one day, out of nowhere, I decided I would write a book.

I was always a huge horror/thriller fan. Like many, I couldn't get my hands on enough Stephen King novels. Dean Koontz too. I vaguely recall the first book I wrote, the one that never lived beyond eighty pages long, in which I picked off character versions of my husband's friends whenever I felt they deserved it. But I wasn't "writing." I was entertaining, making up stories...getting a few laughs and gasps, but not writing.

FAVORITE MOVIE LINES

"We all go a little mad
sometimes... Haven't you?"
--Psycho

"Insanity runs in my family.
It practically gallops."
--Arsenic and Old Lace

"Hey, Johnny, what are you
rebelling against?"
"What've you got?"
--The Wild One

The second boost I received was the knowledge of these new things called ebooks.

I'd never heard of them and thought I'd give them a shot. The concept was that you'd order a disk, pop it into the computer, and start reading the book on screen. Books by Diana Kirk, Connie Crow and Ginny McBlain got me started...and hooked. I LOVED the concept of reading electronically. And now I had a new goal. To get my story ideas into this format.

I sat down with the ebook concept and Karen's suggestions and started another book. Winters' Desire. And then I submitted it to Hard Shell Word Factory.

Three things happened that year. I contracted Winters' Desire, just as I'd hoped, followed up by Veiled Hearts, another historical romance, and also discovered I was pregnant...again:-) What a year!

During the summer of 2003, I was on "writer vacation." It's a period of time between book and, like many writers, I tossed ideas around in my head for what would come next. Romance or dark fiction? Sex or murder? Alone on my front porch, I had an immense desire to do something different. Something huge. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew it didn't fall into either one of my choice genres.

Or did it?

In any genre, there are guidelines that one must follow in order for their book to be categorized. In the past, I'd choose which genre my idea best fit, then write accordingly. This time, I wanted to take a different route. I wanted to just write without thinking about it, without rules. Just write an honest story that is told the way it's meant to be without the fence of what you can and can't do in any particular genre. I just wanted to write. And then...find a suitable place for it. I wanted something shocking, but appealing to all. I wanted intense emotions and to make people think. I wanted a challenge.

So, sitting on my porch that day, with a pen found in the kitchen drawer (no computer) and a notebook stolen from son's backback, I asked myself:
What would be the hardest thing for me to write or defend?
Whose mind can I step into that is furthest from my own?

By that night, the first thirty pages for my latest novel was written. The title hit me, before the first page had been completed: My Dearest Joseph, Memoirs of a Serial Rapist.

I couldn't write fast enough or often enough. The writing was easier than I thought. Isn't everything when there are no rules?

When December came, I entered a new chapter of my life. With my youngest daughter just about old enough to go to school, it was time for me to get a J-O-B. Yes, that's right. A REAL job. One with a steady pay check. Yay! But also one that took up most of my time, the time I once used to write.

While I loved my job at the hospital, I could not figure out how other writers found time to write, much less raise their children. For a solid year, I didn't turn on the computer. No writing, no email, no web surfing, nothing. Sales dropped on my books, no new ideas found way to my mind, my latest book collected dust. In fact, I wasn't quite sure where I'd even put the notebook.

Luckily, after cleaning out my desk, I found it. I read it. I still loved it. Somehow, I had to merge my old life as a writer and mother of four with my new life as a "working" mother of four. It was slow going at first and I wondered if I could even remember to write to begin with. Every night, every morning, during breaks at work, My Dearest Joseph started taking shape again. There's no feeling to describe the excitement of writing again. It took two years, two LONG years, before I finally hit the end. And what a satisfying end it was!

For the first time in my writing career, I distributed copies of the unpublished manuscript. About a dozen copies went out to men and women of all ages. I just had to know: How would the general public feel about such a book?

The response was mind blowing. My phone rang at all hours of the day, and sometimes night, as my test readers hit different areas of the story that seemed to affect then individually or personally. Some were stunned and kept reading. Some were angry and kept reading. Some impressed, some touched, some shocked. But they all kept reading. And then a few went back for a second time. Like any writer, I want to keep you up until 2 AM. This is what I would call personal success!

After edits and suggestions from all, I started looking for an agent. <insert HUGE sigh> Here's the downside of pouring your heart on paper with no regard for rules and genre. No luck! After some fifty+ rejections from agents, I still hold an unpublished manuscript in my lap. I've read the book again and again and still can't figure out why. Is it the title? The pitch?

The downside is I can't seem to get passed step one. Not one agent has so much as asked to see the full manuscript or even the first three chapters. The upside is I can't seem to get passed step one. Not one agent has so much as asked to see the full manuscript or even the first three chapters. So, I can easily that not one who has read it, has rejected it. They'rve rejected the pitch. See how easy it is to make yourself feel better?

But that's what it is to be a writer. Some hits. Some misses. So, I'll keep submitting. Maybe one day I'll see it on the bookstore shelves where it belongs.

So, that's it. Beginning to end. Waaaaay more than you wanted to know, I'm sure. I'm still writing, still working, still trying to sell. Earlier this year, I started yet another goal. I went back to school. I should have my first degree by early 2009. If there's one thing I've learned it's not to rush. All we have is time. Time to raise our children, time for spouses, time for extended family, time to work, time to write, time for hobbies. Recently, the kids and I made a movie for the new reality show, On the Lot. We missed the deadline. But that's okay. Next time. And in between semesters, we'll make another one for fun.

Meanwhile, there's a woman who's been whispering in my ear. She lives somewhere in the future, I think. She's passionate about the Old West and may travel back through time for a reality check. I'm thinking she's gonna find a hard-ass hero once she gets there. We'll see. I'm only on chapter one.