Just Another Wednesday Night in Paradise

Welcome to Sonoma County, California, land of old hippies, some of whom became successful in other fields other than Dead-Heading. Some stayed the same and never waste an excuse to dance freely anywhere there is a band with a great beat. Some quietly tap to tunes and pretend they still have their long hair, which died of natural causes.

We had a great time last night at the Wednesday Night Market, which goes from 6 to fish every Wednesday in the downtown Santa Rosa area all summer long. I bought my favorite yellow and white peaches that come from Fresno (the season is about a month ahead of ours). I love the flirtatious Mushroom Guy who took some of my chickens and the Hummus Guy who always seems to have something new.

My grandson is learning about pointing and getting his way. My granddaughter just learns more about the exuberance of being alive, being patient waiting in line for the Jump-Up and portable slides.

Back to the band, Gator Beat. When I get rich enough to have a decent party, they are going to be my

entertainment. I've loved Zydeco music ever since I first heard it in the '70's. We saw Sir Clifton in Cotati when a washboard was something you played music on, rather than something a woman would lace her red fingernails down. Ahem.

Okay, so you know you're a little bit off the beaten path when the most popular booth is the reptile exhibit, "get to know your snakes," sort of thing, like the one my mom registered me for at the Palo Alto Children's Museum called "Snakes Alive." It didn't work then, and it didn't work for me last night, either.

There was a row of chess players nearly a block long. We had the Redwood Cloggers, the ballet schools represented, a Barbershop camp, and even a few Hells Angels. Gosh I wish they hadn't trademarked that name. Catchy title, don't you think?

The photo booth was a hit. Confirms my age and the fact that gravity is still alive and well. I came home to a nice bed and soft lighting, covered in pillows my mother made.

This morning, was up early to check on the trees we'd been removing all week to make way for our new backyard landscaping.

I was inspired by the sun, the colors, the quiet beautiful weather, the birds, and my two Dobermans who jump and chase everything from airplanes to butterflies. They greet the morning with all the enthusiasm of a small child and are a constant reminder that life is good.

All is fundamentally well, as my friend, Jacquie would say.

Jumping Out of Airplanes, Replanting Hydrangeas

I got a great quote this morning from Mark Divine, former Navy SEAL and now coach and Unbeatable Mind Academy founder, "I leaped into the dark abyss. Wind whipped by me, and the velocity of my jump picked up. With my eyes popping out of my head and a joker smile, I managed one thought: "this is either going to turn out really cool, or really shitty."


This really spoke to me this morning. Several years ago now, our family visited a skydiving facility in the San Diego area to celebrate a great family victory. I decided to try to push my own personal boundaries, doing something that was so way over the top scary, even death-defying, that it would change my life forever.

And since I was going, the rest of my family went as well. Another one of Mom's crazy ideas. 

It was crazy, crazy fun. I jumped in tandem with "Tigger" my hooked up buddy, and he showed me points on the horizon after we'd pulled the chute: Mexico, the ocean, San Diego, the training facility and cars that looked like grains of white rice. I felt the cold air against me and then felt it warm as I got closer and closer to mother earth. I have to say the welcoming she did for this scared and tired traveler was inspiring.

Coach Devine goes on to say that we sometimes need to make that leap of faith, to go for it, put ourselves in failure's way, to get the prize behind the door. The unspoken part is the small print that says, "or die trying." This is something every elite warrior knows, but not anything we dwell on.

My relationship to the earth is very strong. Being an organic gardener for over 40 years has taught me things about life, while watching plants grow, thrive, and yes, die. So, when I jumped out of an airplane at 13,500 feet, though I was with someone who was very experienced, it was a disconnect from all the familiar sensations of my everyday life, and a leap into something else. 

I have these big beautiful hydrangeas in our backyard. We're in the middle of a big project to make a space we can look at through our 13' roll up glass garage door-cum-dining room window. We overlook a forest, but one that had to be pruned and thinned. We have sudden oak death around us, and the bay trees are the carrier. So, about ten big trees are being removed. And so now my beautiful hydrangeas, some of them over ten years old, have to be moved to a more shady location. I am concerned for their roots, and their relocation, just like I was when I jumped out of the airplane with no roots. I resist change and will miss them if they don't make it. They have become a part of me.


The transition from the familiar garden in my backyard to something new and miraculous is hard for me. Maybe all change is hard for me. Maybe that's why jumping out of a plane was hard for me. But do I want to live my life with the routine of the ordinary, "quiet desperation" as Coach Divine says, or embrace: 

The more capable you are as a person, the bigger the challenge you must bring to yourself.

I have to say the answer to that question on this glorious Saturday in June is, yes. Yes. Bring it on. Now, where's the airstrip?

California Dreamin' or The Love of Muscle Cars and Chop Rods

I should be writing. Well, I am writing, but my husband and I took a detour tonight to go visit some eye candy of the motor vehicle kind. What an event. I'm sure, while I'm pounding away at the words, hubster will be back drooling and counting his pennies. That man deserves a hobby and a nice older vehicle, and we've had several. We still have the pickup he used to ride to school in some 60 years ago. Not that it runs.

But boy do these bad boys run. Beautiful as stock cars. Beautiful chopped and made into works of art, certainly not cars. The love of muscle cars and custom rods is as American as Apple Pie.

I am actually at a loss for words. So I'll let the pictures do the talking.

Sharon is working on Book 3 in the SEAL Brotherhood, a fast-paced Amazon Best-Selling series. Marliss Melton, famous for her SEAL Team 12 stories, said, "Sharon reads like rich chocolate."

SEAL Brotherhood Boxed Set No. 1 Here At Last

So excited to bring you my first Boxed Set No 1 for the SEAL Brotherhood series. Just went on sale today at Amazon. There is a special introductory price too. Now you can read the prequel and the full length novel for less than the price of the novel alone.

Enjoy. More exciting news later.

Sharon

Author Inverview: Jerrie Alexander

Today I'm pleased to welcome Jerrie Alexander. She's a new romantic suspense author to me. Hope you enjoy another great RS writer. Welcome, Jerrie.

Sharon, thank you for hosting me today. I look forward to visiting and will be around all day.

What genres do you write and why? Anything interesting about how you got started? 

My first love has always been romantic suspense. I tried my hand at a couple of contemporary romances. Both will forever stay hidden. So for now, I'm sticking with what I do best, which is killing people. Hypothetically, of course)

I can't remember a time when I wasn't interested in writing. Majored in journalism but my desire to embellish quickly turned me to fiction. Life, love, family, and career intervened, and I wouldn't change that for the world. In fact, I think it helped me when I buckled down and concentrated on writing.

Do you like writing in series, or single?

I have two singles out and a short story on the way. I enjoyed writing them as singles. But I've had a number of requests from readers who want the secondary characters to have their own happy ending. I've written book one and two of the Lost and Found, Inc, series. Book one, Hell or High Water, is in the edit stage. I have to admit, I love writing the series.

Did you get “the call” or did you get the call to “go Indie?"

I sold to a small press first. The Green-Eyed Doll, The Last Execution, and Someone To Watch Over Me are published by The Wild Rose Press. But it will be Indie for me going forward. I like the idea of being in control of my schedule, covers, editing, and publishing!

Who is your favorite character you've created? Why?

Boy, that's a tough one. May I use the no name dog from The Green-Eyed Doll? I don't plot so it didn't surprise me when a stray mutt wandered up and befriended my hero. He'd eat the sheriff's food but wouldn't allow him to touch him. That dog wound up playing a significant role in the book.

Do you find it easier to write the bad boys or the good boys? I'm assuming both are heroic, but which ones are more fun to write?

Bad boys for sure! I love writing a hero who has a troubled past and inner demons to overcome. They're hotter, more dangerous, and a lot more fun for the heroine to tame. Or at least she'll try to tame him.

What about the heroines? Do you find it easiest to write the bad girls or the good girls?

I haven't written a bad girl. Not yet. :) My heroines have been through hell in one form or another and are stronger because of their experiences. They wind up in trouble, but don't always rely on someone else to come save them.

If you could have a date with one of your characters, which one would it be and why? Where would you go?

Not fair! I love each one more than the last while I'm writing them. I'd take any of them and head to the beach. Warm water, white sand, and a sexy hunk...I'd be happy.

If you could go to a desert island with two companions, who would you bring? What would you do there? What would you bring if you could bring anything?

You said go to a desert island as in voluntary, not that I'd be stranded, right? So immediately, Gerard Butler popped into my mind!

Okay, I'd take two well trained SEALS. Which by the way, I was fortunate to work with a young man who was a SEAL. He's my go to guy on anything that shoots or blows up!

I'd bring a working satellite phone, replacement battery, snorkeling equipment, and enjoy myself.

Pretend you have just sold your 100,000th copy of one of your books. What will you do to celebrate?

I'd buy my husband a new bass boat. Can you believe those things can cost 40K? It's like buying a SUV. He'd be over the moon excited to replace his boat with a new one.

Tell us something about you that most people wouldn't know or guess about you?

That once upon a time I sang lead in a band. We played Lions Club dances, proms, etc. It was great fun and will always be a good memory.

Who are your favorite authors/books?

Linda Howard's Death Angel!! That book will forever and always be in my collection. And Cherry Adair, anything she writes is great. My guilty pleasure is historical fiction by Elizabeth Hoyt.

What are you working on now?

I am 23K words into a new romantic suspense. Working title The Last Tear Drop. I read an FBI profile about erotomania and it peaked my interest. This is way past having a stalker. To prove himself worthy, the villain kills anyone he thinks causes the object of his affection trouble. But when he discovers she's never going to love him, he feels betrayed and all hell breaks loose!

Excerpt: The Last Execution

Ethan turned his head sideways as he studied J.T.’s face. Wide eyed, the boy pointed at the scar with his index finger. J.T. wasn’t surprised. The kid was probably curious.

            “How’d you get that?”

            “A piece of shrapnel—” He paused and considered Ethan’s age. “I was in the war. A bomb went off and a piece of metal smacked me in the face.”

            “Does it hurt?”

            “Not anymore.” J.T. marveled at the innocence in Ethan’s eyes.

            “Can I touch it?”

            “I guess so.” J.T. breathed in and waited. Ethan hesitated, leaning closer.

            “I’m not supposed to talk about your scar.”

            “Who said?”

            “Mama.”

            “It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

            J.T. turned his head to the side. No one had outright asked to touch the constant reminder of a day when his best friend caught the worst of an IUD. Hell, people shied away from his right side. Except Leigh, she looked him square in the face. He lay still while Ethan poked a finger into the scar a couple of times. After a few seconds of investigation, the kid cupped the scar with his small hand and patted lightly. The oddest thing happened to J.T.’s heart. It swelled inside his chest and then clenched.

            “Mama said you were a brave soldier.”

            Alien emotions swirled through J.T. and an unexplained urge to hug Ethan put a weird lump in J.T.’s throat. Unable to cope or understand, his mind raced for an idea, anything to end the moment.

The Last Execution blurb:

To survive, she must put the past behind her. To love, she must learn to trust.

Homicide detective Leigh McBride's first assignment with the FBI brings her face-to-face with a past she's tried hard to forget. And when her temporary partner, a cynical ex-marine, lights a fire in her she thought long-extinguished, her darkest secret is threatened.

Scarred both physically and emotionally, Special Agent J. T. Noble is a man of few words. He prefers to keep people at a distance—until he meets Leigh. He's attracted to her strength and drawn in by her secrecy. But in their line of work, secrets can be deadly.

When the killer they are hunting aims his vigilante justice at Leigh's past assailant, the fine line between right and wrong blurs. To heal the past—and find their future together—Leigh and J. T. must learn that only through trust and forgiveness can love grow.

Jerrie Alexander bio:

A student of  creative writing in her youth, Jerrie set aside her passion when life presented her with a John Wayne husband, and two wonderful children.  A career in logistics offered her the opportunity to travel to many beautiful locations in America, and she revisits them in her romantic suspense novels. 

But the characters went with her, talked to her, and insisted she share their dark, sexy stories with others.  She writes alpha males and kick-ass women who weave their way through death and fear to emerge stronger because of, and on occasion in spite of, their love for each other.  She likes to torture people, make them suffer, and if they’re strong enough, they live happily ever after.

The author of THE GREEN-EYED DOLL, THE LAST EXECUTION, and soon to be released, SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME, Jerrie and her husband live in Texas. She loves sunshine, children’s laughter, sugar (human and granulated), and researching for her heroes and heroines.

Social media links:

http://www.jerriealexander.com - website

http://www.jerriealexander.com/category/blog/

http://www.twitter.com/jerriealexander

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jerrie-Alexander /121521571355959?ref=hl

http://www.goodreads.com/jerriealexander

http://pinterest.com/jerriealexander/

Buy links: The Last Execution

http://www.amazon.com/The-Last-Execution-ebook/dp/B00BK9QU9K/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365245740&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Last+Execution

Buy links: The Green-Eyed Doll

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=jerrie+alexander+

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-green-eyed-doll-alexander-jerrie/1113957378?ean=2940015802665

http://www.kobobooks.com/search/search.html?q=The+Green-Eyed+Doll

T is for Traveling Home

I'm sitting here at the Kansas City Sheraton reflecting on the last week of meet and greets, craft workshops and meals with friends. Some of these people I've known for years on the internet. Some are new friends in every sense.  What a remarkable week of expanding my boundaries, and keeping some boundaries in check.

It won't be hard for me to go back home. I miss my husband, my writing corner, my gardens, the sunshine and that beautiful space that I call my sanctuary, where all the beautiful stories are created. I'd forgotten how much my routine, my sense of place and belonging was to me -- and I'm not complaining. Just noticing how I miss the things I have and do every day. That great old country song comes to mind, How Can I Miss You When You Won't Go Away?

My travels have exposed me to people I would not ordinarily sit and talk to. And we're all storytellers, so the stories are rich. We have new projects planned and this year will be a first for me with hopefully three nice collaborations. I'll be in three collections. More to come.

I'm reminded about what I do because of all these fantastic posters plastered around the lobby, the Mezzanine, and wrapped around the elevator doors. but I miss the two story living and dining room at my house, with the windows reflecting sunsets, and the three beautiful ledges of hand blown glass we've chosen. I am very much about the place. And my place feels like a church. The music I play echoes throughout the house, especially when I am all alone. If I'm not brought to tears every hour, my writing isn't good enough.


I need my fix of the familiar so I can bring all the great success and ideas home and tend them in my writing garden.

It's only been eleven months since I've been able to really call my writing income enough to live on. And last night I got to sit with and talk to people who have done that ten, maybe thirty times over. Wow. Not about all the money. I think about all the fans, the people who got to read such compelling stories. I got to talk to another Indie writer this week who actually has sold 100,000 copies a day for almost a whole month. Excuse me while I bow.

One day, I'll have one of these cool elevator wraps. I'll be flooded at a bookstore signing. I'll have a fan page with 20,000 people on it. But I'll still be the same lady who likes to get dirty in her garden, who writes the kinds of stories I would like to sit down, cuddle up with, and fantasize about. The reality of what I do during the day gives me this fantasy I've earned.

I'll be finishing the A-Z Challenge and, just like Vince Lombardi said it, "I never lost a game, I only ran out of time." My A-Z Challenge will end sometime this week.

And that's okay.

I think this link still works:  Don't forget to catch the other A-Z Blog participants by clicking here.

S is for Shakespeare

S is for Shakespeare…in Middle School

Today I’m proud to allow my daughter, Jaime, post the “S” for Shakespeare. She is a 7^th and 8^th grade English and Humanities teacher, and loves her work. Her kids are working on Shakespeare.

Shakespeare’s death day, his exact birthdate unknown, was the other day – April 23^rd, 1616. I maintain he was an Aries, although I’ve no physical, metaphysical, logical or otherwise relevant proof…I maintain he was an Aries simply for the fact that prior to 2010 Shakespeare and I had a long and disharmonious relationship. Did I mention I’m an Aries – stubborn, strong-willed and logger-headed (all three words that mean ‘stubborn’). Simply put, I hated everything Shakespearean because I couldn’t understand it.

However, after a Bachelors degree in History, a Masters degree in teaching and several years teaching English, I’ve come to know, respect and, to a degree, love the bard. Regardless of whether or not you are a fan, there is something to be said for his ability to turn a phrase and insult people with wildly hilarious and totally inappropriate language.

Finding myself teaching middle school this year, I harkened back to my days as a hormone raging, acne prone, uncomfortable and irritable teenager. As I said before, I loathed Shakespeare simply for the fact that I just didn’t get it, and despite my protestations, I still had to read Romeo & Juliette, Hamlet and something else I’ve blocked out completely…I suppose the memories were just TOO bad.

Rather than repeat my high school experience, I decided to approach Shakespeare on his own turf – he likes to turn a phrase? HA! By George, we will, too! Thus the Shakespearean Insults were born. Each day my 8^th graders come to class, I give them a new insult, today’s: Fie, fie you counterfeit cloak-bag, you puke stocking! They feverishly work for 2 minutes trying to figure out what it means – for some of them this is the only 2 minutes of the entire day when they will actually do work. We share our insults on the whiteboards at each table, and I read every one of them aloud. Now…being in middle school, they’ve naturally figured out that I’ll read just about anything, thus the following responses have left my mouth:

-       You are a puss infested toe on a hawt summa’ daaayyyy.

-       You are a donkey’s fart hole.

-       You are a stinky fart under my foot.

-       You are a drunken farting man (it seems this table likes farts).

-       Go away you drunken butthole.

We really do have fun with these insults – the conversations we have are pretty hilarious:

“Gleeking means?” I asked two weeks ago. 

“Spitting!!”

“Close…when you spit on someone you are….”

“Spitting?!” 

“No, you are teasing and taunting them.” I receive a few nods and ‘ah’s.’ “Now, brazen-faced means what?”

“Brazen!”

Backstory…three weeks ago a friend of mine visited our classroom. One of my students took class-time during this lesson to ask the question… “is he your boyfriend?!” Deciding this was a perfect time to address ‘brazen’ I used her as an example. 

“When Y (Insert student name) asked me ‘is that guy your boyfriend?!’ she was asking in a totally brazen way. She was unashamed, unembarrassed and shameless, right?”

“Huh, so she didn’t really care if it would embarrass you, so she just asked?” someone clarified. Apparently, this example totally made sense…I’m so glad my personal embarrassment has led to some sort of learning. 

“Yes…it’s sort of like when I walk in here and say, ‘man I’m sweating sooo much’ and then show you the sweat marks on my shirt,” I reply, using yet another example from my personal life.

“Yeah, we get it hambone…just don’t do that again.” Hmm…

“Flax is…”

“A seed!” Star pupil X. “And a wench is a babe or a hoe…so she’s a seed hoe! No wait, a seed prostitute!” 

I roll my eyes…“well in a manner yes, but no. Why can’t you just say ‘seed babe’?” We discussed the thing to death, and discovered that by taking out the word ‘flax’ the insult totally made sense: Gleeking, brazen-faced flax-wench = A taunting/joking, shameless babe.

I’ve had entirely way too much fun teaching the language aspect of Shakespeare, and I think my students have as well. I suppose it’s an effort to reach those kids who, like me, just didn’t get it. But, what’s emerged from this is a group of highly intellectual, critical thinking, button-pushing 14 year-olds who can insult you using awesome language like it’s nobody’s business. In doing this, I feel I’ve addressed most of the “I don’t get it” types and have engaged them in a way that I would have wanted to learn, in a way that I would have totally been hooked to old English and atrocious sentence structure.

For all the wonderful things we do, unfortunately being a teacher, there are so many things we have to do in a day – “we wear a lot of hats” as we say in the staff lounge. It is doubly unfortunate that during any day, because we are pulled in so many differing directions, we cannot devote the time and our energies to each and every student who needs that one-on-one connection for understanding. There are young adults who, like me at that age, don’t understand, won’t ask for help and are simply content to carry on, ignorant. Sometimes it’s easier to do that then to ask ‘why’ or ask for help.

So, I’ll end with a shameless plug! Go talk to your children, your grandchildren. Find out what they are struggling with, find out what they don’t know…and then TELL US! E-mail us, call us, drop in to our offices and pester us! When it comes to education, there’s nothing more important than our own. As mom says, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” and just think back to a time when you were too scared to ask for clarification. Had I been willing to embrace the radtasticalness of Shakespeare, I might have had an entirely different love affair…

Don't forget to catch the other A-Z Blog participants by clicking here.