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Just Call Me “Ms. Organization”!

At the office, Barbara was known as the Post-It Queen.  The multi-colored, adhesive-backed bits of notepaper cluttered her computer monitor, her phone, and the calendar on her desk.  Her co-workers couldn’t believe she relied on an organizer/appointment book, so riddled with Post-Its and crammed with scraps of paper, coupons, and newspaper clippings, she had to secure it with a large rubber band.

“Why don’t you use the organizational apps on your computer and smartphone?” her friend, Dee, asked her after the rubber band broke and papers floated like confetti on the breeze.

“I like my system,” Barbara defended while scampering on her hands and knees to capture the intricate details of her life before she lost them.  The next day, she missed an important teleconference and realized she needed to change her ways.  A nearby bookstore had a section devoted to organization.  By the number of books on the subject, Barbara ascertained providing instruction to people so they could deal with their messy lives was a lucrative industry.

The more promising book titles were removed from their shelves for a thorough assessment.  A final selection was made, and Barbara walked with determination to the checkout counter.  Her life was never going to be the same after this important purchase.

Barbara cradled her pathway- to-a-new-reality in her arms as she went home.  A weekend spent in contemplation and enlightenment awaited her.  Next week, she planned to put into practice her new organizational skills.  But first, Barbara needed to remove some clutter from her coffee table for her new book.  She stuffed the newspapers and adverts under the table.

Wanting to be in a relaxed mood to enable her full concentration, Barbara took a bubble bath.  But first, she removed the dirty laundry from the bathroom and placed it in a pile in the hall.  Then, she searched for the expensive bath salts she purchased six months ago.  Barbara removed all of the items from under her sink.  She emptied the shelf in the linen closet with shampoos, moisturizers, and mouthwash.

She couldn’t find them.  Well, after this weekend, she wouldn’t worry about misplacing items.  Everything would be in its designated place.  How wonderful it would be!  She could already imagine the looks of envy her friends would give her when they saw her clean apartment.

Since a soothing bath wasn’t in the cards, Barbara decided a cup of tea messas she ingested the wisdom from ‘Organization for the Busy Professional’ would be just as good.  Her mother gave her some tea for Christmas.  Barbara checked every cupboard in the kitchen until she found it in its gift bag sitting on top of her refrigerator behind some other items.  Now, to find a teapot.

After a lengthy search, Barbara lay back on her couch tossing and kicking items off to make room.  Her new book sat under a layer of clutter.  When she awoke the next morning on the couch, she was unable to remember where she put her new book.  It took her most of the weekend to find it.  But she did find it under a blanket, some pillows and a newspaper or two.

Closing the book with a decisive thump, Barbara smiled in triumph.  Now she had the necessary tools to become more organized.  Barbara considered herself a free spirit, and didn’t feel the saying “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” was true.  A new way of life was around the corner.   Barbara was sure everyone would be calling her Ms. Organization before too long.

*Author’s Note:  This short story was written in response to the writing prompt — Organization.

 

Falling Behind

Just as the temperatures fall from the humid 90’s of August to the pleasant 70’s of September, and Autumn heralds its imminent arrival with the subtle changes in the color of the trees around us, I feel the panic of Falling Behind.  

I’m an erratic list maker.  I have lists on my iPhone, in the notebook I use for jotting notes for my writing inspirations and in my journal I have fondly dubbed “My Brain”.  It holds the items my aging synapses are unable to retain in any order.  In my fifth decade, I blame it on all of the names, phone numbers, account numbers and birthdates I have tried to compile in the (let’s face it!) minute amount of gray matter I was born with.

I have a special To Do List which I made three years ago.  I cataloged all of the updates I wanted to make to our home.  I went around room by room listing all of the changes and maintenance items I needed to tackle.  I have crossed off about two things on the list.

Oh, I have my reasons.  Summer overwhelms with family events, camping trips, and outdoor concerts.  Last summer, I had a broken wrist and for much of the summer, I wore a cast.  After it had come off, my dominant right hand and arm were weakened to the point I couldn’t accomplish many of the items on my list.

This year, in addition to the multitude of summer affairs we attend, our youngest son got married on an island in the Carribean.  Yup, I didn’t get very much done.  Now, I am looking at a list older than the two year old, furbaby next to me.  Thinking to myself, ‘If it wasn’t raining, I could’ve painted outside today…’

How many of you have To Do Lists with still too many “To Do’s” on it?

 

 

 

The Tale of Writing Withdrawal

I am going to tell you a tale of woe and angst.  Once upon a time, a writer found herself separated from her story unable to write for ONE WEEK!!!  I can imagine your alarm at this calamity.  But it’s true.  I have gone for over a week without writing a single word in my latest project Winter’s Icy Caress, the sequel to Exodus.

I published Exodus on Kindle and on Smashwords.  Done.  Nope, it isn’t.  The second book in the series is stuck on Chapter 16 unless I can find some time to write.  So, I guess you want to knWinter's Icy Caressow what has kept me from my writing passion.

Simply put – Life.  Appointments both personal and medical, family visits, a music event with friends and family and projects (other than writing about Clare, Wyatt, and Lee) have separated me from my typical routine.  I usually write between 1000 -2000 words each day.  They may not always make the final cut for a story but the words are put on the page either way.  I’m 14,000 words behind.

What might have occurred in Bayfield while I was busy?  Don’t worry I won’t write any spoilers.  I think I may need to end my blog and my misery and get busy.  While you are waiting for Book 2, mosey over to Amazon Kindle or Smashwords and check out my author pages.

Kate McGinn’s Author Page

Kate McGinn Smashwords Profile

 

Exodus – Clare Thibodeaux Series Book 1 

After months of proofing, editing and revisions, I published my first book Exodus on Amazon.  This is the first book of a Romantic Suspense series with a strong female protagonist — Clare Thibodeaux.  Clare’s tragic past comes back to haunt her when she realizes a series of violent attacks are linked to her.  

The demons of her past have resurfaced, and Clare leaves her life behind het once more as she goes into hiding.  With the help of her parents’ best friends who run a B&B in Bayfield, WI, she assumes a new identity, and attracts the attention of two men promising to protect her.  But Clare doesn’t know who she can trust with her life or her heart. 

 Exodus Available on Amazon

Echo-A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

Going to get this book!! I hate dodgeball!!!

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Dodgeball bullies grown into the dystopian rulers of earth.  They ride around on red-eyed robot horses, laughing fiendishly and pummeling the populace with a storm of dodgeballs.  I’m fleeing with the rest of the crowd when I see them separate a middle-aged man from the pack and corner him in an alley, arms cocked to throw.  He locks desperate eyes with me, silently pleading for help.  Open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.  An enchanted whiffle bat appears in his hands; he and his pursuers stop and gape at its lightning-wreathed length in awestruck wonder.  His pursuers recover and launch their dodgeballs, and he’s knocking ’em right back in their faces, de-horsing one, hitting another in the stomach and triggering a long gush of puke…he lays them all low and the last one turns and gallops away.  Whiffle-bat guy smacks a dodgeball at him, and it streaks through the air…

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24 Stories for Charity

As writers, we can bend the worlds we create in any direction we wish.  But in the harsh reality of the world we live, poverty, homelessness and disease are a part of the day-to-day struggle  of many people’s worlds.

The OMP (One Million Project) is an effort by writers and artists to help those who are caught in those struggles.  Please take a moment to check out  24 Stories for Charity .

Books and Life

I remember the summer I read Gone With the Wind for the first time.  It was the summer of 1974.  I’d just finished seventh grade, and my sisters and I were spending our summer with our uncle, Gerry, and his family at his home in Newtown, CT.

The Newtown of my youth was full of sun, swimming, and meeting new friends.  It seemed to exemplify my book-inspired vision of a small New England town with its white church steeples and old homes with shuttered windows and picket fences.  The town’s flagpole was a landmark which helped me to navigate in the right direction towards Uncle Gerry’s home.  Narrow roads lined with old stone fences were shaded by the woods as they crowded towards the lane ready to return the pavement to a more natural state.  I would close my eyes as I tried to picture this community as it might have appeared when our country was newly formed.  It wasn’t difficult.  Newtown was steeped in history.

It was the summer Nixon resigned as president.  I watched his resignation speech on the TV in the den.  I was old enough to realize history was happening in front of me.  I had been reading GWTW, but my attention became riveted on the President. Not too many things could pull me from the story of the Old South.  It is strange how your mind connects certain smells and songs to life events.

I link books with different events in my life.  The next summer, I found myself lonely and spending most of my days going to the library in our new town.  Dreading the thought of going to high school in a new togirl bookswn without a single friend to bolster my insecure teenaged self.  I went through a whole series of historical romance fiction which became the basis for my view on love.  The heroine of the series was my only friend.

A few years ago, I wanted to read the series again.  The books weren’t in print any longer, but searching the internet auction sites allowed me to acquire the entire set of books.  My finds consisted of some hardcovers, some paperbacks and all well used by other readers.  I read them again 40 years later.  I still enjoyed the stories teeming with adventure, danger, and romance.  The author created a world which helped to ease the loneliness of an awkward teen.

Did the book Star Spangled Summer with its Army post setting influence my choice to become an Army officer?   A Wrinkle in Time opened my eyes to a world of fantasy and time travel.  Yes, I have copies of both books tha
t I hope my future grandchildren might enjoy.

I have accumulated a significant number of books on my Kindles (Yes, plural.  One is not enough).  So many books I question if I will manage to read them all before I leave this earth.  But I do know some books will make such an impact on my life, and I will forever mark that time with their presence in it.

 

Olympic Sized Memories

Everyone — let me qualify this — a lot of folks around the world have their eyes glued to the Olympics.  I’m one of them.  When I was a young kid (don’t laugh!) forty years ago, we only received 3 to 4 TV stations at our home.  We had a TV antenna on the roof of our house and when the summer thunderstorms rolled through, our reception was gone.

I always prayed it was during some Olympic event I didn’t really care about.  I won’t say which ones, so I don’t offend anyone.  But the ones I refused to miss were the gymnastics, running, diving and swimming competitions.

I watched Mark Spitz win all of his gold medals, Nadia Comaneci score a perfect “10”, and Greg Louganis hitting his head on the diving board.  I even watched Caitlyn Jenner (then, Bruce) win the 1976 Decathlon.   And don’t even get me started with the Winter Games.  I wore my hair in a Dorothy Hamill cut — along with a gazillion other teens — for years!

Over the years, we’ve been witness to triumph and sadness.  I remember the horror of the 1972 games in Munich.  Eleven Israeli athletes were taken hostage and murdered by a terrorist group.  Those athletes were honored for the first time at the Rio Olympics.  And in 1996 at the Atlanta Games,  a bombing in the Centennial Olympic Park as part of a terror attack affected sporting events and their security measures until this day.  Two people lost their lives and 111 people were wounded in this brutal attack.

Even with those terrible tragedies, the Olympic spirit continues.  Athletes around the world train with a goal of being good enough to go to the Olympics and represent their countries.  Some of them will remain in our hearts and minds for years to come because their spirit and commitment are a testament to the human race and our innate human instinct to become more than we are and more than we can imagine.

So I’d like to say “Thank you” to athletes like Usain Bolt, Michael Phelps, and all of the other athletes for giving me not just summer entertainment but inspiration every four years for the past 5 decades of my life.  Now I need to go watch the Olympics.

My Vacation from Writing

‘If you live to write, you write to live’.  I’ve heard that quote somewhere.  No, everywhere.  It and the quote — ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’ effectively speak to those of us who were ‘bitten by the writing bug’.  (I know, I know, I’m the Queen of Hackneyed Expressions tonight).

So, I dutifully packed my laptop and lugged it to Puerto Rico with me.  My youngest son was getting married and we would be meeting his fiancee’s family for the first time.  I pictured myself sitting on the deck looking at the ocean or the sunset while typing away.  Carefully dragging my laptop to the beach… You get the picture, right?

Oh, it happened.  Once.  I wrote a 500-word short story for a writing prompt.  The topic was “Lakebed” and despite my usually light treatment of subjects for my short stories, this one was dark.  Perhaps my change of mood was the result of being in Puerto Rico and pre-wedding anxiety.  That would be a resounding negative.

For me, Puerto Rico was all about warm breezes, floating in a pool, and watching the moon sink into the ocean each night as the stars overhead rotated across the dark sky. pool It was the sound of the waves slamming up on the rocks at the foot of the forty-foot cliff our villa was built upon. The island will remind me of drinking wine as I reminisced with my best friend about our youth and the escapades which will remain a secret between the two of us.  Puerto Rico is the laughter floating in the air while we sat at a beachside restaurant inserted the name of our main entree into our conversations because it sounded funny.  “Holy Mofungo, Batman!” will never sound funnier than it did that night.  Okay, I lied.  I think it still sounds funny, but I’m kind of a nerd.

I guess what I’m trying to say is — Puerto Rico was helping me write my next sentences, paragraphs, chapters and books.  It is the source of my memories of the single teardrop on my son’s face while he watched his bride walk down the aisle under strings of lights  illuminating their faces as the shadows of the coming night deepened.

Although I didn’t put many words on paper during those twelve days, I did create lasting impressions I will carry for the remainder of my days.  The creative spark for our ideas can be found in many places and in many activities including floating in a pool watching white clouds in a beautiful blue Puerto Rican sky.

 

Love and Loss

Each story, while unique, has a central theme that the reader can identify themselves with personally.  One of the most poignant themes concerns “Love and Loss”.  Stories, poetry, and songs have paid homage to these tender emotions for as long as humankind has walked the Earth.

I’ve laughed and cried while my favorite characters have struggled as they dealt with love found and love lost.  I rooted for Rhett Butler to win Scarlett’s love and found myself devastated when fortune didn’t cooperate.  Right or wrong, as a teen, I searched for my own hero so that I could live happily forever in a white house with a picket fence.  I ignored the “nice guy” in favor of the “bad boy” FB_IMG_1445913233417_kindlephoto-1998123 (2)experiencing my cycle of stories of love and loss.

The flirty banter between our characters is balanced by the angry and tearful rhetoric in another chapter.  So goes real life.

Over the past few months, I’ve said good-bye to good friends and family as they left this world.  I watched the anguish of love found and love lost knowing I couldn’t change the outcome like I can on the written page.  But comfort can be found in knowing as long as our own stories continue — love will be found, will be lost and will be discovered anew.