Saturday, March 31, 2012

Blondie in the River

Blondie in the River

Thanks for visiting my blog. If you like it sign up and follow me. This is my first try at blogging so please cut me a little slack. I wouldn’t mind a wee bit of feedback so I can either stop blathering or get back to my novel, or be boosted up by your praise (ahem) and keep blogging.

First I’ll have to introduce myself. I am currently writing my first novel. A time travel thriller, called Stealing Time, set in Florida in 2004 during an incredible hurricane season filled with time travel, evil scientists, hot blondes, and a Gerard Butler look-alike.


Hurricane Charlie in 2004 is the backdrop for my novel -- Stealing Time
Photo from: http://www.floridadisaster.org/mitigation/rcmp/strengthen/successstories.html
I was born in the Mid-Atlantic and grew up mostly in the beautiful state of Maryland. You know, Maryland with the sailboats on the Chesapeake Bay also named after Bloody Mary, Henry the VIII’s daughter. So don’t mess with me, right (wink).  
Bloody Mary. She's a looker, eh?
I’ve lived up and down the East Coast from Massachusetts to Florida but have been jerked away somewhere landlocked for the moment. I am definitely missing the beach although there is plenty of dirt here. So what does a water lover do when there is no water nearby? I can write about it, although it isn't so easy when I have short people in my house (my kids).  I’m currently a writer and a mom and my days go something like this on my red couch warmed by the heat of my laptop.

Ronnie swam towards the car trying to get back to Mike through the raging river. She didn’t even know if he was still alive. Using every bit of strength she fought through the current to reach him. Moments before they were on the road to San Juan when the hurricane flooded waters blocked their path. A wall of mud slammed their car into the churning river below. Reaching for the door that was threatening to be torn off by the rushing water she pulled herself inside the car. Mike was unconscious. She searched for his pulse. He was alive! The car continued to fill with water. She unbuckled his seat belt trying to pull him out of the seat. The car jerked violently and Ronnie fell against the front seat. The car broke loose from its perch on the sandy bottom of the river and scraped and bumped downstream, slamming the door closed trapping them both inside.
Great day for a swim, don't you think?

“Mom, can you help me wipe my butt.” My four year old daughter yells from the bathroom.

“Yes, honey. Try for yourself and I’ll be there in a minute.” Because there is nothing more that I’d like to do right now than wipe your butt, cuteness. She knows how to wipe; she just wants a little attention. Maybe I should quit writing for awhile and go play with her.
Mike: Seriously, I’m drowning here. You’re going to ‘play’ while I am unconscious and about to die. You’re heartless.

“Mom, there aren’t any butt wipes in here.”
“OK, honey. I’ll get you some.” Sorry Mike, you’re just going to have to hold on a little longer.

Mike: You can see that Ronnie is seventy pounds lighter than I am. If you wait there’s no way she’ll have the strength to pull me to shore. Then we’re both dead. What are you going to do then? No book with dead main characters, right?
Hey, just because you look a little like Gerard Butler doesn’t mean I’ll just do whatever you say. The little girl is hungry and needs some attention. Just hold your breath till I get back.

Mike: Wait. When will you be back?
Stop looking at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. . . Fine, I'll be right back, damn you.


Seriously, could you resist?
Photo from: http://capishe.se/nyhet/gerard-butler-tar-sig-vatten-over-huvudet-i-hunter-killer/ 

That’s how it goes, back and forth my characters and my family wanting a piece of me. Unfortunately, my daughter doesn’t nap anymore. I don’t have that solid two hour block of time to get some writing done.  I write at night while she lays her sweet curly blonde head down, gripping Big Bird tightly in her arms. The mangy, eyeball-scratched Big Bird. Not the new fluffy yellow one that he used to be. He’s a little like me at the end of the day -- messy-yellow headed, scratchy eyed and gripped tightly in a hug by my cute-a-full beauty.


Shortie's Big Bird has had a lot of snuggles.

Connect With Me

When I'm not working on Stealing Time you can find me on my social media at the links below. I hope to have my novel completed by Spring 2014 with book two close behind.

4 comments:

  1. Love it! Can't wait for your book :)

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  2. Thanks Lucy! Working on it. When I'm not on Twitter!

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  3. KJ, are you sure we don't live, and try to write, in the same house?? Very funny.

    I also enjoyed your other entry. The early mention of ample breasts in a blue bikini kept me reading even when it turned to boys doing the pee dance and girls with a mouth full of sand. I live them thing, I don't need to read about them. But a blonde in a bikini, whether large or small breasted, that tends to keep my attention.

    I'm glad I found you. Funny stuff. I'm gonna sign up, but only if you promise to keep my attention.

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  4. Thanks Kenny, so glad I could entertain you. I'll entertain you all right, just not with a bikini's every time. If you were in my house writing in a corner I think I would have noticed you buy now. "Mommy, who is that strange guy drinking our coffee?" Thanks for following me.

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