Goose bumps raise the tiny, fine hairs on my neck as you murmur against my skin, Baby. I never tire of
hearing you call me Baby. The years haven’t dampened the thrill. Your lips brush mine and the word baby escapes in a whisper. Forever your baby, lover and friend.
…but better than never.
I’m off to a roaring start with my very first A to Z challenge.
Falling back on the easy About Me post.
In-a-nutshell, writing is my third act in life. I grew up in a small SC town located near the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains. 
Living this third act in Texas peppers many of my stories with down-home Southern flavor.
Click here to read more about me.
My love affair with books began long before I could read. Sitting silent, spellbound listening to her enchanting voice I believed every word true, the characters real. Saturday Morning Storytime at the town library was magical. I rushed to the quiet mat, found my seat on the front row and stared transfixed at the beautiful volunteer.
My favorite fairytale then, and now at sixteen holds a special place in my heart, Cinderella. Most girls love Prince Charming because he rides in to save the day on his trusty steed. Or their favorite part is where Cinderella outshines her ugly step sisters at the ball. Not me.
Continue reading “Never Stop Dreaming”
It’s damn hard and scary as hell.
That brand new, super fast laptop with all the bells and whistles doesn’t a writer make. Although the salesman swore your book would almost write itself. But you do find it easier to waste time as you are sucked into more and more social media websites. Those dancing cats are funny.
You work like a dog clean out that tiny room the one with the ugly chair and lamp, a years worth of old magazines, tax files and unpacked boxes. Yeah, that room. Now that the old desk shines like new and is free of dust and clutter writing should be a breeze.
A small printer sits on the edge, filled with paper at the ready. On the right is a mug from your husband. Writer at work. His idea of being supportive.
Late last night your eyes refused to close, your brain refused to quiet and sleep was nowhere to be found. You had enough story ideas for several breakout best-selling novels. Not to mention all the blog posts you could write. Now, as you sit in your new ergonomic chair, your mind goes blank. As blank as the white unlined paper stacked in the printer on your left.
The only thoughts filling your mind now are nagging doubts.
Continue reading “This is what they don’t tell you about becoming a writer.”
Jean's Writing 