When the Writing Mojo is a No Show


I photographed my flower bed today.


That’s a pumpkin. From Halloween.

Did I mention today is January 14th?

It may interest you to know that the Christmas wreaths are still on the upstairs windows, too.

What can I say? It’s been a rough couple of months filled with illness, stress, and the death of a loved one. Needless to say, I haven’t made much writing progress. For a while, there was no time. Then, there was time, but no energy. Now, there’s time and energy, but no writing mojo. It all feels hopeless, too daunting, a worthless endeavor.

I know better, of course. That’s just Lazy Julie complaining because something’s not going to happen easily. (My dad always said if something was easy, everyone would do it.)

So, it’s nose to the grindstone. The long break from writing turned my characters into strangers again. Unlike some fabulous writers, I can’t just sit down with my outline and pick up where I left off. I need time with my peeps. I have to woo them all over again, which means studying character development sheets and rereading the 50,000 words I wrote so far.

There are worse ways to spend a Saturday. I mean, it’s the first draft, so it’s not brilliant. Still, I think it shows promise. I feel a bit like I’m visiting with old friends, and I call that a good sign.


Posted in Uncategorized, Writing

Writing Through Stress

You may have noticed a lull in my blogging.

Or, not.

In April, two important things happened. First, Soul Mate Publishing released my second novel, SCATTERED SEEDS. Second, I moved with the clan chief to a grand, old house.house

Things were looking up. I had two books on the market and two manuscripts nearing the halfway mark. At long last, I had an office—and organization.


My new hometown rolled out a welcome I could not have anticipated. Mifflintown, Pennsylvania has to be one of the most author-friendly places on the planet.The sign in my yard created excitement and chatter.


My blog hits and sales increased. I scored interviews with both the local newspaper and a little hometown magazine. My high school English teacher invited me to speak to his 10th grade class about writing historical fiction.



That last thing terrified me, and I nearly declined. What could I possibly have to offer teenagers? I agreed, telling myself if I could encourage one future writer, it would be worth the horror. Imagine my surprise when I actually enjoyed the day. Nearly every student listened with great focus and blatant enthusiasm. It turned out to be one of the best days of my life, because I faced something that frightened me, and I not only completed the task, but exceeded my own expectations. In my experience, days like those are few and far between.

The next day, the Universe punished me for dipping too much joy out of the happiness jar. Everything fell into the shitter. Like, really fell into the shitter. It was as if storm clouds gathered and rained a sticky form of hell, then stayed there. Calamity struck—repeatedly. The little free time I had completely disappeared. These days, I’m smelling my clothes to determine their degree of dirtiness. I’m learning how to dress, dry my hair, and put on makeup at the same time. I’m exhausted, stretched too thin, and suffering the physical and mental manifestations of unbearable stress.

I’m not alone. I’ve asked around. Many people are off-balance right now. This can be especially hard for us artistic types to bear. It’s difficult enough to create under the best of circumstances; it’s impossible during a catastrophe.

I keep telling myself that nothing stays the same for long. In another month, I might complain that I’m bored. (I sure hope so.) I have two manuscripts I’m dying to complete in that awesome new office of mine! There’s no actual writing going on, but that doesn’t stop the characters from attending barn dances inside my head.

I’m determined to just put my head down and soldier on. One day, I’ll have a minute or two of free time.

How do you get through stressful times?

Posted in Writing

Making Soap – Hands On Research


Some of the oils in my soapI love making soap. Sure, it’s cheap to buy, but have you ever read the list of ingredients in store-bought soap?

I know what’s in mine: lye, oils, essential oils. Period.

Oh, lye, you think. That stuff is really harsh.

Yes, lye is harsh. So harsh, in fact, we use it to unclog drains. You’ll need to be very careful with it. When combined with water, it heats quickly and throws of a steam you do not want to breathe. It’s an alkali. Your skin is not. This explains why Grandma’s “lye soap” was so drying. (You’re going to have to forgive Grandma. She didn’t have a lye calculator or an electric scale. Still, she managed to make a pretty decent soap with nothing but lard and lye.)

In the old days, we made lye in barrels by combining water, wood ash, straw, and maybe a little lime. If you ever want to try it (I do! I do!), here’s a great site with instructions: http://www.countryfarm-lifestyles.com/make-lye.html

A lye-lard combo makes great soap, believe it or not, but I like to experiment with fancier oils. I collect bargains throughout the year and tuck them away for soaping day. My go-to recipe is a basic mixture of olive oil, palm oil, coconut oil, castor oil, and shea butter.

This year, I was in the mood to try some flax oil, since my latest release, SCATTERED SEEDS, opens in Ireland with a flax failure.

You can play around with your oils, but in my experience, you will need at least 10% coconut oil in your recipe if you want good lather. Heavier oils like avocado and shea butter will make a decadent bar, but the soap will be a bit soft.

There’s a nifty lye calculator over at  https://www.thesage.com/calcs/LyeCalc.html to help you perfect your recipe. You’ll find basic instructions there, too.

Get your molds ready, if you haven’t already. You will not have time to prepare them when it’s time to pour.

soap6Melted oils ready to be made into soap

Once you have the lye mixed (I do mine outside whenever I can), and your oils melted, keep an eye on their temperatures. When both reach between 100-125 degrees Fahrenheit, it’s time to pour the lye into the melted fats. Be very careful. Spilled lye burns. Get the kids and pets out of the kitchen, and keep vinegar nearby just in case something splashes on your skin. Vinegar will neutralize the burn.

Mix your combined ingredients with a stick blender until it reaches what soapers call “trace.” Trace is that magical point when your mix looks like thick custard. If I’ve done everything correctly, I seem to hit trace in about 10-15 minutes.Mixing raw soap

Add your essential oils at this point. For this batch, I used lavender, patchouli, and just a touch of lemon. I never really measure, but for a batch this size, it’s probably about 16 oz. If you’re using fragrance instead of essential oils, you’ll need much less.

Pour the mix into your mold. I use a long loaf mold my husband made me. The sides are covered with plastic wrap, and they break away for easy removal of the set loaf.

Raw soap in the mold after pouring

Within a day or two, you can break away the sides to expose and slice your loaf.

Soap one day after pouring into mold

The soap will be quite harsh at this point, so you’ll need to be careful. Slice it, and allow it to cure for at least eight weeks before use. You’ll notice a light dusting on the cured bars. This is just ash, a by-product of the chemical process that took place in your soap. It is only on the outside of the bar and washes away quickly.

Happy sudsing!

Soap cut and ready to cure

Posted in Hands-On Research Tagged with: , , ,

Caroline Warfield’s The Renegade Wife

The Renegade Wife, by Caroline Warfield

TheRenegadeWifeCaroline Warfield is celebrating her latest release, THE RENEGADE WIFE, with a giveaway! This one sounds so good. As you might guess, she had me at “isolated cabin.” 😉

Enter HERE for a chance to win a kindle copy of this spectacular new book, a $25 Amazon gift certificate, and a bundle of other prizes.

The Blurb

Betrayed by his cousin and the woman he loved, Rand Wheatly fled England, his dreams of a loving family shattered. He clings to his solitude in an isolated cabin in Upper Canada. Returning from a business trip to find a widow and two children squatting in his house, he flies into a rage. He wants her gone, but her children are sick and injured, and his heart is not as hard as he likes to pretend.

Meggy Blair harbors a secret, and she’ll do whatever it takes to keep her children safe. She’d hopes to hide with her Ojibwa grandmother, if she can find the woman and her people. She doesn’t expect to find shelter with a quiet, solitary man, a man who lowers his defensive walls enough to let Meggy and her children in.

Their idyllic interlude is shattered when Meggy’s brutal husband appears to claim his children. She isn’t a widow, but a wife, a woman who betrayed the man she was supposed to love, just as Rand’s sweetheart betrayed him. He soon discovers why Meggy is on the run, but time is running out. To save them all, Rand must return and face his demons.

The Excerpt

We. The word hung between them. She couldn’t look away. They stood for a long time in the narrow hallway before he closed the space between them. He moved so gradually that she didn’t realize it until his mouth was inches from hers, his warmth surrounded her, and his eyes searched hers. She couldn’t say if those eyes searched for permission; she couldn’t think at all. There was only awareness: of the man, of his warmth, of his bedroom door feet away.

The kiss came gently, a touch, a caress. She let herself feel it, starved for tenderness, and she breathed in his scent—pine and wood smoke. Her hands slid up his rough shirt, around his neck, and into the hair that hung to his collar.

Long fingers cupped her head then, splaying into her hair, and he deepened the kiss softly, gently without force. She opened gladly.

*fans self*
Buy it. You know you want to.

The Author

CarolineTraveler, would-be adventurer, librarian, technology manager—Caroline Warfield has been many things, but above all a romantic. She is now a writer of historical romance, enamored of owls, books, history, and beautiful gardens, who sits in an office surrounded by windows and lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

You can learn more about Caroline at: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

Or, check her out at Ye Good Facebooke: https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7

Posted in Giveaways Tagged with: , , , , , , , , , , ,

18th Century Fail


lampI’m not sure why I get excited about power outages. Actually, wait. Yes, I do.

In 1972, Hurricane Agnes stalled over Pennsylvania and turned our normally verdant commonwealth into a bowl of squash soup. I was five years old at the time, and living with my parents and five siblings. I can still recall the deafening roar of the Cocolamus Creek outside my window, and the grave concern etched in my parents’ faces when local waterways crossed roads, essentially cutting us off from civilization.

I can’t remember how long we were stuck there, but it must have been over a week, the most enjoyable of my life. We passed evenings playing games in the warm glow of a kerosene lantern. There were no outside distractions, other than the rising creek. If it’s possible for an already close family to grow closer, we certainly did in April of 1972.

There is no question the cloudy spring water (with the occasional waterlogged worm) was a bastard, but we didn’t just eat; we ate like kings. See, when the going gets tough, my Mom makes Caroline Ingalls look like a sloth on Klonopin. Why make one custard pie when you can make fifty?

I inherited some of my mom’s grit. Look anywhere in my house, and you will see kerosene lanterns, coffee percolators, cast iron cookware, and even a couple of MREs. I’m all about survival in case the lights go out, because, well, I know it can—and probably will. Heck, the only reason I bought a gas stove/oven is so I can still cook during power outages.

It should come as no surprise, then, that when the lights went out this morning, I sprang into action. YES! Time to impress The Hubs with my pioneer skills. Only, I didn’t impress anyone. The wicks in the kerosene lanterns were too short and dried out. My flashlight batteries were dead. The Yankee candles had about five minutes’ burning left, because they’re damn expensive and haven’t been in the budget for two years. The coffee percolator was stuffed into the back corner of the tallest shelf in the kitchen.

Thank heaven, the Shag Candle worked. (I’ll let you figure that one out.)  It’s one of those coiled beeswax jobbies that is supposed to last eighty hours. There’s no way. Three inches lasts exactly ten minutes. Unless you want to sit your arse in front of it for the entire power outage, at some not-so-distant point, darkness will return.

In summary, for all my primitive weaponry and preparations, my survivor skills are total crap. Either I’ve gotten lazy, or I’ve been lulled by relative reliability into a sense of security. In any event, there will not be a repeat of #18thcenturyfail. Starting tomorrow, I’m putting together an emergency kit. Maybe you should, too.

Or, do you already have one?

Posted in Hands-On Research Tagged with: , ,

Brotherly Advice from Scattered Seeds

banner and title

banner and title

It will soon be 261 years since my characters from SCATTERED SEEDS boarded The Charming Hannah in Derry, Ireland and set sail for Philadelphia.

Here’s the letter that started it all, written from one brother to another:

Dearest Edward,

Forgive the quality of writing, as I do so in haste with a dying fire, a bad quill, and the last of my ink. I pray you are well, but if you are not—and judging from the number of Ulstermen alighting on these shores, I fear you may not be—I implore you to consider selling up and coming to Pennsylvania. There is much to gain here, including land!

I myself possess the most glorious 100 acres of land you have ever seen. It lies northwest of the Kittatinny. The mountain itself is a wall of forested rock, but if a man can elude the authorities and manage the arduous climb, he is rewarded with fertile valleys sprawling between an endless series of ridges. There are Ulstermen here now in every valley, living in secret, and if those tenacious souls can hang on but a year, I firmly believe they will have a chance to apply for ownership of the lands they now occupy.

I would be remiss if I did not warn of the impending violence here. Rumour has it that the French are building forts from New Orleans to Canada. Should they succeed, they will cut off British expansion to the west, and mayhap push us eastward until we have no choice but to board a ship and sail home. Take comfort, dear brother; I and my new countrymen—a rough and hardy lot—will not submit to a French yoke! I go to the Ohio Valley now, with others, to do my part. My cabin along the Cocolamus Creek, a humble abode, will be left unattended, and I fear it shall fall into disrepair or another man’s hands. You and Elizabeth would do me a great service by coming to inhabit it. Bring Henry and the rest of the countless brats you’ve no doubt sired since your last letter. You’ll need every one of their hands, but oh, Edward, what a feeling to close your eyes at night knowing you and yours will be the ones to reap the benefit of your own labour. I simply cannot describe to you the joy that accompanies the liberation found in Penn’s woods. You must come experience it for yourself.

Make your way from Philadelphia to Lancaster and from thence west to Harris’s and into Sherman’s Valley. I have drawn a map from there. Do not stray from it, no matter what advice folks give you along the way. Trust the traders whose names I have marked with X’s. Many will be away trading, and those who are at home will not only turn a blind eye to your trespassing, but give you succour also. They hate the English nearly as much as they hate the French.

You will think the Injuns scarce in these parts, but they are not. They are merely invisible. Thankfully, they are not soundless. Their milk-curdling shrieks are hard to miss, particularly since they are often uttered while running at you with a hatchet! If you see any, try not to shite your breeks. Just mention my name. (They like me well enough.) Do not come in winter. Chop wood straight away no matter what season you land—you’ll need every stick of it and probably  more. Horses are worthless in the backcountry for now, and too hard to keep. An ox is much better, and you can eat him when he has served his purpose—if the Injuns do not get him first. (Here I jest, for the wild men have not yet developed a taste for beef. Can you believe they prefer bear meat and even dog?)

God willing, my forge and smokehouse will still be standing when you get here. I’m burying my cauldron, an anvil, and some bar iron dead center between the three giant buttonwood trees south of the cabin, ten strides away from the water at the big bend in the creek. Come before it rusts to nothing—and before the field grows up in saplings. One of the trees mentioned above has as hollow butt large enough to stand up in. I’ll grease up a rifle and lead and stuff it up into that tree, along with some tools, so don’t buy any before coming over the Kittatinny. At most, I would bring a hand axe, some ground seed, and a tinderbox. If Injuns find you, you’re better off unarmed anyway.

Sell your wig in Philadelphia. No one here wears them.

I’ll be back to the cabin in two years’ time, and I hope to see you and Elizabeth there with your brood. Tell Sorley to shove his rent straight up his arse, and get yourselves on the first boat out of Derry, even if you must indenture your wains for a time. There truly is no better way of securing an education and a trade for them.

One last thing. If you come in summer, watch for serpents in the rocks. Some of them will kill you dead. Also, there are turtles in the Juniata River and in the Cocolamus Creek that will happily remove your dangly bits. I did not know this when I came here, and I’m missing half a finger. That turtle was tasty.

God be with you, brother.


SCATTERED SEEDS is available for download now from Amazon, thanks to Soul Mate Publishing. Escape with Edward and Henry this summer! https://www.amazon.com/Scattered-Seeds-Julie-Doherty-ebook/dp/B01E056H1Q

Watch the book trailer for SCATTERED SEEDS here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNzrVFnl9Ts

Posted in Scattered Seeds Tagged with: , , , , , , ,

When Your Dad Labels Something IMPORTANT

Tea Bag Holder

Someone recently asked me to name one thing—other than loved ones or pets—I’d save from my burning house. Of course, we all know you should never, EVER run back into a burning house, but the question was asked hypothetically. My answer might surprise you. Or, not, if you know me well.

There are three things I’d want to save.

  • The Raggedy Ann doll my mom made;
  • My dad’s original paintings; and
  • This:

DadWhat is it? you ask. Well, it’s a piece of acid-free mat board taped to Masonite to protect what’s inside. I’ve added white squiggles on the jpg because I want you to guess what’s in there. In case my dad’s giant letters don’t make it clear, the contents are IMPORTANT. I mean, Dad said so, right there in clear print, and he was never, ever wrong (except for that time he claimed I met Russell Ferguson along the Cocolamus Creek for romantic purposes. No matter what my sister says, I was only fishing! Thanks, Sarah.)

So, what do you think is in there? What item would have me running through flames to retrieve it?


HeneryIt’s a handwritten list of McConnell births, marriages, and deaths, beginning with Henry, born in 1802. This particular Henry is the son of the Henry featured in SCATTERED SEEDS. It’s just an old piece of paper, and as you can see, it’s not in great shape. But it means everything to me. I don’t know why. I know we aren’t in therapy here, but I suppose it’s because I’ve never been able to bear children, so the only family I’ll ever have is the one I had.

In any event, I don’t know that I’d recover from the loss of this document. Or my Raggedy Ann. OR my dad’s paintings.

Have you ever asked yourself what you’d hypothetically save? Other than  your family and pets, of course. Is there some monetarily valueless thing you couldn’t live without?

Let’s turn that question into a contest, shall we? Comment on this blog post by April 28th, swear by Rafflecopter you did it, and good ole Raffle-de-Copter will select one random poster to win this tea bag holder and a digital copy of SCATTERED SEEDS. Doherty, the sexy shite, hauled that tea bag holder the whole way home from Ireland in his suitcase, so it still has plenty of awesome Irish leprechaun magic stuck to it from the Auld Sod. No cheating, now! If you say you commented, you’d better comment!

** UPDATE ** Congratulations, Rose Lange! You are the winner of the tea bag holder.


Tea Bag Holder

Enter to Win!

Posted in Giveaways, Scattered Seeds

SCATTERED SEEDS, a Novel Set in Colonial America

Scattered Seeds by Julie Doherty

Scattered Seeds by Julie DohertyI’ve never given birth, but childbearing women tell me there’s always that one child who lets them know early on it’s going to dance to its own beat. The first sign of rebellion might appear as intolerable morning sickness, constant kicking, or—God help you—prolonged, intense labor.

Book babies aren’t all that different, and let me tell you, my second “child,” SCATTERED SEEDS, made me insanely miserable for a good portion of its gestation.  Turns out—much like real life—making the baby was the easiest part of the process. I finished, edited, and sold the novel quickly.

That was the easy part.

Next came the edits. Necessary, but hellish edits.  I missed my proposed release date, the equivalent of carrying a baby past its due date. Every Mom in the world will tell you This. Is. Unbearable.

I barely survived edits when difficulties began with finding the right cover. You probably don’t know this, but there isn’t that much colonial stock art out there. Tricorns off to Fiona Jayde and the cover art department at Soul Mate Publishing for sticking with SEEDS (and me!) until a suitable cover could be found.

So, here we are, at long last, in the labor and delivery unit at Amazon Hospital.

Pass the cigars.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, my problem child, SCATTERED SEEDS, a novel set in Colonial America.

Launch party scheduled for April 27, 2016, beginning at 5:00 p.m. EST HERE on Facebook. Come in your jammies and participate in fun games, trivia, and chat. Lots of prizes, including an Amazon Fire tablet.

While we’re all waiting, let’s watch the book trailer. Many thanks to Charlie Bury, Jr., Maurice Doherty, Leigh Ann Daugherty, and Todd Beckmeyer.

Posted in Scattered Seeds Tagged with: ,

Free Coloring Page

Wolfhound and Castle
Wolfhound and Castle

Free Irish Wolfhound and Castle Coloring Page

I don’t feel like writing, so I spent some time putting together a free coloring page. You can download it by clicking the image above.

Why did I do this? Well, Irish Wolfhounds play a role in my novel, SCENT OF THE SOUL. There’s a castle in the story, too. And Vikings. Some stuff happens. You should totally check out the trailer here, and if you like what you see, download the book here. Even if you don’t do either of those things, COLOR THE PAGE and email your work to me so I can see your mad skills. When I get enough pages back, I’ll put up an online gallery and share some on my Facebook page.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day from your old pal, Jules.

Share with reckless abandon, and start coloring!

Here’s my contribution. (I don’t remember needing glasses last time I colored. D’oh!)


Posted in Scent of the Soul, Giveaways Tagged with: , ,

Balancing Our Worlds – Seasoned Authors Series

Image courtesy of arztsamui at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Image courtesy of arztsamui at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of arztsamui at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Because I write historical fiction, my vacations usually center around research. Take the “vacation” to Erie, PA this summer, when I lured my husband out of the house for a sail on an 18th century brig. Last year, we went to Forts Ligonier and Necessity, and before that, to Colonial Williamsburg.

What’s my husband get out of it? Wings. Lots and lots of wings. It’s a deal we have: he tags along and listens to my incessant yammering about my characters and setting, and he gets to eat as many wings as he can stuff down his throat without me nagging about his diet.

It works for us, but in truth, I sometimes wish I could clear my head of all things writing. Characters can be intrusive, showing up at inopportune moments and refusing to go away until their needs are met. I live in constant fear that my imagined worlds will one day overtake my real one.

Is writing simply a beautiful form of madness? Or, are there some authors more skilled at balancing our worlds. Our seasoned authors weigh in:

Collette Cameron is an Amazon bestselling (3 times Amazon Kindle top 100) and award-winning author of Regency and Scottish romance. If that’s not enough to convince you she knows what she’s doing, how about this? She won the 2013 Sneak Peek Contest, was a 2014 RONE Nominee, a double RONE Finalist in 2015, Aspen Gold Finalist 2015, and 2015 Wisconsin RWA Write Touch Reader’s Choice Winner. At this time, she has nine books under her belt with contracts for four more. She self-published a series, has four group projects already published and two more coming out in early 2016.

Tema Merback ‘s first book was a National Jewish Book Award Finalist entitled “In the Face of Evil,” the story of her mother’s survival of the Holocaust. It took her four years to write, but it was worth it, as it continues to be one of the highest rated books on Amazon and Goodreads. With her hot romance and suspense, she went the self-publishing route. She also writes under a nom de plume, Belle Ami.

Tina Susedik writes romantic mysteries, children’s books, and history books using her real name and erotic romance as Anita Kidesu. Her novel, “Riding for Love” was a finalist in the 2014 BTS awards. She has eleven books and two short stories in print, with two more on the horizon.

Catherine Castle writes sweet and inspirational romance. She has published one novel under the pen name of Catherine Castle and three as a coauthor with her husband. Her books consistently win awards, including the 2014 Beverly Hills Book Award Winner for Inspirational Romance, and a RONE in 2014 for inspirational romance. She was a finalist in the 2014 EPIC awards for an action/adventure romance and was a 2014 Carolyn Readers Choice Award finalist.

Ryan Jo Summers writes romance she calls “a mishmash of inspirational, time travel, shape shifting, paranormal, mystery, any and all combinations of the above.” She has three novels out now and another three coming in 2016. She blogs at http://www.summersrye.wordpress.com

Stacy Hoff writes contemporary romance. She has two anthology stories and three full-length novels to her credit, along with a 2015 “Rising Star” nomination from BTS emag’s Red Carpet Awards.

Samanthya Wyatt is a Golden Rose finalist. She writes both historical and contemporary romance, and has four books out at this time.

How do you balance your real world with your imagined ones?

Collette: I don’t have a problem with that. When I’m writing, I’m immersed in my characters’ world, and when I’m not, I’m racing around doing stuff so I can get back to writing!

Tema: I live in one and escape to the other. Can you guess which is which?

Tina: The imagined world wins out every time. If I’m at a concert, I get story ideas. If I’m helping at school, I get ideas. My husband and I were recently on a trip. We got stuck in the middle of nowhere on a rough, gravel road that was under construction. For fifteen minutes we sat in our truck waiting to move. Story idea. Sometimes when I’m in a group of people and I get quiet, my friends get nervous. They just know I’m coming up with a plot based on what is going on. They’re right. Sometimes. I do love that my imagination can help me handle boring situations. I’ll plot a scene on a WIP, or listen to conversations and create characters. I don’t know how people with no imaginations handle life.

Catherine: There is no balance in my life. I go full tilt one direction or the other. It’s all day writing or no days writing. I’ll go out to garden for an hour and six hours later, I’m still outside. Balance is one of the many things I need to work on. I wrote all day yesterday. I planned to do the same after my doctor appointment today. Instead, the tyranny of the urgent reigned. I ended up with a dead car battery, a trip to the chiropractor, a trip to get the car fixed, lunch with hubs, a hundred emails to answer, and downloading and writing stuff for upcoming blog deadlines. I’ll backdate my to-do list and call that writing.

When my daughter was young and my husband still working I had much better control of this problem than I do now. Monday was for laundry, Tuesday gardening, Wednesday was sacrosanct for writing and everyone knew it, Thursday shopping, Friday housecleaning, and the weekend family time. Hmm. Maybe I need to reinstate that schedule—and get rid of social media and the cell phone.

Ryan Jo: They are very tied together. Things happen in real life, conversations are overheard, situations observed, and I already can tie them to either a character or storyline I’m working on or a story I want to work on. My file of future books/ characters continues to grow so that I do not fear ever running out of ideas. I fear running out of time.

Stacy: I use my imaginary world to consistently remind me, no matter what adversity I’m facing, that a “happily ever after” will prevail.

Samanthya: I try not to let writing interfere with spending time with my family. Ballgames, visits, or just watching TV with my hubby. When I know I have some free time, then I get involved with my characters and let my fingers flow.

Are you able to separate your imagined worlds from the real one?

UP NEXT WEEK: Author Assistants



Posted in Writing, Seasoned Authors Series Tagged with:
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