Motivation and Writing

This year I spent most of my summer trying to get Courting Betsy, Book 3 of the Ashmore Brothers series, finished, edited, and formatted in digital and print for a September release. Courting Betsy is a historical western romantic mystery.

It has taken me two years to finish the novel and get it ready. For some odd reason, I was struggling with motivation. My husband and I had decided not to winter in Florida every year, but discover other places. It meant selling and packing up our condo which was exhausting. I came home to Pennsylvania with little motivation or time for writing.                                                                                             

So what is motivation? It’s basically the instinct to achieve your goals, set priorities, and find ways to energize yourself. Here are some things I learned along the way:

1.  Set small goals and priorities. Break the work into smaller pieces. Sometimes it’s just reading or editing one chapter.

2.  Reward yourself when you take a step forward. Take a break. Sit in the sunshine. Do a small chore that’s been bugging you. (There’s reward in seeing it finished.) And lastly, my favorite: Eat a piece of chocolate.

3.   Forget about comparing yourself to others. Everyone works differently, at different times, and at different speeds.

4.   Stop beating up yourself up when you feel you’re not moving forward, not doing your best. Sometimes pausing and resting in place is what is needed to invigorate yourself. It allows to you take the next step. And yes, you can have a second piece of chocolate!

Let me introduce you to COURTING BETSY. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did writing it!

When Betsy Ashmore, adopted sister to a family of four brothers, discovers U.S. Marshal Luke Ashmore is lying wounded in a renegade Indian camp, she can’t refuse to help a brother in peril—especially one she has loved all her life. With the help of a wily Ute Indian, the spunky shopkeeper saddles up to rescue him.

Marshal Luke Ashmore never expected to be bushwhacked while escorting the young boy of a murdered army scout northward to Fort Collins in the Colorado Territory. Outlaws want the boy and believe he knows the location of a hidden treasure.                                        

As Betsy and Two Bears struggle to get the marshal and the child to safety, can they outwit the ruthless outlaws following them? And what will they do with two more orphaned boys they stumble upon along the trail?

Fall in love with the plucky shopkeeper and her three scheming youngsters—all determined to help the U.S. Marshal lasso her heart so they can become a family.

COURTING BETSY – Ashmore Brothers Book 3 – A Western Romantic Mystery!  Kindle version and print now available on AMAZON:  https://www.amazon.com/Courting-Betsy-Ashmore-Brothers-Romantic-ebook/dp/B0CFSXKH6L/

PORCUPINE FESTIVITIES

The weather in Central Pennsylvania has been fickle this year. Rain falls unexpectedly every other day, followed by periods of extreme heat. It makes for a wonderful atmosphere for our garden plants and flowers which are flourishing this year.

In one of my flowerbeds, as you enter the house through the back door, I have a bed of grape hyacinth which blooms profusely each spring. This summer, some critter keeps digging holes and unearthing the bulbs every night. I was blaming it on a skunk, but the other night my husband discovered a porcupine in front of our unattached garage, located outside the back door. He (or she) was not a large one, and we’re guessing from his size, he’s probably a yearling.                    

After some research, I found that porcupines are nocturnal herbivore rodents, and they eat things such as fruit, roots, tree bark, leaves of plants, flowers, vegetables, and bulbs. They also have a preference for salty items.

FUN FACTS:

They are the largest rodent found in North America and weight around twenty pounds. Basically loners, these rodents prefer to live and forage alone. They are good swimmers and excellent climbers, regularly scaling trees in search of food. Contact with others only occurs during the breeding season when the young, called porcupettes, are born. Bearing twins is unusual.

by jggrz, Pixabay

     Porcupines have about 30,000 quills they can use for 

     defense, but they cannot throw them as many legends 

     have earlier indicated. Porcupines have a range of about 

     14 acres and live an average of 18+ years in North 

     America. 

     Now, the burning question is how does a homeowner get

     rid of this irksome rodent? Unfortunately, the only permanent way is trapping him or fencing your plants, garden, and flowerbeds. Sometimes a liquid repellent from your local hardware store will deter him.

So basically, I’ve concluded that we’re stuck with pesky Mr. Porcupine since none of the above is possible or has worked. I’m told, when he runs out of food, he’ll move on. I’m guessing we’re in a relationship with this critter for the remainder of our summer months. 

                                    SPECIAL SALE FOR CHIRSTMAS IN JULY!

 

 

THE JOY OF JULY

There’s something poignant and special about July. For northern folks in the United States, it means our summer is one-third over—if we count our summer as June, July, and August.

July brings us a heap of good things to experience like beautiful sunsets and the glorious sweet scent of milkweeds blooming along the roadsides shouldering their way among daisies and Queen Anne’s lace. And of course, there’s glorious warm sunshine to enjoy.                                   

My favorite spot during the summer is on our swing on our covered patio, hung near the far edge of the terrace where you can view the stars at night or enjoy a fire blazing in a fireplace several feet beyond. When peace and quiet call the soul, you can sit there any time of the day and just absorb the soothing sounds of country life. The wind whispering in the trees. Birds prattling to each other. The lonesome whistle of a distant train.    

Muggy nights encourage us to linger outside and watch the lightning bugs dance in the grass or watch heat lightning flash across the inky sky. If we’re lucky, we might catch the plaintive call of an owl or night hawk hiding in a nearby tree.

I’m always in awe of the earth beneath us when July rolls around. A garden is one kind of a miracle. We carefully set our plants—flowers, vegetables, and herbs—in the tilled ground or in the buckets in our bucket garden for them to magically flourish using the gifts of soil, sunshine, and showers. Already, parsley, thyme, rosemary, chives, and oregano are ready for use in our summertime sauces, marinates, and favorite dishes.

July is also considered the ideal month for fireworks, picnics, weddings, and celebrations. But it’s also a special time to find joy in the little things and to appreciate the season with its bounty and beauty…even when we know it will end much too soon.

                                         Find them on my AMAZON AUTHOR Page

                JUNE ~ The Pianist        ADELENE ~ The Violinist       LUCY ~ The Clarinetist

 

HAY SEASON ON THE FARM

June is a paradox for children who grew up on farms. It heralds the end of the school year when there are no more books, no more homework, and no more long bus rides winding through the rural backroads ten times a week. It is also a month when the hard work on a farm gets even harder.

June is haying season. It’s a time when hot summer days bring temperatures in the 90s, and farm kids work a job that’s hard, dusty, and endless.

Outside, mowers clatter along in the fields slicing swaths of sweet smelling clover, timothy, fescue and other grasses to be dried in the sun. Later, the hay is raked into fluffy windrows and collected and hauled to the barn’s haymow, pronounced “haymau” with the “mow” rhyming with “cow.”

Before we owned a baler, we collected our loose hay onto an old flatbed milk truck pulling a hay loader. As the dried hay was swept up onto the truck bed in an endless ribbon, Dad spread it evenly around until it reached a heaping full load. Often he let out a sharp whistle to the driver to stop while he pitched out a snake who took a free ride up with the hay. A whistle would also ensue when part of—or an entire—load slid off the bed on a steep hillside with him sailing along with it.

When fully loaded without mishap, the truck was pulled into the haymow where a two-tined hayfork on a track running along the barn’s peak was dropped by a pulley and rope and inserted in the hay. Pulled back up by another rope, the hay bundle slid up and along the rail to be tripped and dumped at the proper location in the barn’s loft.

The words mowing away hay to a farm kid's ears will bring a series of grunts, groans and weary-sounding expletives as a retort. On a hot day, mowing hay meant tearing apart the big heap of hay with a pitchfork and spreading it out to all corners of the loft. The mow was often several temperatures higher than outside. This exhausting, sweltering task went on again and again until the truck bed was empty. 

I often mowed hay for my dad. And I can truly say, I uttered a relieved sigh each time the last forkful was dumped, spread, and I could escape the itchy hayseeds and broiling heat to get a cold drink. Then it was back to the hayfield to do it all over again, constantly searching the bright sky for the smallest hint of rain—the farmer’s worst enemy during haying season. 

~ * ~

Featuring FOUR WHITE ROSES 

Finalist in the Book Excellence Awards, the Georgia Romance Writers' Maggie Award, and the American Fiction Awards.