For those of you who shop online:

And to the intrepid among us, who go to the mall:

For some reason, I’ve added a ton of writing blogs to my Google Reader so when I’m in the mood, I prowl through thoughts of my fellow writers. They run the gamut, from writing mystery to romance to poetry to suspense.

Sometimes, I’m a little amused by these blogs. They rarely mention commerce. I suspect that some of them are almost embarrassed to mention that their writings are for sale, or that their deep, inspired thoughts are on the market.

We’re bards. We’re story-tellers. At one time, we would have been queued outside the castle door, vying for a position in front of the king’s table, hoping to amuse enough to be thrown a couple of coins and bones.  Or we would have been seated around a campfire, enthralling a group with tales of faraway countries for the price of a night’s lodging and a meal for our empty stomachs.

We’re doing the same thing now, but it’s $7.99 we want.  Just $7.99 and we’ll keep you entertained, not once, but hopefully over and over. You’ll re-read our words, talk about them with other people, sigh over the stories we’ve told.  We’ll take you to a faraway land and introduce you to strangers you’ll come to know and, hopefully, learn to like and love.

What’s embarrassing about that?

Aww, my house smells so much like Thanksgiving already.

I burned the squash.

The cranberries exploded on the stove. I should have thought ahead and purchased a red stove.

The green beans are okay, but the mushrooms are a bit singed.

I dropped the pie on the floor.  Emergency phone call: “Honey, when you pick up the turkey today from the restaurant (from whence it comes cooked, thank the merciful God), could you also pick up a pie?”

One batch of rolls came out okay.  One didn’t.

Yes, I do as much stuff before Thanksgiving as I can, so the smell of smoke has left the house by the time we eat.

I am not the world’s worst cook, but I’m in the top 10.

• Books, reading, Kindle
• The family of silly squirrels that amuses me daily
• Rich, bold coffee
• Pecans
• Blueberries
• Emails from people who have dropped out of my life – how fun to have them IN again!
• The little yellow cat that comes to terrorize my birds and checks on me by peering in my office window every morning
• Thunderstorms
• Long hot showers
• The feeling AFTER I exercise
• Comfy shoes
• Dark, sinful chocolate
• Flowers from friends
• A computer that works perfectly
• Technology that speeds up stuff I hate to do.  Now, if I could only have a robot to vacuum and clean, please. Oh, and do laundry.
• Scotland the Brave, the CD. Magnificent music to lift the spirits
• The new book that is finally coming together.  Love the characters.
• Sunsets from my office window (just a hint of how hard working I am – LOL)
• The fact that my hair grows fast. I’ve just gotten the worst haircut in a long time, and to make matters worse, I “trimmed” my bangs.  Gag.
• The surprising – and beautiful – silver necklace my son gave me (and it’s not even Christmas!)
• Homemade yogurt
• Being alive – without which, none of the preceding would happen!

Care to share what you’re thankful for?

Something struck me the other day. I realized that a character had come alive.

It was a profound moment, one that made me stare at the screen. He’d said something to another character and – voila! – there he was, three dimensional and real.  I can tell you the exact sentence. Because of his quickening, I’ll need to go back to earlier parts of the book and make sure he’s alive there, too.

The quickening of this character made me think back to when other characters have come alive. I realized – as I never have before – that I could tell you when each character became real to me.  It’s never the same time, and sometimes it’s not at the beginning of the book, either.  At times, you need to know more about a person before you can say you understand him. I think it’s the same with characters.

What I found odd was that this dramatic revelation came to me as I was writing book number thirty-five.

Yesterday, I saw a commercial for an outlet mall not far from San Antonio.  The first 500 people to come to the mall at Midnight on Thanksgiving Day WITH THEIR PAJAMAS ON will get a prize.

OMG!

Can you just imagine what that might be like?  Can you imagine the kinds of pajamas people will be wearing? Hint: it’s not cold enough to wear a coat, so we’re talking pajamas and maybe, just maybe, a robe.

The world is not ready to see me in my jammies.  I’m not ready to go shopping in my jammies, either.

So, what do you think?  Would you go shopping in your jammies?

I don’t suffer for my art. I never have.  Writing is my salvation.

With words, I can express all my confusion about life. I can make sense of the insensible. I can question what I see and what I think I know.

I can create a beginning, a middle, and an end and see it through. I can ensure that actions and words have consequences. When writing, I can hate with every fiber of my being with no thoughts of punishment or retribution. I can destroy, shred, eviscerate, or heal. I can love without fear, without thoughts of danger or damage or loss.

I don’t suffer because I’m a writer. I suffer because I’m a human being.

Writing is my storm cellar in a tornado, my cozy cabin in a blizzard. Writing is my door to another world, the scent of lush roses, the touch of my beloved’s hand on my cheek, the sound of laughter, and the tightness in my chest that comes just before tears.

And I am truly grateful to be a writer, every day.

Self-Publishing:

Doing it all yourself. Paying for the printing. All sales dollars are yours.

Vanity Publishing

Doing it all yourself. Paying for the privilege. Paying half of your sales dollars to someone else.

Important points:

• It doesn’t cost anything to e-pub – put your books on Kindle, Sony, or Nook. Why pay anyone to do it?
• Self-publishing may be right for some situations. Vanity publishing is never right, unless you have a burning need to throw your money away. Donate to a food bank or an animal shelter first.
• Self-publishing almost NEVER works for fiction.