Feelings stirring inside...

Ah, sweet love! Romance novels... Most ladies have read at least one or two. Some women are addicted to them. Personally, I like something a little deeper. But, even without a murderous plot or intriguing secret, romances do hit a chord. We read the words, "in his embrace, he stroked his fingers along her neck, brushing back her locks..." and suddenly we're remembering a touch, a moment, a feeling. A pretty nice feeling actually!

My book is not a love story. Well, it is in a strange kind of way. No, it's not. If that's love... Anyway, something happened when Liz was going through Chapter Eleven. She fell in love. She didn't see it coming. Heck, I didn't see it coming! It just happened.

[Liz touched her fingers to her lips as she closed her eyes. In her dreams, she allowed herself to be swept up into Michael’s arms.]

Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this. Now you know too much! Ok, no more details. This post isn't about the story. It's about my story. My journey writing this book. I'm posting this to share what I've learned in this part of my journey... Shhh... Let's keep this between you and me: Writing romance can be fun!

Another writefully day...

Lots of folks around here still get nervous when the storm clouds roll in.

In my adult life, Xenia has been hit twice by devastating tornadoes.

It is best known for the one that flattened the town in 1974.

Fortunately, there were also many miracles that day.

I was not living here during the 1974 storm.

I did live close enough to know very well.

I was around for the other.

I experienced my first tornado when I was around seven or eight, maybe.

We were camping along the Ohio River.

Boating, skiing.

Mom said a storm was coming.

Go to the shower house and change.

My brothers went their way.

I went mine.

I walked from the bath house toward our campsite.

WOW!

No fear...

What was happening?

I remember standing with my arms hanging limp,

eyes skyward,

watching the big oaks float up.

The wind was loud.

I was mesmerized.

I woke up from my dream.

I was wet and my head hurt.

My mother was screaming that someone was dead!

Gotta get up.

It's raining.

The tree resting beside me was huge!

I was nestled up under it's curvature.

Safe in it's arms.

My head was warm now.

The storm disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

Half the camp was untouched.

I still wear the scar.

0 0

___

A couple of days ago, we had a touch down a few miles south.

As much as I don't wish a tornado to appear,

I'm still drawn to the mixing storm clouds.

I could have stood there and shot all morning,

had the rain not come...

But it did.

So I shall write.

A Writer's Perfect Storm

Ah, the thunder is off in the distance. Black, gray and white clouds are mixing slowly together above the rocking treetops. The pre-storm shower has brought out the vibrant colors of the landscape. The satellite music channel has lulled me into a conscious slumber, where the rest of the world does not exist. Bach's Prelude and Fugue in G major performed by Hamish Milne has elevated me to a level of creativity I wish I could maintain forever! My book is moving along, but I need a stretch and a moment to blog. My circuits want to bathe in overload! Oh, this must be heaven...