Showing posts with label kittens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kittens. Show all posts

Sunday, May 6, 2018

The Final Excuse ~ By Leah St. James #amwriting #blackcats

Looking back over my last several posts, I’m wondering why I haven’t offered readers some cheese to go with my “whine,” especially after I read Jannine’s Recipe for Success a few days ago that featured her talented and super-hard-working daughter (like mother, like daughter!).

Yes, it seems my recent posts have fallen into a bit of a pity-partying pattern of reasons–excuses–for my lack of writing productivity over the last couple years. For any newcomers, here’s a brief recap:

First there was the Year of the Wedding.
Okay, that was true, and a joyful event. No regrets.

But here, ranked in order of most influential, are the rest.
1. A crazy full-time job that sucks my time and energy.
2. Lack of focus
3. Followed closely by focusing on business during my “creative time”
4. Losing my writing voice (probably from lack of writing)

I think there was another one in there (overall fatigue maybe?), but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that except for having to work full-time for financial reasons, these are all fixable conditions, and they’re in my control to fix. But before I move on, I’d like to wrap up this unintended series with one final roadblock.

I almost hesitate after reading Chris’s heartbreaking post about losing her beloved cat Shikari, but I hope this will give her a chuckle and help her remember the fun times they shared

Because my fifth (sixth?) and final excuse is none other than HERCULES THE CAT.

It’s been some time since I’ve written about Hercules, who is fast approaching his second birthday, and he's even bigger than he was then. Son No. 1 describes him as a “30-pound brick.” (He might not actually be that heavy, but he sure feels it when he’s sprawled across half the bed in the middle of the night.) The Plot Master (TPM) has nicknamed him “Thunderfoot” for the thuds he makes when he jumps and lands on something. (On a positive note, we generally know where he is!) He runs down the stairs down in a two-legged gait, but not the usual two legs. Instead of left/right, he vaults down front/back, like a bunny rabbit!
 


Hercules will celebrate his second birthday on May 15!


He hasn’t been a cuddler since he outgrew my lap about 15 months ago, but he is a people cat. He rarely spends time alone, and will follow us from room to room. He loves playing tag, fetch and catch, and is quite the outfielder with miniature tennis balls!

Unfortunately, his favorite time to play is 4:30 a.m., which, as I recently discovered, is my “creative” time. This has resulted in a standoff between the two of us since I altered my morning routine.


Where previously I got up and exercised first thing–while he watched–now I get up and start to write (sitting on the couch in the blessedly quiet living room). This apparently bores him, so he starts wreaking havoc everywhere he can within my vision and earshot. 


He jumps on TPM’s sacrosanct (and overly neat) desk in the corner and starts swiping things onto the floor. Pens go flying, as do neatly stacked notebooks and folders. Once he actually got his claws on our checkbook and sent it tumbling into the narrow space between the desk and wall. (That was NOT a fun morning.) 

He's watching and waiting to make his move.
 
When he tires of the desk, he starts attacking what little artwork remains hanging on our walls (after we purged the walls of anything he could reach except for a few larger pieces I refuse to take down). Or he jumps on me.


In the tiny space next to the couch (where I'm sitting), poised to snag me!

This behavior goes on until TPM comes downstairs for the day to guard his desk and the artwork, but that’s a good 60 or 90 minutes of Hercules’ playfulness to work around. And usually by then he’s tired and ready for his first nap of the day.

After a few frustrating weeks of that, I moved to the dining room where the worst he can do is rip apart my printed outline and story notes while I’m trying to read them. Have I mentioned he eats paper and cardboard? Like a billy goat? He doesn’t actually swallow, just rips with his fangs and spits the pieces out. I think he likes the shredding noise. Maybe Son No. 1 should have called him Shredder instead of Hercules.




He is NOT liking this new setup.

So that’s where things stand now–an uneasy truce with me stationed each morning at the dining room table and Hercules waiting and watching for an opportunity to get some attention. I’m counting my blessings since I never know when he might find a new method of torture–I mean fun– to try! 


And I should mention, he's giving me some great material! In my current WIP, my heroine has a black cat named Romeo. I might need to give Romeo an expanded part!

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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil and the power of love–-that is, if Hercules lets her. She blogs here on the 6th and 22nd of each month. Learn more at leahstjames.com or visit her on Facebook.  

Friday, July 22, 2016

Meet Hercules ~ by Leah St. James



As many of my fellow Roses have written on these pages, one of the toughest parts of this writing job is grabbing readers’ attention. When I was first published in 2010, I was clueless (seriously, painfully clueless), but I figured that like anything, marketing can be taught. And even though I’m far from a natural at it, I can learn best practices. Right? 

So I set out to learn everything I could. I studied the blogs and social media accounts of successful authors. I created my own accounts and tried to replicate their behavior. I’ve taken classes and spent hours experimenting on what “engages” readers.

Here’s what I’ve learned:  Readers like personal tidbits they can relate to. Women especially like anecdotes and photos of young children or grandchildren, and young animals. Or animals of any age, actually. And pictures of hunky, bare-chested men. Some hobbies or expertise/interest in a particular subject matter can work as well.

So for these past six years or so, I’ve been bemoaning the fact that I don’t have  young children, I don’t have grandchildren, and I don’t have pets. I love my "day job," but it's not unusual (and there's only so much I could share), and I don't have any fascinating hobbies. And as much as I personally love photos of hunky, bare-chested men, I can’t help seeing them as someone’s son and wondering what their mothers think seeing their sons plastered like that all over the web! (I know, I know...it’s a curse.) 

But, hallelujah, today I have exciting news to share. 

My older son (whom I refer to as on No. 1, because I’ve promised to never name or tag him online) has come home to live with hubby and me while he works on his Ph.D. dissertation. He had one request (other than living here):  “So, yeah....uh...Mom, can I get a cat?”

“Cat?” My ears perked up, and I’m sure my face brightened. “Of course!” I said without even thinking of consulting hubby. We’ve had cats before. I love cats...hubby (a dog person) accepts cats. AND (let’s be real here) I NEEDED SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT ON MY FACEBOOK PAGE! My only condition was that Son No. 1 would be responsible for cleaning the litter, which he gladly agreed to. 

I had mentioned this to a friend who’s a vet, and two days ago she emailed me. “I have a kitten,” she said. “He needs a good home. Take him.” The kitten was being “fostered” with a local groomer and was “ready to go.”

That night we hit up the local pet supply store and armed ourselves with food, dishes, a litter box and litter...and a cat carrier that will hopefully last for years....it cost enough. By the middle of the next day, we were proud kitten owners. Or, uh...Son No. 1 is a proud kitten owner. :-)

I know I’m just a tad biased, but if this isn’t the most adorable kitten ever born...I don’t know what. He’s a black tabby – looks all black from a distance, but up close you can see definite stripes. He has one tiny patch of white fur on his chest. He’s playful and fun and curious about every inch of our house. He purrs all the time and is really affectionate. (He’s sleeping at my feet as I write this..purring.) Even hubby has fallen in love with this kitten. 

My son named him Hercules,  a name I’m sure he’ll grow into, in a good way...I hope.

Hecules barely stops moving, but that hasn't stopped me from using up most of my phone's storage taking photos of him. My son said he spent about 30 minutes the first day shadow-boxing himself in a mirror. (But did he get video that I could share??? NO. Argh!)

Anyway, I’ve “talked” enough. Meet the cutest kitten ever born. Am I right?

Hercules LOVES playing with pens. Who knew?
(On a side note, I included this as proof of my ability to grow at least two houseplants.These are African Violets which are NOT toxic to cats...althoughI'm not sure how wise it is for their health to leave them in Hercules' path right now!)

Sleeping behind my laptop. (Please disregard any dust you see.)

Peering out the window from my desk.

Another from my desk.

Sleeping behind my laptop...
Can't have too many "at my desk/laptop" photos, right!?

The eyes are the camera's and photographer's (my) fault, not Hercules'.


Now...I'm off to post on Facebook! :-)
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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the power of love. If you'd like to keep up with stories about Hercules, here's her Facebook page. She loves visitors!




Wednesday, June 29, 2016

The Happily Ever After List by Mackenzie Crowne

As a young woman, I stood before the mirror in my childhood bedroom, admiring my oh-so-cool leg warmers and putting the finishing touches on my “big” hair. That brand new phenomenon, MTV, blared in the living room while I primped for nights on the town with my girlfriends, giddy at the idea of spending the night dancing like it was 1999. Ah, the music, the excitement…the boys! The possibility of that night being the night I would finally meet The One and live happily ever after! 

Mac & The One then...
But alas, time passes quickly. Mom jeans have replaced the leg warmers, and the hair, which is not so big anymore, would be liberally streaked with gray - if I didn’t beat it into submission once a month with a box of Nice-’n-Easy. As for happily ever after, yeah, I still believe in the concept. After all, I did eventually meet The One, and this Saturday we’ll be celebrating thirty-three years of wedded bliss.

Hah! Chances are those of you who have been married longer than the length of the honeymoon are raising an eyebrow at the word bliss, because let’s face it, bliss is hard to maintain when faced with the day-to-day realities of marriage. Honestly, is any woman blissful when picking up their One’s briefs from the bathroom floor? Or wiping his toothpaste splatter from the mirror? Yuck.

There have been many occasions in the past thirty-three years when I looked at The One and imagined myself as one of the Merry Murderesses from Broadway’s Chicago, declaring He ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times!

Yeah, I know. I’m weird. But I’m a writer. I can’t help imagining delicious scenarios I can never follow through on - unless I’m willing to do time. And if you’ve been married as long as The One and I have, admit it. You’ve imagined some of those scenarios yourself. So, what’s the secret to a successful marriage and happily ever after? There’s the popular list: Respect, give and take, communication, and commitment - but I have my own list. 

1. Know when to stand your ground.
2. Maintain your sense of humor.
And…
3. Develop the art of subtle revenge.

Mac & The One years later...

Okay, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. Despite the Merry Murderesses reference, The One and I rarely disagree, much less fight. The One claims this is because we’re friends as well as lovers. I attribute the usual peacefulness of our relationship to my aversion to conflict. I hate fighting and avoid it whenever possible. But, The One is a guy, which means he occasionally does something so ridiculous, it simply can’t be ignored. When that happens, I survive the explosive fall out by sticking to my list. 

Case in point:

After accidentally dousing his sandwich with a heaping pile of pepper several years ago, The One promptly tossed the pepper shaker into the trash, announcing, “I’m sick of this f*%@ing thing!” 

Seriously, he threw away the pepper shaker. Who throws away a pepper shaker? I mean, come on. It’s an innocent, inanimate object. If you’re having a problem with it, it’s a pretty sure bet the trouble is user error. Besides, it’s part of a set!

#1: Know when to stand your ground.

“Well then,” I responded. “We don’t need this!”

Into the trash can went the salt shaker. Take that, buddy! I swear, his hair stood on end. He pinned me with narrowed eyes as he grabbed the first thing within reach. The tea kettle joined the innocent salt and pepper shakers in their absurd fate.

And, hello. Game on!

Dirty dishes and clean ones, silverware and counter top items, including a few small appliances, nothing escaped the whirlwind of angry passion gripping the blissfully married adversaries in our kitchen. Five minutes later, with a fine cloud of flour hanging in the air, sanity suddenly grabbed hold of me. Okay, the truth is, I came to my senses when I couldn’t fit anything more in the trash can.

#2: Maintain your sense of humor.

I glanced around at the carnage, but there was no way I could apply #2 at that moment. I was too ticked off. The man threw away a two-hundred-dollar blender, for heaven’s sake, and my kitchen looked like it had been ransacked! Because it had.

(I need to add an addendum to the list here: #2b: Know when to utilize a cooling off period.)

Sometimes getting away from your loving spouse is the only way to avoid doing time - with the added bonus of allowing you to regroup and come up with a workable plan for #3: Develop the art of subtle revenge.

I promptly went for a drive.

While I have my list, The One has his own. It consists of only two items. He believes in the power of persistence, and if that doesn’t work, he turns immediately to his own form of bribery. He’s such a guy. But I have to admit, he’s got skills when it comes to the suck-up gift - and he knows when to bring in reinforcements. The next morning, he enlisted our teenage boys in his ploy to charm me out of my mad. They disappeared for an hour and returned with a tiger striped kitten he claimed to have found foraging for food in a downtown parking lot.

Talk about a double whammy! I was toast and he knew it. But I ask you, how is a woman supposed to stay mad under those circumstances? It would take a much harder woman than me, that’s for sure. As we shared our morning coffee, his suck up gift lay curled up asleep in my lap.

“What are you going to name her?” he asked, looking far too smug for my liking.

I haven’t lived with the man all these years without knowing how to nip that kind of thing in the bud. I scratched at the kitten’s soft chin, smiled sweetly, and replied, “Pepper, of course.”

Oh, please. You didn’t think I was going to forget #2 and #3, did you?  

So here’s my happily ever after advice. Stand your ground. A good man loves a woman who knows her mind. Laugh with him as much as possible. It’s impossible to hold a grudge when you’re giggling. And learn the art of subtle revenge. You might just get a kitten out of it.


When Mac isn’t busy working on her own happily ever after, she spends her time weaving HEAs for her characters, like Gracie Gable, the heroine of To Win Her Love, book #1 of the Players series – on #SALE for $0.99 through this weekend in all formats at KensingtonBooks.


To win the game, they’ll have to risk losing their hearts…
When a bizarre child custody stipulation pits popular sports blogger Gracie Gable against football superstar Jake Malone, losing the battle for her twin nieces isn't the only thing Gracie has to worry about. Forced to live for three months under the same roof as the sexy tight end, will she fall prey to his flirtatious pursuit? Or worse, will the skeletons in her closet destroy her chance for the love and family she so desperately wants?
Neglected by his parents as a boy, Jake doesn’t believe in happily ever after. Yet living with Gracie and the twins might be enough to change his mind—and his womanizing ways. But when the press unearths a scandal from Gracie’s past, will he lose the one woman he was ready to open his heart to?

For more information on Mac's Players series, as well as her other titles, visit her at mackenziecrowne.com, Twitter or Facebook.







Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Fall Head Over Heels... or Paws.

Though I write romance, I’m far too logical to actually believe in falling head over heels for someone… unless of course we’re talking about falling head over heels for a critter. I love animals and will pick up just about anything. Snakes, spiders, frogs. I find them all just fascinating and beautiful and have no problem cuddling up to any of them.

Yep, even the snakes.

My greatest example of falling head over heels for a creature is this guy:


Right? I mean, look at those windswept ears! Those big brown eyes! Those huge paws!

Pre-dog, I firmly believed I was a strict cat person. I had two kitties when this pup came onto the scene, and though I’m still completely and totally in love with my feline familiars, this dog has stolen an enormous chunk of my heart.

He’s only gotten more handsome with age. 


He’s three now and the reason I can’t wait to get home from work on most days. He’s always waiting with sloppy doggy kisses and is more than willing to share his favorite toys with me (as long as I will throw them around the yard, that is). When I come into the house after a day that has undoubtedly given me a headache, his tail wags in greeting. It acts like a broom, sweeping up all the negative energy that has somehow adhered itself to me while I was out there in the big, bad world. He shocks the positive vibes back into action and before I know it, I’m laughing and rubbing his belly and running around the backyard like a kid.

Don’t get me wrong. Owning a werewolf of a dog has its downside too. He’s not roses and peanut butter cups all the time. Mostly, though, he rocks (or barks at them) and rolls (often in his own excrement), and I’m head over heels in love with him.

Do you have a furry companion whose company you prefer over the company of humans?

For more four-legged fun, visit my website and try any one of my books. They all have animal characters who mean a great deal to the hero or heroine or both.
    
Toodles,

Chris