My fellow writers and bloggers, is maintaining a blog/website and other social media consuming a large amount of your time? (And I’m not even counting hours spent promoting your work.) Have you wished there were more hours in a day you could devote to your writing? Friends, I have wished upon a star, beseeched the gods that be, cast a spell or two, and as of this writing, still have not been gifted with more of that sought-after commodity.
Time to devote to my work in progress–a novel I have been editing for the better part of a year. And I’m far, far from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that glorious moment when I can write “The End”.
Something’s gotta go.
So, with more than a touch of sadness in my heart, I’m taking a hiatus from my blog. I must make my WIP my first priority; otherwise I’ll still be editing the same manuscript a year from now.
Stay well, stay happy, and may writers’s block never darken your door.




The wolf is at the door.
He growls…I moan.
He knows I am in here,
Afraid and all alone.

The wolf is at the door.
He claws the ancient wood.
He knows I am behind it,
He knows I will taste good.

The wolf is at the door.
His nose draws in my smell.
He tastes the tang of fear,
His appetite I will quell.

The wolf is at the door.
I rise to let him in.
This night will be an atonement,
A night to pay for sins.

The wolf is at the door.
I gather my courage close.
My fingers curl round the icy knob,
I let in the lupine ghost.

The wolf is in the door.
He snarls…I scream.
Thrusting my dagger into his throat,
I snuff out his bloody wet dream.




I’ve never been a lucky person; in fact, just the opposite is true. I live under the cloud of Murphy’s Law–if anything can go wrong, it will. But fate smiled on me in June of 2014 in an iHop in Plover, Wisconsin.
My husband and I had traveled to Wisconsin to visit his relatives. One morning, we decided to skip the continental breakfast at the hotel where we were staying and eat at the local iHop instead. (Mmmm, pancakes …) Husband–bless his heart–did something he often does when we are eating out: strike up a conversation with total strangers.
Now me, I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing because … 1. I don’t want to bother people, and 2. I’m a private person. Mind you, I’m not a snob. Let’s just say I’m not by nature a gregarious woman until I get to know someone.
When Husband does this, my first inclination is to crawl under the table in embarrassment. But, I have to admit, there have been quite a few times when I eventually joined the exchange. This was one of those times.
The strangers were Doug and Hannah House, father and daughter.
During the congenial conversation, I learned that Doug had recently lost his job in the graphic arts field he’d held for many years due to downsizing–I think. (If I’m wrong–I’m old and my memory is a tricky thing–I’m sure Doug will let me know, and I’ll fix my mistake.) He was now in the beginning stages of starting up his own business as a freelance artist. I opened up as well, sharing with Doug and Hannah that I was a writer. He gave me his card, I gave him my blog address.
Husband and I started home the following day.
A week or so after returning from Wisconsin, I received an email from Doug. He’d been on my blog and had read my post, “If That Old Barn Could Talk”, (link here) and saw the picture of the beloved barn of my childhood, asked if he could create a drawing from said picture, have prints made and sell them. My payment for giving him the legal right to do so was that I would receive the original drawing, plus a copy. I was more than happy to oblige.
And now, about sixteen months after meeting Doug, (Everything would have come about sooner if not for serious health issues laying Doug low, not once, but twice.) his drawing hangs on my living room wall. From the comfort of my recliner, all I have to do is raise my eyes to see my barn. Many years ago, it was torn down and replaced with a new one, but its memory lives on in my heart, and in my family’s collective heart, a place once filled, not just with hay, but also with children and their laughter.image
Now here’s the serendipitous part: if not for that chance meeting at an iHop far, far away from my home here in the South, this beautiful drawing would never have come into existence. Thank you, Doug, thank you sociable Husband, and thank the fates that be for gifting me with this treasure.

Doug House
Doug House

If you wish to see more of Doug’s work, or commission him for a drawing, you can find him here on Facebook. Just look in his About Tab for contact information.

I have a feeling this won’t be the only piece of art created by Doug that will grace the walls of my home.

One note: My picture (featured image) of Doug’s drawing doesn’t do it justice. Please go look at it on his Facebook page to get the full effect.


A Place

She murmurs, she sighs.
But when pushed too far
Her voice is a cry
That wails out to me
Across the miles
To a place she cannot see,
To a place she cannot be.

Twisted roads and alleys,
Grassy hills
And green valleys,
Lay down a protective cover
To separate she and I
Like a jealous lover–
Or an overprotective brother.

She comes to me in dreams,
Sunlight and starlight,
A reflected wet succubus gleam
That rolls wild and free.
I yearn for her liquid embrace,
To return to a place I cannot see,
To a place I cannot be.

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It’s Darkly Wood Week… Look closer, delve a little deeper…

WK Tucker:

Darkly Wood is on my “to read” list. I’m a huge fan of the unusual, and I love the concept of stories within a story. Darkly Wood looks to be an engrossing read.

Originally posted on Maxpower's Blog:

When you start killing children in a book, you know you’ve just gone a little darker. Ah Darkly Wood… You know, I have a special bond to this book and writing the sequel has brought me even closer to the very different world that is Darkly Wood.

It is Darkly Wood week, a week to celebrate and investigate a little deeper, some of the things that make this book special to me. Here I want to explore the process of the sequel. This is neither a scientific treatise nor a template for how it should be done. This rather, is the evolution of a sequel from a Max Power perspective, an insight if you will into the process, the pitfalls and the pure writing pleasure and where it has sent me.

But where do I begin? For the uninitiated, Darkly Wood is my first novel, set in and…

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Strong as Death – free till Sunday

WK Tucker:

Get Julia Lund’s novel, “Strong as Death” for free!

Originally posted on Julia Lund:

Second edition. Second edition.

Download my debut novel, Strong as Death, free this weekend –  click here for Amazon UK and click here for Amazon.com– and please let me know what you think by leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. I’d love to hear what you think, but here’s a few highlights of what a few others have said on Amazon:

5.0 out of 5 stars A truly beautiful tale of the power of love… 22 April 2014

‘Strong as Death’ is the beautifully written story of young love and the obstacles it must overcome. Anyone who remembers the pain and joys of their first lover will feel an affinity with this beautiful tale, mixed with memories of those awkward first moments, and then the thrill of realising that your heart’s desire might just be feeling the same way!

4.0 out of 5 stars A most intriguing read. 29…

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4 colored beach chairs (small)

Time For Some R & R

Bright and early tomorrow morning my three besties and I will be hitting the road, off for our annual beach vacation. Lord, I’ve been waiting months for this day to arrive, and finally, my friends, it’s here.

We reserved a house with a private beach on the Gulf of Mexico, and soon will be walking in the sand, watching and listening to the waves roll in, and witnessing some of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets in all of creation. We’ll be doing a bit of shopping, a lot of talking and laughing, and a little drinking. :D

See y’all soon…but not too soon.



An Experiment

I have begun an experiment…well, maybe exploring a different path would be a more apt way of terming it.
Over the course of the last several weeks, I set up an account on Smashwords, and yesterday, I published an e-book novelette there. (In case any of you may be wondering, a novelette is longer than a traditional short story, but shorter than a novella.) I was accepted into their premium catalog, which means my novelette will be offered for sale by various retailers including, but not limited to, iBooks, Kobo, B&N, Oyster, and Scribd. And, yes, Amazon too.
My plan–and they often go astray–is to publish at least two more stories there by imagethe end of the year in a series of what I think of as my “Kingdom Stories”.
The Preacher Man, my first outing, takes place in The Kingdom, which is an alternate Earth. This is a story that first appeared in Space and Time a few years ago. The rights reverted back to me on publication, so I am free to use it in any way I see fit.
I love this world I created, so much so that I’ve written two more stories that take place there, (both of these were published in magazines also) and am working on two others when I take breaks from my novel rewrite.
So to sum it up, I’m going to see if I can sell better through Smashwords or Amazon.
If you wish to go take a look at my profile page on Smashwords, and maybe purchase The Preacher Man:) then go here. On my profile page, click on the title and it will take you to the page to view a bit about the plot and to buy–if you wish.
In a few months, I’ll post again to share my findings.

Generating characters: bringing your monsters to life! (Tip 47)

WK Tucker:

To all my writing friends…
Here is an excellent source of writing tips, given in small doses. I recommend you drop by and browse the contents.

Originally posted on Online Writing Tips:

Where do characters come from? We have to build them the same way Victor Frankenstein built his monster – out of bits and pieces of other people!

Here’s the link for the trigger game :)

There’s a story about the novelist Gustave Flaubert. According to the story, a gossipy correspondent was pestering him to reveal upon whom he’d based the scandalous character of Madame Bovary. Flaubert replied several times that the character was not based on any real individual but when his correspondent persisted, Flaubert snapped and replied, ‘Madame Bovary is me.’

The point, I suppose, is that when we write any character, we have only our own experience of emotions on which to draw. Even if your character lives on the planet Stigiwonk in the year 3030, if that character is afraid then it is to your own experience of fear that you must turn. We may be afraid…

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WK Tucker:

A real zinger of a story from my good friend, Kate.
After reading this, take a look around her blog; there’s more where this one came from.

Originally posted on Odyssey of a Novice Writer:


And the Band Played On

Eddie had never been one for gardening.

At the end of his shift at the mill, all he wanted was a couple of cold ones while he sat in front of the TV, watching the ballgame. Rosie, his wife, had other ideas. She was always after him to dig up the backyard so they could put in a rose garden.

After ten years of marriage, Eddie was pretty good at tuning Rosie’s nagging out. He’d just grunt, take a swig of beer, and promise he’d get to it tomorrow; but somehow tomorrow never seemed to come.

So, knowing Eddie, it was with some surprise that Paula, his sister, viewed his handiwork the afternoon she stopped by to say hello.

“What’s this?” she asked, watching Eddie as he dumped shovelfuls of earth onto a growing pile behind him.

“I’m finally doing it,” he said, his cheeks…

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