Spotify with me

OH wow, I’ve found my new music heaven.

If you’re like me, and tend to be one of the last to stumble upon something cool, surely you appreciate the new stuff when you find it! I’m a music lover and create a playlist for every book while I’m writing it and tend to randomly post the songs I’m currently writing to on my author pages but NOW I can create and share said writing playlists with you on Spotify. I know it’s not new. Remember – I’m slooooow.

The fun thing is – you don’t need to own every song you add to your playlist – a big plus for me. And there are tons of other shared playlists I can pull songs from. It’s fantastic. It’s brilliant. It’s addicting…and now my family will never see me again. Thanks for that, Spotify.

You can find me there! Search for me today and YOU can listen to what I am right this very second – the Dry Lands playlist. Get lost in the musical world inside my head that is ‘Hutch & A’ris’. 🙂


Happy listening, everyone!

Friday Funny…The Evolution of the Writer Butt

If you don’t think authors have a butt evolution due to all that lovely time we spend sitting – you are so wrong. Here is my interpretation on the subject (those super crazy workout buffs not included):

One month before starting Manuscript #1


One month after starting Manuscript #1


One month before finishing Manuscript #1


One month after finishing Manuscript #1


One month before starting Manuscript #2 and swearing off chocolate


One month after starting Manuscript #2 and inserting hidden compartment in desk for chocolate


One month before finishing Manuscript #2 and attempting to balance laptop on treadmill


One month after finishing Manuscript #2 and celebrating with chocolate



You can see where I’m going here. If your writer butt doesn’t evolve even just a little bit, you must be a freak of genetically gifted nature, or you truly have mastered writing on your treadmill. In either case, your butt is lucky. I envy it.


Happy Writing!




Being your own worst critic AND personal cheerleader…

Being your own worst critic comes easy for most (if not all) writers. It’s just naturally ingrained in us to doubt ourselves, second-guess our work and worry that it won’t be accepted. It might surprise you, but I think this is a good thing. If you can sit in front of your manuscript, take a deep breath, and brace yourself for the inevitable splash of blood-red that is to come during the editing process, it means you are okay with cutting out the not so great and rewording, reworking and rewriting so that your manuscript is the best you can make it. If you aren’t critical of your work, or at the very least, humble about it, then when that first, or tenth, negative review comes in, it will be like a punch to the gut. You might even puke. And laptops don’t like being yacked on.

The upside of being able to critique your own work, is that you also have the ability to be your own personal cheerleader. Did you hit delete after highlighting one thousand words that you KNOW you can write better, without crying? Have you learned along the way, listening to your peers, pushing ahead when your Muse took off for a coffee break but then sent a postcard from some exotic vacation spot, making it clear there was no rush to return? Have you survived reading that first and tenth negative review with poise? It’s okay to pat yourself on the back every once in a while when you reach goals you’ve set for writing. Because writing goals are usually big ones. If you want to run around the house naked, with wine sloshing out of a giant bowl, howling like a wolf, and doing the moonwalk while Doctor Who plays in the background…all because you hit the infamous ‘PUBLISH’ button on Amazon – go for it – you deserve it. If you can’t be happy for your completed works, or met goals, who else should be? Just don’t let it go to your head, and you know, be sure your curtains are closed if you really do prance around the house naked. Trust me, your neighbors will thank you for that.

Writers need to be able to say, ‘This is total crap’ at then be able to turn around and say, ‘This is unedited awesomeness’, without bursting into a blubbering mess, hugging the laptop to their chest like a life raft, and begging for death to take them quickly. Writers should be able to objectively evaluate their work – and find amazing people who will also objectively evaluate their work. And there’s nothing wrong with being happy for the little things along the way. Not everyone can say they are a writer, and even less can say they are published. If you’ve done both, you’re awesomesauce amazeballs. But, like the line in The Decoy Bride says, “Keep your head down, Tolstoy.” If you are in this business for fame, you’ve probably picked the wrong niche of the entertainment and arts industry, cuz you might be waiting a long time. Just saying. Always keep a warm Humble Pie in the oven, and grab a slice when you feel your ego outgrowing your pants. If it bursts at the seams, it won’t be a pretty thing to witness. If you happen to land it big, then definitely run around the house naked with a bowl of wine. And invite me to that party. We’d have a blast!


Happy Critiquing and Cheering!

Weekly Writing Goals…oh, and ‘Happy Days’

It’s back to scheduling writing time for me. This also means setting a weekly writing goal and making SURE I meet it. Sounds a lot easier than it is, trust me. LOL

Today I hit my daily writing goal of 2,500 words (to achieve my weekly goal of 10k). It took two sittings and a lot of, ‘Don’t talk to me, I’m thinking!’ comments from me to my kids, who were supposed to be resting off our bike ride to the park earlier. See, I figured exhausting them would mean I could bust out two solid hours of uninterrupted writing time, but nooooooooo, it just made us all tired and them more clingy. This is why TV is not such a bad invention, after all. And headphones, because I don’t want to hear the theme song to Spongebob EVER AGAIN.

Speaking of songs. I was sitting in front of the laptop, gearing up for a writing session when the theme song for Happy Days just sort of materialized out of thin air and then got stuck in my head on repeat. Still better than five seconds of Spongebob.

Sex-Ed for the Modern Household Laundry Room

Today’s the day – the day I whip our mischievous little laundry troll into submission. The house is in various states of distress, but dirty clothes and towels are definitely competing against the dishes for the Greatest Mess In The House award. So far – the socks are winning over the cups and that says a lot because I’m like the girl in Signs; I leave cups all over the house. I don’t mean to, it just…happens. There could be hair, dust, bugs, microscopic amounts of saliva that falls to the bottom of the glass, floating around waiting to be swallowed – it’s just – ewwwww. I never finish the last drop of anything for fear of instant death. Anyway, I digress.

Laundry – it’s the bane of all evils in my home. Why? Because every time I do it, not only must I gather, sort and relocate said laundry, I must then survive the trip through the garage and into the laundry room without encountering that nasty and somewhat sneaky bastard troll. I KNOW he pulls socks, underwear and towels out of the machines and throws them around the room in there for no reason I understand, and then moves my neatly sorted piles across the floor like a rooting puppy looking for lunch. Perhaps he likes to redecorate his space on a regular basis or simply enjoys pissing me the F off. I go for the latter.

I complained about laundry earlier and the dear Miranda Stork mentioned that the dirty clothes reproduce on their own in her home. I sat back and thought OMG, this is TOTALLY true. Where the HECK did all this dirty laundry come from – surely not the mere four bodies in this house created it all? It then led to a conversation about Sex-Education for the Modern Household Laundry Room. It’s a fabulous idea if you think about it, no? I mean, humans do it – practice safe-sex as a way to manage reproduction rates, so why NOT the knee-highs and trousers and work shirts and skivvies? Seriously, this should be taught in every laundry troll schoolhouse – because it’s not OUR fault the laundry reproduces at alarming rates during the week, so it MUST be that dastardly creature hiding in the crack between the washer and dryer, or dangling from the rafters on top of that busted old door we have no use for. I can see the panic in his eyes now and hear his dusty voice echo through the garage: You want me to do what with the boxer briefs and tank tops?! Is that even LEGAL in the States?! Of course I would have to set some new ground rules so that the mismatched socks were EXTRA careful to follow this new Laundry Anti-Breeding Law, but it would be so worth it. If they came out of the dryer in pairs again, and the shirts weren’t all twisted with the pants (I mean, really…it’s indecent to even THINK about how those shirt sleeves and pant legs became inside out and knotted together!) then it would make my job so much easier. It might even make sorting the clean clothes and folding them tolerable. Almost. Because something also happens between the short trip with the laundry baskets to the closets and dressers in my home. You don’t have enough money for therapy for me to talk about that today.

So, now that I have vented about my sneaky little laundry troll (the git, he’s in there right now tossing stuff about, I just KNOW it) and have introduced the future Laundry Anti-Breeding law to you all, it is time to set the computer aside and begin my rounds. I will be prepared and fully armed with a metal food strainer on my head (vents are important for air flow, mind you), those indestructible cutting mats that will serve as breast-plate inserts beneath my shirt in case projectiles are involved, and an apron made of Kevlar. My troll won’t take to these changes happily, in fact, I might add my famed cracked wooden spoon to my armor, just in case I have to whack some sense into the teeny ogre. What? Don’t look at me like that – laundry is WAR in the Dawson-Holly household. WAR is not pretty. WAR is messy and exhausting and if that darn dwarf with a knack for displacing my dirty clothing wouldn’t take such pleasure in his job, this whole thing would be unnecessary. If you want to judge me – fine, but for those of you with your own laundry troll, wish me happy hunting, and a favorable outcome that results in clean underwear and shirts ending up in drawers and on hangers by bedtime.


Happy Laundry Day, Everyone!