How Melody Deblois Courts her Muse

Courting the Muse

The Muse arrives when I turn out the light,

And if I am lucky stays through the night.

She often sticks around until it is tomorrow,

Leaving a stream of words for me to borrow.

The muse is a fleeting lady. Although she’s forever late to the party and the first to leave, I never bar her entrance. Still, the more I struggle to catch her, the more she eludes me. A surefire way to scare her off is to overthink her, but for the sake of this blog, I’ll try to pin her down.

The best time to court the muse is just before drifting off to sleep. She’s great at jumping from one dream and landing in another. She’s quite the pest when she has a mind, leaving me no choice but to get up and write. After all that interrupted sleep and worn to a frazzle, I find the tease has left me flat.

Music is the best bait for trapping the muse. She’s partial to groups like the Cocteau Twins, a little Bossa Nova, and anything Billie Eilish. She’s been known to rock out to Jagger and to rap with Eminem. It’s raw emotions that attract her. The dark, theatric In the Nursery lured her into showing up for a Gothic Horror. Too much of a good thing, though, on any given day, causes her to drop in her tracks. There is such a thing as playing a song to death.

To tempt the muse back to the land of the living is to let her get her teeth on some juicy research. The more exploration, the merrier she dances. Fact is, she’s kept me up for hours on end. All that food for thought makes her shine, makes her gleam. The trick is to know when to stop. Too much hanging out with her makes me forget to start writing. Then neither of us wins.

When I can’t find the muse for any length of time, I resort to drastic measures. I read lots of poetry, draw pictures, and even write by hand. I search my brain for the right word to jar the muse back into existence. Sleep-deprived, I fall into bed. Just when I think I’ll never see her again, I awake refreshed. Lo and behold, there she is in all finery, waiting for me with strong coffee and a swift kick into action. My muse is back!

Madison receives acclaim for running a talent agency for people with disabilities, but she doesn't know how to take care of herself. When her altruism becomes life-threatening-a matter of either develop healthy habits or die-she joins a reality TV show that pairs her with hot, raven-haired Brandon. He is witty, sexy, and her teacher. That makes him off limits.

After a successful run on a soap opera, Brandon stepped away from empty fame and now focuses on his work as TV's most noted health teacher. He has one fast rule-never fall for a student. But when he meets Madison, their chemistry is combustible. There's no hiding their conflict or their attraction, especially when it's all caught on film.

Find her latest book on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo.

How about an excerpt from That April in Santa Monica:

“Don’t you feel the sun’s energy balancing and healing you?”

What Madison felt was Brandon’s body heat radiating through her, tightening her muscles, skimming up her spine. That kind of warmth should come with a warning— exposure might cause side effects. Maybe she could have blamed it on chemistry or like attracting like— called it a lethal injection. She was dying for want of him.

She managed to say, “I see a halo around the sun.”

“Feel it vibrate?” he asked, turning to look at her.

Somehow, she didn’t think watching the sky had anything to do with it. The heat had gathered at the sweet place between her legs— another side effect of her being close to him. If this didn’t end up in a kiss, she didn’t think she’d be able to bear it.

Drawing in a long shaky breath, she said, “I do feel the vibration.” Oh, did she!

“Being out in the middle of nature, with the birds and the sea creatures, it does something to a person, don’t you think?”

“Amen to Mother Earth,” she said dreamily.

“There’s harmony in the sounds.” His breath seemed to have caught in his throat.

“Yes, a more beautiful melody could not exist.”

“Do you feel your eyes blur? It’s the sun cleansing you.”

Cleansing? Try heating up as if some crazy so-and-so had switched on the gas.

She moaned, “My eyes have become pools of marvel.” No, that wasn’t right. They were pools of longing, no mistaking.

Born in California, award winning author, Melody DeBlois follows the sun. When she isn’t swimming laps, she’s writing sweet and sassy romances. Her heroines are self-reliant and smart and her heroes are kind by nature and love dogs. She lives in California during the summer and spends winters in Arizona with her husband. She has plotted her novels while hiking the beach or trekking across the desert. Her most treasured possession is family.

 

Find Melody online:

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The Quiet Life

The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind.

~Albert Einstein

For a month now, I’ve had a post-it note on my monitor with ideas for blog posts. When creativity strikes, I write them down. One of them was about “Tuesday’s Bread.” Simply put, I was stirred and enraged when I went shopping one Friday a few weeks ago to discover perfectly good bread being removed by the vendor, and being replaced with new bread. Likely, that bread was going back to the vendor—then what? Tossed? Because it was too old?

We live in a society where the bread is TOO OLD? (Don’t get me started on the “imperfect” fruit stores toss….) The bread still had a use by date four days from then. It was fine. Apparently this vendor (and likely many others) swap bread on Tuesdays and Fridays. The man stocking said “No, use the fresh stuff.” I said, “No, please, I’ll take two from Tuesday.” (I always buy two, and freeze them). That bread was fine! I was sad and mad. As I’ve always been when I see fruit or other perfectly fine food being wasted. Anyway…I digress. But it’s food for thought.

Skip forward to Friday the 13th of March…another Friday.

Instead of doing the “bread swap,” the grocery shelves were bare in the wake of panic shopping and stocking up in light of the novel coronavrius (COVID-19 disease) outbreak, announcements of state of emergencies, school closures, and mandates by the state and federal government. Shut down was beginning.

As a former microbiologist and immunologist (and being married to one), who went to school to study these fascinating, devastating masterminds called viruses, at first I was not worried a few weeks ago. Media hype maybe. Flu still was always on my mind (that is still a dangerous virus). But as news compounded and the virus spread, I’ve become more concerned like the rest of world. I consulted my former adviser from graduate school (my go-to person to set the record straight) who concurred. This is a serious virus. I won’t spend this entire post talking about the virus and what we should or should not do. You all know this by now (wash hands, self-quarantine, do what we can to slow the spread and flatten the curve).

Now, we are home. My husband from work for two weeks, kids from school for two weeks [at least…or more…], and me, as an author, who has always been home, and now the party just grew in my quiet oasis of creativity…what are we to do?

Enter unstructured time, forced structured [homework] time, a clash of noise and serenity, and a wee bit of frustration and getting on nerves, while we try to get work done.

But this is an opportune time to nurture our creativity!

As Einstein said, “The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind.”

How can we use this quiet time at home* to stimulate our creativity?

*If you are home. I understand many still must get to their job and keep the chain and flow of supply and demand moving, and I commend all those who are helping in this crisis, no matter you job. Thank you!

My sons (now ages 10 and 12) have always made beautiful messes. It sets my inner neat freak’s pulse soaring, but I know they are being creative with their toys and craft supplies and anything they can find outside or get their hands on. I have to hide boxes. The problem is real, folks!

Building, taping, designing, playing, interacting, reading...

Creativity abounds here!

There will be more time for it now. We’ll also get outside and explore Spring as it slowly arrives and green things poke from the ground. [oh my plant babies, I’ve missed you!] We’ll walk, hike, bike, and explore, all while maintaining social distance. We’ll nurture our spirits. Nature is food for our family’s souls. I’ll keep writing (even if I need to tune out the creative play with earbuds). We will NOT be taking our kids to theaters, sporting events, or public places. I will support local businesses the best I can during this time while also being cognizant of the need to slow the spread.

Side note: Many fear isolation. If you do, please reach out to friends or if you know somebody who deals with anxiety, please reach out to them in turn. Go on a walk (keeping distance), call, message, or do something that eases your/their discomfort. I am used to being home alone but it does get too quiet and too lonely, and that’s when I know I need to reach out and do something social.

For the next few weeks (as we try to do all the time), we will be:

1. Getting creative (that means writing) — some of the greatest literary works were created in times of crisis.

2. Cleaning our house, doing projects.

3. Offering meals, food, services to those I can support during this time.

4. Encouraging my kids to try some new creative things - at home or in nature.

5. Keeping the kids’ brains sharp by doing the extra homework from school.

6. Keeping calm (the best I can), keeping kindness a priority.

7. Hunkering down at home and limiting trips based on necessity.

What are you doing to foster creativity during this time?

I’d love to hear from you!

Vanilla with a Twist - COVER REVEAL! By Peggy Jaeger

Looking for a summer series to read? What about sweet, decadent ice cream? (or frozen yogurt…gelato…) Look no further. The Wild Rose Press is releasing a new short story/novella series this summer 2020 and summer 2021.

Stay tuned on release date - summer 2020. But how about a peek at the cover and blurb?

Tandy Blakemore spends her days running her New England ice cream parlor, single-parenting her teenage son, and trying to keep her head above financial water. No easy feat when the shop's machinery is aging and her son is thinking about college. Tandy hasn't had a day off in a decade and wonders if she'll ever be able to live a worry-free life.

Engineer Deacon Withers is on an enforced vacation in the tiny seaside town of Beacher's Cove. Overworked, stressed, and lonely, he walks into Tandy's shop for a midday ice cream cone and gets embroiled in helping her fix a broken piece of equipment.

Can the budding friendship that follows lead to something everlasting?

“There’s never a wrong time for ice cream.” - Tandy Blakemore, owner of Vanilla with a Twist

Celebrating my birthday month with a 99c sale!

What better way to celebrate February—the month of love & my birthday? A book sale! (oh yes, and cake…that will come). Will Rise from Ashes, a mother and son’s story of heartache, healing, and hope is on sale for $0.99 [ebook]. Grab a copy now!

Find the sale on AMAZON, iTunes, and Barnes and Noble NOOK.

What is this book about?

Young widow AJ Sinclair has persevered through much heartache. Has she met her match when the Yellowstone supervolcano erupts, leaving her separated from her youngest son and her brother? Tens of thousands are dead or missing in a swath of massive destruction. She and her nine-year-old autistic son, Will, embark on a risky road trip from Maine to the epicenter to find her family. She can't lose another loved one.

Along the way, they meet Reid Gregory, who travels his own road to perdition looking for his sister. Drawn together by AJ's fear of driving and Reid's military and local expertise, their journey to Colorado is fraught with the chaotic aftermath of the eruption. AJ's anxiety and faith in humanity are put to the test as she heals her past, accepts her family's present, and embraces uncertainty as Will and Reid show her a world she had almost forgotten.

Excerpt:

AMAZON, iTunes, and Barnes and Noble NOOK.

He slid closer and placed a hand on mine and squeezed. “I see a strong woman who has been hurt deeply. I see a resilient mother who would journey through hell for her children. I see somebody who has become jaded and has trouble trusting, unable to sort through friend and enemy. I see a woman with hope.” He held my gaze. “And I’d like to be your friend, Audrey Jane.”

My jaw may have dropped. I wasn’t sure. I recovered quickly. Or at least I tried. “You’ve been talking with my therapist, haven’t you?” God, I was teasing him. I was joking. I was like Will. Will always got goofy with his peers in social situations when he didn’t know the expectations, or how to behave.

Either way, Reid didn’t laugh. Thin lips pressed into a frown that I couldn’t decipher.

I didn’t prod any further. I broke the gaze and released my hand from his, then stoked the fire for the tenth time, sleep luring me with sweet abandon. I tossed the stick into the fire. “I should turn in.”

“I’ll stay awake,” he offered. “Until the fire goes.” “Okay.” I nodded, though the fire could have been quickly snuffed.

I paused in my opening of the tent flap, turned around, and peered at him. My arms dropped to my side, my hands still. “I’m sorry about the hotel. I was sick and wasn’t thinking straight. Thank you for your help today.” A part of me couldn’t disclose the unvarnished truth. Part of it had been crazy withdrawal symptoms AJ. The other part—I’d been paranoid he’d been drinking. Harrison’s death remained a ghostly echo in my mind, perhaps clouding my judgment. The scent had been on his clothes though. I was sure of it. The more I pondered, I believed his story. Perhaps I had been triggered. Perhaps I really did have trauma or PTSD. I shook my head. I didn’t know.

Firelight glistened off the growing beard hairs on Reid’s chin and spots of amber danced in his dark, round eyes. Speaking of soulful eyes… “You were looking out for Will. I understand. I had been gone far too long.”

“You had a legitimate reason. Shit happens,” I countered.

His lips curved into a resigned smile. “Yeah. Rest, Audrey Jane.”

“You, too, Reid,” I whispered. I added in a deep exhalation, “And yes, yes, I’d like to be your friend.”

As I stepped into my tent, I observed Reid’s normally straight shoulders slouch a hair. Perhaps he, like all of us, was on his own road of atonement. Searching for meaning, searching for answers…searching for absolution.

I had treated him poorly. I didn’t know what the hell had just happened between us, but I tucked it away into a corner of my brain to contemplate upon another time when I was lucid. My remorse had lifted somewhat.

Ignoring my exhaustion for at least a few minutes, I clicked on my headlamp and pulled out my journal. It was time to unburden my heart.

Inspiration for the book. Yellowstone National Park.

Psst…if you’ve made it this far in reading the blog post, I have exciting news. Will Rise from Ashes will be released on AUDIBLE this spring. I am astounded by the performance of the book producers and narrators. Stay tuned on release date. Want a FREE AUDIBLE CODE? Drop me a message via my contact form. Happy listening!

It's Okay

The old adage goes: Do you see the glass as half-full or half-empty?

It’s a simple, yet loaded philosophical question. I tend to be a half-empty person who tries (so badly) to be half-full person.

When roadblocks continue to hit (and isn’t that life?), I find myself trying to search for meaning in the madness, hope in the hurdle, and optimism in the outlook. I am by no means a power-of-positive-thinking person (though I read the book decades ago), I try. I do try. It’s okay.

What can I glean from the situation, no matter how frustrating or hurting it may be? Sometimes there is not much to glean, and all we can do is ride the wave. And that’s okay, too.

It’s okay.

Many advise to find the good in the bad. Sometimes, our minds or efforts are so deeply entrenched in the battle, we can’t locate that morsel or breadcrumb. It’s okay.

My computer is on the fritz - my lifeblood for work. It at least works while docked. But I may need to replace it to fix this issue. It’s okay.

My son’s secondary insurance continues to give us the red-tape runaround, five years into the journey of autism. We at least have the primary insurance to help. It’s okay.

My son’s yearly IEP meeting is coming up, his 3-year re-evaluation (it’s called a re-evaulation meeting after lots of testing by the school). In some cases, the schools take away the IEP, strip accommodations, and downgrade the plan because my child “is doing so well,” regardless of the IEP helping him access curriculum and succeed. I have a back-up plan in place (not an easy one and it deals with more money and more red-tape/headaches — any many of my friends are riding this hellish journey). It’s okay.

We are no longer utilizing ABA therapy (insert more insurance headache here), but my son has seemed to outgrow it. We’ll roll with this new transition. It’s okay.

Braces. Times two. Ugh. (and insurance circus — see a trend here?). It’s okay.

I had to swap producers for an upcoming audio book, and although amazingly talented, it means more ouch on the checkbook. They are going to make this book shine though. It’s okay.

Uncle Sam might consider my full-time author employment a “hobby” this tax season and I will need to justify it. It’s okay.

We need to travel to visit family during a very expensive school break. But hey, it’s Florida and my sons love manatees. It’s okay.

I’ve had weird heart flutters and tightness and pain, and the doctor ran tests. A mystery, but he is not worried. It’s okay.

I switched to half decaf coffee. The apocalypse has not arrived. It’s okay.

I swapped out my car sooner than I liked because the old one was making yet more noises. Got a new-used car. It’s okay.

I’m trying so badly to lose weight for personal wellness, and I’d finally hit my groove before the holidays, and now I’ve plateaued for 4 weeks. Ugh. I’m hangry as I write this. It’s okay if this is where my body wants to be right now.

My husband recently changed jobs (we think for the better). It’s okay.

I still miss a really good friend who I’ve parted ways with. It’s okay.

It’s okay.

Wherever I am in this life-journey, and I’ve had some really bumpy years — big big big stuff, and I’ve had some less bumpy ones — it is going to be okay. So I suppose that’s my attempt at the partially full outlook? Wherever you are in your life-journey, I am sending hugs that you too, find hope in the heartache and opportunity in the failure…even if it is from viewing through a rear view mirror.