In-between bouts of snow, hail, rain, and cold, I've been out enjoying the sunshine and tulips. Spring is coming, I keep telling myself as I cross my fingers, eyes, and toes.

The birds are optimistic. Ducks are checking out our yard for a place to make their nest, joined by the finches, the canaries, and of course the fat robins. What a cheerful greeting I get each time I walk out my backdoor.

I'm so excited to drag out the lawnmower, the clippers, the rake, and the edger, though I know that excitement will wear off in time, especially when it gets hot. But for now, how can I be pessimistic? The leaves are budding, dark green grass is growing, and I can see wondrous color beginning to burst. Renewed life is all around me. What an awesome sight set against the majestic white mountains and the occasional blue, blue skies.

Oh, the fresh air and the hope of a bounteous garden. I love spring and all its newness and surprises!

My daughter works with the Special Olympics and special needs groups in her high school and she has made me aware of the campaign going on to replace the R-word. Please take a moment and watch these two videos, then spread the word!

I came across this the other day on Youtube and had to share it. Make sure you watch it all the way through. Enjoy.

Do you ever catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, turn to look, but there doesn't seem to be any cause for it? This has been happening to me, way too much lately. So today, I started paying attention to what's going on in my own backyard.

Did you know spring has finally sprung? I know it's hard to believe, given the weird weather we've all been having. I mean, I just drove through a blinding snowstorm on my way home from Phoenix, Arizona, of all places, and had to take refuge in a hotel because I couldn't see the road, let alone the cars and trucks.

As it turns out, green grass has actually pushed up from the soggy soil. Daffodils and tulips have popped out of the ground and are blooming in all their varieties and color. The trees have budded, bushes are flowering, and believe it or not, the sun is shining. Hallelujah! When did all this happen? Have I been totally oblivious, too hunkered down, too depressed by the gray skies to look out my windows, or has Mother Nature finally taken things into her own hands, taken a turn for the better? I sure hope so.

And what about all that movement I've been so paranoid about?

It's birds. Yes, birds. And not your average, run-of-the-mill, every day kinds, either.


Though they may look like ordinary birds, these are tricky. They lay in wait, taking turns to see if they can outsmart the human. These winged-creatures are "smart-alicks"! They knowingly zip in and out, beneath the patio cover, taunting me, sneering at me, gloating over the fact that they can flutter just out of my line of sight. I swear each one takes bets on who can be the most sneaky.

I have only caught them unawares a couple of times. They are huddling in the trees, conspiring. I can see it. I can hear it. They are chirping to one another, most frantically, gathering twigs, string, leaves, and the like, hiding, building blinds, etc., etc. I have a sneaking suspicion that they think, I think, they are just building nests, but I know better. I see through their cleverness. Can't you just picture it?

Who knew birds could be so smart, so speedy. Robins are in on it, black birds, canaries, and finches, plus, who knows what all else. They are all in on the conspiracy, not to mention the obnoxious woodpeckers and magpies, who deposit wonderful splotches of poop all over the patio and deck.

And if you don't believe me, just ask my husband, who goes about banging noisy contraptions, whistling and yelling at all times of the day and night, startling neighbors during their family gatherings, and startling them out of their beds in the middle of the night, not to mention their dogs and cats.

Now, I don't want to give you the wrong impression. We love birds, just not the sneaky, out-to-get-us-kind-of birds. And you would be with me on this, if you were here. Trust me!

Yesterday was a day I had set aside to work on my manuscript. I was totally looking forward to the large block of time. Who wouldn't right? I had all my things laid out just so, organized, giddy with anticipation. Cracking my knuckles, I sit down to write a master piece.

But as life happens sometimes, everything went wrong and kept going wrong all day. The phone wouldn't stop its incessant ringing, though I tried to trap it in a draw with bunched pillows, forgetting the headset in the office and the one downstairs tucked in the couch. Sigh. A split-pant emergency, forgotten lunch money, unexpected friends from far away I just had to talk to. Knocks came at the door, Fed-Ex, UPS, asking for signatures. Life demanded my attention every minute. I think my computer even sighed, tired of being clamped shut so many times. So, when the nineteenth phone call came, I had had it; it was the last straw.

With only one hour left of my supposed "free day," I was tempted to ignore the ring. But the annoying thing just wouldn't stop. Argh! So, closing my laptop for the umpteenth time, I grumble all the way into the kitchen and dig the phone out of the drawer, feathers flying everywhere because of the pillows, only to find that it's my husband on caller-id. Someone I can't ignore.

Putting phone to ear, I said, "Hello," in my sweetest voice, trying not to sound irritated. But there's no answer, only noise in the background, and lots of it, machinery, men shouting, a grinding of some kind. Where in the world is my husband calling from? I wait for a second. Is he going to say anything? After all he's the one who called me. Nothing! So I assume he's accidentally touched speed dial.

"Hello," I yell. No answer. How exasperated am I at this point? Well, let's just say, you wouldn't have wanted to be in the same room with me. I yell, "Hello," again, only this time I put some umph into it. I could have shattered some eardrums. My stars, doesn't he know I'm busy? I'm not too proud of that moment to say the least, but desperation breads desperate acts.

About to hang up, I hear this tentative voice,"I'm sorry, but who am I talking to?"


Choking on my pride, shocked to hear an unrecognizable voice. I timidly say, "Who's this?" feeling embarrassment creep up my face. I have just screamed at a total stranger, not that I wouldn't have felt bad if I had broken my husband's eardrum, mind you. What must this person think of me? Typical, right?

"Ma'am," he says. "I found this phone in the road."

Now I feel like a blathering idiot. "Oh," I say in a much quieter voice, my cheeks turning Scarlett as I realize I'm going to have to meet this person face to face in order to get my husband's phone back.

But then it registers what he has just said. Road? My heart skips a beat and adrenaline threatens to rush through my body. Has my husband been in an accident? Is he all right? Now, I've added guilt, terror, and several more emotions to the pool.

I think he sensed my concern, having endured such a long pause on my end. He quickly reassures me that everything's fine and that he has rescued the phone from the pavement before any traffic can so damage to the blackberry.

So, here I am, driving down the road, a mixture of emotions bubbling around inside of me. I know, I know, another unexpected errand. And I'm wondering how my husband is possibly getting along without his phone, which is usually glued to his hip or ear. How am I supposed to get hold of him? I have no idea where he is or how long it's been since he dropped his phone.

As I draw closer to the scene, my face is getting hotter and hotter. How am I going to face this good Samaritan? Of course, bribery. He'll forgive my insolence with a few dollars. I dig in my purse. No money! Ah! Of course. Another stop. The line to the ATM is huge, moving as slow as a turtle with weights attached to its hind legs.
Finally retrieving several green bills, I pull up to a short curb and identify the kind man who has called because of all the machinery in front of the building he has described.



He doesn't even hesitate. Hurrying to his bobcat, he grabs the phone. Why is it so obvious that I am the one that has come for the dratted phone? Is it my red face, what? It still baffles me.

Anyway, he hands me the phone. I start in on my apology.

"What?" he says. A tractor has just come to life, grinding gears.

"I'm sorry," I shout as another piece of equipment growls with all its might.

The man puts a hand to his ear, a puzzled expression on his face.

"I'M SOR--ry!"

For a brief and embarrassing second all goes silent, and I'm yelling at the poor man again. My voice drops off at the end. I hand him the money, mumble my thanks, and try to escape with some dignity, but of all things, he doesn't want to accept the money. Oh, the humiliation! He really is a good guy. Now, what do I do?

"You have to take it," I say, "You have to" and I force the money into his hands. "I thank him again, and again, stumbling over my words as if I've never encounter the English language before. I'm a sorry sight. He graciously accepts on behalf of his workers. He will buy them a treat for their hard work. They have been there all day without anything to eat.

Suddenly, I don't feel so stupid. I'm humbled. Here these men are, working their tails of, so to speak, without having had so much as a crumb for their troubles.

They could have stolen the phone, spent a fortune on phone calls, pawned it off for money, etc. But they chose to call me, a stranger, and return the phone to its owner.

I went home a better person. I even let a few people in when they tried to nudge my car off the road. I didn't get angry once. Dignity has returned in small amounts. The small act of kindness has made a huge difference in my outlook on the day.

So, of course, it doesn't stop there. The instant I get home. The phone rings. I almost break my fingers, pushing the buttons on the alarm system so it won't screech at me.

It's my husband, for real this time. Panic has set in. He has realized he's missing an appendage, well almost an appendage. I reassure him. I have the phone. Guess where he is? In the building I have just come from to rescue his phone! He's been there the whole time. Naturally. Needless to say, we have a good laugh. And he goes out to thank the good Samaritan again.

My faith in humanity has been restored once again and my family lets me have the whole night to work on my book. How is that for an amazing turn of events?

Be on the lookout this April Fools Day!

JK Rowling: The fringe benefits of failure | Video on TED.com

When I saw this awesome video, I just had to share it with everyone. She is such an inspiration. Enjoy!

JK Rowling: The fringe benefits of failure | Video on TED.com

You may have caught my panic the other night on Twitter, but I just have to share the episode in more detail today.

You see, I get this really strange phone call from a boy my daughter has been seeing at school.

"Mrs. Stickle, is your daughter at home?"

"No," I reply.

"Great," he says.

Which surprises me by the way. Should I be offended for her? Should I hang up?

Anyway, he continues with, "Would you mind filling the bathtub with water? I'm on the way to ask your daughter to the prom and I need to put something in the tub."

Now, picutre this. I'm standing there holding the phone and a look crosses my face, a mixture of fear and increduality, and I really don't know how to reply, or even if I should. But curiosity gets the better of me, so, I agree. Little do I know what I'm letting myself in for.

Fifteen minutes later, in walks this boy and his friend, carrying a huge bag of fish, and they promptly dump every last one of the tiny, squiggly things in the bathtub. What I didn't realize, until it was almost too late (and everyone had deserted me), was that the drain had a slow leak. So, for whatever reason, maybe stupidity, I check on the wiggly, fin pumping, orange and silver-white creatures. To my dismay, I discover, they are only swimming in about an inch of water, and I'm here to tell you the tub was two-thirds full when I left. I had only been gone for ten minutes!

Scrambling to the kitchen, I grab a plastic pitcher and start re-filling the tub, gallon by gallon, hoping not to shock the silly things unconscious, not to mention the chlorine I'm exposing them to. Though I work as fast as I can, I'm not making any headway, and the poor creatures look up at me with desperate eyes.

"I'm saving you," I say, "honest." But I'm not sure they believe me. Unable to take the frantic, frightened looks from the fish anymore, I finally resort in turning the faucet on, full bore, into the picture so that there is a steady stream of water emptying into the tub. And...for the next two and a half hours, I babysit thirty gold fish, creating an endless stream for them to paddle against. Not the thrill of a lifetime, I can tell you!

I can't leave the bathroom for more than five minutes, which I won't comment on any further, not to mention how many gallons of water I waste trying to keep the squirmy things alive.

Keep in mind,I stayed home for a reason. I was all by myself. I had time to work on my manuscript, in the peace and quiet. Ha!

Needless to say, I almost tackle daughter when she finally gets home. "Hurry," I yell. "Quick. Emergency! The bathroom!"

Who knows what she thought. My hair's kinky curlie, my makeup's dripping down my face, and I'm soaking wet.

We dash down the hall, throw the door wide, and, I cry, "They're all yours," as I dash to my computer. Maybe I can salvage the night by finishing a chapter. And then I add, in full voice, "Oh, be sure and use those stupid fish in your reply. Give 'em back," I say, "Give 'em back! I'm done babysitting!" Notice the exclamation marks?

The next thing I know, one of my daughter's friends comes bounding in with a bucket in one hand and a sieve (that I'm sure her mother uses in the kitchen and didn't know she had) in the other. And for the next hour, I hear things like, "Ooo, ick," and "It got away. Hurry, it's going to die!" punctuated by lots and lots of squeals, laughter, and banging on the sides of the tub.

I giggle, snicker, then out and out snort with laughter. If I'd have known it was possible to entertain two teenage girls with tiny, squirmy fish for more than twenty minutes at home I would have dumped the slimy things in the bathtub myself, many times over. It was pure joy hearing all the laughter.

All in all, the fishies survived, the girls got even, and yes! I finished my chapter!

I must admit that when I attend a movie, play, musical, opera, or any other venue of entertainment, I go with high expectations. And if those expectations are not met I come away feeling cheated, disappointed, and upset that I've wasted my time. You know how it is. We've all been there. Whether it's a plot gone wrong, characters that are not loveable enough, or hateable, or we refuse to accept the ending, we go away dissatisfied. So it is with books.

If we, as writers, don't take the time to sweat the little stuff, pay attention to details, make sure voice, characterization, plot, grammar, etc. all flow together in timely fashion, we disappoint our readers. It's a tough balancing act. What we see in our heads, sometimes, is difficult to put on paper.

So, here in my blog today, I want to thank all the agents, editors, critique groups, and whomever else who help us, as writers and creators, stay focused, stay energized, and who keep our work balanced with wonderful insights, so that our writing can be the best it can be. If not for you, we would not be able to succeed at our craft. My hats off to you for your tireless efforts on our behalf.

I, for one, don't think we, as a society, use "please" and "thank you" enough, and I can't go another day without saying the latter. So, here's to all who have given of their time to help others succeed, written blogs with amazing tips, critiqued papers, encouraged the writing process, and so forth. You know who you are. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

A couple of months ago, I received some very helpful tips on blogging from Bree Despain, http://www.breebiesingerdespain.blogspot.com/, and Brodi Ashton, http://www.brodiashton.blogspot.com/, both successful bloggers, writers, and twitterers. The advice was timely and captured my attention, for I was looking for something to help improve my skills.

Though, both, Bree and Brodi, thought some of their advice obvious, it was most enlightening for those of us, who, are new to the whole concept of blogging and twittering.

I took copious notes, read through the handouts they both provided, and tried to implement what I have learned. And walla, a tiny bit of success. My followers have increased as well as the hits to my blog. So I thought I would share a few of Bree's and Brodi's great advice.

Bree said:

1. Join the conversation. Give tips, answer questions. If someone is talking about something you're interested in, jump into the conversation and add to it. Leave comments on other's blog posts. Invite people to comment on your blog. Ask your readers questions to encourage them to comment.
2. Keep it positive. Don't put negative energy out into the world.
3. Be yourself as much as possible, but still be professional. Readers follow your blog/tweets because they want to feel like they know you. And if they feel like they know you, then they'll want to support you. People will love to read personal stories about your life as a writer (especially funny stories).
4. Think of Twitter like a micro blog post.
5. For Published authors: Don't just blog a list of announcements and upcoming events each week. People want content---whether it's a funny story about something that happened to you at a book signing, writing tips, or a contest. You have to give something to your readers if you want them to come back.

Brodi said:

The Twelve Steps to becoming a Blogaholic. a.k.a. The things I do that work for me.

1. Keep a strict Schedule
a. Post schedule on sidebar
b. Always post on those days
c. If you aren't going to post, get a guest post.
2. Add pictures and links
a. So it's not just a large chunk of text.
b. If you mention someone else, or talk about someone else, link to them.
3. Acknowledge comments
4. Comment on other people's blogs.
5. Carry a notebook around for ideas.
6. Don't be afraid to look stupid
a. Some of my most popular blogs have been when I've said something or done something ridiculous, etc.
b. One blog everyone mentions is when my friends and I went to a conference and then walked to dinner. I could've blogged about every little thing that I learned at the conference, but instead I blogged about a spot of red liquid we found on the ground, and how we tried to determine if it was blood, and how we dipped a piece of paper in it to check for viscosity and how we then threw that paper at a lawyer's office for no reason. Believe it or not, this blog made people want to go to the SCBWI conference.
7. Despite looking stupid often, I try not to do anything that is unprofessional
8. Your Author Blog is not a Family Blog
9. Always blog like it might be someone's very first time reading it.
10. Can't think of anything to blog?
a. Just like writer's block, sit down and type.
b. Start typing about what you did last week, and what you have planned for this week. Things will come to you.
c. Consult your notebook
d. Look at your iphone picture folder or your recent photo card. You'll find things to blog about. There's a reason you pulled out your camera to take a picture. Use it. As a related note, take lots of pictures.
e. Have you found anything interesting on the Internet or other people's blogs? Copy it, and make sure to attribute it and link to the original source.
11. Host giveaways or contest.
12. Ask people to follow.

To them, I say, "Thank you." To you, my readers, I say, "Hope you find this advice as useful as I did."

Keep on blogging. I love reading your posts!

The SCBWI monthly meeting was last night. And what a terrific meeting it was. Sydney Salter Husseman helped to de-mystify the elements of a synopsis. Using examples from her work and personal experience, she took us through the step-by-step process. She showed us what had been successful for her and what hadn't. There were also many in the class who were helpful, shedding light on their own successes as well. The whole evening was very enlightening. I'm so glad I was able to attend.

Besides the query letter, there is nothing more daunting than the synopsis, because one has to write so many different kinds. Some agents and editors want only a paragraph, maybe two; some want a full page. Then there are those who want five or six pages, and still others, who want to see thirty to sixty pages depending on how large your manuscript. But Sydney made it very clear that in order to be a successful writer, one has to master the synopsis. Hundreds and hundreds of books have been sold on the synopsis alone. And because of this, she also told us how valuable it is to write a synopsis before even attempting to write a book--- a type of outline, if you will--- to help the story stay on course without interfering with creativity.

If the agent, editor, and or publisher does not like what he, or she, sees in the synopsis your manuscript may never be read. But before you despair her are a few tips that I gleaned from the instruction last night.




1. The synopsis is a sales pitch.
2. It should make your book come alive.
3. It must have a strong hook---make the first sentence grab the reader.
4. Make it clear who the main character is and why she is so important.
5. What is the main conflict? Make it clear.
6. What is the main character's motivation and goals to over come the main conflict?
7. There must be internal, as well as external conflict. Show the main character's growth so that he or she isn't a flat character.
8. Show voice, give the reader a sense of your voice as a writer.
9. Show the protagonist's voice and also the villain's. Why should the reader care about your main character? Why should he dislike the villain?
10. Make sure to put in key scenes from the book.
11. Be sure to tell how the book ends.
12. Leave the reader with an emotional feeling that draws him in at the end. One he cannot forget, one that haunts him, so that he is dying to read more. The last paragraph is what stays with a reader, good or bad.
13. Pay attention to language. Make every word count. Don't use adverbs or adjectives. Use the right kind of details, but not too many. Don't get off on tangents that are not key to the story.
14. Don't be gimmicky.
15. Don't give the reader any reason to dislike your book.
15. The following are the basic mechanics:
a. Write in third person, present.
b. Use a 12 count, Times New Roman font, something that is easy to read. The agents, editors, and publishers won't take the time to read your synopsis if the font is too hard to decipher.
c. Double space. Don't cheat, it will only tick-off the agent or editor and he or she might just toss it away on principle alone.
d. Set your margins as you would your manuscript, 1 1/4 inch margins on both sides. Again don't cheat, the agent, or editor has read hundreds of synopses. He/she will know where you have set your margins.
e. In the top left corner, state your real name, mailing address, telephone number, and e-mail address. (All single-space)
f. At the top right, type your novel's genre, the book's word count, and the word, Synopsis. (All single-space)
g. Then double-space twice and type your novel's title, centered, all in capital letters.
17. Above all: FOLLOW the submission guidelines stated on the literary agent and editor websites!


I hope you find this information as helpful as I have. I wish you good luck!

Music has always had such a profound affect on my life. It touches my soul and infiltrates my moods and thoughts. I can be instantly swept up in the ebb and flow of classical music, remembering childhood moments with my father as we listened to Beethoven, Bach, and other classical composers. I love the Aries of opera and musicals like "Madam Butterfly," "Phantom of the Opera," and "Les Miserable." I enjoy a good waltz, fox trot, and the like since my husband and I were on the ballroom dance team together in college. I can see in my mind's eye my Jr. high and high school years while listening to the music of the day, and yes, I have to admit, I am moved by music in movies, feeling fear during intense scenes or sadness when something has gone terribly wrong. I love the beats of contemporary music which my children bring home and blast out in my living room, though sometimes not the lyrics. So, it is no wonder that I use music to write. I have put together different CDs for inspiration and when they are played, I am immediately transplanted to a different place and time. I can envision the landscapes I am writing about, the atmosphere, the people, and the circumstances. I feel the new world all around me. Music is such a powerful tool.

Cold feet. What a dilemma and I don't mean cold feet in the sense of backing out of something. I literally mean cold feet. I cannot keep my tootsies warm. In the wintertime I have to use a heating pad for about an hour or so before going to bed at night or I can't sleep. I can't walk around without thick socks and shoes on all the time, even in the house, never mind how cold I get without proper insulation in boots when outside. Even in the summertime, I have difficulty shedding my socks and shoes for sandals because the air-conditioning kicks on, instantly freezing my bare feet.

My husband thinks I'm nuts and jokes about it with family and friends, because he's completely opposite. His feet get so hot that the minute he steps over the threshold into our house his shoes come off, and I can hear him spout, "I can't take it any more," as he flings his socks and shoes down the hallway.

He completely uncovers his feet at night and of course wears TIVA's spring, summer, and fall, much to the dismay of our children. If he could get away with it, he'd probably wear sandals year round--- and to further humiliate our children, he'd wear socks with sandals in the wintertime. "Snicker, snicker," and I'd probably let him just to see the reaction from the kids. It's so fun to cause them silly embarrassment just because we are their parents. Payback, right?

So, anyway, I do what I must to stay warm so I don't catch pneumonia and my husband does what he must to cool off. What a pair we make, the neighbors must think we're insane... one bundled to the teeth (feet included of course), the other in the thinnest jackets known to man. Brrrr!

If anyone has the ideal way to get rid of snakes, please let me know. Spring will be here all too soon, and it never fails that every snake, big or small, within a ten mile radius finds its way into my yard. My neighbors are witnesses to how fast, and how high, I can jump from the lower half of my yard to the front door. Which is quite a feat, given the massive boulders I have to leap over in order to reach the front steps. I could probably make the Olympic team if any coach happened by at the time of my sheer panic.

Many a snake has been deafened by my blood-curdling screams. My family and friends don't quite share in, this, my reasonable fear. They just laugh, point, and make fun of my stark-white face and tell me they're not sure who's more frightened, the snake or me. I can definitely say, without any equivocation whatsoever, "Duh! It's ME!

Note to self: Jot down all the words describing the terror I have for snakes in my notebook to reference later when my characters face a similar horror.

Outlines and worldbuilding are very important to the process of writing a book, and most especially when creating a series. Though most of the material is never used, the information garnered is essential. These tools are what keep the story on tract, the underlying structures. Thus, influencing how the story unfolds, how the characters interact with one another, and keep the scenes and dialogue true to the storyline, so there's no meandering, no situations that crop up that are not pertinent that could only serve to confuse, frustrate, and bore the reader. Death to any book!