Well, the Big Day is over, presents that didn't fit have been exchanged, and now it's time to put the whole shootin' match back in the attic. Yep, I want it all gone -the red candles, the crystal snowflakes dangling from the chandelier, the tree(s). First, though, I'm heading out to RIR to pick up my season tickets for the May race. (NASCAR, of course!) There's hope in this sad little heart of mine that just holding the tickets will sustain me until Daytona and Race Week festivities in February. Daytona, here I come!

I've been thinking a lot about the creative process this week. My dear husband gifted me with MOCKINGBIRD, a biography of Harper Lee, for Christmas. Friends of Miss Lee gave her a year's worth of financial support so she could write her book. I keep thinking, what if these 'angels' hadn't taken the author under their wings and provided her with the means to produce what is a classic novel about the South and racism? Would TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD ever have been written? Every artist needs the support of someone who believes in him/her. Van Gogh had Theo. DaVinci had the wealthy Medicis. Michelangelo had patrons all over the place. But they're visual artists. Who supports the writers of this world? Grants, yes, there're some of those out there. Film institutes give film makers some moolah. But most of the writers I know either teach (sucking creativity out of you by the ton) or labor at boring jobs they hate, praying to get home to their true work, albeit exhausted at the end of a long day. A few of us have the unwavering support of families who believe in us, and for this, I'm truly grateful. What a wonderful gift, that of emotional and financial support for something that seems so esoteric to those who don't write. It's rare, believe me.

Of Christmas and Odds and Ends

I feel as if this year is already over. Part of it is that I'm wrapping up some writing projects (as much as I ever can - I could rewrite forever), as well as doing the final wrapping on the boxes for under the tree. The family is all home, so my nest is fully feathered again.

Speaking of feathers, a young hawk has been using my yard for his buffet table. I ran into him by accident as he munched on a squirrel, and he and I stared at each other for what seemed to be quite a while. I think he was wondering if I was going to make a grab for his lunch, and I was wondering if he was interested in eating cat. Specifically, mine. The Biffmeister may have his yard forays curtailed until the Hawk finds fatter squirrels elsewhere. What surprised me most was this wildly beautiful creature treating a half acre of suburbia as if it were an unpopulated expanse of trees and critters. The way my mind works, I extrapolated this line of thought into the untamed and wild humans who don't know how or can't survive in civilization. I feel another plot coming on... Jeremiah Johnson was one of my favorite movies. Have to track it down and rewatch it. None of this makes sense, I know, but my mind is hopping around like Santa from chimney to chimney, and trust me, I know where I'm going.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, if I don't make it back before the 25th.

Ward Burton is Back!

Ward "I ain't got no rust on me" Burton has signed to drive for Morgan McClure Motorsports out of Abingdon, Va., and it's about bloody time! I'm doing the happy dance this morning as I wrap and clean and generally obsess about how much I have to do. At least I can look forward to cheering the #4 car next year. Counting the days until the Daytona 500 here...hanging on by my fingernails.

In spite of the chaos of Christmas entertaining (sigh, why do we do this to ourselves?), I'm getting work done on Darkroom. Still tweaking. Still searching for the perfect verb. Since I don't read in the genre I'm writing (and never will again, since judging the Edgars about did me in), I picked up Gillian Bradshaw's Hawk of May and Kingdom of Summer. They're the first two books of three, written in the early 1980s, and are a retelling of the Arthurian legend that's most original. I love the deft use of supernatural elements and the fight between the Light and the Darkness. Good books. I'm going to track down the third book in the trilogy and research her newer books as well.

My nestlings are coming home this week, so the house will be filled for Christmas. That's my present to myself. I hope you and yours enjoy your time together.

A Momentous Day

Today, my first born crosses the threshold into the age of full legal responsibilities and obligations. Yes, she's twenty-one at 2:30 this afternoon. I know it's a cliche, but where in the Sam Hill did the past twenty-one years go? We drove three hours to be with her yesterday and go out to lunch, but she was too busy to spend much time with us. That's the way it should be. I'm as proud as a mother could be of her, and consider her to be a nice person with a good heart - my strongest compliment.

Without NASCAR, (sob, sob!), I tried to fill my need for Speed by watching the NASCAR awards banquet. Please, get rid of Jay Mohr. He's an embarrassment. All in all, everyone looked uncomfortable in tuxes and best behavior. At least Denny Hamlin knew it ("Did I suck?"), and provided a rare moment of genuine humor, unlike Mohr's forced tackiness.

The fir tree is on the front porch, ready to come inside so I get decorate it. Colored lights are everywhere, and once I start the baking for my dad's 85th birthday party, it'll smell like Christmas as well as look like it. I love this run up to the 25th, but by the day after Christmas, I want it all down and packed away.

BTW, anyone have any ideas for gifts to give the man who has everything, and if he doesn't, he goes out a buys it?

Trying Again....

Well, my last post disappeared into the ether, and since time is of the essence this time of the year, I did the only sensible thing - shut down the computer and went on to the next chore.

But I'm baaaccckkkk. . . and now that the outdoor Christmas lights are up, I'm feeling more in the spirit of the season. The tacky NASCAR Christmas palm tree is lording it over the family room (yes, you read that correctly), and the traditional fir will go up soon in the living room. Oh, I loaded the palm tree up with red chili pepper lights, to add insult to injury. I'm entertaining this season, and I can't wait to see jaws drop when their owners see Tony Steward, Kasey Kahne, Mark Martin, and Carl Edwards all over the tree. The shock value alone will be worth the effort, LOL.

I ran into a lady looking for a good mystery/suspense/romsusp yesterday, and to my shock, the shelves were devoid of the authors I love to recommend. Not a one was out - and it's not a good trend. I know shelf space for booksellers is at a premium, but jamming Nora Roberts (merciful heavens, the woman is prolific) and Janet Evanovitch into every square inch doesn't leave room for other good authors. Enough with the backlists, please.

I'll be in and out in the next few weeks, inbetween all the hubbub and working on the umpteenth version of DARKROOM. I love this book, and it's not leaving my computer until I have it exactly where I want it.

Hope you all save some time for the writing. I know it's what helps keep me sane this time of the year.

Giving Thanks

Thanks go out to all the wonderful people who support artists with their pocketbooks. Without you, we'd be passing out booklets in the mall, begging for alms. Just wanted to let you know, every penny you spend on artistic products, whether it's a book or a photograph at your local art show, is a penny well spent and much appreciated.

I'm hosting the Big Dinner this year, so my writing time is taking a hit. I can plot as I mash, baste, peel, and saute', but it's harder, LOL. It's a lovely day, Thanksgiving, and I'm very appreciative of this opportunity to thank all the people who mean so much to me, for their love and support.

BTW, I just started Eileen Dreyer's HEAD GAMES, and she had me with the first page. Scary stuff, great hooks,and wonderful writing. I also finished Karyn Witmer's A SIMPLE GIFT, in case I didn't mention it, and it's a book you need to run, not walk, and buy. A rings-true story of a marriage in trouble because of a troubled child, and what happens when a surfeit of love is thrown back in your face. I cried. The ending is good, however, so all you HEA types will be satisfied.

On another and not so pleasant note, I hear there's a row between the prolific and well-respected Anne Stuart and an anonymous blogger who crowns herself Miss Snark. The issue is: can you ever criticize your publisher in public? Well, do you criticize anyone, except politicians, in public? Is it a Southern thing, to keep your complaints private? Probably, as it's very old-fashioned. I wouldn't have said (for print)what AS did, but she just has more balls than I ever will. Dirty linen and all that stuff. . . At least AS doesn't believe in rolling along with the status quo, which is a good thing for writers who want more.

And don't we all?

Still and all, gratitude pays huge dividends, and wanting, it seems to me, denies having the good already bestowed.

Goosebumps and the Writer

Have you ever had a perfectly good story idea, worked it out on paper, liked it, found it charming, but just knew it was missing something??? Boy howdy, has that happened to me a ton. I have a hundred pages in a new mystery series I really like, and after playing with the plot, the characters, the whole nine yards, it was good, but not great. Not where I wanted it to be. Then, after a session with my brainstorming babes, the inimitable Jenn, Carolyn, Nat, and Kathy, the TA-DA moment struck me like a Mac truck. Goosebumps all over. I knew, finally, what the story line needed to give it high octane gas. Dancing around the office is dangerous - those piles of books can trip you up if you're not careful - but I did share this plot gem with my writing peeps. They agreed - the Get-up-and-go factor had fallen into my brain. Yippee! I feel as if I've won the Cup this year!

Speaking of Cup runs, loved seeing Kevin Harvick up on the wheel yesterday at Phoenix. Harvick, you're the man. Johnson may take the Cup this year, but he hasn't won the races Harvick has. Running second all the time doesn't make you a winner in my book. Here's to next year, and a 2007 Cup champ I can respect. I want goosebumps when the winner takes the checkered flag. Harvick is one of the rare breed who can do that for me.