Catching Babies: Come All Ye Faithful

December. There are times when I wonder why it is that I do what I do. Through the months I’ve been writing this blog I’ve shared some of the highs and lows and as we draw the year to a close, this final month has brought more of the same.
It’s always difficult when some on loses a baby. But when it’s someone you know, a colleague, it’s always worse. When something awful happens, we always question ourselves. Did we not do enough? Act quickly enough? Make the right decision? It’s a million times worse when you know for a fact that but for a single element the outcome could have been so very different. This is the situation we found ourselves in December, the week before Christmas. I can’t quite describe the pall that fell over the labour ward that morning as our shift ended and we knew that one of our own was mourning and we had been unable to prevent it.
Christmas week passed in a blur of emotions and a mass of patients giving us barely time to breathe but still giving us enough time to ask each other “Why? Is it worth it?” It’s an internal discussion that we as midwives are all very familiar with and every time you start to think that maybe it isn’t, something else comes along to tell you that perhaps it is. Like the two babies who came into the world at only 26 and 25 weeks and against the odds, are doing very well. The patient who clung to my hand while she was anaesthetised for a caesarean section, terrified she wouldn’t wake up and so very grateful that I didn’t leave her. Or even just the patient who I gave a pain relieving injection to who sang drunkenly through the last half of her labour. So as we start our new year by delivering the first baby in Scotland we pick each other up and carry on regardless. It doesn’t always make sense. It isn’t always fair, or happy but there isn’t another job quite like it in the world and despite those extreme highs and extreme lows, we’ll keep on catching babies.

Catching Babies: Babies Having Babies

November. As the holiday season rolls in we start planning for staff parties which always end in carnage of the alcoholic nature. No one knows how to blow off steam quite like the emergency services. Throw a Christmas bauble at any party night in December and you will almost certainly hit a Nurse, Midwife, Doctor, Fireman or Police Officer. We spend most of the year throwing our hearts under the feet of the general public and when given the excuse to throw off our public persona we do it with just as much passion.

Meanwhile in the labour ward the younger generation has also been throwing their passion around and every second person who comes screaming through our doors (usually quite literally) is barely a teenager, let alone an adult. I find pregnant teens to be some of our most challenging clients. Take all the hormones of youth, throw in some pregnancy hormones, immaturity and a healthy dose of fear and you have a situation which brings as much sympathy as it does aggravation. It always makes me sad that these girls and boys are having babies when they are babies themselves in most cases. These girls bodies are often just not ready to push out a 7lb baby when they are fourteen or fifteen and the pain and terror when they go into labour is really hard to watch. They just don’t have the maturity to cope with it, never mind the actual raising of a baby. It can be really hard to calm someone down when all they want to do is scream, cry and shout for their mum. And if you think it’s hard to get a teen to do what you ask in everyday life then try doing it when they are in pain. Even when you tell them it might mean the health or life of their baby their first thought is often only themselves. It’s almost always a battle of wills that leaves you exhausted. I feel even worse for the girls’ mother’s when they come with them to the labour ward because it must be so awful to watch your child in pain like that and know there is nothing you can do to help. Sometimes, in those scenarios we find ourselves looking after their well being as much as that of the patient or arguing with an overwhelmed parent over management when they only see their child in pain or sick.

This week I looked after a 17 year old girl whose waters had broken early and was showing significant signs of infection. The baby was breech and the doctors decided the only option was to deliver her by caesarean. It was a challenge trying to explain to a young teen why it wasn't a good thing that we had to deliver her baby two months early and try to get her to understand that the baby might have significant health issues for the rest of its life as a result of prematurity. Then to manage her as she woke from a general anaesthetic having had caesarean section, confused and in a lot of pain. Knowing she had no idea what was in front of her. She sobbed in pain, groggy from the morphine, clutching her 17 year old boyfriend’s hand while the paediatric consultant explained the condition of the baby in ICU. I met the eyes of both of their mothers over the bed and saw the knowledge in their eyes of the hard road their children had to face and my heart hurt for all of them. I hope that the cautious optimism of the consultant is well placed because both the new parents were going to have a lot of growing up to do, very quickly. 

Bring on that Christmas party because I have a serious need to let my hair down and get involved in some alcoholic carnage.

Catching Babies: Doctors and Nurses and Midwives…oh my!

Ah October. The temperature drops with the leaves on the trees, rain washes in, the wind blows harder and the nights get darker. The delivery rate has dropped and we all take a big sigh of relief. And, this October at least, half the hospital staff decide it’s time to have a baby. Truthfully, I’ve been away for most of this month doing my other job so it seems to me that the delivery numbers have gone from OH MY GOD to OK THEN in a blink. I missed the gradual decline. Now it seems that every second patient is a nurse or doctor, this is unusual. It’s like nine months ago there was a party I wasn’t (thankfully) invited to or that the staff newsletter had a two for one offer on maternity care.

It’s probably wrong but looking after someone with any kind of medical treatment is on my list of Things I Don’t Enjoy Doing. Nowhere near the top mind you cos this job has certainly introduced me to many, many things that I don’t like doing. They are hard work, no matter the speciality they work in, in fact it’s worse if they haven’t done any training in maternity. It makes everything you do that bit more fraught, from putting in drips to taking them to the operating theatre. It makes you anxious in case you screw anything up because they are mostly going to know you screwed it up, this adds to the pressure of making sure everything goes well. Then there is the knowledge factor. They know just enough to think they know enough. Maternity is a speciality, there are differences. Losing 500mls of blood when you’re pregnant is different from losing 500mls of blood at any other time. If you lose that amount of blood during any other time it’s a major haemorrhage. But there are also similarities. It’s really hard to reassure someone that they will be fine in those circumstances when they know the risks involved.

This month though, almost everyone behaved themselves while I was there. No major dramas, no big highs or lows. It’s been nice for a change that there was nothing especially memorable to write on this blog. The most memorable thing that happened was the night I looked after a woman in labour wearing a ‘dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians’ t-shirt and her partner with the badly covered-up white supremacy tattoo and even they were no problem. Let’s hope the rest of the year proves to be as restful…but I’m not holding my breath.

Catching Babies: Oceans of Sorrow and Rivers of Blood

I’ve already posted a little bit about what happened in September and if you follow me on facebook you know it kicked my ass harder than usual. Since I needed time off in October I ended up working extra shifts, so it was own fault really. Traditionally September is the busiest month in the baby business and this year was no exception. We had anywhere from 10 to 20 inductions of labour every day on top of the people who had the audacity to go into labour on their own, the routine caesarean sections and the various other admissions. Into the ‘other admissions’ category fall the people who have sadly lost their babies. Most people don’t think about what happens in this case but these babies still have to be delivered and after a certain stage of pregnancy this happens in the usual way with a midwife looking after you. For the first couple of weeks of September I was that midwife.

It’s heart breaking, stressful and at times unpleasant but it is so, so important. Perhaps one of the most important parts of my job. And just like any other delivery there are those which stick with you forever. This time it was twins, a threatened miscarriage. They were too far below the time at which they could be successfully resuscitated. Their parents and I waited for two long days hoping against hope but knowing deep down that they were coming and nothing I or they could do would stop it. We discussed several scenarios, among them the possibility that the babies would show signs of life when they were born. When the awful, inevitable moment occurred that’s exactly what happened. Their parents decided to hold them until the passed away peacefully. It was terrible and yet, somehow it wasn't. They got time to say goodbye.

In the way of medical professionals everywhere I moved from bad to good without breaking my stride. I soothed away my sorrow in the raucous squalling of new life as I delivered baby after baby and September rolled on. We discovered a new trend for September – antepartum and postpartum haemorrhages. It seemed like every second person who came through our doors was attempting to pump their life’s blood onto our beds and floors. It became almost routine as we moved through each emergency like a well-practiced, well-oiled machine. As I sat down for a moment to catch my breath after another major haemorrhage and contemplated changing my blood spotted scrubs and cleaning my shoes someone stopped by to tell me there was a gift waiting for me in the office. After I cleaned up I went to claim it. It was a huge box of chocolates and a lovely card. “Thank you for looking after us so well and giving us precious time with our babies.”

Well played September, well played.

Catching Babies: Black Wednesday

Once a year in the UK, not only in Maternity Services but across the board there is a time that brings dread to the hearts of nurses, midwives and pharmacists. New Doctors week. It happens in early August. Someone, somewhere, once upon a time decided it would be a good idea to move all the junior doctors to new departments at one time and throw some new graduates in to the mix too. Just for fun. Go ahead. Google Doctor changeover day. I dare you. I warn you though, you might decide to turn to Google again and self-medicate if you ever become unwell in August.
We all know that for the first few weeks in August we will be spending time we don’t have giving the new doctors directions, teaching them routine and protocols, checking prescriptions for them and waiting for them to check with other doctors before things get done. It’s a pain in the arse for them and for us and a totally stupid way of doing things. But as with many things in the NHS it’s the way we’ve always done it and it will take a disaster before anyone is willing to change it.

All through this, the babies keep on coming. So many babies we are running out of cots for them and beds for their mothers. The powers that be have reduced our staff and our beds based on the number of patients we had last year. The problem with that is that we have already surpassed that number and the year isn’t over yet. We are all exhausted and that gives us less time for teaching the right way to do things. Whether with new doctors or with new mothers. September is on the horizon and we all know this is traditionally our busy time. Something has to give.

Into the mix comes an eighteen year old girl who is twenty-six weeks pregnant. Her waters have broken several days ago and she is showing signs of infection and that infection is most likely in her womb. There is no choice but to try and induce her labour while treating her with antibiotics before the infection worsens and possibly kills her. We all know the odds of the baby surviving the procedure and the delivery are slim. That the chances of it making it hale and healthy after that, slimmer still. She is not my patient and I am glad. I see her relatives coming and going with grief in their eyes and am glad that on this occasion it isn’t me who has to try and hold them together while they wait.

We all go about our duties and every time we pass the main desk or each other we ask. “Is it over yet?” The day shift passes and the baby is still with us. Heartbeat strong. The girl’s infection has worsened and she is spiking high fevers. The doctors are scratching their heads and throwing antibiotics at it while they wait for test results in the hopes that something will stick. Days pass and suddenly the girl turns a corner begins to get better. Against the odds and despite us doing our best to induce it, she doesn’t labour. We stop trying. The signs of infection are gone and it’s decided, let nature take its course. As I leave my final shift of August news reaches through the grapevine. The girl has gone home. She is still on antibiotics and still pregnant. We are all astonished but as we leave August its clear to us all that sometimes miracles do happen. Whatever the next weeks throw at us we just have to keep on going and we’ll get through it. Whatever will be, will be.

Catching Babies: The Heat Is On

July

Obstetrician, “Do you know why we put hats on babies as soon as they’re born?”
Anaesthetist, “Isn’t it to keep them warm?”
Obstetrician, “Actually no. You see, there’s a pressure differential between the uterus and the external environment. This means the baby’s head can actually expand and cause intracranial damage.”
Anaesthetist, “Really?”
Obstetrician, “Yes, in fact if left unchecked the cranial vault can actually explode in severe cases.”
Anaesthetist, “Oh wow. Really? I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know that.”
Obstetrician, “Oh. My. God. I can’t believe you actually fell for that!”
Anaesthetist, “You arsehole!”


And thus the tone was set for the hot, crazy month of July. As the temperatures soared outside, so did the heat in the labour ward. The air conditioning was misbehaving again. The temperature in the room Eve and I had got stuck in was approximately thirty degrees and we spent the majority of our time there wearing plastic aprons, gloves and goggles which were actually fogging up so much that I gave up and took them off so I could see. I resigned myself to spending most of the day wet as sweat trickled down my temples. “When this baby is born,” I said to Eve softly as the mother caught her breath between pushes. “We need to get the hell away from this room to the other end of labour ward. Where the air-con is working slightly.” A few more pushes and the baby slipped from its mother’s body and gave an indignant cry. I thought gratefully of a belated breakfast, and air I could actually breathe as I sat down to suture.

Alas it was not to be. Well, we did get breakfast. But no sooner had we finished eating when the phone rang again and we were called back for another delivery and the only room free and clean was the same one we had just vacated. I bit back a groan and braced myself. This was going to be a long day. Our second baby was not quite as quick as the first but he made his way into the world without too much drama. Eve’s eyes met mine in the kind of excitement you only find from a student. “Two in one day, wow!” I smiled back at her. Thinking my god. Two already, and it’s only just past lunchtime.

The next phone call came as we had finished transferring our second patient. The message was that someone was coming to labour ward for more intensive monitoring of her baby’s heartbeat as there had been dips in the heart rate on the ward monitor. It was her second baby so I knew she could labour quickly. We set up our room accordingly, put on our gloves and waited. The patient who arrived was not what I was expecting. She was ranting, irrational, aggressive and totally out of control. It was obvious in the first few minutes that she had psychiatric problems. I couldn’t get her to stay in the room, let alone on the bed to get the monitor back on. I, her partner and another midwife quite literally followed her the circumference of the labour ward and back trying to reason with her while other staff looked on wide-eyed. She sobbed, yelled and beat her fists on the walls and repeated over and over that she was going home. As she got to the exit, that’s exactly where she headed with her partner and the transfer midwife following her, pleading. I stopped at the door having been told by the charge midwife not to follow them. The student looked at me in shock. “So what do we do?”

The answer was nothing. Security had been called. There was nothing we could do to make her stay. It’s a hospital, not a prison and although she had psychiatric issues she had been assessed as fit to look after herself and make decisions. My heart ached for the baby inside her whose fate was uncertain. We went back to the room to document events. As I finished writing the room door was flung open and the woman and her entourage burst back in. She threw herself onto the bed and screaming herself hoarse she gave an almighty push and delivered. For a moment there was silence then the coughing, sputtering cry of the baby broke the tension. Tears stung my eyes as relief flooded me.
“Thank you.” Said the new mother. “I’m so sorry.”
I met her eyes. “It’s okay. Everything is fine, you’re all safe now.”

As we leave July and enter August there have been many other babies. As I bid goodbye to my student, Eve, she has delivered twenty-five of her three-year goal of forty. It’s been a busy, chaotic month but that one, very lucky baby has stuck in my mind. I hope she grows to be happy and healthy. I hope her mother gets the help she needs.
I know I’ll probably never find out.

Catching Babies: The Orphaned Student

This month I thought I’d try something a bit different. Once upon a time when I was a shiny new midwife I started an online journal about my ‘day job’. It was a way for me to decompress from a job I wasn’t quite prepared for and take my mind off of the fact that I was living away from my friends and family for the first time. It’s now been ten years and working for the NHS is still as surprising, funny, sad and maddening as it was when I was just out of the box. So I thought I’d once again share some of the craziness and give you a glimpse into life as a midwife in the UK. Names will be changed to protect the innocent. My plan at the moment is to try to do this at least once a month but we’ll see how it goes. Please feel free to share your thoughts below and I hope you enjoy.
Cait

June
As we barrel our way through the hazy, crazy days of summer in the UK all I can think is that most of the UK must have spent the last days of autumn and the first days of winter last year under their duvets. Together. Because now, nine months later there seems to be plenty of evidence of a job well done. To make matters worse I seem to have picked up a student, Eve, left orphaned and alone when her mentor called in sick, indefinitely. Another casualty of the high stress, long hours and workload that is the reality of our job. I like working with students but she is in the first year of her training, which translates to explaining and doing everything at least twice. It’s a lot of work. Teach me to give in to the pressure that was the combination of my own memory of being a student and gentle persuasion from the University.

Poor Eve has the luck, or misfortune to land in one of the busiest moths of the year so far. Talk about throwing her in at the deep end. Our student midwives in the UK have to deliver forty babies in their three years of training. Within our first three shifts we already had four. One of which was a lady who was pregnant with her fifth baby. She came to labour ward courtesy of a bed and two admissions midwives running her into labour ward fully dilated and pushing. Luckily Eve took me at my word when I answered the call and said to her, “Put your gloves on and open up the delivery pack.” In the corridor outside the delivery room the lady’s waters broke. As we wheeled her into the room she gave a push and the baby appeared as a wriggling, crying, sheet covered shape while the student stood beside her, eyes wide with astonishment. Eve looked at me and said, “I don’t think I can count that. I never even touched her.”
“Well,” I replied, “You were standing beside her and someone’s name has to go in the paperwork. It might as well be yours.” Everyone in the room laughed as relief broke the tension and we finished the job. The baby was dried and placed in her elated mother’s arms and Eve delivered the afterbirth with my guidance. I suppose we can all be grateful those admissions ladies had their running shoes on that day.

And so it continued; seven shifts, eight normal deliveries, three caesarean sections and one ventouse delivery later Eve and I are well acquainted and she hasn’t thrown the towel in yet. I see the beginnings of a midwife in her and it’s kind of awesome to know I had a part in that. I must confess, I do enjoy those first year students, even with all the hard work it entails. We try to ease them in gently, stick to low risk patients (or ‘clients’ as the Uni would have it, they do love their buzz words) try show the students the normality before the reality. I love to give them the exhilaration of being the person to bring life in all its noisy, messy joy into the world. So as the weather heats up along with the labour ward Eve and I drag our tired asses into July. Tired, but not beaten, and ready for the next catch.

The Book That Started It All!

I recently went through my bookshelf trying to find and ‘oldie but goodie” to read. Even as my finger drifted across cracked spines and the scent of my old books drifted up to me, I knew which book I looked for. The title was The Flame and The Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss.

Kathleen Woodiwiss was my biggest influence as far as finding an unending love for historical romance. She is the one author who grabbed me by the heart and never let go. In the early days of my actual foray into writing, I had a chance to visit with her and she was a wonderfully articulate lady. Her debut novel was rejected by agents and hardcover publishers as being too long. In typical Kathleen fashion, she refused to rewrite her novel and sent it instead to paperback publishers. Avon had the foresight to immediately purchase and the rest is history! I think she singlehandedly changed the course of romantic novels.

I will never forget that phone call with her. I sat on the edge of my chair, my palms sweating, my heart pounding, and excitement like I’ve never known! She gave me so much encouragement to do the thing I love. Hence my historical trilogy including my Keeper of the Spirit, Keeper of the Dream, and Keeper of the Heart.

Now I’m sitting here looking at my very worn original copyright dated 1972, The Flame and The Flower. Years have passed and I’m not sure I’ll ever shoot to the top of the Best Seller list, but Kathleen’s encouragement still rings in my ears.

 

Merry Christmas to all!

Ruby

Favorite Thanksgiving Recipes

I'm always looking for something new to try. Food wise that is. I love to eat and Thanksgiving is the one holiday that promotes food to the tee. Yum.
Since my daughter works for Walmart, I'm having Thanksgiving's food dishes ready by noon so she can eat before she has to be there by 2. The rest of us can eat with her then eat again on and off all day. I doubt I get out of my comfy clothes on Thanksgiving.
Here's one of my favorite Thanksgiving day recipes.

Sweet Potato Casserole

Ingredients:

3 cups of mashed sweet potatoes

1 cup of granulated sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

½ cup of milk

½ cup of butter

Mix:

Potatoes, sugar, eggs, vanilla & milk. Add melted butter. Pour into a casserole dish.

Topping Ingredients:

1/3 cup of flour

1 cup chopped nuts

1 cup light brown sugar

1/3 cup softened butter

Mix:

Combine brown sugar and flour. Add softened butter until it becomes a crumbly mixture, then add nuts. Mix well.  Sprinkle on top of casserole.

Bake:

350 degrees for 30 minutes or until done.

As I said, I'm always looking for new recipes to try so please share yours here.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Tara

Wounded Warrior Project

It's my turn to blog again, and, as usual, I had no idea what to say. Seriously, doesn't anyone really care about my crazy life with my three girls, my struggle to find jeans that fit, or my never-ending battle to lose weight?

I didn't think so.

So as I cast around in vain for a topic to write about, I tried to think of something that meant a lot to me. One of the things that came to mind immediately was The Wounded Warrior Project. (woundedwarriorproject.org)

I first learned about this site when I was doing research for my next book. (more on that later) As I explored the site, I became more and more impressed by what this non-profit organization is doing for our wounded military members.

This is a subject near and dear to my heart. My grandfather was the second to last man drafted in WWII, my father was in the Air force, I had two uncles fight in Vietnam, my sister was in the Army for 23 years, her husband was also in the Army and my other brother-in-law was in the Navy. My niece is currently in the National Guard. Service to our country is big in my family.

We have been so blessed that none of our family members was ever wounded during their service, but not everyone is that lucky. It absolutely breaks my heart that people who put their lives on the line for our country come home to miles of red tape, inadequate care, and an overtaxed support system.

 These people are heroes, damn it!

I have spent a lot of time researching Navy SEALs for my next book. I enjoy doing research, but this time, I wanted to make sure I REALLY got it right, because it means so freaking much to me. My hero is going to be a wounded SEAL and I hope to God all the research I've done will do him justice.

Veterans' Day was November 11th, but thanking our veterans and military personnel should be something we do every time we see someone in uniform.

In order to put my money where my mouth (or keyboard) is, when I finally get my wounded hero book written, I'm going to donate part of the proceeds to The Wounded Warrior Project. I encourage you to check out their site and see what they are doing for our heroes.

To all the military and their families, I thank you for your service, sacrifice, and dedication. God bless you and keep you safe.

Gay Rom Lit

Recently I attended a new to me convention, the Gay Rom Lit Retreat. Now I’m no convention virgin, I’ve been going to the Romantic Times convention since 2004 and Ellora’s Cave Romanticon for 3 of the 5 years it’s been running. SO I had no hesitation signing up to go to another convention and attending alone as I always have. In my experience it hasn’t taken very long to meet up with a group of new friends and have a blast. Everyone raved about how awesome Gay Rom Lit was, how many friends they made and how it was so great to be among like minded people where they could relax with no fear of judgement.

I was excited.

I arrived in Atlanta a couple of days early still buzzing from my amazing time the previous week at Romanticon and ready for the fun to continue. The hotel was nice, and I settled in to do a little sightseeing through the day and sit in the bar in the evening where I knew I would find the convention attendees. The first night I took a seat in the bar with my e-reader and a drink I was expecting things to be a little quiet but I knew the writing workshop was on and there would be some early birds. I was excited to recognise a couple of writers from pictures I’d seen online and it helped me identify the groups around them as attendees. I smiled at a few of them but since I had no con badge yet didn’t expect much. So I people watched and read my book and listened to the fun going on around me.

The following night I took a seat at the bar again after spending the day at the aquarium. Once again I read my book while the laughter and buzz went on around me. Groups of people who obviously knew each other fairly well and were thrilled to be in each other’s company. I saw a few people coming down the lobby escalator with their conference bags and badges and realised early registration must be open. With anticipation I went up the stairs to get mine. There was a little line and the people in the booth were a little harassed but friendly enough. I took my stuff and put my badge over my head, its bright colour identifying me as a reader. I headed back to the bar excited that people would now know I was part of the convention. Now maybe I could chat with a few people. Maybe get involved in some of that raucous laughter myself. Two hours later I was still alone. Never mind, I thought, they have been together for a few days at the writer workshop. They obviously all have established themselves in groups already. Most of the attendees will be arriving tomorrow.

The next day I decided not to go out. One of my favourite things to do at a con is sit in the lobby the day everyone arrives and watch as people meet up and the atmosphere starts to build. I wore my badge and took my e-reader to sit in the bar. The day passed, people came and went from the seats around me. No one spoke to me. The bar got busier, people were obviously having a great time, I smiled at people who sat in the armchairs around me. No one spoke to me.

I wasn’t excited anymore.

I sent out a frustrated message to the ether (otherwise known as facebook and twitter) asking for someone to please talk to me as I was lonely at GRL. At this point I met K-lee Klien, who is an awesome writer with some health issues which mean she rarely leaves her room. She saw my plea and headed to the bar to meet me. Thank you K-lee, if you are reading this. You are awesome! K-lee had been to a few GRL’s and knew a lot of attendees, she pointed out a few familiar names and introduced me to a group. I’m not gonna lie, I was a little awkward, I mean Marie Sexton was in the group! I tried to join in the conversation but I had arranged to meet a twitter friend from Atlanta for dinner and he arrived shortly after that. Maybe that was the point where things might have changed for me. Maybe I missed my window.

The following day I felt a little better, I had after all met a few people the night before and I’d spent a lovely few hours with James (who took me to my first gay bar and out for a meal, thanks James!) I went to the virgin event in the morning, expecting to make a few friends. They split us into groups and in our group was K.A. Mitchell! We were all very excited and she was just lovely. The group introduced itself and once again I discovered that most of them already knew each other in some capacity. I left the room alone. By lunch I was feeling a little depressed. 3 days into the con and I was still eating alone while the fun went on around me. I was tired of it. In fact I would quite happily have gone home at that point. I put a message on facebook saying as much.

Some friends on facebook L.B. Gregg and Danny Bruggeman asked people there to look out for me and a couple of people did join me for lunch. Then I met K.C. Burn and her friends and spent some time with them. Things got better. I met a lot of authors I admire, gushed about their work and bought more books than I really should have given my luggage allowance. But, I have to say I still spent significant amount of time at GRL sitting alone and it wasn’t fun. It felt a lot like being back in school and watching everyone have a good time that I wasn’t part of. Maybe my expectations were too high, after all it took me 33 years to find my identity and I was sure this was a time I’d feel the same as everyone else. Maybe I didn’t put myself out there enough because the situation made me feel like that outsider I was once upon a time. What it definitely did was leave me fairly sure I won’t be attending again. Even though part of me still longs to be part of that group.

So that was GRL for me. If you are thinking of attending next year then my advice is still to definitely go. Most people seemed to have a blast. BUT, take a friend. Or make sure you know people who are going to be there. Most of the attendees seemed to be in established groups already and in such a close knit community I found it really hard to be a part of things. I also know that any convention I go to in the future I will pay more attention and look out for the people who are sitting alone. I’ve met some of my best friends that way and I don’t want anyone to feel the same way I did those first few days.

“On the first day of Christmas...”

I know, I know. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, although, to look at the stores around the Finger Lakes, you would think the holiday season is already here—and has been here since before Halloween.

“The Twelve Days of Christmas” is a song often parodied (“...and a BEER!”) but few realize the title refers to the twelve days after December 25th. That stretch of time symbolizes the time it took for the Wise Men to travel to the manger in Bethlehem and culminates with Epiphany on January 6th. For centuries that holy day, January 6th, was the more important celebration. In fact, Shakespeare’s play, Twelfth Night, refers to the merriment of Epiphany. Sometimes called “Little Christmas,” it’s still celebrated around the world today.

So why am I talking about Christmas and Epiphany so early in November? Because I have a new release coming out that takes place during those twelve days, of course!

12 Days is a light-hearted romp through the ages, starting on Christmas Day, 1750 and coming forward in twenty-five year jumps to January 6th, 2025. Each section is a succeeding generation in a family that has some unique traditions. The point of view changes from male to female, alternating throughout the book so both genders get to weigh in.

Let’s face it, bondage games have been around pretty much for as long as humans have been having sex and I had fun doing the research to find out just what that might have looked like in ages past...and in ages future!

Of course, today many religious traditions have come together to create a holiday season out of the entire month of December. There’s Advent, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and the Solstice as well as the changing of the calendar from one year to the next. Some traditions give one present each day, others give a bunch all on one day.

So, because of that, 12 Days will release as individual short stories starting the day after the US’s Thanksgiving, November 29th, rather than the twelve days of the stories. Each section will be available for 49 cents ($.49) for those who want a present every day. On December 10th, you can purchase the entire book for $4.99, essentially getting two free stories (if you can wait that long!).

Mark your calendars. The holidays are coming...and so are 12 Days!

Play safe,

Diana

(edited to fix a mis-named holiday!)

Autumn Spice Cake

I've been a widow for nine years, so it's rare for me to cook much. I like to prepare dishes that will last for several meals. I eat it once or twice, then put the remaining servings in the freezer in individual containers so I can pop one in the microwave for a quick meal.

Lately, I've been trying some new recipes thanks to trolling on Pinterest. That site is so dangerous! I could spend literally hours there every day if I didn't remind myself that looking at all the pretty pictures won't get my book finished.

I found this recipe for Autumn Spice Cake and thought it sounded good. It is deelish! Nice and moist, and the scent of spices while it's baking makes you think of autumn. I want to share it with you. I think you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup shortening
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon cocoa
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Beat butter, shortening, and sugars until smooth. Beat in eggs. Add buttermilk and vanilla.

Mix dry ingredients together in large bowl. Gradually mix into creamed mixture. Pour into 9" x 13" baking dish and bake 30-40 minutes until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool and frost with vanilla or cream cheese frosting.

Enjoy! And have a glorious autumn.

Lynn

Romanticon here I come!

What to pack, what to pack...
I'm flying out early Wednesday morning for the best conference ever.
Romanticon in Ohio. If you didn't know, it's Ellora's Cave's Conference
celebrating Erotic Romance.
I've got my costumes for Bollywood and Glamorous Old Hollywood. I'm so excited
about this years event. I plan to post pictures as soon as I hook up with my fellow
Sizzling Scribe sister Cait Miller. She's our Scottish sister and I'm so looking forward
to seeing her and getting a great big hug.
If you're in the Ohio area, come on out to the MacKinnley Grand and party with the
Cavemen, the Authors and the entire Ellora's Cave staff.

Hey, who's in charge here anyway?

A few years ago, my Sizzling Sisters and I decided to create a series of books. Each of us would write a story or a novella based in the fictional town of Port Clef, CT. We had a great time building the town and populating it with our characters, some of whom end up in each others' stories.  I had volunteered to write the first story.

It didn't exactly work out that way. Two plus years later, my Sweet Spot story is finally out! CAT SCRATCH FEVER was a story I had kicking around in my brain for a long time. I'd thought about it and thought about it and heard the characters speaking in my head forever. When I finally got down to seriously writing it, something strange happened. It was like the characters had been waiting around for me to get my act together for so long, they were sick of my pace and decided to take over.

I had planned on writing a novella. Apparently, Sage and Walker didn't think their story could be told that quickly. (It's almost 50,000 words) I had planned on making it romantica. Sage and Walker weren't quite so quick to hop into bed together. (Although, when they did, it was HAWT!) I had planned on having all sorts of convoluted conflicts and personal angst. Yeah, they weren't going for that either.

You may be thinking, "Hey, you're the AUTHOR, stop making excuses and write the book the way you planned!". I tried that. It didn't work. Every time I tried to force the book to go the way I had outlined it-- and I use that term very loosely--my writing stalled and I couldn't move the story forward. When I just let go and let them take over, I couldn't type fast enough to keep up with the words pouring out of my brain.

I think sometimes you just have to go with what's working, in writing and in life. If we get too caught up in controlling everything, we may just steer ourselves in a direction we didn't want to go. I generally like being in charge, but in this case, I'm glad I was able to let it ride. Sometimes it's nice to let someone else drive.

I hope you'll pick up a copy of CAT SCRATCH FEVER and take it out for a spin yourself!

Great Expectations

You know what I need? I need to be 'Cait Miller' in my real life.

Cait is brave, outspoken, shameless, unafraid off her sexuality. She has an awesome wardrobe and a great social life to go with it. Cait is the person who told a roomful of people something she hadn't even told her closest friend. She's the one who can stand in front of those same people and talk about sex without blushing (much). She's the person who said 'I want a tattoo dammit' and went and got not one but two. She sings karaoke occasionally and given enough vodka. Cait travels to foreign countries alone and makes friends without worrying what they think of her.

Cait is everything I would be if I wasn't afraid for my job and of what my family and friends would say or think. Wouldn’t it be great if we could all live without that fear? Then again perhaps that fear is what keeps some really bad behaviour in check for some people.

What would you do with your life if you didn’t have to live up to others expectations of you? Or maybe you are one of the lucky ones who already does. If that’s the case, I salute you...while I still try to find the courage to break completely free of those chains.

To the future!

Yesterday my daughter and I went to see Austenland, a movie that centers around the question, “What if there were a real place where you could step into Regency England and live the life of Austen’s heroines?”

The movie was fun and filled with plenty of Austen references (as you’d expect). The heroes were dashing with just enough mystery to keep the entire piece intriguing. Jane, the intrepid hero reminded me at times more of Jane Eyre, a Bronte heroine rather than an Austen one, but it didn’t bother me in the least.

But it did get me to thinking.

Jane Austen wrote only six major novels (can you name them? See below to see if you’re right!). Yet here we are, 194 years after her death, still entranced by the world she created. Even the Bronte sisters (Charlotte, Emily and Anne) keep hold of our reading interest and they only have one major work each (Match ‘em up! Who wrote what? See below for the answers).

No, I’m not going to ask what you think I’m going to ask. Reams of papers have been written on all four of these women with plenty of analysts giving their thoughts as to why the stories have endured. To me it’s actually pretty simple: good stories and memorable characters.

And that’s what the Scribes write as well. From Tara Nina’s McKinnons to Ruby Storm’s hunky heroes in love, from Tielle St. Clare’s dragons to Cait Miller’s stories of magic, Lynn LaFleur’s wonderful seductions, Arianna Hart’s sexy heroes and my own tales of Dominance and submission, we tell stories. Good stories.

Now, in two hundred years will someone write a fictional getaway based on our books? Why not? After all, a girl can dream!

Answers:

Jane Austen: In publishing order: Sense and Sensiblity, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion

Charlotte Bronte: Jane Eyre

Emily Bronte: Wuthering Heights

Anne Bronte: Agnes Grey

New Novella to release in September!

Hello all!

I’m a bit late with my blog, but I’m copping out and insisting I had a good reason. In fact, it’s a great reason! My grandson turned two and I spent the afternoon with family celebrating. My son and his family put in a pool this spring and what a wonderful way to spend a 92 degree Sunday afternoon.

This week I want to shout out to erotic readers that I have a new book releasing September 13^th with Ellora’s Cave! This book originally was written and selected to be included in a six book anthology by the company. Things changed and instead of a short story, I decided to do some rewriting and release MATING RITUAL as a novella. Both my editor and myself were very pleased with the results! Plus this is my first cover to include Ellora’s Cave’s sexy Rodney! That in itself makes me want to jump for joy!

MATING RITUAL is being released under EC’s Xanadu line, a futuristic fantasy that was a total trip to write! I like this genre and hope to make this first book part of New World Series.

So hope you have a chance to check out this new hot romance and let me know what you think!

Happy end of the summer. I’m soooooo looking forward to jeans and a sweatshirt and cooler weather.

Take care!

Ruby

The aging writer

My blog is late being posted simply because I forgot due to attending my husband's Grandmother's birthday yesterday. She turned 97.  Will I reach the ripe age of 97? I doubt it. But people are living longer these days.
Here's a picture of the Birthday Girl.

My biggest concern is will I still have creative ideas so I can continue to write? I recently reached the phenomenal age of 50. Do I feel old? Nope. Not at all. I just turned in my 5th Cursed MacKinnons story to my editor and hope to hear back from her soon. I'm already working on the 6th, while rewriting another novel I pulled from a different publisher, and I've started a story with a couple of 50+ characters as my hero and heroine. They say write what you know. LOL. I know nothing and still I write. :)

I know there is a vast community of older writers out there, who are extremely talented and continue to provide great stories. Desiree Holt is one of these women. They've been doing stories about her calling her the "Grandma" of porn. LOL. I also know a couple of my fellow Sizzling Scribe sisters are older than me and they write Hot, Hot, Hot and well written stories. These ladies are my inspiration to continue. There's still hope that one day maybe I'll write that 'Great American Novel' and hit the best sellers list. 

Will I do it before I'm 97? Maybe.

Tara Nina

Challenges

I have to admit, I much prefer things to be easy. I am never going to challenge myself to run a marathon, climb a mountain, or do a triathlon. I find it very hard to push myself out of a rut. I like comfort, it's so. . .comforting.

Except with my writing. With each book I write, I want to become a better author. I want to push myself to create new stories that aren't repeats of the same old book. (This is harder than it sounds, honest.) I hope that each book I write is an improvement. (If the feeling of embarrassment I get when someone tells me they've read some of my first books is any indication, I think I have improved at my craft.)

But sometimes, pushing myself is just really hard. (See above where I do like things to be easy.) This summer I pushed myself to finish writing a shape shifter novel for the Sweet Spot Series, and I'm almost done. It has been a challenge, especially when my characters aren't doing what I want them to do. (Honestly, how long does it take two healthy adults to get into bed? Seriously!) I also started a new book with a character who is way outside of anything I've ever written before.

The hero in my newest work in progress is a former Navy SEAL who lost part of his left leg in Afghanistan and is returning home to help his family. I have spent hours researching SEALs, prosthetic legs, IEDs, medical treatment facilities for wounded soldiers, training for SEALs, physical therapy, and the emotional damage done by losing a limb. (Oh, as part of this research, I've spent a ton of time on the Wounded Warriors Project website, check it out if you have time www.woundedwarriorsproject.org) This hero is perhaps the most challenging character I've ever tried writing. I have no frame of reference for him and I'm struggling to do justice to something I care deeply about, supporting our troops. I'm having to push myself, and myself is not happy about it.

This past Friday, I had a few hours where I could have been writing, working on either book, but I came up with excuse after excuse as to why I couldn't sit my lazy butt down and do it. I cleaned the house, made dinner, answered email, and basically avoided working on my book. (Bad Ari!) That is going to change. I need to put in the time and effort and face this challenge.

With that in mind, this week I am on vacation, but I'm going to find at least an hour a day to work on my book. I may write an hour's worth of crapola, but I'm going to keep plugging away at it, even if it kills me. I probably won't write the next New York Times Bestseller, but if I do justice to our wounded soldiers, I'll consider the challenge met.

So if you email/tweet/facebook me and I don't get back to you, it's because I'm writing. . .no matter how hard it is.