The 70's called, they want their music back...
Hello everyone!
It's Sunday night, the end of my work week, and I finally have a chance to sit back, relax, and do some writing.
The other night my husband and I were both in our office on our computers and I was messing around on myspace and I started playing songs from the files they have there. Next thing I knew I started pulling up music video files. My hubby and I had a blast watching some Brad Paisley stuff and then I suddenly had the urge to listen to some of the oldies.
It all started innocently enough. We watched some Billy Joel, which led to Elton John. The next thing I knew we had the thing turned all the way up with Bohemien Rhapsody from Queen blasting out of my computer. It was so much fun that we then listened to all the Queen stuff we could find. Of course that set off a real longing to listen to the most cool music ever, 70's rock.
I'm sure every generation thinks their music was the best, but we were both teenagers then--a few years after the Beatles music revolution when rock music was coming into it's own. Eagles. Kansas. Journey. It makes me feel 20 years younger just thinking about them.
Then, after all the hours (yes, hours) of listening and remembering, we hit one of the greatest songs ever written. American Pie. Cheesy? I think not. The entire history of Rock-n-roll is in that song, and it was so profound. Call me sentimental, but I swear it's true.
Anyway, my oldest daughter commented the next day, in utter shock, "Mom, were guys listening to Queen last night?" (I hadn't realized I'd had the computer turned up that loud. Turns out it's a huge hit with teenage boys these days. Some things never change, eh?)
Yes, I told her. we sure were. Then, it happened. My daughter, who is fast mowing through her teen years gave me a sign of approval. "Great, stuff, Mom."
Wow, who would have thought it? Now, she's borrowing my Stevie Nick's albums and listening to Eagles on the way to school. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to those old rock tunes. In a world where the youth grow up at light speed and more and more we adults have so little in common with them, I have found a bridge to connect us. Granted, it's narrow and a little shaky at times, but it's a start. And, who know's maybe I'll listen to a little of her alternative music stuff. Panic at the Disco, anyone?
Well, I'm off to work on two writing workshops I'll be giving in the near future, one on dialogue and one on emotion. It's shaping up to be a busy couple of months so far. I've got two book signings coming up, too. I'm about 1/3 of the way through my fallen angel story, and with the next couple of days off I'm planning to be working hard at writing. I'll keep you all posted!
Until then, Gentle Readers, rock on! Oh, and happy reading, too! Pam.
*Check out my webpage at: www.pamlabud.com
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Forces of Nurture
Domestic disturbance...
Hello Gentle Readers!
I am a child of the 1950's. Well, late, late 1950's, actually. Because of that I am well and truly cursed. I was born to a mother who had it ingrained in her biology, by her mother in particular and society in general, that one must have a spotless environment.
Like many women of my age, it's a terrible condition I like to call 'cleanthehouseitis.' I have done what I could to stomp down the urge to clean my house to distraction, and I have pretty much been successful. For instance, it doesn't kill me to have a few dirty dishes in the sink. Nor am I constantly fretting the state of the laundry or the fine layer of dust that appears on my furniture and ceramic tile floors.
I have even been able to control the urge to scrub my bathrooms down to the molecular surface of the porcelian and fiberglass fixtures. My bathroom is cleaned thoroughly twice a week and when it needs it.
In spite of it all, I've managed to live a happy life...for the most part. Oh, I'll be honest. When I come home from working a 12 hour shift in the hospital seeing a sinkful of grimy pots and pans I get a little tetchy. And counters that still have the midnight snack's breadcrumbs on it sends me into near catatonia. And the state of my office...well, we won't go there.
Total chaos cripples me.
Floor to ceiling clutter crushes my creative spirit.
An extremely messy house totally depresses me.
I like to say that my home is mostly in a state of flux. Like a black hole, matter seems to be drawn in here, condenses into denser matter, and then disappears. At least that's what I hope happens to socks, important papers I never seem to locate, and my earrings.
All my years of housework avoidance recently came to a screeching halt, though. Last night I was invited to join a couple of friends at a neighborhood 'bunko' game. Although it was confusing at first, this fast paced contest of tossing dice and changing tables was almost totally enjoyable.
Enjoyable except that the hostess' home was huge, beautifully decorated with her own hand made quilts, and overflowing with exquisite decor. Oh, and it was clean enough to build computers. Asceptic enough to perform open heart surgery. Sterile enough to do molecular gene splicing.
The lady who had created and maitained such a spotless home met us at the door with a huge, kind smile and genuine joy at having guests. She served fabulous food complete with a homemade pinapple upside down cake. She was perfect. She made Martha Stewart look like a hag. I should have hated her, but I didn't.
I recognized her type immediately. A very vibrant, gifted woman. Almost a complete twin to my mother when it comes to being a housewife. Like Mom, she is a force of nurture. A shining example of a woman who'd been raised just like I had, with one exception. She's a total success when it comes to home care.
I am a complete and utter failure with domestic stuff. One only has to look at my house to see it. Most of the time I'm not all that bothered by imperfection of my abode. That lady doesn't work outside the home. (Mind you, I didn't say she doesn't work. She does, and probably way harder than I do.) She's creative, too. But her creativity comes out in incredible quilts and in caring for her lovely home. She also writes beautiful inspirational poetry.
My creativity comes out in the form of paperback novels--stories that I've yearned to write since I was old enough to read. It's a consuming passion that's only at it's pinnacle when I type the words 'the end' at the bottom of the page. It's Nirvana when I hold a book in my hands that has my name on the cover, my words on the pages inside.
I had to hold back a grin when my hostess remarked that she couldn't waste her time sitting in front of a computer all day. It was as if she thought I did nothing but stare at a blank screen. I mentioned that I did 'work' at the machine but I didn't say anything more. The night was her chance to shine, her time to show off the fruits of her labor.
I didn't mind letting her have her moment. My fufilment comes when I begin to put words on the page, when my friends and readers tell me how much they enjoyed journey we took together in the story.
After all, I'm able to push back that force of nurture most of the time and live my passion. So what if my house is messy. Writing makes me happy. It's as simple as that.
Until next time, Gentle Readers, may you find your passion and be blessed with the time and ability to enjoy it! Happy Reading, Pam.
Hello Gentle Readers!
I am a child of the 1950's. Well, late, late 1950's, actually. Because of that I am well and truly cursed. I was born to a mother who had it ingrained in her biology, by her mother in particular and society in general, that one must have a spotless environment.
Like many women of my age, it's a terrible condition I like to call 'cleanthehouseitis.' I have done what I could to stomp down the urge to clean my house to distraction, and I have pretty much been successful. For instance, it doesn't kill me to have a few dirty dishes in the sink. Nor am I constantly fretting the state of the laundry or the fine layer of dust that appears on my furniture and ceramic tile floors.
I have even been able to control the urge to scrub my bathrooms down to the molecular surface of the porcelian and fiberglass fixtures. My bathroom is cleaned thoroughly twice a week and when it needs it.
In spite of it all, I've managed to live a happy life...for the most part. Oh, I'll be honest. When I come home from working a 12 hour shift in the hospital seeing a sinkful of grimy pots and pans I get a little tetchy. And counters that still have the midnight snack's breadcrumbs on it sends me into near catatonia. And the state of my office...well, we won't go there.
Total chaos cripples me.
Floor to ceiling clutter crushes my creative spirit.
An extremely messy house totally depresses me.
I like to say that my home is mostly in a state of flux. Like a black hole, matter seems to be drawn in here, condenses into denser matter, and then disappears. At least that's what I hope happens to socks, important papers I never seem to locate, and my earrings.
All my years of housework avoidance recently came to a screeching halt, though. Last night I was invited to join a couple of friends at a neighborhood 'bunko' game. Although it was confusing at first, this fast paced contest of tossing dice and changing tables was almost totally enjoyable.
Enjoyable except that the hostess' home was huge, beautifully decorated with her own hand made quilts, and overflowing with exquisite decor. Oh, and it was clean enough to build computers. Asceptic enough to perform open heart surgery. Sterile enough to do molecular gene splicing.
The lady who had created and maitained such a spotless home met us at the door with a huge, kind smile and genuine joy at having guests. She served fabulous food complete with a homemade pinapple upside down cake. She was perfect. She made Martha Stewart look like a hag. I should have hated her, but I didn't.
I recognized her type immediately. A very vibrant, gifted woman. Almost a complete twin to my mother when it comes to being a housewife. Like Mom, she is a force of nurture. A shining example of a woman who'd been raised just like I had, with one exception. She's a total success when it comes to home care.
I am a complete and utter failure with domestic stuff. One only has to look at my house to see it. Most of the time I'm not all that bothered by imperfection of my abode. That lady doesn't work outside the home. (Mind you, I didn't say she doesn't work. She does, and probably way harder than I do.) She's creative, too. But her creativity comes out in incredible quilts and in caring for her lovely home. She also writes beautiful inspirational poetry.
My creativity comes out in the form of paperback novels--stories that I've yearned to write since I was old enough to read. It's a consuming passion that's only at it's pinnacle when I type the words 'the end' at the bottom of the page. It's Nirvana when I hold a book in my hands that has my name on the cover, my words on the pages inside.
I had to hold back a grin when my hostess remarked that she couldn't waste her time sitting in front of a computer all day. It was as if she thought I did nothing but stare at a blank screen. I mentioned that I did 'work' at the machine but I didn't say anything more. The night was her chance to shine, her time to show off the fruits of her labor.
I didn't mind letting her have her moment. My fufilment comes when I begin to put words on the page, when my friends and readers tell me how much they enjoyed journey we took together in the story.
After all, I'm able to push back that force of nurture most of the time and live my passion. So what if my house is messy. Writing makes me happy. It's as simple as that.
Until next time, Gentle Readers, may you find your passion and be blessed with the time and ability to enjoy it! Happy Reading, Pam.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Still blogging the night away!
Hello, Gentle Readers!
I just wanted to make another stop along the blogging trail. So far, I've blogged at myspace--www.myspace.com/romanceauthor, and at Live Journal, http://www.pamwriter.myjournal.com, (I think that's the address).
Next, I'll be going to my Authors Den site, www.authorsden.com/pamlabud. Check 'em out if you get the chance!
I hope everyone is having a great week so far. Things here have been good. I've not done a thing! Seriously lazy, that's me. But now I'm back at it. Yay! My other posts tonight have been about the importance of taking time to rest and then the end of the Sopranos.
For this one, I think I'll address the importance of prioritizing things. First things first. It's important in my life, first as a wife and Mom, then as a nurse, and especially as a writer. As a wife and Mom, it's pretty easy, because everyone in my household, including the dogs and birds, lol! keep my on my toes. When it's time to eat, when I can't navigate from my office to the kitchen, and so forth, and of course when they all gang up on my bed to watch movies and share some good family time. Well, the kids and dogs. The birds just add their presence by screeching in the other room.
For work, prioritizing is tantamount. As a nurse, I have to see to my patients needs first. Are they okay? In pain? Need emotional support or, (gasp!) a bedpan? Then, as charge nurse, I must help the rest of my crew get their jobs done. Sometimes it means going to staffing meetings or helping with a proceedure or test. Things like charting and bathroom breaks sometimes just have to wait. Such is the life of a nurse. Any nurse, just ask them.
As a writer, priority is job one, as well. This means you, dear writer, must have a plan. You can sit at the computer and pound on the keyboard all you want, but if you don't have a plan, you're just performing a task, and not writing. Simple as spit, really.
This means setting goals, large and small. Let me tell you, any author worth their salt will tell you about goal setting. Ask yourself the important questions. What do you want to accomplish? Set a time limit--in a year? A month, A day?
Not only that, but a plan of your writing. This can be as detailed as you want. Some writers free write the first half of thier timed sessions and then do revisions the second half. Some of us do the famed 'book in a week.' which is all freewriting without looking back, and then spend weeks working on revisions. Some revise as we go. Some have detailed synopsii or outlines, others start on page one and just go where the writing takes us. Experiment, but at least have some idea of where you want to go. Put in simple terms: Know your story's beginning, have an idea about the middle, and decide where you want to end up. If you go on a trip, you have to know your destination, right? This doesn't mean you can't change direction when you need to, either. Go ahead, give it a try. It works, you'll see.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you all have a good rest of the week and a smashing weekend. Happy Reading! Pam.
I just wanted to make another stop along the blogging trail. So far, I've blogged at myspace--www.myspace.com/romanceauthor, and at Live Journal, http://www.pamwriter.myjournal.com, (I think that's the address).
Next, I'll be going to my Authors Den site, www.authorsden.com/pamlabud. Check 'em out if you get the chance!
I hope everyone is having a great week so far. Things here have been good. I've not done a thing! Seriously lazy, that's me. But now I'm back at it. Yay! My other posts tonight have been about the importance of taking time to rest and then the end of the Sopranos.
For this one, I think I'll address the importance of prioritizing things. First things first. It's important in my life, first as a wife and Mom, then as a nurse, and especially as a writer. As a wife and Mom, it's pretty easy, because everyone in my household, including the dogs and birds, lol! keep my on my toes. When it's time to eat, when I can't navigate from my office to the kitchen, and so forth, and of course when they all gang up on my bed to watch movies and share some good family time. Well, the kids and dogs. The birds just add their presence by screeching in the other room.
For work, prioritizing is tantamount. As a nurse, I have to see to my patients needs first. Are they okay? In pain? Need emotional support or, (gasp!) a bedpan? Then, as charge nurse, I must help the rest of my crew get their jobs done. Sometimes it means going to staffing meetings or helping with a proceedure or test. Things like charting and bathroom breaks sometimes just have to wait. Such is the life of a nurse. Any nurse, just ask them.
As a writer, priority is job one, as well. This means you, dear writer, must have a plan. You can sit at the computer and pound on the keyboard all you want, but if you don't have a plan, you're just performing a task, and not writing. Simple as spit, really.
This means setting goals, large and small. Let me tell you, any author worth their salt will tell you about goal setting. Ask yourself the important questions. What do you want to accomplish? Set a time limit--in a year? A month, A day?
Not only that, but a plan of your writing. This can be as detailed as you want. Some writers free write the first half of thier timed sessions and then do revisions the second half. Some of us do the famed 'book in a week.' which is all freewriting without looking back, and then spend weeks working on revisions. Some revise as we go. Some have detailed synopsii or outlines, others start on page one and just go where the writing takes us. Experiment, but at least have some idea of where you want to go. Put in simple terms: Know your story's beginning, have an idea about the middle, and decide where you want to end up. If you go on a trip, you have to know your destination, right? This doesn't mean you can't change direction when you need to, either. Go ahead, give it a try. It works, you'll see.
Well, that's about it for now. I hope you all have a good rest of the week and a smashing weekend. Happy Reading! Pam.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Monday, Monday...
Hello Gentle Readers!
I'm one of the few people who love Mondays. Why? Because I work weekends. Or rather, weekend nights. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday every single week of the year. I do this because I have a family who need me during the week and it helps cut down on some of the chaos in my house.
Technically I'm off on Sunday morning at 7:30. But, since I must sleep, I don't count it as a true day off. I usually get up in the late afternoon and do some house stuff and collapse somewhere around midnight.
Ah, sleep. I remember what that is. A whole 8 hours at night like 90% of the rest of the world. But, night shift people are different because we have to stay awake until daylight and that means every night spent in our beds is a gift.
Because of my job I also work 12 hours instead of the usual 8 or 10. It's better this way because it means more days off. More days to write my stories and run my kids everywhere and generally keep my house together. I am woman, hear me snore, uh, roar. Whatever.
I work the graveyard shift. It's called that because back in the old days a huge fear was premature buriel. People were paid to sit awake all night in a graveyard and listen for the little bells that were rigged up at each grave site. If someone was buried prematurely, then they could wake up, ring the bell, and get to rejoin the world of the living.
Of course, during modern times that never happens. Well, almost never. A nurse I know who is the educator for the hospital I work at tells a story about when she was younger and had taken a corpse to the morgue late one night. As she pushed the angel cart, "(yeah, for real. It's a covered stretcher that's used to transport the recently expired to the morgue without the hospital occupants seeing the evidence of a body. Cool, huh!) Ahem. As she pushed the angel cart into the morgue, a very frail woman's voice sounded: "Excuuuusssse me? Excuse me...do you have a blanket? It's very cold in here...!" Poor thing had been discharged to the 'eternal care unit,' a bit prematurely.
Needless to say, the nurse got the shock of her life. That's what's cool about being a nurse. You never know what to expect.
Well, I'm off to write my next blog. Until next time...Happy Reading! Take care, Pam.
I'm one of the few people who love Mondays. Why? Because I work weekends. Or rather, weekend nights. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday every single week of the year. I do this because I have a family who need me during the week and it helps cut down on some of the chaos in my house.
Technically I'm off on Sunday morning at 7:30. But, since I must sleep, I don't count it as a true day off. I usually get up in the late afternoon and do some house stuff and collapse somewhere around midnight.
Ah, sleep. I remember what that is. A whole 8 hours at night like 90% of the rest of the world. But, night shift people are different because we have to stay awake until daylight and that means every night spent in our beds is a gift.
Because of my job I also work 12 hours instead of the usual 8 or 10. It's better this way because it means more days off. More days to write my stories and run my kids everywhere and generally keep my house together. I am woman, hear me snore, uh, roar. Whatever.
I work the graveyard shift. It's called that because back in the old days a huge fear was premature buriel. People were paid to sit awake all night in a graveyard and listen for the little bells that were rigged up at each grave site. If someone was buried prematurely, then they could wake up, ring the bell, and get to rejoin the world of the living.
Of course, during modern times that never happens. Well, almost never. A nurse I know who is the educator for the hospital I work at tells a story about when she was younger and had taken a corpse to the morgue late one night. As she pushed the angel cart, "(yeah, for real. It's a covered stretcher that's used to transport the recently expired to the morgue without the hospital occupants seeing the evidence of a body. Cool, huh!) Ahem. As she pushed the angel cart into the morgue, a very frail woman's voice sounded: "Excuuuusssse me? Excuse me...do you have a blanket? It's very cold in here...!" Poor thing had been discharged to the 'eternal care unit,' a bit prematurely.
Needless to say, the nurse got the shock of her life. That's what's cool about being a nurse. You never know what to expect.
Well, I'm off to write my next blog. Until next time...Happy Reading! Take care, Pam.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Hello
Just a short note to say hello!
A short introduction: I'm a romance author by day and a registered nurse by night. I have two mass market books out and three epubbed books. You can visit my website www.pamlabud.com to check them out.
I'm married for 17 years, with two daughters, a teen and a tween. We live in a very crowded house with three dogs and four cockatiels. I love reading romance novels--of any genre, watching old movies, listening to country music, and for TV I enjoy crime dramas--especially the Law and Orders and CSI's. I am also a huge X Files fan, even though it's been off the television for years, darn it.
I write paranormal historical romances, primarily Regency settings, and straight historicals that are Regency and American west. I also am working on a post-apcolyptic zombie book that's a romance/dark urban fantasy.
I also have web pages on Authors Den, and Live Journal. I'll be back to write more later. Take care, Pam.
A short introduction: I'm a romance author by day and a registered nurse by night. I have two mass market books out and three epubbed books. You can visit my website www.pamlabud.com to check them out.
I'm married for 17 years, with two daughters, a teen and a tween. We live in a very crowded house with three dogs and four cockatiels. I love reading romance novels--of any genre, watching old movies, listening to country music, and for TV I enjoy crime dramas--especially the Law and Orders and CSI's. I am also a huge X Files fan, even though it's been off the television for years, darn it.
I write paranormal historical romances, primarily Regency settings, and straight historicals that are Regency and American west. I also am working on a post-apcolyptic zombie book that's a romance/dark urban fantasy.
I also have web pages on Authors Den, and Live Journal. I'll be back to write more later. Take care, Pam.
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