Dee Ann Waite's Blog

FREE through Christmas at Smashwords, THE CONSEQUENTIAL ELEMENT. Strong and steady 5* reviews. “If you like action/adventure thrillers, this will be a quick favorite.” Enter code ZD69L at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view... for your free copy. Available in most formats.

If you should have any problems downloading, please let me know at d.a.waite1@gmail.com and I will get it resolved immediately.

Thanks and Merry Christmas!

Lately I’ve discovered that I’ve been placing a tremendous amount of stress upon myself by overloading my goal setting for my writing career. Things such as research time, story development, meeting daily word counts, editing completions, reaching out to agents daily, and meeting deadlines are just some of the things consuming me. I also have a full time - and very stressful – day job. I know I’m not alone. I hear many people complain about the very same thing. What I don't hear are many suggestions for solutions to the problem.

Because of my hectic schedule, I’ve managed to put myself mentally in a place of chaos. Though I may feel that it is organized chaos, it is chaos nonetheless. Every free moment that I have leaves me feeling that I should be spending it working more, learning more, becoming more. I strive for down time where I can do whatever it is I enjoy - most people play video games, watch TV, go for a walk, or go out with their friends - but lately free time terrifies me. I think, “Something is wrong. I should be busy. I'm not being as productive as I could be. I'm neglecting something."

Okay, even I know this is insane and unhealthy, and needs to stop if I want to maintain my mental and physical well-being.

I thought the industrial and digital revolutions were supposed to increase productivity, and at the same time help us to work less and lead a more balanced life. Yet, as technology advances, we find ourselves working longer hours, cramming in more and more busyness into our lives, all the while striving to achieve that place in time that will allow us to slow down and live the life we were meant to live. We feel that if we speed through the first half of our lives, then we can live at a slower pace in the last half of our lives, thus enjoying our “golden years”.

I’ve found that many of us don’t ever slow down. That is, not unless something striking happens to force us to do so.

I believe in order to reap the benefits of this life, we need to learn to slow down now…right now…at this very moment.

Easier said than done though, right? You may feel your job is too hectic, or your home life too demanding, that there isn’t enough time in a day to get your tasks done, let alone find time for yourself.

People ask, “Am I supposed to just stop everything and sit on a beach sipping an iced tea? What about work, kids, homework, school, husband/wife, dinner, housework, etc, etc. Who is supposed to do all that while I’m off the grid?”

Lately I’ve been searching for a place to unwind, a place where I can recharge my mind. I recently decided to get back into meditation to slow myself down and regain my focus by living more in the moment. As a result I’ve come to some insightful realizations.

Slowing Down – what does that mean?

Slowing down doesn’t mean you stop living your daily life, it simply means living more in the moments of it.

According to Psychology Today, living in the moment—also called mindfulness—is a state of active, open, intentional attention on the present. When you become mindful, you realize that you are not your thoughts; you become an observer of your thoughts from moment to moment without judging them.

I must let go of my thoughts.

Buddhist scholar B. Alan Wallace states, "We're living in a world that contributes in a major way to mental fragmentation, disintegration, distraction, de-coherence." Life unfolds in the present, yet so often we let the present slip away like a cloud passing high above us, quiet and unobserved. We dwell on intrusive memories of the past, or worry about what may or may not happen in the future, letting the now go unnoticed. We don’t appreciate the now because our minds are jumping from thought to thought. When we are at work, we fantasize about relaxing aboard a cruise destined for the tropics, when we’re at the tropics, we worry about the work piling up on our desks. You see? Not once are we living in the now. We let our thoughts control us rather than being in control of our thoughts. This sucks the very life from our soul.

So I’ve decided to:

Live in the present moment. Often, we're so trapped in thoughts of the future or the past that we forget to experience, let alone enjoy, what's happening right now. We sip coffee and think, "I had better last week." We eat something special and think, "I hope I don't run out of this." I will focus on whatever it is I’m doing at this very moment, whether it be eating a cookie, walking the dog, cooking dinner, fixing the car, or basking in the sun. I will take my time to be present with this moment without thinking of the past or the future.

Eat slowly. I will savor my food as if I were a foodie. Feel the textures, taste the ingredients, inhale the fragrances. I won’t compare the food to anything past or future; but will stay only in the moment.

Breathe. I will breathe and be conscious of it. Concentrating on my breath forces me to think of now, cramming out the reminiscent thoughts of the past or the worries of the future. One method of breathing exercise I enjoy is Pranayama breathing.

So, I think I won’t just do something, I’ll sit here in this unique moment and live it for what it is, good or bad. Because it’s not a destination. I’m already here.

Woo Hoo! I'm thrilled to share my recent news. The Florida Writers Association's Volume Seven is out and I'm in it! Yep, one of fifty people who were the lucky chosen few. This year's volume seven is entitled Revisions, Stories of Starting Over. You can read the story that was entered and accepted below.

A Soul Revised

I’d managed to obtain most of my life’s dreams by the age of thirty-two. I’d become a respected adult with two children and a husband, a great job, a house, two cars, and lots of toys, feeling in charge, feeling invincible. I had no idea that this was the year I would become an orphan. Death left no hidden clues, gave no notice, just silently slid into my mother’s heart and stopped it in the dark of night.

My world imploded and the pieces scattered out to the universe, each holding a fragment of memory, an image of my mother, and the light of my life. I was thrust into an alternate reality. It was now gone, the light that once warmed my heart. My world no longer held the same meaning. It crumbled. I crumbled. I wanted this sphere to stop; just stop and let me catch up to the spinning in my head. But it did not. I was forced to walk in the shadows of this thing I called life. I became robotic, smiling at the appropriate times, cooking, cleaning, driving kids to school, picking them up, doing groceries, and everything else that resembled normality.

No one knew; no one saw the apocalypse that exploded within my soul leaving it in the dominion of perdition. My mother was gone. Time wasn’t healing me like everyone said it would. I died and my corpse was rotting from the inside out, yet I’d been cursed to walk among the living. My mother was gone. And no one knew, no one saw. My pain was mine alone.

Days turned into weeks, into months, and closed in on a year. Still I existed in the ashen grayness of my smoldering realm. My subconscious would speak now and again. It would tell me that this isn’t the life my mother would have wanted for me. It would say that I needed to let go and move on. It would say a lot things. I would yell back, “This isn’t a choice! Do you think I want to exist like this? In this devastation? In this darkened despair?” But there was light outside the walls I had built. I could see its faint glow rise in the distance through the vibrations of my children’s laughter…and I wanted to touch it.

I pulled up a rock from the cracked pavement in my soul and stared around at the remnants of the earthquake that happened so long ago and made a choice. I would rebuild. I would not be able to rebuild what I had, my mother was gone and that would not change. But with some revisions I felt I could come close. And so I began to practice. I started small at first, a smile that I let reach my eyes or a genuine wish for someone’s good day, and I worked my way up to a laugh. It startled me at first; I didn’t even believe it came from me. And so I did it again. It made me feel warm. And so I did it again.

With my head down I did something I hadn’t done in quite a while. I prayed. I prayed to God to give me strength. I prayed to my mother to stand by me and guide me. And then I went to work clearing a pathway through the shards of my life, and when I finally stopped and looked up there it was. I’d made it to the boundary I’d so carefully built. These walls were sturdy, my workmanship that to be proud of. They wouldn’t come down easily. I looked back and knew I had to try.

It took another several months before I was able to break a hole through that wall. How I knew I’d broken through was the morning my daughter kissed me…and I felt it. I felt her tiny arms around my neck, her soft lips upon my cheek, and her giggle in my heart. I’d made it.

The revisions I’d made set a strong foundation for the new life I would lead. Instead of anger I chose understanding; instead of emptiness I chose to be Spirit filled; instead of sadness I chose to be happy.

The death of my mother turned out to be a precursor to other heartache that was right around the corner. It came in the form of a divorce. But the revisions I’d made to my life gave me the strength to stand strong. My heart broke once again, but this time I didn’t crumble. I allowed myself an appropriate amount of time to grieve, but I did it in the light. My new found philosophy – told to me by a dear friend, told to her by her dear mother – is: I will not let anything or anyone steal my joy.

I pray to meet my low points with courage and strength of heart. I pray that I never again step out of the light. But mostly, I pray.

--------------------------------------------

Thank you for stopping by. It's been a pleasure sharing my short story - and a piece of me - with you.

Warmest wishes,

Dee Ann

I happened to be listening to a local radio station the other day who had a guest speaker on talking about the significance of an ISBN and I found their advice to be generic and unfulfilling. At the end of the interview, the question still remained…does a writer need an ISBN?

First, what is an ISBN?

ISBN means International Standard Book Number. An ISBN is a number, used like a serial number so that bookstores can accurately order books. An ISBN is not a bar code.ISBN Image

So, the answer to the question is twofold:

Yes, you will need to purchase an ISBN if you want to have your books published in bookstores, place it with distributors and wholesalers, and/or carried in libraries. You will need an ISBN for each format you will be selling in, such as hardcover, paperback, ebook, and audio books.
No, you will not need to purchase and ISBN if you are only selling online. Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Apple all provide free ISBNs for your ebooks if required.
How do I obtain and ISBN?

First, a publisher (if you are self-published, that would be you) applies for an ISBN. The ISBN Agency emails the ISBN to the publisher. The ISBN is placed on the copyright page and is encoded on a bar code, which is placed on the back cover of the book. Then, when the book is about to be sold, the publisher registers the title in Books in Print at Bowker. www.bowkerlink.com.

IMPORTANT NOTE:

An ISBN tells a lot about your book. In that set of 13 numbers is information identifying your title and your publisher (called a publisher prefix). That prefix establishes who the publisher of record associated with that title is. This is an important distinction.

So if a printer—either traditional or print-on-demand—offers you an ISBN for free, think long and hard before you take it. Because ISBNs are nontransferable, that means the publisher of record for your book is the printer, not you. You have nothing to fear in terms of intellectual property rights. The assignment of an ISBN has no implications for rights ownership. It does, however, have an impact on how your title is viewed in the sales and distribution system. If a self-publisher wants to be identified as the publisher, the self-publisher must get his or her own ISBN.

Another Important Note:

Many self-publishers forget to register their ISBN once they assign it to their book. This is a “must do”.

Registering your ISBN: Once ISBNs have been assigned to products they should be reported to R.R. Bowker as the database of record for the United States ISBN Agency. Companies are eligible for a free listing in various directories such as Books in Print, Words on Cassette, The Software Encyclopedia, Bowker’s Complete Video Directory, etc. Book titles should be registered with Books in Print.

As always, thanks so much for stopping by. Don’t forget to join the blog, or better yet, join my mailing list to be kept up on, and share in, all the new and exciting things coming my way. :)

Keep on scribbling!

Dee Ann

As most of you know, I’ve recently launched my second novel, MISTS OF BAYOU RHYNE. Yes, thank you, thank you. :) And as most of you know, one of the hardest – but oh so important – things to get is a review. I’ve been told over and over again how much a reader has enjoyed my book, how they can’t wait for the next, and how they wish they could share it with everyone they know. Well, you my dear reader, can!

All you have to do is give the book a review.

That’s it. Your review is worth a thousand words. :) (Like that?)

When I tell this to my potential reviewers they return with the inevitable "I don't know how to write a review. I never know what to say. “I don’t know how to give a review. I never know what to say.”

Maybe this will help. When I give a book review I think of it as a critique of sorts. I read the book through as a reader, simply for pure pleasure (hopefully). When it’s time for my review, I think of the following:

Opening comments – What did I find appealing about the story?

Plot - Was the plot believable? Was it easy to follow? Was the story long or short enough to support the plot? Was I satisfied with the plot resolution? Were the subplots, if any, natural and interesting?

Pacing - Did the pace of the story leave me satisfied or did I find myself rushed or bored?

Description - Were the descriptions vivid or did they leave me hanging? How about too little or too much description? Did I feel forced to delve up my own idea of who, what, where, when, and why? Was there variety in the vocabulary to keep me from skimming?

Point of View - Was the point of view consistent? If the point of view changed (which I don’t like when it happens), did I feel that the change was a good one? Did the point of view ever change too abruptly, leaving me confused?

Characters - Did the characters seem real enough with unique and distinguishable personalities? Was I able to form a connection to them?

Dialogue - Was the dialogue natural and believable? Was each character's dialog consistent with their characterization? Was there too much or too little dialog? Were there any tedious monologues?

Grammar and Spelling - Were there any serious grammar and/or spelling issues?

Closing comments – What is my overall opinion of the story?

Though not all of my reviews are favorable they are positive and I’ve received only positive comments from writers when I review this way.

What if I have to give a bad review?

First of all we should remember that the work we’ve just read was painstakingly written by someone who put themselves and their work out into the world. This is something not done lightly. It’s difficult for writers to let people read their work and criticize it. Their blood, sweat, and tears most likely went into it, and probably years as well.

With that said – I DON’T GIVE BAD REVIEWS. I don’t believe anyone should. What I think we should remember – whether reader or writer – is that reviews and critiques are subjective. It all comes down to opinion. My opinion is my own, just as your opinion is yours. The right to have an opinion does not make the opinion right. The right to have an opinion does not make the opinion right. I’m not out to change anyone else’s opinion on a writer’s piece of work, but simply to add mine to the mix.

What if I’ve committed to writing a review?

If I’ve committed to giving a review, say due to a review exchange or a receipt of a book for free with a promise of a review, and I find that I really didn’t like the book, I simply say it wasn’t for me. I’ll elaborate further by weaving the negatives with the positives in a way that hopefully shows the story in its best possible light.

There will be negative comments, but they should be stated in a diplomatic manner so as not to insult, but to enlighten. Nothing burns me up more than when I go to Amazon and read a review on a book that I thoroughly enjoyed only to see a 1 star review left by someone who clearly is hyped up on their all mighty power horse. Their comments are often written in an uneducated form riddled with ridicule and spite. If you don’t like the book then either review it with compassion, or don’t review it at all.

If I feel a book is worth less than 3 stars I don’t review it. If I must review it and feel that I cannot conscientiously give it a 3 or better, then I will most always email the writer privately and explain my view. Most writers respect this, though they may not like it, and understand that I am trying to show them respect by not posting an unfavorable review.

If you share your opinion with sensitivity and compassion, it will mean more to everyone and it will show you in a much more favorable light as well.

As always, thanks so much for stopping by. Don’t forget to join the blog, or better yet, join my mailing list to be kept up on, and share in, all the new and exciting things coming my way. :)

Keep on scribbling!

Dee Ann

This is the rainy season here in Florida. Many grumble and complain. Not me.

I’m scheduled for a few much need vacations days next week. Though I have no scheduled plans of travel or activities, I’m thrilled to be off the day job for a while. My sister mentioned that it was supposed to rain most of the week. This doesn’t bother me. I plan on getting quite a bit of writing done, and what better way to write than through the sounds of tropical rains and rumbling thunder.

And I have another reason not to mind the rain.

It reminds me.

We grew up in the suburbs which, back then, resembled more of a country feel than suburbia. We lived in an old, gray, two story Victorian-style house with white columns at the front, and a large porch that wound around two sides. We had a decent spread – a corner lot – surrounded by tall hedges along the property line, with puddleshorter hedges along the front and road side. We had fruit trees – apple and pear, if I remember right – and a large grapevine that gave the largest purple grapes I’ve ever had to this day. Two large weeping willows shaded the house; one in the front and the other by the master bedroom.

The master bedroom was a large extension to the right on the first floor. In the summer months, my mother - a beautiful, elegant French woman with as beautiful a name - liked to sit in that master bedroom when the sun went down. The window by her bedside, propped up with the older slider screens of days gone by, looked out to a paved country road about thirty feet from the house obscured by the short hedges that also hid the narrow ditch on the far side.

Crickets and Spring Peepers mixed with the grey tree frogs and provided a beautiful yet mysterious nightly serenade.

I remember.

I’m a young girl of about five. A moderate rain falls with the low rumble of a distant thunder. I need comforting.

I wander through the halls of the second floor, down the stairs, through the foyer, and across to the master bedroom. I push open the creaky door and peer inside. She sits in the darkness, my guardian angel, with only the soft red glow from her cigarette to light the room and cast a warm, pink hue around her heart-shaped face.

I approach, knowing I’m always welcome. She pats the bed and I shimmy up to sit beside her, resting my head in the crook of her arm. Together we sit in peaceful silence. I lay there in the safety of her arms and watch the gentle swirl of smoke dance lightly through the screen and disappear as spirits into the darkness. The rains begin to still, and the gentle beat of her heart joins the symphony of the night. I sigh, and moments later, I’m asleep.

I’ve known no greater peace…then or now.

I use this memory in my mediations. It builds peace, tranquility, calm, and focus.

Do you have a favorite peaceful memory? Please share.

Have a blessed and peaceful day.

Dee Ann

I have many followers on Facebook; many I don’t know personally. Many who have followed me simply because I followed them. But I do try to connect with as many as I can. I read their posts and comment on what touches me. Today, one such post reached in and gripped my heart.

I read about a woman whose life has been diminished because of health issues. She is no longer able to lead the life she once had and is now mostly in a wheelchair. Because of this, she has lost many of the things that once made her happy – including her husband.

My heart broke.

I mean into a million little pieces.

I cried for her.

I felt her pain.

Then I got angry at all the faceless people who surround her – and I cast blame. But that’s wrong. I shouldn’t blame people for not being able to deal with other people’s problems. What I’ve learned throughout my life is that it all begins with me.

People are reactive.

People are selfish without intention. It’s just a part of our nature.

I learned that if I want people to respond to me in a particular way, I have to first give them the incentive to. Do I want love? I have to show that I am worthy of love. Do I want forgiveness? I must show that I am worthy of forgiveness. Do I want to be cared for? I must be caring. What I put out, comes back.

We all grow older – it’s inevitable. And with age comes change, especially for women. Take me, for example. I’ve recently entered the stage of menopause, and let me tell you, my body, mind, and spirit have all shifted gears on me. I look in the mirror and almost don’t recognize the woman looking back. My immediate reaction is to feel a deep sense of sadness. I can see why so many women fall into depression. Their entire life to this point seemingly disappears without a trace. Suddenly, they find themselves looking at a woman who is unfamiliar – a stranger who has consumed their inner being and there is nothing they can do about it. There is no escape, no going back. It can be terrifying.

And so I gave this woman from Facebook this morning advice that I have given myself.

Don’t concentrate on what you cannot do; go out and do the things you can. And by this I mean, live the life you’ve been given. Let that special someone see that you are still a person full of life and love. Draw them to your inner self, beyond the physical appearance. Your beauty will shine through you when you find peace with who you are. I know this to be true. You must learn to live your life with who you are today, and not who you were once upon a time. Banish your regrets and make a pact with yourself that you will find at least one good thing in yourself each and every day. Take a long hard look at you in the mirror. Don’t turn away. Say goodbye to the person you once were. You can cry at this farewell. But don’t look away. When you catch your breath, smile. Meet the new you. Accept her. Love her and she will love you back. I promise.

This is all I can offer to another woman – my faceless friend – my comrade. I wish you inner peace, love, and God’s soft touch upon your shoulder.

With warmest regards,

Dee

My name is Dee Ann Waite and have an addiction…to books.

I know you’re a book lover too, or you wouldn’t be visiting my site, and if you’re anything like me, your reading device is chock full of ‘em. But we can always use more, right?

I ran a recent tape on how much money I’ve spent so far this year on books - and this doesn’t include books of the trade or reference books - just for enjoyment, and I was a bit astonished. My initial thought was, “Girl, you need to cut back.” My next thought was, “Who are you kidding?” So, I went to work figuring out places I could save money in order to fund my book addiction. Below are my top ten saving tips:

1. Remember when banks had the Christmas Club accounts? I used to love that idea. So guess what I just did - I opened a savings account just to be used to buy books, go to book events, visit authors, or anything thing else in the way of the book world. Cool, right?

2. Forget the movie, or at least read the book before the movie. Books are almost always better anyway, don’t you think? If you must see the movie, wait for it to come out on Redbox and watch it on your big screen. After all, why’d you get that big T.V. if not to watch your favorite movies?

3. I love eating out as much as the next girl, but do you know how much money I waste out of sheer laziness? Too much! I’ve decided to bring my lunch to work a minimum of 2 days a week and bank the money I would have spent into my book account. Already saved 20.00!

4. I’ve become quite conscious of my environment lately – call it old age, what-evah – and have started making my own household cleansers. I love it. Saves me money, smells better, is non-toxic to my dog, and is easy to do.

5. I’ve also become more conscious of what I put on my body, and thanks to Pinterest I’ve found wonderful ways to make my own fantastic moisturizers. Way better than store bought! I can actually see and feel a difference in my skin.

6. In trying to be more health conscious this year, I joined the gym. I recently quit the gym and have chosen to take it outside. I do my walking around the neighborhood, park, or beach, and Dodger loves it too! Don’t have a dog? Borrow the neighbors. Don’t like walking? Shoot some hoop with your kid. Don’t have a kid? I’m pretty sure you can borrow one of them, too. I think…

7. Cut down on medical bills by remembering to floss, exercise, do yoga, meditate, eat right, and get enough sleep. These are all things we should be doing regularly anyway, but come on, really? Who has time for all this? Hmm, I’m making time and so should you.

8. Here’s one I’ve been having lots of fun with – grow your own veggies. I’ve never had a green thumb, ever. All the plants in my house are plastic – all except one and I swear I can hear that poor thing cry out in agony every time I pass it. But once again, thanks to Pinterest I’ve learned so much about raised gardens. I’m just starting out so I haven’t gotten into anything big, but tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce. Nothing beats fresh from the garden…and way healthier than the store.

9. Being a writer, I tend to shut myself in my back room for hours on end and come out when my fingers are shot, resulting in neglect of things I love most – Michael and Dodger. Because of this, Michael and I have a date night every Friday night. This is our together time. We usually go out to dinner and either end up at the bookstore or sometimes a walk on the beach, (We’re in Florida so basically every night is a beach night) and then most of the time we rent a movie and head home. Instead of doing this every Friday, we’ve decided to back it down to twice a month, and the other two weeks we stay in, maybe make homemade pizza, light some candles, share some wine, and…well…what-evah. :)

10. Here’s a good one – cut the cable! I know, I know, a tough one indeed, but you know what? We don’t miss it at all. Michael is an artist (by the way, he does amazing book covers if anyone is interested) and I’m a writer. By cutting out the T.V. we’ve managed to be much more productive in our creativity, and our shared communication has improved greatly as well. This was a great idea.

Okay, so these are my ideas. Anyone have any others they’d like to share? I’m open to ideas. If it’ll save me money and help me buy books, it’s worth my consideration. :)

NOTE: Both my books are on sale for .99 each. You should buy one. :)

As always, thanks for stopping by. Don’t forget to join my mailing list at http://www.deeannwaite.com/mailing-list for the latest information. Get a sneak peek into new releases, cover reveals, special “list members only” contests and giveaways for things such as a Kindle Fire HD, B&N Nook, or Amazon gift cards. From time to time, I also offer my list members free Authorgraphed copies of my e-Books and autographed copies of paperback.

Keep on scribbling!

Dee

Well, am I?

I’m a writer and have recently released my second novel, MISTS OF BAYOU RHYNE. You might think this is a very exciting time for me, right? Then why don’t I feel that way? Here’s why; the immense amount of extra work. Marketing not one, but two books is quite an ordeal…at least to me. What complicates things even further is that they are of two different genres; THE CONSEQUENTIAL ELEMENT is an action adventure thriller, and MISTS OF BAYOU RHYNE is a YA mystery thriller.

I’ve recently found myself wallowing in self pity. All of this marketing, and working on book three, and holding a day job, not knowing if I’ll have a job after June due to company restructuring, and dealing with life’s curve balls, and health issues, and sickness of friends, and…well you get the picture…all of this has really brought me down lately. I used to escape into my writing, but I’ve found that my obsessive disorder has turned it into a war zone instead of a sanctuary. It is now work, hard work, and comes with a high level of stress. Several medications I’m on have “sun” issues and have turned any time over twenty minutes in the sun an impossibility. Come on…I live in Florida. Really? So I turn to my garden as my sanctuary, only guess what…so have two different snakes. Off to Lowe’s I go for snake repellant, rope, and other snake remedies found online.

Nothing works. They win. I’m a coward.

Coward? Me? The thought hits me hard. I’ve fought tons of battles for people. I’ve advocated for battered women (I was one), I’ve advocated for abused children (I was one of those, too), I’ve advocated for women’s rights, I’ve defended a woman stranger in a Wal-Mart parking lot from the creep of a husband she was with who thought shoving her around was disciplining her, I’ve crawled into a city drain pipe to save a starving dog, I was a Private Investigator for several years and let me tell you, there were some hairy situations. So no, I’m not a coward. I can face the demons of this world.

Just not my own.

I’m not a coward. I’m not. Am I?

I pull up some cushions in front of the long living room window and stare out into my garden on this bright sunny day…and think. Hard. What am I made of? What was my mother made of? My grandmother? Her mother? Do I come from a long line of cowards? I hit a few bumps in the road and suddenly I’m hit with the Woe is Me’s? This isn’t me. I know this much. No, it isn’t me.

So I do what any 21st century woman would do; I turn to the internet to find out who I am and to find my courage.

After several attempts, I key in the words women survivors. Here it is. Here’s my courage.

I read article after article on the battles that average women have risen above, won, and/or continue to conquer; story after story of their faith, courage, and fortitude. I’m amazed, awed, and impressed.

I will not lessen my battles by comparing them to the stories I’ve read, but I’ll now meet them with a renewed strength.

Writing is scary business, no doubt, whether it be a memoir, children’s book, YA, thriller, or horror, it is scary. Marketing is even scarier. And forget public speaking…just forget it. But my new found courage will help me to forge forward.

Though I haven’t yet discovered who I am, I am pleased with my recent discovery.

I’m a survivor.

Newly released MISTS OF BAYOU RHYNE has been gaining much attention and has been in the top 100 of several Amazon categories since its 3/30/15 release date. I am looking for reviews! I'd be happy to provide a free eBook to anyone who is willing to read it and provide a review. Please contact me at d.a.waite1@gmail.com to request a copy. You can check it out at www.deeannwaite.com. Here's the short synopsis:

The light goes out in seventeen year old Cassandra Rhyne’s world when her father is discovered lying face down in the bayou. A horrible accident, people say. A terrible tragedy, they say. Only, the mists of Bayou Rhyne tell her something different. The whispers speak to her of murder. When she tells her mother and the sheriff what the mists are trying to say, it lands her in weekly visits to the head doctor.

A glimmer of light returns to Cassie’s life when she meets Derrick Anderson, the new senior in school. But there remains a darkness. She has a murder to prove; the problem is her suspected murderer is also running for mayor… that, and no one believes her.

Belinda Larson, aka, Belle, a boarder at Rhyne Equestrian Center and the daughter of mayor elect, despises Cassie and makes it her sworn duty to bring her down any way she can. Taking Cassie’s best, and only friend away from her is a good start; next she sets her sights on the handsome Derrick Anderson.

The awkward love triangle results in a terrible accident that puts Belle in a coma and forces Derrick to run for his life or face jail. He turns to Cassie. Against her will, Cassie agrees to help him, unaware that in his salvation lie the dark secrets to her father’s murder.

Thanks so much! :)

Dee Ann