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It’s always great when you finally get the author copies you ordered. It’s never as quick as I want it to be. Strange as it may sound, I like to hold one in my hand and settle in to read it. I’ve read the book a couple dozen times as I’ve worked my way through it, but it always seems different in paperback. I quit worrying about mistakes and just participate as a reader. I am forever grateful to the people who help me get a story completed and ready for print.

It’s about that time again. I know it seems like we just changed the site, but it’s actually been a few years. As the styles change and themes age, things seem to start breaking down. Dean’s had to work a lot harder recently to keep this particular theme up and operating properly. With that in mind, we’re planning on changing the look and style… again

We could probably keep this theme going for a while longer, but we’ve talked it over and the timing makes sense. He’s available now, and I’m in final edits on The Loose End. We might as well have a new killer looking site to go along with the release of the new book.

Notice the use of the royal “We”? Like I have any kind of a clue about what he’s doing.

Dean is always so cool and confident when we undertake this stuff. Even though I know he’s got a handle on it, my inner control freak absolutely loses her sh*% and begins to run screaming around in my brain like her hair is on fire. As I sit quietly and listen to Dean talk about the changes, inside my head there is full scale chaos and pandemonium. A thousand questions pop into my head – each one seemingly more important than the last. None of which I need to actually ask. As my mental breakdown takes on a life of its own, I nod, smile, and thank him for doing it. This is what he does for a living and he’s been taking care of all my stuff for the last umpteen years.

When Dean’s finished, he’ll have the site in test mode, and I’ll get to go in, look around, ask him to adjust a couple small things, and he’ll explain everything to me in language I can understand. Yes, he’ll have to dumb it down for me. Then I’ll tell you all how great MY new and improved website is, as though I actually had something to do with it.

I’ll let you all know when Dean’s done doing whatever it is that Dean does. Until then the current site will continue to function and you can still get in touch through here, via email, or through my Facebook page.

I get a little weirded out when someone that I’ve known for years and is a Facebook friend suddenly asks, “Are you a writer?” This happens pretty much every time that I post a link to my latest book. There are a hundred responses although none of them are really polite.
Did you not see the other twenty comments congratulating me?
Did you not see “Works at Author” on my page?
Did you not see all the posts about writing and where I was at in the process?
Did you not pay the least bit of damn attention to anything in the last ten years that we’ve known each other?

Instead, I type, “Yes. Here’s a link to my website.”
I don’t really trust myself to say anything else.

The other one that sort of sends me into a corner shaking is, “Are you a good writer?”

What? Are you kidding me?
Truthfully, I always have the urge to respond with, “No. No, I’m not. I suck stinking, oily, feces-laden, bilge water. Thanks for fucking bringing up, you Asshat.”

Instead, I type, “I’m not bad.” Or “I’m pretty good.”

This will without a doubt be followed by the question: “What do you write?”

Jeeeeezzzzzeeee… do you not see the freaking link right there in the post that will take you to the damn book? Or how about clicking on the damn link to my website that I just freaking posted. Make a damn effort. Books, you jackass. I write freaking books. Guns, explosions, sex, more violence. What do you want from me?

Instead, I type, “I write contemporary fiction featuring strong women with military or law enforcement backgrounds, containing elements of action, suspense, and romance. I also write a paranormal series about military vampires under the name L. Scott.

Some days it is incredibly hard not to just say what passes through my brain, but then I remind myself that this is Facebook. These aren’t people that I see every day or even every year. We’re people with a common past and at least they’re asking.

It’s fine…

I speak their names on Memorial Day, but I’m not sad or somber. I no longer linger in the darkness. In short, I no longer let the last Monday in May turn into a day of mourning.

Memorial Day is to honor the fallen – it’s not a second funeral or a day to wallow in sadness or loss. It’s about honoring and respecting the promises we made to those who are not here. I believe in the national moment of silence and then raising a glass to the fallen, but then I step away from anything dark or sad because every one of the those who are gone would want us to live, love, and laugh.

I’ve been told that’s a healthy place to be, and I’ve also been reminded that not everyone feels that way.

The truth is that some folks may never get there because the loss is so deep and painful. It’s really hard to remember that when we chose this life and took our place in line with those no longer beside us, that we said we’d do certain things for each other. We agreed to carry each other’s memories with us where ever we went. But we also looked each other in the eye and said, “Dude, have a hell of a party for me when I’m gone.” The agreement was to have the drink, eat the steak, and sleep with the damn prom queen/king. None of us asked anyone to be sad, lonely, or depressed.

For many of us, that loss often carries twice the weight it probably should. It comes with a healthy dose of all the survivor’s guilt and the crappy memories of goodbyes not said. It often comes with images that we don’t want to see again, but can’t get rid of. When you’re being crushed under that kind of weight, it can be damn hard to remember that you have to keep a firm grip on the bar, lift with your legs, and above all – keep your head up. And all the talk in social media about how hard Memorial Day is for us makes us feel as though we have to keep carrying that weight even if we’re finally ready to set that heavy damn ruck down for the day.

The fact is that most of us have spent way too much time being hung up on the end of our friend’s lives rather than their actual life – those things that drew us together and those things that we most cared about – the things that we so loved them that we were willing to share our last mini-bottle of Tabasco sauce with the crazy fools or look at that nasty-ass blister on their foot. We’ve forgotten that we were all doing something we loved and believed in.

We’ve also forgotten that our brothers and sisters only asked that we remember and honor their lives – not mourn them. It took me years to get to the point where I could choose to remember and honor the life rather than dwell on the death. It’s a choice that I’m grateful to have and to make.

I think those we’re honoring would much rather if we called a couple friends and threw some burgers on the grill and told wild stories about the perpetually young and crazy warriors we all once were rather than sitting silently in the house. So, as I said, I’ll say their names, hoist a drink in their honor, and yes, I’ll probably cry for a few of them. But then, I’ll step out there and do the things I promised. I’ll talk about them as I live, love, and laugh, because I truly believe that’s what they’d want us to do.

I hope that those of you who are struggling can set your packs down and take a breath. If you need help, please reach out. There are many willing hands that are here for you. May you all have a safe and blessed Memorial Day.