The Good One-New Release

So … I did a thing.

I released my seventh book and my first one of 2018! Shortly after The Missing Piece Anthology was released, I published The Good One.

There wasn’t a lot of fanfare or even a great big plan, because that’s just how I roll sometimes. I was on a mission to get this book published by April 10th and I made it by the skin of my teeth.

I have a confession to make… This was a tough one to write for a number of reasons.

As a working mother who is also an author, it can be difficult to juggle the writing life with my everyday life. Writing is something I do because I need to, for my soul. I do it for me alone and I’ve been fortunate to find a few beautiful people who love to read the words I put on the page.

Like many Mom-needs, the need to write often gets put on the back burner because homework, packing lunches, doctor appointments, and that other thing I love called my full-time gig, takes precedent. Believe me, I’m not complaining. All of those things mean that I have people who love me and a place that I get to go to that pays me for a job that I love to do. (I’m a pretty lucky girl

Still, finding time to write can be a struggle. With this book came a deadline because it was part of a series that joins me with other writers, and other books, in a place called the Happy Endings Resort. Being included in this has been such a privilege and a challenge because I don’t often write to a deadline. The challenge was awesome and stressful, but I loved it and would do it again in a second.

In an effort to streamline my productivity, I wrote much of the first draft using dictation. Ugh! While I was able to get more words on the page, the page was probably wondering what in the hell I was doing most of the time. Words were garbled, sentences were butchered, and my main character’s name was wrong (Livvie) about seventy-five percent of the time. In addition, the story went in about fifteen different directions because I was speaking it instead of seeing it. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what color my main character’s eyes (brown) were half the time because I can’t remember anything.

Often I felt as though dictation was an experiment gone wrong so I was waiting for my laptop to explode because of how horrible the story was. Thank goodness, after moving chapters around, deleting so many words (soooo many words), and then reworking the story multiple times, it finally came together.

Finally.

Or at least hopefully. The only person who’s read it so far has been my editor and she said not to worry because it was good. I didn’t even have time to give it to my trusted beta readers. So, I worry because all writers worry when others are reading our stories. We are crippled with self-doubt every time a new book come out, a new story is created, and new characters are borne. It’s in our nature and whether I have seven books or fifty, I’ll always worry.

This is me, writing the synopsis. Omg!

Here’s the synopsis and if you’d like to join my review team, I’d love to have you! Just sign up here!

The Good One

Olivia and her sister Molly grew up in a trailer park in a small resort town called Happy Endings, but their life together was far from happy.

When the unthinkable happens, Olivia must learn how to live without the person she loves the most and she is forced to keep secrets that she buries deep within.

Thirteen years later, an accidental collision gives Olivia the chance to finally experience love with Danny, who promises to always protect her. As Olivia and Danny build a life together she is suddenly forced to face a past she has struggled to forget.

Can Olivia find the strength within to save herself or will she lose everything, in Part One of The Good One?

Goodreads link-Check out The Good One: Part One by Jennifer Sivec

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39794604

The Rock

I swear I’ve been writing. I promise!

While I am behind with a book due March 1st, a short story due for a anthology that will benefit autism, and the second book in my Coming Home Series, I try and write a bit at a time. I would love to write in blocks of time but often I only have minutes.

I admit that I’ve been failing at marketing and behind on writing but its a constant struggle that I know I’ll always have. With a busy life, many responsibilities, and shifting priorities, I remind myself that it’s all about the journey. So yes, I have been writing.

I can’t not write because it’s just a part of who I am. It’s how I make sense of the world and am able to face it every day.

As part of this journey, I’m currently looking for reviewers! If you’re interested in helping me by reading and reviewing my books, please fill out this form. Writing is better when people are reading, and people read books they know others have read.

Here’s my latest blog post for the Hummingbird Charm , The Rock. Not the Dewayne Johnson “Rock,” but me. I’m the rock. I love this collective of amazing writers and women and most of blog posts will appear there first though I’ll share them with you!

I’m wondering how many of you are the rock in the center of your universe? If you are, I’d love to hear about it. Us rocks needs to band together!

http://www.hummingbirdcharm.com/family/being-the-rock

30 Day Writing Challenge-Things I Miss

Before I begin, I have to say that I have such mad respect for my fellow writers, JC Wing and AK Lawrence who tackled a very difficult topic yesterday about a family member they dislike. To lay it all out, with so much raw emotion is what beautiful writing is all about. I wimped out and that’s all I’ll say about that, but some serious mad props to both of them for their beauty, strength, and honesty. (Both posts are linked to their names).

Today’s post is about things I miss. 

I don’t miss much in my life. I’m a live-in-the-now kind of girl. I try and enjoy the path that I’m currently on so that it doesn’t pass me by. 

But if I had to choose a few things I would say that I miss the following:

• My grandmother’s hands. They were soft and pretty. When I was little I used to play with her rings, twirling them around her fingers, enjoying her closeness. I used to straighten them up so that they all lined up perfectly, and then would have to re-do it when they turned again. I wear her original wedding band, now. And every morning when I put it on I think of her,  her soft hands, her good heart, and how much I miss having her in my life. 
• The unbridled happiness of my children when they were toddlers. They found joy in everything and had tears for nothing. They had no need to be sad, lonely, or worried. As they grow, I know that fear and unhappiness becomes a part of life, but I miss the days when they had no concerns, upsets, or worries.
• Silence and solitude. My youngest is a lot like me in this way. He likes to be alone for hours on end and always has. I believe that I could go days in silence if I could, without speaking or sound. I miss the quietness that comes with solitude, which may come as a great surprise to many. I do tend to be an extrovert and I also love social interaction. But I also need to recharge and be alone with my thoughts, which doesn’t happen nearly as often as I would like, but I also understand that being needed is a good thing, and I’m not complaining. 

Those would be the three things I miss the most in life. I could also say that I miss being able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want. 😆😆😆

For all of the things I miss, I’ve found many other things that fulfill me. But I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing my Grandma’s hands. 

30 Day Writing Challenge-My Morning Routine

There’s nothing too exciting here, I’m afraid. I’ll lay it out for you as quickly and painlessly as possible. 

• Wake up at 5:30 am because I’ve convinced myself that I’m working out today. 
• Roll back over and the  hit snooze  until 6:10 am
• Check email before I even roll out of bed 
• Shower
• Let the dogs out
• Make sure the Hubby is up
• Make an entire pot of coffee that I won’t drink and might possibly even forget because every single coffee cup lid is missing!😡
• Wake up kiddos
• Let the old dog in because she’s very demanding and won’t stop barking at me until I do
• Wake up my youngest again because he thinks he’s a teenager already and will sleep until noon if I let him 
• Yell for my little dog  to come in the house because he’s probably terrorizing the wildlife in our yard
• Kiss the oldest who is up and dressed
• Threaten to kiss the youngest repeatedly,  until he finally gets out of bed
• Give treats to the dogs for coming in the house 
• Feed and medicate the dogs
• Primp
• Dress
• Leave the house

Whew! Then I start the day whether it be working, writing, or playing. 😊😊😊

30 Day Writing Challenge-Five Fears

This challenge freaks me out because it’s personal. Five fears … the challenge is about your greatest fears but I don’t know if I can dig quite that deep. We’ll see how far I can go. 

1. I’m with AK Lawrence on two of hers. The first one is snakes. Snakes, rats, mice; basically anything creepy crawly. Even though I live a little rural, I’m a city girl at heart!
2. The second one is the fear that nobody will ever read my books, which is silly because I have wonderful readers. I think this is every author’s fear and that I would’ve be a normal writer if I wasn’t plagued by self-doubt. 
3. My children will hate me. They love me now, but I haven’t made any major mistakes yet. I know that as they get older, I’ll have more opportunities to really mess up and it scares the crap out of me. The what-ifs plague me every day and I worry that one day they won’t let me know them anymore. I remind myself to do my best, love them with my whole heart, and not allow my fear to paralyze me.
4.  Heights. I’m afraid of climbing up and down tall ladders. I don’t mind airplanes or elevators or looking out of windows from tall buildings, but you’ll never catch me sky diving or standing untethered from great heights. 
5. Vulnerability. This is the only deep fear I’ll share here. My writing makes me vulnerable which can be terrifying, but I share it because it’s good for me. I write because it’s healthy, less expensive than therapy, and more effective. I know that sharing my words opens me up and pushed me outside of my comfort zone, but I know that I need to.

I have many other things I’m afraid of but can’t bring myself to share for fear that they’ll come true. This is about as deep as I can get … the question is, what are you afraid of? 

30 Day Writing Challenge-Ageism

Not too long ago, one of my employees thought that I was the mother of a twenty-something year -old fellow employee of hers. Of course, I balked at the idea until I realized that I AM old enough to be her mother. Gaaaaaah!

In my mind,that twenty-something year-old employee is still me. Then reality sets in and I realize that twenty years have gone by in the blink of an eye. One marriage, two children, two houses, two dogs, and one long and successful career have flown by like a hurricane and I’m twenty years older than when it all began. 

It’s true that I no longer party until the wee hours of the night and that most nights I’m asleep before the evening news has concluded. I can no longer eat whatever I want or lose weight just by thinking about it. I have aches and pains that make me wonder what the hell happened to my body, and I no longer get carded at the bar, on the rare occasion that I’m in one. I’m now the old person at work, the experienced one, and am the senior person in most cases. My kids think that it I’m old and uncool because I don’t know who Fetty Wap is, and I agree with them most days.

I would be lying if I said that getting older didn’t suck sometimes, but I realize that it’s just part of life and I have no choice but to accept it. Fighting it is futile so I embrace my older self, appreciate the wisdom I’ve obtained, and accept that I’m going to have to visit my elliptical a whole helluva lot more than I’ve been. 

Now that I’m no longer the young kid who is up-and-coming, do I ever worry about my place in this world? 

No. 

In many ways, I think think that age is a state of mind. I’ve known seventy year-olds that are like forty-year olds and I’ve known thirty year-olds that remind me of eighty year-olds. When you choose to stop adapting, growing, and learning then you become less useful, less sought-after, and less valuable, no matter how old you are. I think that age matters less than state-of-mind. Does ageism exist in the world? Absolutely! It happens to those who are younger and those who are older and to say it doesn’t exist would be naive. Both think that they know more than the other, but each has something to teach the other. I now know who Fetty Wap is, and my kids learn from their old mom every day. I learn from my younger managers and employees and hopefully in turn, they learn from me. Because we co-exist and appreciate each other, the world is fuller and richer.

I’ve never felt less valuable because of my  age, whether it was to my family, my job, or the world. In many ways, I have so much more to contribute now. I’m wiser, smarter, better organized, more patient, and more intuitive than I’ve ever been. I’m also kinder and better able to let go of things that have hindered me in the past, like toxic people and unnecessary anger. While I no longer have the body of a twenty year old, I am more comfortable in my own skin, yet still willing to improve myself. As with anything in life, age is about perspective and the willingness to have an open heart and an open mind. 

There are times when I wish that I still got carded, but I wouldn’t trade my life now, for any of it. Even though I’m older, I wouldn’t want to learn all of those difficult lessons all over again or struggle through the growing pains. I’ve earned every laugh line and worry line that’s on my face, and I’m stronger for every trial and tribulation that I’ve endured. So, I say to Hell with ageism. Mine will never stop me or define me completely, and if I decide to write another book, get a tattoo, or dye my hair pink when I’m 70, then so be it. The world will just have to be prepared and deal with me! 😊😊😊

My Writing Room

In short … I don’t have one.

The end.

Kidding. 😆😆😆

In reality, my writing room is wherever I am. On the couch covered with kids, at the dining room table, in front of the fireplace, in the waiting room at the doctor’s office … 

I write where and when I can which means that I can’t be too selective, at least not right now. I do have an office but it’s not a room that I would hole away in and write for hours. It’s big and clean but it’s not ideal for nurturing creative ideas and expressing thought. I do the best that I can where I can, when I am able.  

I do wish that I had a writing nest. I envision it to be a sunroom with a desk, a few comfortable chairs, books, and a lot of plants where each word and thought has no choice but to flow. I’ve been looking for it in my next house and will have it there. 

Fortunately, I’ve never needed the ideal environment to read or write. Even when I was younger, pre-technology, with pen and paper in hand, anywhere, always worked for me. When I would read, I could do it wherever I was as long as I had a book in my hand. My parents used to say that the house could fall down around me while I was reading and I would never know it, which was true.

While I don’t need complete silence, I can’t read or write to music because I get too caught up in the words. While music often inspires stories, I get too lost in it, to create while I’m listening.

If you’ve ever seen the movie For Love of the Game, when Kevin Costner prepares to pitch he says to himself “Clear the mechanism” and suddenly the noise of the crowd, the pressure, and the sounds of the stadium all disappear into blessed nothingness so that he’s able to focus. 

This is a very similar process for me when I begin writing. Sportscenter, dogs barking, children fighting, all of the residual sounds of life just fall away. Once  I start writing, no matter where I am, the rest of the world disappears and I am lost until something brings me back. Once I begin, hours become minutes and minutes become seconds, and I find that I am made whole once again.

Even as I write this, a child is beckoning one of the dogs, the news is on, and my husband is being goofy and singing and playing the song “Only Time Will Tell” on his phone. Controlled chaos, which is my preferred environment. If I waited for peace and quiet to write in, I would never write again.

I’m not complaining about this at all! I love that I carry my writing room with me wherever I go. One day, I do hope to write in a room with books and a lot of sunlight, surrounded by nature. 

But for now, I’m good.

 As long as I am writing at all … I’m good.
 

Love Letter to My Readers

Dear Love,

I’ve been writing all of my life but before I met you, that part of me was incomplete. I’ve always written for myself but never imagined there might be someone out there who would care to read my words. I never thought that anything I wrote could matter to anyone else but me. I realize now that there was a piece of me that was truly missing  before I found you. 

I wrote without direction or purpose, my thoughts chaotic and meaningless. But when I met you, there was a reason for the words that I wrote and the stories I put together. For the first time, someone else cried when I cried and felt what I did, and suddenly all of the noise in my head made sense, and there was quiet and peace.

You helped me make sense of what was once a thousand dreams running  through my head all at once. You gave me a better understanding of my place in the world and how to survive  in it. 

I can’t tell you what it means to me when you read the stories that have been bled from my heart. And when you tell me how much they mean to you, I replay every word because the joy it gives me is immeasurable and so good for my soul. 

I want you to know that I am so thankful for you. You have helped to heal me and make me whole and I will forever be grateful for your love and support. I hope we will always know one another because your honesty and friendship is something I will always treasure. 

Love.

Jennifer