What legacy will you leave when you die? Make it a good one.

Steve Jobs, though gone, will never be forgotten. He’s left his indelible imprint on our daily lives in the way we communicate and connect with the world around us. How many of us can say we’ve been as influential?

One of my favorite posters I keep in my classroom talks about making footprints on the world. Wherever you go, you always leave a footprint. Make it a good one. Usually I use it to talk about leaving the environment in better condition than we found it but it holds true for our daily lives as well. Each day we come into contact with people, we have to chance to leave a lasting impression. Sometimes we’re tired, cranky, and overwhelmed with our own problems and rather than help a stranger, we choose to do nothing, or worse, we lash out and share out anger.

I teach. It’s who I am. I have 37 fragile 5th grade souls that I am expected to nurture each day. They have cranky days. I have cranky days. But the lessons I choose to teach them, go far beyond reading, writing, and math. How I respond to their mistakes, might leave an indelible impression on their hearts that lasts a lifetime.

So do I always respond with a smile? HECK NO! If nothing else, I want my students to learn to act responsibly, even when they don’t want to. I hold them accountable for their actions. Every action. And that means consequences and lots of apology notes and community service.

I want them to think for themselves, not just raise their hands and wait for the teacher to give them the answer or explain how to do the problem. Really think.

And I want them to love whatever they do. I teach with passion, every day. I discipline with passion, every day. I include them in our successes and failures and share with them the things I am passionate about: writing, photography, and dancing. I do all this knowing that my students, and the lives they will lead, will be my legacy.

So whatever you do with your life, be it teaching, writing, or taking fantastic photographs, you will leave a legacy of some sort. Make it a good one.

Dandelion Dreams

Just thought I would share this photo of Taya I'm entering in a contest. I took this shot last summer while we were camping. I literally got down on  the ground and aimed my lens up at my daughter who was having a grand ol' time blowing dandelion seeds everywhere. With the light behind her, she was nicely backlit. When I got back home, I edited this in Lightroom by toying with the contrast and colors. Upping the level of black shown in the photo resulted in a high contrast silhouette. This type of shot works best when the background is the blue sky, so get down low and shoot up at your subject. The end result was this really fun photo! Enjoy!

Author Interview & Critique Contest

Most aspiring writers I know stalk agent blogs faithfully. We live for getting one tiny morsel of inside information about publishing. But what is it like to actually be a writer who has snagged an agent or publishing contract? Most of us may never know. http://www.foreverrewriting.blogspot.com/ has a great two part interview with writer Becky Wallace who gives us an inside view of her life as an aspiring writer. It is an eye-opening read. She also is giving away a free 10 page critique of a ms. To enter the contest, swing by and sign up.

http://foreverrewrighting.blogspot.com/

Summer Woes

It’s mid-summer already and the panic is beginning to set in. On crap! Summer break is almost over! While parents are thrilled to death with the impending return of school, teachers everywhere are rushing about trying to finish everything on their summer To-Do list. Who knew that 8 weeks could be so short? Here is what my summer list looks like:

• Keep the house clean every single day – no excuses
• Exercise for 1 hour each day
• Lose 10 pounds by the end of summer
• Finish editing my completed manuscript
• Catch an agent’s eye
• Write the first 3 chapters of my current work in progress
• Plan for next school year
• Have a work party to plan for next school year

So how much of this list did I manage to accomplish?

• Keep the house clean every single day – no excuses - The house only managed to get clean after my darling hubby planned a b-day party for me. It stayed clean for 1 day.
• Exercise for 1 hour each day - Does hula dancing for 1 ½ hours a week count?
• Lose 10 pounds by the end of summer - Nope – They’re still there, viciously hanging around my body, refusing the budge.
• Finish editing my completed manuscript - Still editing but making progress.
• Catch an agent’s eye - Still waiting. All I’m hearing from my query letters is a whole orchestra of crickets.
• Write the first 3 chapters of my current work in progress - I’ve managed to squeak out half of a couple scenes. Neither scene is finished but hey, it’s a start!
• Plan for next school year - Not so much.
• Have a work party to plan for next school year - We wound up spending more time drinking mimosas than we did planning but damn, who knew a mimosa would taste so great?

So how about you? What were your summer plans and did you manage to accomplish anything?

Home Alone with Too Much to Do

As I write this, I'm still in my nighttime attire (don't judge me), plopped down on my bed typing away on my laptop. It's 11:16 in  the morning. Am I working on editing my completed manuscript? Heck no. I edited one chapter and then lost focus, watched a couple hours of Charmed reruns while I surfed the web, and talked to my sister. Am I writing the next chapter of my WIP? Nope. I started to, but got more involved in trying to import my music into ITunes. I did write a few lines but then realized what I really needed to do was outline the entire book. I made it as far as outlining the first part of the book. Now I'm updating my blog and pondering how high the pile of laundry will get before someone (probably me) runs out of clothes to wear and out of desperation, throws a load into the washer.

No kids at home means no arguing, no whining, and no one to force Mom to get up and be productive. With photos to edit, a novel to edit, a story to write, lesson plans to design, school events to plan, housekeeping to attend to, and weight that won't lose itself without a bit of sweat equity, you'd think I would be hustling about taking advantage of my day home alone. Not so, my friends. I think I'll kill time by creating new ways to procratinate. Anyone with me? How do you procrastinate? Better yet, how do you stop procrastinating?

ASSASSIN, PI - Sneak Peek

Here is a quick sneak peek of my newest work in progress. Hope you like it!

****

“I need your help.”

It always started like that. Some broad would come into the office begging for help. Jack stifled a groan, refusing to even look at the woman who graced his doorway. Well, not this time. He was hanging up his badge. “We’re closed. Go away.” Jack tugged the fedora lower to shield his eyes and propped his feet up on the desk. He grabbed a book off the desk and thumbed through it.

“Door’s not locked,” the woman said. She shrugged the coat from her shoulders, revealing an hourglass figure draped in expensive clothes. The cream blouse scarcely concealed her lacy bra and the ample breasts beneath.

Thank God for good lighting and thin fabric. He peered over his book to watch the woman move for the coat rack. Her stride was restricted by the high-waisted, pencil skirt she wore.

Intrigued, Jack turned the page of his Dick Tracy comic book, trying to ignore the surge of desire that came from watching her hips sway. “Sign says otherwise. You can see yourself out.”

Her eyes flitted around the room, stopping briefly to take in the files piled haphazardly on the worn furniture. Eyebrows arched as her gaze lit upon the ancient record player. She sat down in the chair reserved for paying clients and crossed her shapely legs. Stilettos clung to her feet. With gams like those, she was used to getting anything she asked for. Typical dame.

“Let me guess, you found yourself in bed with the wrong man and now you need help getting out.” It wouldn’t be her first time. That’s how they met, only he was a cop back then, and she was a bored housewife. Jack tossed his book aside and let his feet hit the ground.

Her lips pursed tightly. “I’m not a floozy.” The black veil on her hat did little to hide the anger flashing through her eyes.

He shrugged and leaned forward. “Could’ve fooled me.” He rested his chin on his hand and smiled. “Drug habit, pissed off pimp, bookie looking for payment? I’ve seen it all, doll.” The chair creaked as he leaned back and kicked his feet back up on the worn oak desk. “I’m not interested. I’m retired.” His was a dangerous job, tracking down killers and eliminating them, but he didn’t have a death wish.

“You owe me, Jack.” She stood, quickly sidestepping the desk until she was inches away from his face. Sweeping his feet aside, she slid onto the desk. “Remember, this?” Resting a foot on Jack’s crotch, she slowly pulled the black skirt up past the top of her flesh-toned silk stocking and garter to reveal the butterfly tattoo on her hip.

“How could I forget?” Jack slipped her shoe off and rubbed the insole of her foot. “How you doing, Ang?”

“Don’t call me that.” She yanked her foot out of his grasp and hopped down off the desk. “You don’t get to call me that.”

Clutching her wrist, he pulled her off balance and into his lap. “Whatdaya want me to call you then, babydoll?” He pulled her close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Mahogany curls curved around his fingers as he brushed her hair aside.

“Try calling me by my name.”

“Playing hard to get was never your forte, Angie. Why start now?” Their lips met and she sighed into his embrace. Her head dropped back, giving Jack full access to her body. Goose bumps rose on the olive skin of her neck as he kissed his way toward her collarbone. Clumsy fingers struggled with the buttons on her blouse until at last Jack could slide a hand into her bra.

“Now about that job.” Angie pushed away from Jack. She straightened her clothing and rebuttoned her shirt. “I pay cash-twenty large.”

Jack stood quickly, overturning the chair. “Dammit, woman! You don’t play fair.” He didn’t bother to hide the desire that coursed through his body and adjusted his pants, making sure she saw. “I told you I was retired.” Retire, die, or rot in prison. With those as his only options, he’d take retirement in the Bahamas any day.

“Forty-year-olds don’t retire. They have mid-life crises. You’re just a sucker with a foot fetish and a thing for old gumshoe movies. Got too much time on your hands, Jack.” She turned away and bent to retrieve her purse off the floor.

Jack came up behind her and grabbed her ass. “I know a couple of things you’ve got that can occupy my hands.”

She spun around, slapping his cheek hard. Her arm recoiled, hand poised to strike again. Seizing her arm midair, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. “You always were a feisty gal.” With a glint in his eye, he raised his hand to slap her back. “Two can play that game, sweetheart.”

“The Jack I knew would never hit a lady.” She spat the words, struggling to pull away but she was no match against his strength.

“You’ve got all the right parts, but honey, you’ll never be a real southern bell.” He kissed her, until he felt the resistance leave her body and she sank into his embrace. “Why’d you come back, Ang?”

Angie took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. Shoulders slumped, she ducked out of his arms and leaned against the wall for support. “It’s just a job, Jack, nothing more. Trust me, you are the last person I wanted to ask for help, but I’m desperate.”

No matter how many women he’d taken to his bed, his dreams were always haunted by her eyes. It was the same wounded look she’d given him the last time they’d spoken. She was the only woman he couldn’t shake.

“Admit it, you missed me.” He moved to the bar and poured himself a scotch.

“Like you missed me? What was her name again? I forget. Diedra, or Diandra? You know, the redhead, or was that the blonde? You haven’t changed much.”

“I like the new look.” He took a swig of his drink. She looked more sultry as a brunette, and a hell of a lot less innocent. “So tell me about this job of yours.”

Her chin jutted defiantly as her spine straightened, gaze infused with steel. She transformed before his eyes. “Track down my husband’s killer. I want that bastard dead.”

Break out the bullets, and bring on the bad guys. It never ceased to amaze him how easily a gal could convince him to do her dirty work. Saying no to Angie was just as pointless now as three years ago.

I'm a Contest Finalist!

Got this really cryptic email this evening. Just a photo and a one line message saying that I could add this to my website or blog! I'll take it!

Now, my first chapter of REDEMPTION FOR LIARS will be judged by an editor for Harlequin Intrigue. I am excited beyond words! Who cares if I win . . . wait . . . scratch that . . . winning would still be uber cool.

More importantly, I really can write better than a 5th grader. Or so I tell my students.

UPDATE: The scores were tallied and I came in 2nd place in my category! Not a win but it counts as legitimate fiction writing credit. Maybe an agent will look at my new and improved bio and realize that at least a few people out there think I have skills. Probably not, but it's worth a shot!