The Big Day – July 21, 2001

In honor of our anniversary, here’s a little wedding day story.

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Today is the big day, he thought. It’s finally here. It’s a beautiful July day. The sun is shining. The air is warm. The birds are singing. Flowers are in bloom. It’s the perfect day for a wedding. I’ve had a hair cut, I’m rested, and I’m ready to go. Everything is taken care of. My wife-to-be has thought of everything. All I have to do is take one tiny box of things to the hall and we are ready to roll. 

Tuxedo in hand, Eric headed out the door for the hall.  He jumped in the car, put the key in the ignition and discovered… it wouldn’t start!

“Okay, don’t panic,” he told himself. “Your brothers are in the wedding. They have to be there the same time as you. Hopefully, they haven’t left yet.” He quickly dialed his cell phone. Brian answered and said that he would be there to pick him up in about 5 minutes. Thank goodnessCrisis averted. Eric sat there silent for a moment, breathing a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, his brother’s car pulled in.  He grabbed his tux, hopped out of the car, and headed for Brian’s car. He got in, and they were on their way.

The hall was about a half hour from the house in a small town called Grand Rapids. Some thought it odd to have the wedding outside of their home town, but Eric and Cathryn had chosen Nazareth Hall because of its elegant ballroom and beautiful grotto which was just down the hill.  They had known from the beginning that they wanted an outdoor wedding, and once they saw the location, they just knew that no place else could possibly compare. Eric was deep in thought about all the plans they had made and the vows that they would take that afternoon, but quickly brought back to reality with a crash of thunder as they pulled into the hall parking lot.

Eric sighed heavily.  Oh great, now they would have to hold the ceremony inside. So much for the beautiful outdoor setting, he thought.  As the walked down the hallway toward the men’s dressing room he could hear all the women bustling about and moaning about the rain.  He knew Cat would be disappointed, but at least he couldn’t hear her sobbing.  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?  He wished there was something he could do, but there wasn’t.  All he could do now was put on the tuxedo, try not to get wrinkled, and wait.

He got dressed and looked at the clock. He still had forty-five minutes until the ceremony.  Then, there was a knock at the door.

“Where is the guest book,” his mother asked?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about the engraved cake server and the party favors?”

“I don’t know,” he said again.  “Go ask Cat.”

“I did.  She said that they were in the box that she gave to you.”

“Oh, crap!” he said. Though, his internal language was no doubt more severe.  He couldn’t control the weather, but the one thing that he could control, he’d already screwed up.  He had one responsibility that morning—to bring one small box. With all the car-related excitement, he’d managed to leave it behind. Okay, Eric. Think. How can you fix this? You better think of something or you’ll be in the dog house before the honeymoon even begins.

There were only about forty minutes left before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. The box was sitting in the trunk of his car in his parents’ driveway, a half an hour away. He’d never make it there and back. He had to find someone that he knew well enough to impose upon, but wasn’t that close to, as that  person would most definitely have to sacrifice seeing the ceremony. The possible options were slim, but he decided to ask his best man’s girlfriend, Emily. She was sensible enough to get the job done, a good enough friend, but not that good. As long as she made it back for the reception it would be fine. He quickly searched her out and she agreed. Of course, he had to draw a map for her, since she had only recently moved to Ohio from Baltimore, but he was reasonably confident that she could handle it. He sent her on her way and returned to his dressing room to pray. He usually considered himself an agnostic, but this seemed like a good time to ask for a little help from above.

By the time the hour rolled around, the rain had let up enough to chance holding the ceremony in the grotto. It was risky, but far more aesthetically pleasing than the alternative. They took the chance and it paid off.  The ceremony went off without a hitch and without a drop of rain. The gods—if you believe in them—were even smiling on Eric that day. Or maybe they were shining on his more religious bride. Either way, as the wedding ended and Eric and Cathryn joined hands to walk up the aisle as husband and wife, the sun came peeking through the clouds. They quite literally walked off into the sunset. They walked up the hill into the lovely ballroom. Eric, still sweating just a little, held his breath as they walked into the hall. His eyes darted around the room. He watched Cat smile when she saw all the decorated tables—tables with party favors. He saw friends and family lining up to sign the guest book, and glanced over at the cake table just long enough to notice the shiny silver engraved serving set.  Thank God, he thought. Or at least, thank Emily!

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The Best Vacation Ever!

I have friends who complain about having to make all the arrangements for their family vacations. They book all the flights, all the hotels, and all the tours. All their husbands need do is show up. For many of them, this is a bone of contention in their marriages. I don’t have that problem. My husband is the best vacation planner ever. He does all the work. My biggest concern is how to fit a week’s worth of clothing in a small carry-on suitcase and how to keep up with him as he speed-walks through seven days of jammed-packed, magical madness. Our recent trip to Walt Disney World was no exception to the rule.

img_0561We explored the wizarding world of Harry Potter and spent time with the Simpsons at Universal. We laughed, danced, and got splattered with goo in the front row at the Blue Man Group. After a full day at the Magic Kingdom, we witnessed the 360 fireworks display from Frontier Land and saw Cinderella’s Castle decked out in all its patriotic glory. At Animal Kingdom, Expedition Everest took us to the top of a mountain and Kilimanjaro Safari took us on a trip through the img_0722heart of Africa. We ate, shopped, and polka danced our way around the world at Epcot. Hollywood Studios sent us to the Twilight Zone in the Tower of Terror and through the history of film on The Great Movie Ride. We had lunch in the Beast’s castle, sampled Mexican and German cuisine, enjoyed the music and Shepherd’s Pie at an Irish pub, and were wined and dined at Iron Chef Morimoto’s Asia. And those are just a few of the highlights.

I do buy in to the idea that Disney is the “happiest place on Earth”. It must have magical powers of some kind, because the children didn’t fight. Or at least they fought less than usual and my husband managed his usual lead and averaged thirteen thousand steps a day while still nursing a sprained ankle. As for me…  My ankles swelled and developed what is affectionately called “Disney Rash” from the heat radiating off the pavement. Between the sweat, water rides, and sporadic downpours it felt rather like a week-long wet T-shirt contest and there was nothing sexy about it. And I’m still not certain I won’t end up having a time-delayed stroke from all the colored, flashing lights of the Mickey Mouse bubble blowers I was exposed too on a nightly basis. But, it’s all part of the experience. Good and bad, it’s all woven into the tapestry of memories that will last a lifetime. I’m blessed to have had the time with my loved ones on what the kids are still calling “the best vacation ever”.

How will we—or should I say he—ever top this one? I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m going to spend next week getting reacquainted with my couch. I’m going to watch soap operas and start on the pile of books I have left to read. Thank God my kids will be at sports camp for five days, because I need a vacation from the vacation!

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? – Confessions of an Indie Author

The response to my first book was overwhelmingly good. It seems most of you who read it—other than the science fiction fans who were conned into trying a romance—enjoyed it and said you would recommend it to others. You were Once in Love with Lily, but will you be Always in Love with Lily? That remains to be seen. I hope you will be. I think you will be. I know I am. But that’s the thing about putting out the second book. While I’m incredibly excited to share the next part of the story with the world, I also feel a tremendous amount of pressure. Pressure to perform. Pressure to please. Pressure to live up to the hype of the first book.

As many of my readers know, I’m a middle school Spanish teacher by day. I have no degree in journalism. I didn’t dream of being a writer as a child. I let my vivid imagination play out with play-acting and elaborate Barbie doll dramas. I only start writing several years ago on a dare. Because of my lack of formal training, some doubt my writing ability. One of my best friends recently admitted that she only read my first book because she felt obligated and was completely surprised to find out that the story was actually good. So, I had a lot to prove from day one, to everyone, including myself. The thing is, I’m just as concerned at proving myself with the second book as I was with the first. I love the story. My editors loved the story. But what about the public? I still find myself thinking, “I’m no Nora Roberts. What if the first book was a fluke?”

To add to my anxiety, I’m a people-pleaser by nature. I worry about disappointing my readers. So many people out there have said they loved Lily’s and Tony’s story. They’ve been waiting three long years for the sequel. What happens if the story falls flat? I mean, I laughed. I cried. I lived and loved right along with those characters. I can’t wait to see what happens next. But what if the readers don’t feel the same? Whether it’s my books or my fan fiction, they have come to expect a certain caliber of writing. They want the emotional, romantic, exciting story with loveable, compelling characters. What if I didn’t deliver?

Once in Love with Lily has sold hundreds of copies, four to five times that of the typical independently published novel. It has over fifty reviews on Amazon with 4.9 stars. The reviewers at The BookLife Prize in Fiction had this to say:


Lily cover“A big-hearted romantic melodrama with cinematic movements and charming storytelling makes a familiar trope soar.  In this well-paced storyline, Lillian (Lily) George, knowing her disquieting past, recognizes the value of her current affluent lifestyle until she unexpectedly reconnects with her first love. Zany secondary characters leap off the pages, while the tension created as Lily decides her future keeps readers holding their breath until the very end and hoping for a sequel.”

Alwaysinlovewithlily_Kindle-300ppiWill the sequel Always in Love with Lily live up to the hype? Well, there’s no point in worrying now. There’s only one way to find out. Put it out there and let the public decide. So far reviews are good. But the ball is in your court, romance readers. Go for it! Read it and let me know what you think. You can comment, you can tweet me @catkthompson, or find me on Facebook. Or, even better, leave a review on Amazon, GoodReads, or Barnes & Noble. No need to be prolific. Just click the stars and write a sentence or two. Reviews are what help authors and books get noticed and promoted by the big site algorithms. Every one helps, as does clicking on reviews by others that you find helpful.

In closing, I would like to offer my sincere thanks to my family, my beta readers, and my editors for their support you are the ones who have helped make my writing dreams possible. To my readers, your engagement and enthusiasm help  keep the dream alive. Thank you for being a part of my story.

 

 

 

 

 

#Writer Problems

Your computer updates and deletes all of your bookmarks on Explorer, so months’ worth of research is lost. You are frequently irritated by grammar and vocabulary errors, even on Facebook and Twitter. You’re supposed to be making a career out of writing, but you delete more than you write on any given day. These are just a few of the things you’ll find under the “writer problems” hashtag. But if you ask me, the biggest “writer problem” isn’t something that happens to the writer. The problem is the fact that their families are forced to live in a constant state of paranoia.

Anything they say can and may be used against them in a future novel. If they’re lucky, it was something funny or debonair that will be quoted by the hero. If they’re not so lucky, words they used during an argument will be uttered by the snarky jerk of a protagonist.

Their spouses hear voices. They develop multiple personalities as they walk around talking to themselves in strange accents as they “write” dialog. And the poor things never know if their author partners are just letting their creative juices flow or if their just one step away from a DID or schizophrenia evaluation.

The author’s search history can be downright disturbing. My poor husband borrowed my computer to google something one day and when he pulled up my browser, he was met with one disturbing book mark after another.

• Cancer
• Can I drink beer with one kidney?
• Early signs of pregnancy
• What to Expect When Expecting Twins
• Causes of Erectile Dysfunction

The poor guy didn’t know if I might have cancer or I was pregnant. And the bigger question… If I was pregnant, who on earth was the father, since I had apparently already diagnosed him with Erectile Dysfunction.

Writing is hard work, to be sure. It takes hours and hours of research. You have to live and relive every scene you write just to make sure you get it right. Once you’ve written it, you worry if your brilliance is actually total crap. But at this point, I think I’m glad I’m the writer. At least I know what’s going on in this wicked head of mine. I know why I spontaneously break out in a fit of laughter or burst into tears while staring at my computer screen. Men and women have always had a hard enough time understanding each other to begin with, but my poor husband doesn’t stand a chance.

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Image from The Writer’s Circle on Facebook.

Reasons to Write

by Kate Messner
by Kate Messner

If you are a teacher of writing, a teacher who wants to write, or maybe even a writer who wants to be taught, I’ve got a book for you. I attended an educational conference recently and one of the sessions I sat in on was “Teachers as Writers”. It was a session designed to help teachers discover their inner writers, to share their writing with students and to help them help their students to blossom as writers.

During the workshop, the presenter used two different activities from 59 Reasons to Write by Kate Messner. Each of the 59 prompts offers a new approach to a fun writing exercise.

Here are my creations from our brief session. They are not earth-shattering pieces, but they were thought-provoking exercises and they are proof that you don’t have to write a novel to be a writer. Anyone can write with a little push and a little inspiration.

Six Words on Me
Teacher, writer, speaker, wife, mother, friend.
I am a crazy Spanish teacher.
I am a novelist by night.
I’m mom to two great kids.
I love my sometimes silly husband.
I speak well and speak often.
My friends make my world fun.
Plainly pretty, slightly plump, wildly entertaining.
General Hospital fanatic, Team Scorpio forever!
I laugh often and laugh loudly.

A Poem of Home
Home is where your memories lead you.
Way back…
To a much simpler time and a better place.
With some homemade cookies and a warm embrace.
Warm summer breezes and grandma’s face.

Are You Wiser Than a 1st Grader?

Have you ever dreamed of doing something, but let someone talk you out of it? Have you ever had a dream that went unfulfilled because it seemed silly or because life’s responsibilities got in the way? If so, you may not be wiser than a first grader. We adults believe ourselves to be experienced and wise, when in fact, there are some very important lessons we can, and should, take from our kids.

Dream. Children dare to dream. They believe they can do or be anything. Astronaut, president or Michelin star chef. My daughter is a classic example. She thinks she’s going to grow up to build the first combination homeless shelter/animal shelter/food pantry. The practical adult in me asks where the money is in that, but in her mind, that doesn’t matter. She might just earn the money as a dancer or singer since she’s clearly better than Taylor Swift. She believes she can change the world. Her life is full of possibilities. She is limitless. She can do it all. Even make her own “ chocolate” cookies with flour, butter, and Hershey’s syrup. She doesn’t care if it doesn’t work. She doesn’t give up. She tries again, because she still believes she’ll find a way to do it. She doesn’t care about “rules”. Eventually she will find the “right” way, or invent her own new way.

Desire. Kids find their passion and run with it, no matter what others think. My son has loved learning about animals since he was old enough to talk. He was so interested in them that it almost became an obsession. He refused to read a fiction book until he was forced in the second grade. He is that funny kids who stops at the zoo exhibit and instructs other on-lookers about the genetic make up of the Okapi. He loves Pokemon and Skylanders. Never mind the fact that when he tries to explain these games to me I can only stare in confusion. He likes hot tea and the color pink, even though that isn’t “normal” for boys his age. He doesn’t care if others think he’s silly. He just knows what he likes. That’s the beauty of a kid’s mind. It doesn’t matter what others think of them. At least until they’re in Middle School!

Determination. Children find a way to do what they want. They let know obstacle stand in the way. Until they are old enough to “know better.” One day we made a tub of cookies. Audrey wanted those cookies so badly she could hardly stand it, but they were supposed to be for a bake sale, so we hid them on top of the fridge where we thought she’d never find them. We should have known then that our strong-willed girl wouldn’t rest until she got what she wanted. Later that day, while we were watching television and she was supposed to be sleeping, she snuck into the kitchen. She climbed on a chair, pulled down the tub, and stole away to her room. She crawled into her closet and shut the door, and there she stayed until she had eaten every last one of those cookies.

Stolen cookies might be a silly example. And to be clear, I’m not really encouraging you to lie, cheat, or steal to get what you want. But when was the last time you wanted something so badly or worked so hard until you got it? Somewhere along the way, we grow up. We become “wiser”, but along with that wisdom comes a loss of innocence and the idea that we “can’t” do things. These limitations seem real, but they are often self-imposed.

Today, instead of asking you to think like mature adults, I’d like to encourage you to be more childlike. Find your passion. Believe that you can do anything. Or at least try it. And when life tells you that you can’t have any cookies, find a way around it. I never thought I would be a published author. But with a dream, desire, and determination, anything is possible. Take up painting. Take a cooking class. Do something you’ve always wanted to do, if not as a profession, than for pleasure and fulfillment. If you’re waiting for the right time to begin a new project, if you’re waiting for some kind of sign, I’ll give you one!

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Fieldtrips Are Not for the Faint of Heart

Every year as I pack for the 8th grade Washington D.C. field trip, my husband eyes my suitcase with contempt as if I am abandoning him and embarking on a week-long vacation while he’s stuck at home with two squalling children. She gets a week away, a stipend, free food, and sight-seeing, he thinks. But I know that this trip is far from a fun-filled week away from the family. Yes, it can be fun, but it is also a lot of hard work. That Monday morning as I board the bus, I morph from Spanish teacher into bus leader and subsequently become nurse, counselor, and mother to fifty-six. That’s right folks… these fieldtrips are not for the faint of heart—especially when you are on the principal’s bus with the kids who need to be kept in line—the rowdy boys, the girls who buck the dress code, and yes, sometimes the kid who started the fire in the school bathroom several weeks earlier.

Every year is eventful to say the least, but one trip always sticks out in my mind as the trip to end all trips. I began that week armed with aloe for sunburns, bandages for turned ankles, duct tape for broken flip flops, and a pair of small scissors for gum-in-hair removal—the usual. But after a few hours it became clear that things were going to get even more interesting. The girls behind me on the bus began to perk about the text messages that were whizzing around about the drama between Eddie and Clara. At the first rest stop, Eddie from our bus had asked Clara from bus 2 to the Thursday night dance. Under pressure, Clara had said yes, but now regretted her decision, as she was actually hoping to go to the dance with Matt from bus 4. Clara wanted to back out, but at the second rest stop Eddie bought her jewelry, so the situation got awkward. Clara talked to him a few times, trying to let him down easy, but Eddie, being a different kind of kid, wasn’t very good at picking up social cues… like the pained look on Clara’s face when he did the old yawn and stretch at the Nationals game with Matt sitting just on the other side. We chaperones were worried about Eddie getting his feelings hurt. And since the three of them, Eddie, Clara, and Matt were all in my Spanish class together, the principal appointed me to help them sort things out.

As if that weren’t enough drama, later that week I was forced to invade a protest circle in front of the White House in order to extract one of our fourteen year old girls. Natalie, a bright but naïve girl of Middle Eastern decent, had walked up to the group of college students who were chanting in Farsi because she recognized the language her parents spoke and wanted to practice. She saw nothing wrong with it and neither did anyone else. At first. That is until I heard one of the college guys asked her where she was from and say, “Oh, well, now I have a reason to visit Ohio.” As red flags flew up, I charged in and escorted her away. She was confused by my concern, until I explained that the young man, obviously deceived by her beauty and maturity, was hitting on her. “Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe I should have gotten his number. My parents could have traded me to him for a goat!” She wandered off toward the bus with the rest of the kids as I breathed a sigh of relief, but my relief was short lived.

By the time we reached the Department of Treasury less than a block away, a new situation had arisen. The same girl was being approached by afore mentioned fire-starter, Ned. Ned, another socially challenged young man, had been ogling her all week and talking to her any chance he got. Being the kind-hearted girl she was, she laughed and joked with him each time, not realizing how easy it would be for him to misinterpret her “Kindness”, which of course, he did. As he crossed the street toward her in the darkness that night, I knew what was going to happen. I saw it coming like a train wreck and I was powerless to stop it. Sure enough, shy, quiet Ned managed to summon up the courage to ask Natalie to the all-important dance. As I heard the words come out of his mouth I cringed, fearful of what the rejection might do to his fragile psyche. Thankfully, Natalie, though clearly out of Ned’s league, handled things with more grace than most teenagers–or adults for that matter–and explained that she thought he was a very nice boy she already had a boyfriend at another school and just wouldn’t feel right about it. She later asked the principal and me why we thought he had asked her and the principal once again called on Relationship Counselor Cat to explain how being too nice to a boy can easily be misconstrued as flirting.

Some years aren’t quite as exciting. Some years, the big deal is being called to boys’ hotel in the middle of the night to deal with a Swedish-Fish-related eye injury. But every year I return home thoroughly spent. I collapse on the couch, thankful to be off duty for the first time in five days. And every year hubby asks me the same question. Why do you do it? I understand why he asks. I ask myself the same thing at the beginning of every trip. But by the time the week is over, I know without a doubt that I will do it all again in a heartbeat. I’ll do it because it’s an adventure. Because even though I’ve seen the White House nine times, every trip will be different. I’ll do it because I love the history of our country and I love seeing it rediscovered every year. And I’ll do it because I love those kids, and I love watching them as they make memories that will last a lifetime. It is not an easy job. It is at times at times exasperating and exhausting. But it is, above all, rewarding. So much so, that I’d do it for free. But I’ll take the $700… as long as their offering.

Sin City Is Not Just for Sinners

I have a friend who insists she’ll never go to Vegas. When asked why, the only reason she can come up with is that it’s all about gambling and sinning. Now, I know there is some truth to that. You’re faced with slot machines the second you step of the airplane. You can walk around with open containers 24/7 and… Shhh! Prostitution is legal. But my husband took me on my first trip to Las Vegas last week, and I can honestly say that those things were some of the farthest from my mind. Based on my experience, Sin City is Summer 2015 227not just for sinners. There is truly something for everybody.

If your idea of “the arts” is iconic Vegas burlesque with female body parts and feathers, Jubilee or Fantasy might tickle your fancy. But for those who are true theater-lovers, you can catch any kind of show from Broadway’s Jersey Boys to Cirque de Soleil Beatles Love as we did. You can see old-fashioned song and dance acts like Donnie and Marie. You can enjoy the comedy stylings of folks like Kathy Griffin and Carrot Top, though, I should point out that this is not a personal endorsement. I still have no idea why Carrot Top is famous. You can catch a magic show with David Copperfield or, for the best of both worlds, a magic and comedy show with Penn and Teller, which I would highly recommend.Summer 2015 243

If it’s action you’re after, the options are endless. We drove a Lamborghini, a Ferrari, and an Audi R8 in Lake Mead National Recreation Center, reaching speeds I’m not allowed to mention. We flew in a sixteen passenger plane to the Grand Canyon, rode a roller coaster at New York, New York, and rose 550 feet up on the High Roller, the highest observation wheel in the world. If you’re even more daring, you can sky-dive, zip-line, or bungee-jump. And if you prefer the historical take, visit the Mob Museum and then follow up by learning to shoot machine guns. Summer 2015 205

Once you’ve worked up an appetite, take your pick of restaurants from any corner of the world. Dine on meatloaf and burgers at the American Grille at the Rio, Brioche from Le Café in Paris, or Sushi from Japonais at the Mirage. We did all of the above, but my personal favorite was the five course Hell’s Kitchen Tasting Menu at Gordon Ramsay’s STEAK. Between the Scallop Risotto, Beef Wellington, and Sticky Toffee Pudding with warm toffee sauce and brown butter ice cream I don’t know which would be my favorite. Summer 2015 306

I will confess we did gamble while we were there—for approximately ten whole minutes. But to be honest, we’d have been done after five if we hadn’t been waiting for our free drinks. That’s how they get you! On our trip home the phrase “next time” came up several times. We discussed which restaurants we would re-visit, which hotel we might stay in, and the fact that we still need to take a gondola ride at the Venetian. Oddly enough, which slots we would hit never came up. Because believe it or not Las Vegas is not all about poker, slots, and booze. Sure, it’s there if you want it, but if you have any kind of self-control, you can avoid it and you’ll never miss it. If you’ve never been to Vegas don’t let wild tales of good people gone astray keep you from booking a trip. Trust me, from the Venetian to Caesar’s to Paris, a stroll down the strip is like a trip around the world and whether you want to jump out of a plane or swim with dolphins the opportunity is there. In Vegas, anything is possible. Summer 2015 169Summer 2015 197

Toastmasters: Where Authors Are Made

Toastmasters: Where Authors Are Made. Go ahead, fellow Toastmasters. Consult your manuals. Check the Toastmasters International site. No, you are not crazy. The real slogan still reads Toastmasters: Where Leaders Are Made. But I think most Toastmasters would agree that the organization helps us to grow in a great number of ways. We become better speakers, true leaders, and in many cases, real writers. If you google the topic, you will find an assortment of articles and podcasts about it and testimonials from individual members who have become published authors. It stands to reason that Toastmasters would be beneficial to those of us looking to publicize and promote our books. But I’d like to share with you a few of the ways Toastmasters helped me with the writing process itself and allowed me to take Once in Love with Lily from a fun, little National Novel Writing Month project to a published novel.

First, crafting speeches gave me an edge when it came to structuring my story. In the beginning, I struggled with the story arc. While the action was intriguing, it lacked the proper flow. Then one day, my editor, fellow Toastmaster Eileen James, said to me, “Think about how you put together a good speech. You begin by thinking about the end. Where do you want to go with this speech or story? What is the intended ending? Now, how do you get there? Remember to tie the ending back to the beginning to satisfy the audience’s need for cohesiveness.” A novel is a bigger project than a speech, but it still has an introduction, body, and conclusion. Once I started thinking of it that way, I was able to put together a story that was grounded, but showed growth, as the characters learned real lessons.

Second, through my experiences as an evaluator, grammarian, or ah-counter, I learned to become a good listener. This can be very helpful when coming up with ideas for stories. (Consider that fair warning that anything you say can and may be used against you in a future novel!) In addition, it helps to create realistic, natural-sounding dialog. I’ve become accustomed identifying patterns of speech, accents, verbal ticks, colorful quotes or phrases. I’m not that creative after all. I could never have come up with something like “He’s all hat and no cattle.” But bits like that are the things that make characters real and, I hope, make the dialog come alive on the page.

Third, as early as project four in the Competent Communicator Manual “How to say it” we are taught to look at word choice, to choose words that paint a vivid picture and convey the most accurate visual or explanation possible. If I hadn’t known “how to say it”, I might have kept descriptions simple with something like: “As she walked down the streets of New York, she couldn’t help but notice how crowded and noisy it was.” But thanks to my Toastmasters training, I came up with this:

She headed down 8th Avenue through the throngs of people already crowding the streets. “Ah, New York,” she thought. “The honking taxis, the charming street vendors with their poached sunglasses and purses, and the faint smell of homeless that lurks just off the main drag really give it a certain je ne sais quoi.” She crossed the street against the light along with the natives, leaving a gaggle of tourists in the dust. (Excerpt from Once in Love with Lily by Cathryn K. Thompson)

Which example did the better job of transporting you to the streets of NYC? Of course, the second example would be pretty wordy for a typical 5-7 minute manual speech, but in a novel there is room to elaborate.

I can’t say that Toastmasters has taught me much about romance. There is a code of ethics to contend with, after all. But it certainly has helped me to hone my writing skills, to tell a story with a goal or lesson, to depict true-to-life characters and conversations, and to choose the best way to say it when it comes to setting the scene or conveying emotions. I never knew I had an author in me. Maybe you do too. You never know when or where inspiration will strike. When it does, Fellow Toastmasters,  take advantage of your already vast experience. Write it down. Develop it. Tell your own story. Even if you have to publish it under an assumed name! Show the world what Toastmasters has done for you.  If you’re not a Toastmaster, visit a club near you and experience it for yourself. Toastmasters: Where Leaders… and Authors… Are Made.

What Happens in Washington

A belated Valentine’s Day gift for my fellow #GH #RnA fans… Enjoy!

What Happens in Washington

She sat at the hotel bar nursing her second gin and tonic. Blew out a breath and shook her head, trying to shake off her nerves about facing the inquisition at the Department of Justice the next day. She didn’t notice him come in.

He spotted her the moment he walked through the door. He’d know that silhouette anywhere. And she was wearing a red suit. He liked her in red.

“Excuse me, handsome,” said a young female voice, followed by a series of giggles.

He stepped out of the doorway, allowing the gaggle of young women to pass.

“Thanks,” one of them smiled, wiggling her way past him in a low-cut blouse and something made out of so little material it looked more like a scarf around her waist than a skirt. If she was trying to show off the goods, it had little effect on him. He smiled politely, but his eyes never really left the dark haired beauty at the bar.

He sauntered over and slipped up behind her. “This seat taken?” he asked.

Her lips curved gently upward. Without turning around she answered, “I was saving it for my partner in crime.”

“I guess I should be on my way then.”

She tipped her head back to look at him and caught sight of his charismatic grin. “Like hell!” She spun around on her stool and hopped off, throwing her arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you were gonna make it,” she said as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You didn’t think I’d really leave you to face this alone, did you?” he said, folding his arms around her waist and rocking her gently.

She didn’t answer, only held on more tightly.

“Anna?” he said, pulling back to look at her.

Her eyes glistened with emotion, but she tried to cover with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey, now! Are you really that worried or just that happy to see me?”

“Bit of both,” she admitted. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

He pulled her back in. “No worries, love. We’ll get through it. Together.”

“Together,” she repeated over his shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I’ve had two already.”

“Then you can buy me one. Or two. Sounds like I need to catch up.” He picked up her glass and took a drink. Gin and tonic? What? No Kir Royale?

“Somehow the thought of champagne in any form seemed inappropriate.”

Hmm. I’d suggest pousse-café, but since we’ve had no dinner, an after dinner drink is hardly—”

“I was going to suggest tequila.”

“Ha! Sure you were,” he said.

“What?”

“You can’t handle tequila.”

“I can too!” she insisted.

“No, you can’t. You never could. Don’t you remember that time in Laredo when we—”

“I remember it very well, thank you. You were obviously too drunk to recall—”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. Robert.”

“Put your money where your mouth is,” he said.

“Fine!”

“Fifty bucks says you’re out after two margaritas.”

“You’re on!”

“Fine. Bartender, two margaritas on the rocks, please,” Robert said.

“You got it. Cuervo?”

“No,” Anna piped up. “Patrón, please. Save the sour mix and give it to us straight. And make his a double.”

Robert glanced at her with his right eyebrow raised.

Her expression did not waver. “What? I’m just leveling the playing field, Robert.”

Robert eyed the bartender. The man’s face said, “This isn’t exactly a shot-of-tequila kind of establishment.”

“You heard the lady,” Robert instructed.

The bartender nodded. Returned a moment later and placed two glasses on the bar in front of them. He poured and walked away.

Anna chose one and raised it. Robert followed suit. “Two shots,” he said. “And when I win, I’ll see to it that you make it safely back up to your room, if I have to carry you myself.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Always.” He smiled. “Cheers.”

They tapped their glasses together and threw back the shots. Anna slammed her glass down on the bar, then, since the bartender wasn’t looking, leaned over the bar and reached to pick up the bottle from behind the bar.

Robert couldn’t resist giving her behind a loving tap as it presented itself.

She shot him a cautionary look. When he answered with another charming grin, she gave up trying to look annoyed and moved on. “Right,” she said as she refilled their glasses. “So, what’s our plan for tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No plan,” he said. “We play it straight. The truth. Appeal to their sense of reason.”

“That’s it?”

“It is what it is. What we did, we did for a reason.”

“A very good reason.”

“Exactly.”

“And if they don’t listen to reason?” she said, worry creeping into her voice.

“Then we pray that Frisco can talk some sense into his buddy, Mitchell What’s-His-Name.”

“The Assistant Inspector General?”

“Right,” he said, gulping down his second round.

“And what if he can’t?”

He shrugged. “We request adjoining cells and hatch a plan to make a break for it at the first opportunity.”

“Robert!”

“Then, we go dark, find a nice deserted island and brew up that bucket of Mai Tais.”

She shoved him, but couldn’t help smiling. “I’m serious, Robert. Come on!”

“Well, what else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.”

This time he poured another round and after downing his he continued. “Let me ask you this,” he said, concentrating on forming his lips around the words. He refused to acknowledge that the Patrón was beginning to get to him. “If you had it to do over again, would you do it any differently?”

She toyed with the shot in front of her, her lips pursed, face contemplative. “No. We did what was right. For Robin.” She picked up the glass and shot it.

“For us,” he said, taking hold of her free hand.

She turned to look at him. “For us,” she repeated, tearing up. “I can’t second guess that.”

“Well, then, there it is.”

She nodded. “I guess so.”

“So…” He hesitated, looking for the right words. He could see she was shaken right now and she was depending on him to be her rock. He wanted to give her that sense of security, but in reality, he was just as concerned as she was. He had to act calm and fake it well.

“What?” she asked, waiting for his words of wisdom.

“For now, we wait and see. And in the meantime…”

“Yeah?”

“We enjoy tonight.”

“What did you have in mind? A White House picture stop?”

“Ha! No. Are you hungry?”

“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I could use something to go with the tequila.”

“Shall we acquire a table?”

“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m no longer in the mood to sit around and act polite. We could go up and order room service or—”

“I’ve got a better idea. Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“You go on up to your room and I’ll make a take-out run. Meet you up there.”

She hopped off the stool and gathered her bag. She held up her arms as if to say, hey, Robert, I’m still standing.

He stood, smiled, took out his wallet. “Take that with you.” He nodded in the direction of the tequila.

“Really?”

He threw a fifty dollar bill down on the bar. “That ought to cover it.”

She watched him stroll confidently toward the door. “Oh, Robert,” she called after him.

He turned and flashed a knowing look. “Three oh two,” he said, tapping a finger to his temple. He winked and walked out.

She shook her head and smiled then, craftily slipped the bottle into her bag and sashayed coolly out of the bar without anyone paying her a second glance.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Robert arrived at her door. He could hear music playing faintly beyond the door. Anna answered, now in a pair of black yoga pants and a matching tank. She looked feminine, but strong, Robert thought. Who ever said only men got better with age? She was still an incomparable beauty, even in workout clothes. He stared a little too long at her shapely form, prompting her to say, “Well, don’t just stand there, Robert. Get in here. ”

“Yeah, of course. Here you go,” he said. He held up a plastic take out bag as he brushed past her.

“Took you long enough,” she said as she turned down the radio.

“Sorry. I had to take a cab. China Town was a little too far away.”

“What? Chinese? You’re kidding!” She rushed over to the desk where he was unloading the containers.

“Nope. Moo Shoo Pork or Chicken Chow Mein.” He held a take-out container in each hand.

“Oh, my God, I love you, Robert Scorpio!” She snatched the box out of his hand and lunged for a pair of chopsticks.

He shook his head and laughed. He grabbed another pair of chopsticks and joined her as she sat cross-legged on the bed. “So,” he started as he flopped down against the head board and crossed one ankle over the other, “what’s new?”

“Ha! Well, not much. My boyfriend took over the mob, I lost my badge, and now I ‘m just hanging around waiting to find out if I’m going to be indicted. You know, same old, same old. You?”

“Oh, bailed Holly out of a jam again, got stuck in Wisconsin bored out of my mind on a bloody counterfeiting case of all things, and now I’m here waiting to find out if my ex and I are gonna get matching jumpsuits.”

She took the bottle of Patrón off the nightstand. “That calls for a drink,” she said,  taking a healthy swig directly from the bottle. She passed it to him.

He put down his Moo Shoo Pork and grabbed the bottle.

She watched his blue eyes sparkle as he took his turn. “You know something? I think orange goes better with your coloring than mine,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I think you’re going to look a lot better in that jumpsuit than I will,” she laughed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Maybe. But you’ll still look a lot better out of it,” he chuckled with a hand on her thigh.

“Robert!” she giggled, sitting up and putting on a shocked façade.

“Just the facts, love. Just the facts.” He looked over at her, his eyes still twinkling.

She was caught off guard. There is was. That old familiar feeling. That gentle pull in her core that spread through her body like a warm current. He felt it too, she thought. She could tell by the suddenly seriously, slightly wanton looked on his face.

He saw the pink in her cheeks and, he thought, her breath visibly caught. But then, maybe she was just feeling the tequila. He didn’t dare read too much into it, did he? He cleared his throat. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She shrugged and rolled her head around as if loosening up her neck. “Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” She leaned back on the pillows and took another bite of Chow Mein. “I told you, I’m not the one who can’t handle my liquor. You, Mr. Scorpio, you look a little peaked.” She glanced at him sideways.

He took another swig from the bottle. They sat in silence for a minute before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about you and Duke.”

“Are you?”

“I am if that’s what you wanted. But he hurt you, Anna. And I—”

“Again!” she shouted.

Surprised by the force with which she said it, his eyes got wide.

“Again, Robert! I’m an intelligent woman, aren’t I?”

“You’re brilliant,” he answered.

“So why do I do it? Hmm? Why do I fall for his lies over and over again? He plays me for a fool every time.”

“Look, Anna—”

“And what’s more, he tries to find fault with me, to draw attention to my mistakes in order to justify his own actions. Well, not anymore, Robert. I’m finished!”

“You won’t get any argument from me,” he assured her.

“I’m over him.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Oh, I’m so over him,” she repeated, nodding. “Hell, I kissed Sloane on New Year’s Eve!”

“Sloane! Really?”

“Yes. Though I can’t think why. Just convenience I suppose. ”

“What kind of kiss are we talking about here?”

“What do you mean? Just a kiss.”

“I mean, was this a peck on the cheek, or a full-fledged I’m in to you kind of kiss?”

A new emotion shone in his eyes. “Robert,” she asked, “You’re not jealous, are you?”

He shook his head. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“I could show you,” she said. She smiled at him and took the bottle out of his hand. After a rather lengthy swallow, she leaned in close. So close for a moment he thought she might actually be going to demonstrate. His heart fluttered. His lips parted in anticipation. Instead, she patted his cheek and whispered, “But, I’m not the type to kiss and tell, Robert.”

“Anna! You little tease.”

She laughed heartily, tickled by his obvious displeasure. She liked knowing she could still get to him.

He grabbed the bottle back and took another drink to wash down his disappointment.

They sat quietly again until Robert heard a song on the radio that piqued his interest. “This is decent,” he said.

“What?”

“The song.”

“Oh. Yeah. ‘Thinking Out Loud’,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“The song. That’s what it’s called.”

“Oh. It’s a nice melody. Almost danceable.” He nudged her. “Shall we?”

“What? Here?”

“Sure. Why not?” He stood and walked around the other side of the bed. Extended his hand.

“Why not?” She took his hand and followed him to what empty space there was in the center of the room.

He pulled her in with one swift movement that threw her off balance. She threw her head back and laughed again as she clung to him to keep from falling down. How he loved that laugh. It made him smile. She made him smile.

They turned and swayed to the music, forgetting, if only for a moment, the dreadful circumstances that had brought them together. When the song ended, he dipped her, and as he did, in her eyes he caught a glimpse of something that he could only imagine was tequila-induced lust. He was tempted to kiss her. Again. Still. But he didn’t. Instead, he straightened up and announced that it was getting late. And just like that, he was headed for the door.

“Already?” she said, shocked and a bit thrown by his abrupt departure.

“Well, I think I should probably let you get to bed, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. She turned off the radio and walked to the door to see him out. “I need my beauty rest, right?” she joked.

He smiled with unexpected tenderness as he touched her hair. “No. You’ve never looked more beautiful.” He swallowed. “But it’s a big day tomorrow. For both of us.”

She nodded again. “Good night, then,” she said. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. For dinner and for the dance.”

“Any time,” he said.

She closed the door behind him, exhaled forcefully, and set about cleaning up the leftover Chinese containers. But as she dropped the first one into the trash can she was hit with a wave of sadness and immediate clarity. For the first time in a long time she’d felt happy. Despite everything that was going on in her life, moments ago, with Robert, she’d felt happy. She was freer, safer in his arms than anywhere else in the world, and she didn’t want that feeling to end. Why fight it? She wanted… needed those arms to hold her. She spun around and ran for the door. “Robert!” she called as she opened it, expecting to find him half way down the hall. But there he was, standing right in front of her.

Her lips parted, her breath quick, her eyes pleaded with him. “Stay with me,” she whispered.

He didn’t wait for her to ask twice. He pulled her into his embrace and enveloped her in a kiss so deep and intense that an electrifying heat instantly spread throughout her entire body and her knees buckled beneath her.

“Oh, God, Robert!” She pulled away long enough to gasp for some much needed oxygen. “This is crazy, isn’t it?” she said as she slammed the door and tore off his jacket.

He shook his head. “Unexpected,” he said as he took her mouth again. He eased her backward toward the bed until they tumbled upon it and their lips broke apart as they both laughed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He hated to ask for fear she’d change her mind, but between the dance and the booze, he had to be sure she wasn’t acting on impulse alone.

“I’m not sure of anything anymore, Robert.” Her fingers worked quickly to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Except that right now, I want to be with you,” she said as she covered his neck and chest with feathery kisses. “But if you don’t want to—”

Before she could finish the sentence, he took her face in his hands and said, as if he’d never had any doubt, “I want you, Anna Devane.”

“So, take me,” she said.

In truth, whether he took her or she took him was debatable. They both gave as good as they got, enjoying, pleasing, ravishing each other until every desire had been met and they came crashing down on the mattress in a naked, jumbled, satisfied heap.

They lay there entwined with one another each trying to catch their breath. Anna sighed as Robert stroked her hair.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Her eyes closed, a smile spread across her face. She was half tempted to answer “like a woman”.

He felt her body jerk with silent laughter. “What?”

“Nothing.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “I feel wonderful,” she said, then added, “At least for tonight.”

“Hey!” He shook her shoulder gently. “Are you trying to tell me you were just using me for a one night stand?” he teased.

“Ha! No. Well, I mean, I don’t really know. Who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, let alone next week, right?”

“And what if everything works to our advantage tomorrow? What happens then? Is this a thing, you and me?” He pulled himself up to a seated position, forcing her to do the same.

She pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “Do you want it to be a thing?” She ran her finders through her hair, nervous to hear his answer. She wasn’t sure she was ready for a soul-searching conversation at the moment. She needn’t have worried.

“If it were a thing,” he asked, “would we get to have sex more than once every decade?”

She rolled her eyes. Classic Robert. “If it were a thing,” she said, “I would think that sex would a regular part of it.”

“Yeah?” “Definitely.”

“Goody.” He rolled over so that he was practically on top of her. “Because… I really do… like… having sex with you,” he said between kisses.

“You’re such a romantic, Robert. It’s no wonder I married you twice.”

“And who knows where this… thing goes. Third time’s a charm.”

She could feel his grin on her cheek. “Ha! Please tell me you’re joking!”

“Anna! That’s it!” he shouted. A second later he was out of bed, scrambling for his clothes.

She sat up. “Robert? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, love. I think I may have a solution to our problem.”

She stared at him, confused.

“Marriage.”

“Robert, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Marriage, Anna.”

“I heard that part.”

You, me, and J.D., we’re the only witnesses. Now, he sold us out, but without our testimony, they can’t build much of a case.”

Her brows still wrinkled and she shook her head. “So?”

“So? Don’t you see, Anna? If we’re married, they can’t make us testify against each other.

“Robert! That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why? It worked for Sonny and Carly Corinthos. Hell, for that matter, you and Hayward—”

“Oh, no! Don’t bring him into this.”

“I’m just saying, if it worked then, why not let it work for us?”

“Because it’s ridiculous!

“Why?”

She flopped back on the pillows with a sigh. “Because, Robert, even if I were to consent to this plan, which is a huge ‘if’, how would we manage it? We’re due at the Justice department in less than eight hours.”

“Easy,” he said. “There’s an all-night wedding chapel in China town. I noticed it when I went to pick up dinner. I thought it was odd at the time, but now…”

She was silent for minute and, for a change, her face gave away nothing about what she was thinking.

He approached, sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you say, Anna?”

“Is that your idea of a proposal, Robert? You’re slipping.”

“Forgive me,” he said. He obliged her, getting down on one knee.

She dropped her face in her hands in a fit of laughter laced with disbelief.

He pulled one hand away and held it. Clearing his throat, he started over. “Anna Devane, I love you. You know that. And if you’ll marry me tonight, I promise to spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, or at the very least… trying to keep you out of prison. I…”

“Okay. Stop!” she said. “Just stop.” She was practically snorting with laughter. “I’ll tell you one thing. This is a step up from the last hotel you proposed in.”

He smiled. “True.”

“Are you sure you’re not still married to anyone else?”

“Positive,” he said.

She shook her head at him. Bit her lip, but her eyes still shone with amusement.

“So, is that a yes? Anna, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife. Again?”

It was unbelievable. Stupid, even. But it just might work, she thought. She looked him in the eyes, swallowed hard, and said, “Yes.”

* * *

The following morning the two walked up Pennsylvania Avenue, neither one saying much of anything. They paused in front of the imposing neoclassic building.

Robert’s eyes followed the columns upward.

“The U.S. Department of Justice,” Anna said under her breath. She blew out a breath.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, putting on a brave face. “I think we’re gonna surprise a few people, don’t you?”

“Ah, never under estimate the power of the element of surprise,” he said with an air of certainty.

She gave a hesitant smile.

“Ready?” he asked.

“After you,” she said.

“No.” He took her hand in his. “Together.”

Anna caught a glimpse of the shiny gold band on her finger as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “For better or worse,” she said.

Robert gave her hand one more reassuring squeeze and together Mr. and Mrs. Scorpio ascended the steps to face their fate.