More Than Enough for Mindful Monday

How much is enough?

I asked that question the last time I posted this feature, way back on October 27 (has it really been that long?!). I thought then that I would be able to post here every other week, maybe plumping things up with a reblog or two, or combining it with Coffee and Conversation.

Well, that didn’t happen. Not the bi-weekly posting, as a stand-alone or in combination with another post. Nope, no reblogs, either.

What happened?

Well, I was pulled into a whirlwind of writing and life. At the end of October, we were still dealing with a family-related issue. The children and I were preparing for a  Halloween trip to visit friends in Central New Jersey. I was gearing up for NaNoWriMo: Sea Changes, the third (but chronologically first) of my Kifo Island Chronicles novels, was only an open-ended plan waiting to be birthed into a rough draft.

Sometimes, being mindful means being absent.

I know, I know. It sounds more than a little oxymoronic, but there it is. In order to give myself to my writing, and to my beloveds and the life we share together, I needed to let some things go.

I chose to  focus on the creative, light, and upbeat. There was something soothing in that, since the family issue raised strong emotions, and the novel dealt with intensely emotional and maybe polarizing topics.

Now the issue has been resolved in our favor, and my emotions are calming into new convictions and a preparation for action. I’ve finished the drafting, and won’t begin editing until January, so that the story can simmer.

And I’m back, a little sad to have been away so long, but also happy that I can return from a mindful, fertile, reflectively restful place. Because when I try to take on too many things, all at once, I end up feeling like Kaivaara does, in this excerpt I just discovered while rereading my Trueborn Weft Series fantasy novel-in-progress, Foul Deeds Will Rise:

Do you remember my ciphers, Shentaa?” The inner Huntress vanished, as Kaivaara assumed her outer form, rising to walk to a place where two large trees arched down to form something of an entrance, and, within, there were stonework benches for sitting, and a still small reflecting pool made of the same blue stone as that which formed the walk. Now, it gave back the image of Everdeep filled with its blazing gems.

I remember them, Kaivaara. They brought you comfort, it seemed, in a time when there was little enough of that to offer.”

I used them, to find the balance in my life, Shentaa. But, in this life, among these people, there are far too many variables. Each time I settle one, it multiplies exponentially.”

“I’m sorry, Kaivaara – I have not the understanding of that -“

It means that for each problem for which I Hunt an answer, and take my prey, there will be perhaps a hand more presented, and I must Hunt anew – but when I take those answers, there is a fourhand of difficulties – and then on, and on, and on – mayhap there will never be an ending to it.”

Shentaa laughed, and the Trueborn started, just as she always did – she had not a clear grasp of humor, mayhap because of her childhood of silence. “Ah, Kaivaara – you have discovered the nature of being grown. Ever it is so, for all of us.”

Then – there is no ending to it?”

“There is the Endhunt. Before that, none that I know.”

Then how do I go on, when all I do continues to set me further behind?”

You do what you are able, and leave the rest as though it were naught but a reflection in that pool.”

I think Shentaa gives good advice. Maybe, as often happens, I was really giving myself advice, when I wrote that passage…

And that’s one reason why, sometimes, I disappear a little from this blog. Sometimes, the things I most need to be mindful of are revealed to me in my fiction…where my subconscious mind often comes out to play hide-and-seek with me.

Are there things you need to let go of, when you seek to grow more mindful?

Do you have any hobbies or passions that clue you in to your own inner life?

I’d love to hear more about

your experiences!

Radiant Flowers on Table

For more Mindful Monday, please visit Silver Threading.


“Thank You, But No”: Sea Changes (Kifo Island Chronicles #3) for WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It was resurrected by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys, and is now in the capable fingers of Emily Witt, over at A Keyboard and an Open Mind.

For the last several weeks, I’ve been sharing from “Scavenger Hunt”, a Trip and T’Pol Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction story I wrote during Story A Day September 2015, as part of my overarching novel/series/ whatever it’ll become, The IDIC Romance.

If you came here looking for some TnT lovin’….I’m sorry, and I’m not…

Because I have something brand-new to share with you!

Yup – while I’ve been letting my favorite inter-species duo delight you with their approach to Captain Archer’s ‘team-building exercises’, I’ve been busily tapping on keys. I’ve now completed the 5oK NaNoWriMo goal, and kept on going. At the moment, I’ve written over 63,000 words in Sea Changes, the third of my Kifo Island Chronicles series-in-the-making.

And today, I’m ready to share. I’ll be serializing the first scene, where we meet our first of three POV characters, Karina Karanova.

Rather than introduce Karina through exposition, I thought I’d just dive into her story. Because that might be a bit disorienting, here’s the premise of Sea Changes, so you have something to go on…

In advocating for a dying girl seeking emancipation from controlling parents, can an overburdened young woman and a lonely young man find a future together?


This passage, and all I share from this scene, are/will be NaNo rough. My plan is to let this novel draft rest for December, and begin creating a revision plan in January – just in time for the “Now What?” months...

WIPpet Non-Math:

  • Today is November 18, 2015. I meant to get to this while it still was the middle of the day, at least for me, but…

    “Thank You, But No”

Karina sighed.

She hated everything about the clay. The texture, the smell, the way it stuck to her fingers if she didn’t wet it from the bucket at her side, and the way the wet slimy clay dripped over her fingers and down to her wrists, where it tickled. So did her nose, but she couldn’t scratch it without getting the gloppy mess all over her face, or taking the time to wash her hands.

She sighed again.

Would you like a cup of tea?”

She hadn’t heard the proprietress come up beside her, and now she had the hot flush of shame to deal with, and no high fur collar to hide herself behind. Why had she fastened her hair before she sat at this table?

I don’t mean to intrude,” the girl, whose name Karina had already forgotten, said softly. “But you don’t seem to be having much luck, and it’s easier to work the clay when you’re not tense. Tea might help, or coffee, if you’d rather.”

Thank you, but no.” Karina didn’t look up; she didn’t want to see the other woman – so young, and so free to live her own life in this place. Jealousy was a sin, and didn’t serve anyone. She thumped and pounded the mass of clay, which did nothing at all to cooperate with her.

Are you sure? I don’t mean to be forward – ”

“I don’t have time for tea.” *

*The final quotation marks are an add-on. The passage goes on further, but my brain won’t let me leave the quotes out, and I’m not ready to share the rest of the quotation, just yet.

Why is Karina working with clay when she hates it?

Why is she jealous of the proprietress?

Why does she have no time for tea?

Some of these questions may be answered – and others will certainly be posed- next week, so be sure to come back then to learn more about Karina and her story.

And, if you’re missing TnT, here’s the link to the final snippet of “Scavenger Hunt”, with links to all the other snippets.

I’m also still serializing the prequel to this story, “Mission Accomplished”, over at #8sunday. You can read the current snippet, “In the Court of T’Pol”, now, and the next segment goes live just after midnight on Sunday. There’s also a list so you can catch up, if you’re coming in late.

Want more WIPpet Snippets? You can find them, and even add your own date-related excerpt if you’re so inclined, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet to WIPpet!

The Not Sure What to Say Edition: Second Serving Sunday

A weekly peek backwards and a look ahead, from my little corner of the blogosphere…

Are you ready for a Second Serving?

Life Stuff:

Last Week’s Edition: Fertile Fall 

  • This week included the sudden onset of the potentially expected, yet still unexpected. No, I’m not going to say more now – matters are still unfolding, and we’re still processing. I will say that we’re all well, and the unexpected has already proven to be beneficial…so no need to worry. It’s just unexpected, not calamitous!
  • There’s been quite a lot of home and yardtending this week, since the weather’s turned cooler, with the promise of a more indoorsy focus in the offing.
  • ROW80 is  on hiatus until tomorrow. I’ve gotten my end of round and annual goals updates done, but haven’t yet posted my September goals update – hopefully, I’ll get to that later today  – the unexpected led to a bit of a writing and blogging backup. I’ll be polishing up my sponsor post during the day today, and sending it on to Kait for scheduling. Then I can settle on my ROund Four goals, and start tomorrow off right! =)
  • Story a Day is over until next May, and OctPoWriMo is well underway. I’ve enjoyed my first three poems, and today’s is simmering in the back of my mind as I type this.

Last week’s features:

ROW80:  The Writing Challenge That Knows You Have A Life.

Eight Sentence Sunday:  The Blog Hop For Everyone Who Loves to Write!

Mindful Monday:  Because Self-Awareness is Vital to My Joyful Life.

  • Going With My Flow:  When I honor my creative energies, amazing things happen. When I don’t? Not so much.

WIPpet Wednesday: Date-related WIP Snippets!

Coffee and Conversation: Grab a cup of something refreshing, and let’s chat!

  • Oops! Life got a bit sideways, and I didn’t sit down with you to converse over a cuppa this week.

SoCS (Stream of Consciousness Saturday): A weekly prompt to free the mind, and the words!

Story A Day September: Because once a year isn’t enough, and Trip and T’Pol won’t wait!

  • All These Thorns: Trip has armloads of thorny treasures, a waiting and grieving Vulcan – and too many questions from the Cap’n.
  • I’m not going to be posting more, now – but I have plans for later in the year, so stay tuned!


OctPoWriMo: Poetry Among the Falling Leaves

  • Full Moon Clouds: Nighttime walks with my daughter beneath a full moon and a skyful of clouds bring present connection and weave the future.

What’s Next:

  • Round Four of ROW80 is nearly upon us. I’ll be sharing my September progress, my Round Four goals, and my first update, which will include my October goals.
  • OctPoWriMo brings a month of poetic exploration.
  • 2015-16 homeschool paperwork, and a minor fix from last year’s reporting.

  • A few other matters need tending. More on that when they’ve been accomplished.

This week, on the blog:

  • #8sunday: More “Mission Accomplished” from that delicious inter-species duo, Trip and T’Pol.
  • Mindful Monday: Embracing my inner poet in a time of some strife, and finding solace there.
  • ROW80 Updates: On Sunday and Wednesday, for the duration of the round.
  • WIPpet Wednesday: From The IDIC Romance; something different, and yet, kind of the same.
  • Coffee and Conversation: When we push anti-bullying campaigns on kids, and glorify adults who bully, what message are we really sending?
  • Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS): A post based on the weekly prompt, TBA Friday. I’ll go wherever my wandering mind takes me…likely into poetry.
  • OctPoWriMo: A month long exploration of and celebration of poetry. I’ll be writing (and roughly revising) a poem each day, all month long.

In the Wilds of Internet-Land:

What Piqued My Interest This Week:

That’s what I’ve been up to, and will be getting up to.

What about you? Anything exciting happening in your corner of the world?

Any Second Servings to offer?

(Yes, I’m a little nosy. Writer thing.)

If you want to satisfy my perhaps inappropriate curiosity,

drop a line, a link, or an image into the rectangular receptacle below… 

or just pass around the serving platter!

Forest Grotesque: The IDIC Romance for SoCS

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: light”, used in any way we please.

For the rest of September, I’ll be playing SOCS a little differently. I decided at the eleventh hour to play along with the Story A Day in September challenge. OK, maybe it wasn’t so much me who decided, but the Vulcan and human in my head, who’ve been wanting me to get on with it, and write more of their stories, so they can be together…

Or, in the case of this story, apart, and somehow together, anyway…

I’ve used the “light” prompt here, and also this prompt from the Story A Day folks:

Your character is alone in the woods and finds blighted trees, drooping plants…rot and slime everywhere. It once was beautiful but overnight is turning into a swamp–its not natural. Your character must get to the bottom of this and stop it before something they love very much is threatened also. Extra points if your character actually doesn’t know this forest and ends up getting lost. Maybe the trees have turned evil and… *gulp* developed something of an appetite?

Will your character make it out alive?

Start writing, quick, so we can all find out!


I don’t own any part  of Star Trek, but Trip and T’Pol own space in my imagination, and so…this scene happens in the six-year gap, so no real spoilers.  Those who want to read more of this story arc can try these:

Forest Grotesque

“Trip! Commander, stand down! That’s an order!”

“Can’t. Stop. Have. To -”

“Liuentenant Reed, stun grenade!”


“Now, Malcolm!”


You hear the words, but they make no sense. From another place, another life. Not here.

Where am I?

Nothing and no one answered. Should there be such silence, in a forest? Surely there had been life here, yesterday. Yes. You can remember. There was a bird, and it sang to you, and you – both of you listened.

Your hand goes to your abdomen, low, protective. Not both of you. All of you.


“What happened, Captain?”

“He broke out of her quarters -”

“I strongly suggested a guard -”

“You didn’t suggest they wear combat armor. That would’ve been a good idea.”

“In what way?”

“It seems that neuropressure and mind melds aren’t the only Vulcan skills he’s picked up – she’s taught him the damned neck pinch!”


No. You peer at the trees. Their leaves are swollen. There is a human word; you learned it from his movies, and there is a series of images to match it in his mind. Grotesque. The leaves are grotesque, like something that would be used as a setting detail in a horror movie.

There was a time when you didn’t understand horror movies, or him. Now, you don’t understand this place, how the forest where you walked in the sunshine, and in the light of his small silver moon’s full disk, could be this fetid, festering place, reeking of decay….

“The smell, the smell -” It’s only a small whimper, taken by the chill damp of thick fog, which pulls it from your throat, forcing tendril fingers in, and you retch, double, vomit bile – yet again, yet again. But you won’t complain. Worth any price, these new lives you carry within you.

For them, you must find your way…





“What precipitated the use of a stun grenade, Captain?”

“He was trying to steal a shuttlecraft. No – he was stealing it. If we’d been a minute later, he would have been gone. What the hell’s wrong with him, Phlox?”

“Perhaps a great deal, Captain. Or perhaps nothing.”



Candlelight playing across his skin, your fingers reading the bioelectric signature that is his alone….your minds blending, moving closer to Attunement, to oneness….”never and always touching and touched…home….”

In the stillness, you hear the bird – only it isn’t a bird. No….and the music…it twists into and through the fog, like it did that night in San Francisco, and you were compelled to follow where it led…

To him.

To a different kind of home.

To a new life…

Two new lives…


“This isn’t the time for your Denobulan riddles, Doctor. My best friend’s incoherent and seems bent on getting himself killed. My First Officer, has been abducted.”

“I know all of this, Captain. I’m not being cryptic. It is quite possible, however, that these symptoms are caused by nothing other than T’Pol’s circumstances. They were very deeply joined when she was taken. It may be simply that the Commanders are pursuing her rescue with their typical determination.”


It wasn’t a bird. It was a harmonica, silvery and welcome, calling you, leading you….

But what of this rotted forest, and the place you remember, in sunlight, and in shadow?

“Trick of your mind, pepperpot. Or maybe mine. Ignore it…ignore everything but me, and the babies, and the music….can you? So I can feel you?”

You stop moving – you didn’t know you were running, tripping on roots, falling, tangling in thorny vines, until now. “The smells..”

“I know, I know. Can you remember what home smells like?”

“Mating. With you, and the candles…I remember….”

“Aw, hell, pepperpot, me too….gotta get to you…”

“Parted from me, and never parted…”


“What’s that alert, Phlox?”



“Their minds, Captain. See here, on the scan….”

“I’m not sure what I’m looking at.”

“This is a composite brainwave, Captain.”

“Composite? Of what?”

“I believe it is a composite of the Commanders – that they have, essentially, become one being, with the skills and memories of both. If I am correct, this may make it possible to find Commander T’Pol, and bring her home.”


Home. We gotta get home.

Home. Out of the sickened forest, out of the dark sucking fog and the shadows that meant to consume….


Will T’Pol make it home?

Will the babies be safe?

Where is she?

Read a revised and extended version of this story, with links to others in the “Not Jealousy” story arc.

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing?

Come join in – there’s just a few simple rules. Check out the brand-new #SoCS hashtag, or

Get more SoCS right here!

“Past Middlenight”: Foul Deeds Will Rise on WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She’s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway…

This week, I’m sharing more from Foul Deeds Will Rise, from an elderly and slow machine. Power adapters didn’t help, and the budget means further repairs or replacement need to wait a few weeks…

So, I’m sorry I’m late, and behind on comments and visits. I’m getting the hang of this machine, a little more every day…

Today, though, is a special day. My son, Jeremiah, turned fourteen years old – and I’m finding that somewhat surreal…

In honor of Miah’s special day, I offer you Vaara’s POV, as she settles into her role as Kai. I let him pick the project and character.

WIPpet Non- Math:

  • Today is September 2, 2015.
  • 14 sentences, for Jeremiah’s age.

“Past Middlenight…”

“…and the head of the Merchantwomens’ Guild, has thrice requested an audience with you, my Kai.”

Only when Visyl stopped speaking did Vaara begin to attend, and only the final phrase connected with any meaning in her mind. All that had gone before had been a seeming endless list of requests for audiences, matters of financing this or that project, the menus for the next moonsround, what entertainments would be offered in the Great Hall after…

“Arrange the audience, as you will Visyl. But not before dawning – I wish to run.”

“My Kai, it is well past middlenight. She will not now want to meet until afternooning.” Visyl smiled; she seemed never to be anything other than pleased, no matter what befell her, or how little Vaara attended her words.

“Past middlenight? Visyl, how can there still be so much left to tend to?” There was a stack of vellum pages in her lap, still – matters not yet discussed.

“It is the nature of being the Kai, my Kai.” Visyl’s smile never faded. “You are new to it, and all want to meet you, learn who you are, and in what way you might serve them – ”

Will Vaara learn how to be a proper Kai?

Will she be able to relax while running?

Is Visyl to be trusted?

I’ll be posting the next eight lines from this scene for #8sunday,  if you’d like to find out what’s next.

And for those looking for TnT fun, I offer you:

Yes, I’m playing along with the Story-a-Day September folks, because life wasn’t full enough (or because Trip vand T’Pol demanded it…they have things to share, apparently.) It’s not too late to join in!

Looking for more WIPpet Snippets, with chattier writers whose power adapters are A-OK? You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet to WIPpet!

And, now,  a song for my Montana-born boy!

“The Child of Her Soul”: Foul Deeds Will Rise for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday and 9:00 AM on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

It’s a second chance to share a small snippet of my current writing. Most weeks, I tie them back to my current WIPpet Wednesday post, so reading both can give a deeper peek…

This nine-sentence snippet follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet, Preying Upon Her. It’s from Foul Deeds Will Rise, Book #2 in my Trueborn Weft Series.

Shentaa is a new mother, apart from her nursling, Osiru, for the first time since his birth. She’s not sure exactly what to do with herself, and so she Runs, somewhat aimlessly, considering the powerful pull of her child, and realizing that she will never again be truly alone.

The Child of Her Soul

This day, though, was her own. Canivaar had pack matters to tend to; he’d offered to run with her, but she had wanted to begin with strength, and taking him from his work so that she would not be alone was not the action of a strong huntress.

And so Shentaa ran, until she became tired, and then she found a likely denning place under an overhanging ledge of rock, and curled herself into sleep, nose neath tail.

She was floating, near as soon as she slept, running above the clouds, but, somehow, the sodden air was filled with the scents of the world neath her…the scents of growing things and wild life lived in balance

But she wasn’t meant to be running in the Huntlands, or even above them. Nay, her hunt lay along a different trail, and she ran on, out of Canivaarii places, into Untribed holdings, intent on her prey – the Kai’s Keep, and the Kai, who had been as her child long before Osiru the Hidden had suckled from her breast, filled her womb…

She must see Kaivaara, and know that she was well.

Why she must, she knew not; questioned not. It was as it was, and she must, and the knowing it was enough to spur her on, to Run her swiftest –

She Ran, because Vaara, the child of her soul, had placed bonds upon her, and needed her.

Who is Kaivaaraa, and does she truly need Shentaa?

Is the dream a reflection of reality?

What does it mean, or dies it mean anything?

Where will it carry Shentaa?

Next week might bring the answers – or only more questions…

Want more #8Sunday? 


Preying Upon Her: Foul Deeds Will Rise on WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway…

This week, I’m sharing more from Foul Deeds Will Rise, and hoping my increasingly capricious power adapter will hold out until the replacements get here later in the week…so, in order to conserve what may be very limited battery power, I’m keeping this short and perhaps sweet.

Shentaa has recently given birth, and this is the first time she’s been separated from her infant son, Osiru…

WIPpet Non- Math:

  • Today isn’t August 19, 2015but this is the snippet I would have shared then, if I hadn’t shared A Pet Name?

  • So I’m being a rebel this week – or I’m time-traveling. You get to decide. =)

Almost 14 years ago, I was the new mother (of a ten pounds plus giant baby boy!)….

Preying Upon Her

Shentaa was alone, Running.

There had seldom in her life been a time when she was alone, and she hadn’t known, until a fiveday past, how much she enjoyed and was affrighted by it, together.

Mayhap it was that, though she was alone, she was not, in the same breath, nor would she ever be, now.

Once, she had thought her ties with the child called Vaara were the strongest bonds she would ever know, and, before the child, she’d thought it either her Pack, or her family and friends in the Seers’ Keep.

Then had come Solemating, and then, borne of that, Osiru…

It was the deepest thing of all, she thought now, to harbor a child within her own body, to grow it from her Solemate’s seed and her own egg, his blood, her Line….

They had created a new life, and now, she would ever be bound by it. By her son.

But, as much as she could be alone, in this breath, she was. Osiru was with his Huntmother; he was young for the first parting, but Trueborn. What had been denied to Vaara by their imprisonment, she was most determined would not be denied their child, even if he yet had no Tribed name. He would take his Huntmother’s milk as well as his mother’s, sleep in her embrace, be shown by her his first tiny sniffs and tastes of the Wolvenkeep’s life.

Truth, though – he was still with her, preying upon her mind and her heart…

How was it that a being so small in size could be so stealthy a Hunter, when all he had Hunted till now was her milk and his own baby rousal?

Shentaa knew not; knew only that it was so.

He Hunted her, and he would take her. She was his mother, and that made her his own.

But she would yet Run. He would be with Larys until dawning; that’s what they’d agreed upon, and she wouldn’t be the one to undo this most important matter, simply so that she could lay with him, suckle him, and breathe him in – truth, though, that is all she would Hunt, on the morrow.

Will all go well for Osiru’s first day with his Huntmother?

Will Shentaa be able to stay away?

What will she do with her time?

I’ll be posting the next ten lines from this scene for #8sunday,  if you’d like to find out what’s next.

Looking for more WIPpet Snippets, with chattier writers whose power adapters are A-OK? You can find those, or add your own date-related excerpt, by following the little blue froggy from WIPpet to WIPpet to WIPpet!