It’s 5 am, and my house is silent. With coffee brewing, the fireplace warms the chilly room where I sit snuggled under a blanket getting my hands to work through their cold stiffness to begin typing. A small loving dog joins me on either side as another story begins, an idea is polished, a word is changed, or a character comes to life. Before anyone else is awake, before anyone calls “Mom”, before the world begins to glow with the first rays of morning light, this is my writing time. Of course, then the usual get the kids going, pack lunches, feed the dogs, and make sure anything that needs to have my signature is signed and put in the correct backpack takes over, and the day begins. Writing continues after the barrage of morning Mom/wife duties has been completed. It is a definite change from when I actually started this journey. As I read to my kids during Christmas break seven years ago, the ideas of Smarty Pig began to simply flood my thought. I went to the com
Opening a Chapter of Inspiration Served with a Heavy Dose of Reality