On Lexa

Life is a fickle bitch. 

One day you could have the whole world in the palm of your hand, and the next, everything could be tossed around you like broken rag dolls. 

As anyone who has read this blog knows, I spent the last several months as a lifeguard. During that time, I met an amazing, vibrant, beautiful and caring, young girl. She is on Varsity Swim Team and Varsity Cheer. She came in early to swim laps, even though usually she ended up keeping me company in the early morning hours. 

She is only fifteen.

She made me smile every day.

She made me laugh, and she made me shake my head. 

She reminded me what it was like to be a teenager, and she would ask my advice on what to do to get away from the drama of being a teenager.

I spoke with her the other day, through Facebook. Just small talk about working out, getting in shape, and craziness of life. 

That was at 4 PM.

The next evening I found out she was in the hospital. She'd suffered a brain aneurysm. 

This beautiful girl, with her big smile and laughing eyes isn't visiting the pool anymore. She's fighting for her life in a hospital, attached to a ventilator. 

She is strong and a fighter, and I know she won't give up, but she can use help. I'm not religious, but I believe in the power of faith. Right now, every little bit helps. 

I've spent the last several days wishing I'd stopped to let her know what her visits meant to me, to make time for those plans we talked about. When I get the chance, the first thing I'll say to her is, "Thank you for caring enough to be you. Thank you for being my friend." 

Life is a fickle bitch, and you never know when everything will change. Don't wait to tell your loved ones how you feel, or how thankful you are for them. Don't put off having coffee with that friend, because you can't always do it tomorrow.

Keep Fighting Lexa. You're in my thoughts. Always.

R.S.

On Between the Hours of 8:00 and Noon

If you've ever had to make an appointment for a delivery or a pick up, or some other 'meeting' that requires someone to come to your house (the exterminator for the bugs who have started wearing your clothes and shoes, the repairman for the dishwasher that sprung a 'small' leak that now looks like Niagra Falls, or in my case, today, the LoJack installation guy) you know they never give you a set time. 

It's always in a window. 

Usually between three and four hours. 

For me, it always seems to be between the hours of 8:00 and Noon. 

I obviously have nothing better to do with my time than wait for four hours for someone I'm paying to get around to me. 

Today, my LoJack needs its two year service (okay, it's needed it for several months). Which, in theory is a good thing since the light on the little doomahickey that hangs from my key ring has been flashing angrily at me for over a month. 

I think it's taken to taunting me. 

It's like a game.

I try to catch it blinking, but I miss it more often than not.

What can I say, I'm easily amused. 

So today during the hours of 8-noon, I'm hanging out at my house (the same place I hang out whenever I get a free moment), trying to get something useful done. 

Like work on the YA WIP, or sketch out the most recent short story ideas that have decided to plague me at night when I'm supposed to be falling into a peaceful, restful, rejuvenating sleep.

Instead, I've discussed with my best friend topics for articles I want to write regarding the Marine Corps. Though, I'm not sure in my present state of mind those would be a good thing. 

I've also decided to make brownies, because while I'm looking for things to keep me busy between 8 and noon, I was skeezing on Facebook and realized that today is National Brownie Day. How did I not know this day existed?

Pretty sure my waistline is not going to be happy with me for this. 

That's okay, I'll do some extra yoga. :)

What is the worst experience you've had when it came to a window of time and waiting for someone?

R.S.  

On Branding Myself

Before you ask, no I'm not talking about taking a hot poker and burning a design into my skin. I like tattoos--obviously, since I've got several of my own, but I draw the line at burning my flesh. 

What I am talking about is #mywana.

The other day I read We Are Not Alone: The Writer's Guide to Social Media, an amazing little read by the Social Media Maven, Kristen Lamb .

Of course, reading this has caused me nothing but grief.

Okay, maybe not grief.

 It is after all, an amazing book, full of insight and knowledge that anyone looking to make use of social media such as Twitter, Facebook, and (gasp!) the dinosaur known as Myspace, should purchase, read, and use wisely.

In WANA, Kristen makes sure you know you are never alone during your journey toward social media excellence, and I learned so much from reading her words. 

First, being that I've been going about this blogging thing all wrong.

I've got to brand myself.

Just do it.

Sure, that's been taken already, but I was smart enough to take R.S. Emeline a year ago.

I did that much right at least.

I branded a name. The name that will go on my books, and the name that is attached to my twitter account so everyone who follows me or sees my tweets will associate the awesome words with R.S. Emeline.

Now of course, there is more to do.

I've been blogging daily for a while now, and there have been times where the blogs were good, and others when the posts were only so-so.  I want to change that.

I haven't settled on whether I'm going to be a Young Adult author, or a Romantic Suspense author. Sometimes I think I'd like to be a writer like Meg Cabot, or maybe Nicholas Sparks.

Regardless of what genre I choose or chooses me, one thing Kristen recommends is writing subject focused blog posts. This also means I'll be working on quality, not quantity. It's likely I won't be posting daily anymore, but expect to see posts once or twice a week.

As always, if something happens that I find amusing or interesting, I'll post those tidbits as well, but it's time to focus my writing and my priorities for social media.

I'm a writer.

I'm an author.

Hear my warrior yell.

R.S.

If you're confused by social media, or want to get more bang for your tweet, check out Kristen Lamb's Warrior Writer's Blog. You won't regret it. You'll laugh, you'll smile, and you might realize social media is something you can make work for you. :)

On Learning the Art of Self-Promotion

I remember the first time I had to stand in front of a room full of my peers. It was kindergarten, and it was show-in-tell.

It sucked.

Embarrassment flamed through my body like it should have been a vintage race car a la Grease, and we were racing for pink slips.

I hate being in front of people, explaining something, talking about myself, or in other words, pretending to seem intelligent and interesting.

Most of the time I don't feel like I'm any of those things, and I especially never felt that way as a kid.

Now, I'm an adult, a mother, a wife, a photographer, and an author of two separate novels. One YA and one contemporary.

And I have to promote myself.

That means I have to put myself out there, stand up in front of the proverbial class and explain something, share something, and this time it's even more important and embarrassing than it was the first time all those years ago. Now it's done not just in person, but across dozens of different Social Network platforms. It's done via blog, Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, Email, LinkedIn, and others I can't even remember.

I'm not just sharing something I was given or bought. I'm sharing a part of myself. Hours of worry, sleepless nights, late dinners, and sweat. A part of my soul, my heart, my hopes and dreams, all combined into something a person could say, 'Eh, not interested. Not good enough."

 It's a terrifying prospect.

But, I have to do it, and do it well.

I don't want to push myself on people who won't be interested or will be turned off by the salesman's approach, but I don't want to be so lax nobody will take me seriously. There is such a fine line, and I'm not sure where it even begins, but I know I'll find it.

When I do, I'm going to rock that line like an Earthquake.

So where do I begin?

Any ideas? I'm open to suggestions.


R.S.