Going through this shelter-in-place order for some weeks now has caused me to do things that make me realize how strange yet interesting human nature is. As our daily routines have become anything but routine from what they were just a short time ago, I find that my body, mind and spirit are craving those things that bring me basic comfort. In the body category, things like hamburgers and French fries, fudge royal ice cream, chicken wings and pizza are frequently on the menu.

I’ve been both moved and inspired by the many videos I’ve seen on the news, as well as on YouTube lately. People never cease to amaze me with their little—and big—acts of kindness, their sense of humor, and their creativity.

Every one of us has had those pivotal moments, or game changers, that change the course of our lives forever. They’re usually unexpected, often blindsiding us, and while some of those times can be terribly difficult, there are also those that can be amazing and even enlightening, as if a switch had just been turned on and you see things quite differently than you did just a moment before. Those are life’s little detours and they can redirect our journeys in enormous ways.

I heard on the radio that it was Single Tasking Day, meaning today is the day to focus on doing one thing only. Now, I don’t know about you, but I multi-task everyday, all day, and at night, too. Heck, I don’t know one woman who doesn’t. It’s part of our genetic makeup, I believe, and to do anything other than multi-tasking on any given day would mean that I was sick, or writing a book.

A couple of years ago, my husband and I bought a little cottage in Beaufort, SC, which I blogged about in a piece entitled, “My Big Girl Pants”, (found on my website at www.janiedevos.com). The cottage was a picturesque little low country-style home, with dormer windows overlooking the front porch lit by quaint little oil lamps mounted on each side of the front door.

Sometimes at WordWranglers, we like to throw in a theme to write about, and, given that it’s mid-winter and we’re living through some pretty heavy times, we thought we’d write about something light and fun.  So, this time around, we’re writing about which we prefer; coffee or tea.  As I mentioned, this is supposed to be a light and fun piece, but ladies and gentlemen, for me, there’s nothing light or fun when it comes to coffee drinking.  This is serious business.  Sanity-saving business. 

The mountains of Western North Carolina, which include the Great Smokies, and the Blue Ridge, are, according to geologists, some of the oldest on Earth, and, at one time, loomed higher than Mt. Everest does today.  But, millions of years worth of erosion have worn them down, leaving them mere shadows of what they once were.

It goes without saying that this is one year most of us want to see come to an end.  It’s been a year of sadness and frustration, to say the least, but just as all good things come to an end, so do the bad things, too. 

My parents met in an unlikely place; flying at an altitude of 30,000 feet when my mother worked as a “stewardess” for Eastern Airlines, and my father was on a business trip for Pfizer. By the time the flight ended, they had a dinner date planned and were married less than a year later.

     That time of year is upon us again when we settle down at the table before plates filled to overflowing with turkey and all the sides.  But for many homes in America, this Thanksgiving will look a little different than those in the past, and will sound a little different, too.  Gatherings will be much smaller and the cacophony of noise that usually fills the rooms will be a little softer, making many people a bit sad with the tempered holiday sounds. 

Inspiration for my novels and blogs can come in unexpected ways and from some of the strangest places.  And since it’s that BOO-tiful time of year, I thought I’d confess that one of those places that gets my creative juices flowing is cemeteries. 

I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve been getting pretty tired of this whole new world we’re living in because of the pandemic.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I DO NOT believe it’s a hoax, and I don’t believe that if we just ignore it, it will “magically go away.”  That’s ridiculous, wishful thinking, to say the least, and downright deadly to be perfectly blunt about it. 

Lately, my creative flow has been non-existent.  I stare at the last paragraph of a novel I’m working on and wonder where to go from there.  And when trying to write this blog, I’ve started and stopped as much as I used to when driving in rush hour traffic in Miami.  Start, stop.  Start, stop.  You get the picture. 

I called my friend yesterday to wish her a happy birthday, and she shared a most amazing story with me which only served to prove to me, yet again, that every cloud has a silver lining.

Debi lives in my old neck of the woods in south Florida, and we met when we were walking our dogs in our neighborhood one day. It was one of those chance meetings that has resulted in years of friendship, and one that hasn’t lessened even though I live hundreds of miles away now.

My husband and I are anxiously waiting for our new pontoon boat to be delivered. Though we haven’t even broken ground on our new lake house (septic system placement problems—don’t ask), we have a dock slip. It came with the land. Thus, we put in our order for a new pontoon boat before we even had a pot to p*^$ in. Literally. This should come as no surprise to those of you who know us. We’re native Miamians, and we fish.

I’m frequently asked how I develop characters or come up with scenes for my novels, and I commonly reply that they often just pop into my head. And that’s true. I can clearly see it in my mind’s eye. But it’s more than that: I have to feel what a character is feeling, otherwise, how can I expect my readers to feel it? If I can’t truly experience my characters’ emotions, then there won’t be much dimension to them, in other words, they’ll fall flat, thus, the story will fall flat, too. I have to care about my characters if I expect my readers to, and I have to care about them in order to create a story that makes a reader want to turn the page to find out what happens next.

Every year, my office in my house turns into the storage locker for all of the Christmas presents I’ve purchased. It’s also ground zero for wrapping them, sending out greeting cards and internet ordering. This year, as I look into the ever-growing mound of presents in the corner, I shake my head thinking about all the money that is spent to create that mound, and it’s shameful…almost. Personally speaking, I love presents. I love everything about them; picking them out, wrapping them, giving them, and, of course, receiving them.

Just the other day, I was rifling through a slew of recipes that were ungraciously jammed inside my Pillsbury cookbook. That cookbook had been my very first, obtained in my sophomore year of college, when four of us had abandoned the dorm for more sophisticated living in a two-bedroom townhouse. The cookbook was a necessary item if we intended on not visiting fast food restaurants for every meal.

I’m supposed to be working on a novel right now, but life has had other ideas about what I’m “supposed” to be doing. Topping the list of things that have distracted me was having our once-healthy spring go almost completely dry last week, and, worst of all, my dear brother-in-law had a heart attack at about the same time. Needless to say, we’ve all been worried sick about him, but he had a stint put in and he’s doing well. Thank God.

I love autumn, and it’s not just because of the changing colors or the first chill in the air. It’s all about the joy of settling down, becoming quiet, becoming still. It heralds in that special time, that time between October and March, when I give myself permission to not have to be out and about, doing a million things or having to be at a dozen different places in a day. The only exception to that self-imposed rule is the month of December, which, I’m sure, I need not explain why. Otherwise, come October, my participation in things can begin to fade and drop down, just like autumn leaves.