You know that song, Same Old Lang Syne by Don Fogelberg? Here’s a link to him singing it on You Tube.

Whenever I hear that song, I get a lump in my throat. He captures what it feels like to see an old lover in the grocery store. That nostalgic ache that is made up of joy, sadness, memories…so many emotions, it hurts to feel them.

That song invokes in me the memory of my teenage love. His name was Mike. He was tall, thin, smart, and wanted to be a navy diver. Our relationship was full of innocence that only happens in the teenage years.

I remember so vividly the feeling that would envelope me when I looked at him. I can still feel myself reaching out and sliding my hand into his, and for a second, I could touch the future that shimmered with blinding brilliance. The beauty of it would fill my heart with a hope so fierce, my chest would ache with it.

I thought we’d never let go of each other or that glittering future.

But of course, we did. We grew up and went our separate ways. I haven’t seen him in decades. Yet if I ran into him in the grocery store, I would feel that ache again.

For he represented something in my life that was an innocent form of love colored with untested hopes and dreams.

What I have with my husband transcends that. It is real, vivid, and I love him more with each breath I take. Yesterday we celebrated Christmas with our three sons. Our home was filled with laughter and with memories we have built together over time. And each time I looked at my husband, I felt another wave of quiet joy and gratitude.

My husband is my heart.

But the memory of that special love in high school? I would not be the woman I am today without him. And so, that teenage boy lives on in my memory. Every once in a while, I think of him with that nostalgic ache that Fogelberg sings about in Same Old Lang Syne.

Mike was special at that time in my life.

And that is exactly how I feel about MurderSheWrites. This blog, and all of you, have been very special in my life. And that is why saying goodbye is so damn hard. I’ve decided that it’s time for me to leave the group. Change is vital to all of us.

Even when it hurts.

Like thinking of the nine other women who have shared the blog with me; Karin, Allison, Toni, Rocki, Lori, Laura, Sophie, Deb and Sylvia. They are nine of the most positive, motivated, kind, generous and talented women I know. I am proud to have been a part of the group with them. I consider all of them friends, and hope we stay in contact.

And all of you, the MurderSheWrites readers. You have made me laugh, cry and smile at your comments and interaction. I want you to know that I appreciate each of you.

But now it is time for me to leave. So it’s my wish that in this, my last post, we can raise a glass to the memories we’ve made. And embrace our futures with grace, courage, and a little kick ass attitude.

If we ever meet in the grocery store…let’s relive our memories. That’s why we made them.

Now go out and make 2012 your best year ever!

Jen

For many years, I resisted comparing writing a book to having or raising children. But I seem to be nostalgic today and so as I’m working to bring some characters to life in my current book, I just can’t get away from the comparison. So here it goes:

I vividly remember the day we brought our first son home from the hospital. We carried him into the room we had lovingly prepared for him and laid him in the bassinet.

For a second, my husband and I stood side by side, staring down at this amazingly beautiful boy. He had dark straight hair, fat cheeks and blue eyes. He was a miracle, this tiny carrier of all our future dreams. Our hearts swelled until both of us couldn’t breathe as we imagined all the things he would one day become.

Then our beloved son, that symbol of our love, took a deep breath and began to scream.

And scream.

My entire body flooded with panic. Just like that, my husband and I were thrown into the turbulent, unpredictable sea of parenthood. As I became achingly familiar with my son’s powerful set of lungs…

Dear God, why did no one tell me a perfect little baby can turn into a pint sized monster with angry wails loud enough to shatter eardrums and shred nerves?

…a dose of reality hit me. This baby was not a sweet little empty vessel sent for us to mold and shape into the perfect child.

No this baby was a real flesh and blood person beginning his life. The seeds of his personality were already there.

And guess what? He wasn’t there only to fulfill our dreams. No this child was going to have his own dreams to go after. Oh, our job as parents was going to be so much harder than we had imagined! Over time, we needed to learn our child’s wants, needs, talents, strengths, fears, flaws and weakness. And from that, we strived to guide him in developing his own dreams. The dreams that would lead him to be the best person he could be.

Now you obviously know where I’m going with this right?

Developing a character is much the same process, except without the stretch marks. When I begin with a book idea, I have these dreams, these pretty shiny visions of my characters.

But soon enough, like my screaming newborn baby, one of my characters does something that shatters my illusion. And then the real, back breaking, sweat popping work begins as I fight to discover the real person in my character. Understand his flaws, his humor, his talents, his goals and dreams. All of which I’ll use to guide him or her into character that will come to life on the page.

A character that will live on in the reader’s memory.

My son is an adult now. He’s not living the perfect life we had imagined that warm Spring day when we brought him home from the hospital. Instead, he’s living the life he was meant to and it’s so much better.

And, like his two brothers, he makes my heart swell with love.

Now if only I could get the characters I’m working on right now to that place in my heart!

We put up Christmas lights outside the house this weekend. And by we, I mean I stood around and held the ladder, while my husband climbed up on the two-story roof.

I never thought I was afraid of heights—not until the day he asked me to step out of the second story window onto the roof overhang and hold something for him.

I climbed out the window and discovered a problem.

I could NOT let go of the window. I just knew I was going to fall.

My ever-patient husband took one look at my face and helped me back inside.

I felt like a total idiot, but he just shrugged and said he could do it himself, no problem. That was his exact reaction. He didn’t even think it was a big enough deal to tease me about.

Sometimes you just don’t know until you try. And if you try—you might not like what you find out about yourself. I don’t like being afraid of heights.

But I don’t have the guts to go out there on the roof and confront the fear. I suspect the only things that would get me to do that would be my husband or kids hurt on the roof, or some angry flames chasing me.

So what’s my point?

Sometimes fears pop up unexpectedly.

And that’s where I am today. My personal life is going very well. But my professional life, I’m standing on that roof, hanging onto the window frame. And I am desperately afraid of falling, and failing.

But I’ve discovered something amazing. Readers and Fans can be a source of tremendous strength and inspiration when our own courage fails us.

And so I’d like to take today to thank all my readers and fans. Your emails, your tweets, your Facebook messages, all the ways you have told me that my books and characters have touched your lives. You give me the courage to let go of my fears and keep writing. You remind me that it’s not about me, but about the books and stories that I need to tell.

Readers and Fans, you keep our books alive long after we type, The End.

Thank you.

If you could star in a TV show, what kind of show would you pick?

Lately, I’ve gotten addicted to cooking shows.

When the kids were home and our schedules were insanely hectic, cooking was a chore. Gradually, that eased and then I decided to change my eating habits and lose weight. So I started trying new things and cooking lighter.

It’s turned out to be fun. My husband has been incredibly supportive and willing to try things.

This led to my addiction to cooking shows. Even if they are cooking with massive quantities of fat and sugar, I still learn tips and tricks.

So I think the TV show I’d star in would be a cooking show.

But there’s a problem, I’m NOT that caliber of cook. But since this is my little dream, instead I’d turn it into a series of short videos on my website. Each one would only be a few minutes long.

I’d star as Jen Lyon, author of the witch series and part time cook. And I’d call it something like: COOKING WITH MAGIC. See the tie in to my books? Clever huh?

So each segment would start off series as I prepared a low fat, low carbohydrate dish. Maybe I’d start with Cole Slaw. I’d chop the vegetables, make the dressing put it together.

Then I’d taste it. It’s good, but it needs something…I know! A dash of magic. I’d fire up the magic wand and give it at zap. Or maybe I’d use spelling salts. And then there’d be a burst of dramatic colored smoke. And when it clears…

A molten chocolate cake appears.

I could have an assistant, but I can’t decide between these two. The first one looks strong enough to do the heavy lifting:

But Bailey dog is excellent at cleaning up any spills on the kitchen floor.

Hmm, maybe I’ll cast them both!

For some episodes I could have guest appearances by other authors trying their hand at cooking and magic. It would be fun! That would be my show.

For a chance to win a $15.00 Starbucks card, tell me what kind of TV show you would like to star in.

Today is Halloween in the U.S. and it is fitting for me because I am possessed. Totally, completely possessed. Not by a being, but by an idea. I’ve had this idea circling in my brain for months, and like a good wine, I’ve left it alone to mature. Finally I have a little time to work on it and now I’m eating, sleeping and breathing this idea.

Even weirder, the synopsis was too easy to write. I’ve gotten the comments back from one of my critique partners, and I’m eager to go back and work on the changes. I can see them in my head. I’m telling you this is too easy. I must be possessed.

Don’t believe me?

I’ll show you. First you have to know that I am NOT artistic. I can’t draw. I can’t paint. In fact, I am so artistically challenged, I can barely sign my name. But on Saturday, after I finished the first draft of a synopsis and sent it off for a critique, I decided I’d carve a pumpkin. I haven’t carved a pumpkin in years! There’s a reason for that. In the past, my pumpkin carving attempts have been sad and made me feel like a Halloween loser. They always consisted of sloppy triangles and a weird mouth—the whole thing always looked like a four-year-old did it.

But Saturday, I had to carve a pumpkin! I even went to the store and bought a pumpkin, and I normally avoid the store on weekends. I came home and told my husband.

He grinned and tried really hard not to roll his eyes. But nothing could spoil my mood. I wanted to carve this pumpkin! So I did, and this is the result:

While this is not, by any means, great, it is a shocking improvement from my previous attempts. My husband—the man who has known me for decades, was stunned.

See? I’m possessed by this idea!

From that pumpkin, can you guess what this new idea is about? I have two extra copies of SINFUL MAGIC up for grabs! Leave your guess in the comments and I’ll put you in the contest. I’ll randomly pick two winners. All guesses count!