Throw The Book At Me

womanreading

Miracles really do happen. Case in point:

This is the second time I’ve blogged this month.

Shocking, right?

Wait. There’s more…

I have written more words in the first few weeks of 2017 than I had during the entire second half of 2016.

Unfathomable!

Seriously, no one is more surprised than I. Divine intervention must be to blame. Either that, or something’s “up” with these new Starbucks Cascara Lattes I’ve been sucking down like it’s my job.

Whatever the reason, I feel like raising the roof in grateful praise of this seemingly new lease on creativity.

Hallelujah!

Of course, it’s entirely possible that tomorrow could put me in a staring contest with a blank screen. Or have me fretting over a single sentence for ten hours straight. Or encourage me to repeatedly bang my head against the keyboard just for kicks.

But I’d rather not think about that right now.

What I have been giving substantial thought to, however, is the type of content I’d like to feature on this blog going forward. After plugging away on WordPress (albeit sporadically) for nearly four years, I’m eager to steer this site in more a definitive, yet expansive direction. Hence, its new name:

THROW THE BOOK AT ME

I’m not doing away with the stuff I usually post here—but rather, building upon it—resulting (hopefully) in a more interesting and varied pit stop for those who share my affinity for The Three Rs…

Reading, (w)Riting, and Romance.

Future posts will include anything and everything bookish and love inspired, such as one-shots (flash fiction), poems, editorials, book reviews, book release announcements, and author spotlights.

Reviews and spotlights will, in large part, showcase independently published authors and their literary offerings in the romance genre.

I also plan to share my own experiences as an indie author—the good, the bad, and the downright awkward. Not that I consider myself a self-publishing expert by any stretch of the imagination. But if I can spare any writer contemplating the indie route even a fraction of my rookie mistakes, I’ll be a happy camper.

Who knows? Maybe by the time my tenth book comes out (if I’m lucky enough to get that far), I’ll actually know what the heck I’m doing. 😉

Thanks for reading! Oh, and if there’s anything authorly/bookish/romantic you’d like to see covered on this blog, feel free to make a suggestion in the comments. x

~ Sue

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: flickr.com – Nathan O’Nions, photographer

 

A New Year For Keeping Promises

promises

We’ve all got history.

Some we honor with nostalgic fondness. Some we barely remember. Some we only fess up to after liberal helpings of liquid encouragement plunge us into bouts of facepalm retrospect, leaving us with that one gnawing question…

What the eff was I thinking?

And then, of course, some history…

We wish like hell we could forget.

But each experience teaches us something fundamentally important, no matter how far or well we’ve traveled within the circle of life.

Even as I nudge my way through the upper echelon of middle age, life continues to teach me, sometimes in jarring ways, that it is full of change. And, often…

Of endings.

Yet, I also take comfort in having learned long ago that some things are forever, like the certainty that I will always love my family, my children, and my soulmate.

And that I will always hold precious…

My dreams.

After all, passions provide purpose, and they are omnipresent…

In all of us.

Every January, we tend to embark on quests for self-betterment, reuniting our dreams with the due diligence that abandoned them sometime around mid-February the previous year.

We ache to be reborn. We pitch Stuart Smalley-esque affirmations to our expectant reflections. We make promises. And then, gradually…

We break them.

Why?

Because the vows we make to ourselves are the hardest to keep.

I can personally vouch for this.

Anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time could probably guess that my dreams heavily revolve around writing, books, writing, romance, writing, and…

Did I mention writing?

So call me Captain Obvious, but I love to write! LOVE. IT. Always have, always will.

However, when I bid adieu to 2016 with champagne flute in-hand, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the writerly promises I’d made to myself that went unfulfilled—namely, the stories in my head that were supposed to end up in print, but didn’t.

Sure, I could blame everything from chronic PMS to those cat-versus-cucumber YouTube compilations that are oh-so-addictive, but the truth?

I allowed my aspirations to fall out of focus.

If you’re a word nerd like me, you know that life as a writer can be incredibly isolating. Keeping the dream alive requires persistence and sacrifice, which can pose a challenge for those of us who suffer the guilt of said sacrifice, conditioning us to then give precedence to everything else.

We assign our dreams “hobby” or “back burner” status, a confusing contradiction since we don’t actually think of them in these terms.

But sometimes, that’s all it takes to bring our active pursuits to a grinding halt. We may even try convincing ourselves that none of it really matters, especially when there are so many other things that require our time and attention.

But deep down, we know better.

My love affair with the written word began as an adolescent. I discovered the freedom and catharsis of gliding ink across paper, an exercise inspired by one of my idols at the time, author Judy Blume.

Back then, I was struggling to find myself and where I might fit in the world—a literal work in progress. But despite not yet knowing who or where I wanted to be, as long as I had words, I was moving.

And that was good enough for me.

Whenever I reminisce on that time, I not only fall in love with writing all over again, but I realize…

I am still a work in progress.

So this year, whether I finish writing one book, six, or even zilch, the part of me that thrives on stringing words and chasing stories will always be there, even when life throws curveballs that try to tell me otherwise.

I don’t know about you, but I feel a responsibility to keep those promises I left hanging in 2016.

So, with that, I raise my pen…

And feel a novel coming on. 😉

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: pexels.com – Ed Gregory, photographer

 

For Me

soulmates

Write me
In bold-stroked Sharpie fashion
Cradle me
Like you do your leather-bound literature
Feed me
Your compliments judiciously
Bring me
Faith in longevity
Give me
As good as you get
Play me
From lullaby to lyrical bite
Make me
A song that will save your life
Render me
Willingly defenseless
Feel me
With every fiber of your middle age
Watch me
Teeter with my heart on the line
Know me
Beyond the smoke and mirrors
Accept me
For my tongue-stammer authenticity
Tell me
Soulmates don’t switch like the weather
Show me
It’s not all lip service
Brand me
‘Til separation would be as painful as a burn
Love me
Because I am yours and yours alone

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: flickr.com – Sam Hood, photographer
 

Recollection

pexels-pasture

I recall
The pain
Fluid
In its persistence
Stalking
My mobility
Diluting
My vitality
A humid shadow
Of looming
Consuming
Endurance
Oozing under footfalls
Permeating soles
Slogging north
‘Til all I could taste
Was grit
And disillusion
 
I recall 
The tears
Kept at bay
Out of sheer
Determination
To denounce
My cantankerous
Unravelling
Upholding
Proper posture
Beneath
The burden
Of knowing
Full
Wasn’t as heavy
As empty
 
I recall
Wondering
When my thoughts
Would suspend
Their cyclonic fumbling
Edging for something
Just out of reach
Rapt by
Their own dominion
Garbled notes
Echoing cruelly
Between my ears
Holding me
Hostage
Against the breath
Of their merciless wind
 
I recall
When the world
Finally stopped
Spinning
And I sank
To my knees
In grateful praise
Of greener pastures
Spread invitingly
Before my pleading eyes
Wheatgrass
Seductive
In its ebb and flow
Calling to me
Like slender fingers
Beckoning
And for the first time
In forever
I actually felt
Like dancing
 
I recall
My feet
Moving
Of their own accord
Surging me
Toward a goal
I never thought existed
That void
Filling in
And brimming over
Its face
Emerging
In shades
Of solace
The sun caught
In its lashes
A heart cupped
In its ample hands
 
I recall
How a single
Full-bodied smile
Erased a lifetime
Of hurt
My own
Reciprocal grin
A showcase
In creases
Of many lives lived
Etching vulnerable
Patterns
Across my skin
Charting dreams
And insecurities
Wants
And bare necessities
Unfathomable
That I could feel
Such joy
But still lay naked
My fears
 
I recall
Finding
A place to belong
Inside your soul
Somewhere to be
Unapologetically me
Where feeling
Didn’t make
Me weak
A space
That not only
Completed 
But wholed me
A home
In which to cultivate
Tomorrow
A gift of time
To open
With burgeoning hope
That something
So precious
Could last forever
 
I recall 
That the greatest
Love
I’ve known
Or ever will know
Still exists
Inside of me
Homage
To the rhythm
Of the music
We made
Its percussion
Ever present
Within my veins
Building to
Domeless crescendos
Their purpose
To expand 
Evolve
And to carry me on
 
I recall…
 
And I will never
Let you go

 

Copyright © S. A. Healey

 

Image source: pexels.com – Kayla Corpron, photographer

 

 

EDC Review: Empty Me Out (S A Healey)

Honored and humbled to receive such a touching review. #grateful

EDC Writing

Empty Me Out (The Liquid Series, #1)

Superb writing, cleverly layered story, believable key characters, imperfect humans, young and old, male and female, bonds of love and friendship, strained, exposed, in all their strength and weakness. This book much more than a romance, as much of hope and forgiveness, of temptation, of slipping in and out of darkness, of the consequence of choices. The end gives reason to the title. Hard to believe this a debut novel, S A Healey truly an accomplished writer…an author to follow.

[This EDC review has been posted and rated on Amazon and Goodreads]

View original post