When The Music Stops

My soul is troubled beyond words. Sporadically throughout the day I have found myself gasping for breath. As I work, I’m listening to house music because it’s the only music that drowns out the world around me. I’m not given to drinking, but what I really want to do is have a drink…and talk…talk until I run out of words, until my throat is so dry that I become hoarse and my words come out as little more than a whisper, but instead I pray. I staved off the tears for a while by avoiding the news and the daily tabloid television entertainment news shows. I have been watching old movies and PBS, or anything else that helps me to avoid the subject at hand. I waited 24 hours before I checked Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. I have prayed more in the last couple of days than I can even express. That’s saying a lot because I already pray incessantly. But Sunday morning I was caught off guard. With no notice I began to cry. No, I began to sob uncontrollably. Please know that I often cry for many things: the death of the innocent, the weak, the mentally ill, and the less fortunate; the birth of babies because they don't know what kind of world they're being born into; for many things, but this was different for me. It almost felt personal.

My heart is broken for a life that was lost for no real discernible reason that I can come up with, in spite of all of the commentary to the contrary. My heart is broken because  a human life, a young boy, who only did what young boys and girls have done for years—walk to the store and then back home. My heart is broken because from the day my nephews were born—20 yrs ago, 18 yrs ago, 15 yrs ago—I knew their lives were at risk, at no fault of their own. I pray for them several times a day. They should have been born girls, all of them. Then, of course, there would have been other worries, but never a concern that they would be gunned down in the street like animals or that they would be hated merely because they live and breathe. My heart is broken because this is the 21^st century and the “Strange Fruit” has taken on a different form, yet it remains strange none-the-less. My heart is broken because there is a clear divide that says death is deserving even if you've never maimed, murdered, or robbed. It is deserving because you exist…because you live and breathe.

Moments like this bolster my faith because the Bible says: “…that in the last days critical times hard to deal with will be here. For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, self-assuming, haughty, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, disloyal, having no natural affection, not open to any agreement, slanderers, without self-control, fierce, without love of goodness, betrayers, headstrong, puffed up [with pride], lovers of pleasures rather than lovers of God, having a form of godly devotion but proving false to its power; That’s from 2 Timothy 3:1-5, if you’re wondering. I’m not going to turn this into a spiritual or a religious dissertation. I just know, for me, I see this every day, and today, this week, I see “no natural affection.”

In a different life I would have wanted to protest to affect some kind of social change. The truth is, though, even if a change occurs is it lasting? For many years people have given their lives for equality, as well as other causes…and look where we are. Again, this will not become a spiritual or religious dissertation.

So, here I am. Far from helpless, but broken hearted as I drown on my tears on the inside, playing house music to rid myself of the noise of the voices that continue to loudly cry out for justice, as well as the ones that cry just as loud with indifference. I already know that when the music stops I will find myself in a fog, my mind flooded by words being simultaneously spoken all over the world. Words that will sound like rushing storm winds that can only be held back by my prayers for peace and strength, not just for me, but for every single human being who has lost someone to random violence and senseless indifference and ignorance.   

Simply TRB

"UNMARRIED WOMAN"

Experience earlier this week. I had to sign a bunch of documents and in the body of one of the documents it described me as: "an UNMARRIED WOMAN." Okay, upon seeing that I was "an UNMARRIED WOMAN" I got very tickled.

First, because it was in all capital letters. Why was it in all caps, just in case there was some misunderstanding? Funny, right?

Secondly, the only thing that was missing from the description was the word "BLACK." For some strange reason this made me think of a young, virgin, slave girl for sale on the auction block. Had the word "BLACK" actually been included in my description it would have read: "UNMARRIED BLACK WOMAN," but that certainly wouldn't be the politically correct thing to put in writing in the year 2013.

The irony of all of this is that, though I have been divorced for several years, I have never  thought of myself as either single or married. Well, I'm clearly "NOT" married, but you know. Yeah, I know, "CRAZY." That would be for a different conversation, though. Today, I can't even begin to make anyone understand the logic behind my previous state of mind with regards to my "MARITAL STATUS." But, I must say, looking down on a legal document and seeing the words "UNMARRIED WOMAN" finally cleared it up for me. I am not divorced, widowed, or separated. I am merely "an UNMARRIED WOMAN." In all honesty, this has always been my status. Before I was married I was clearly a "SINGLE WOMAN." Yet, when I got married I was kind of, sort of, an "UNMARRIED WOMAN," long story. Once my divorce was final I officially became an "UNMARRIED WOMAN." And this week it was confirmed. To some extent I have been on the proverbial auction block for some time now--albeit a different kind of auction block (little virgin, slave girl reference, remember).

Don't worry, there are lots of adjectives that describe me:

DAUGHTER
SISTER
FRIEND
CONFIDANTE
MEDIATOR
WRITER
POET

...to name a few. And let's not forget:

"an UNMARRIED WOMAN."

Simply TRB

Where Does The Time Go?

I have been so derelict in my (writing) duties. You know, I was going to say I haven't written anything in awhile, I've written several letters, and I've worked on another author's manuscript (great story, by the way). Something is going on with me. I think I'm a little tired. A lot has been going on. That is, I've taken a few road trips, and even preparing for them (mentally) took up much more time than I should have allowed (I hate when that happens). Like this morning, I spent a lot of time on Twitter thanking people for following me (By the way, I need some help with the tweeting thing).

Ultimately, I'm certain I've wasted far too much time. I have deadlines to meet, which I'm sure I'll make. I guess I'm facing the dreaded "crunch time." I didn't want it to be like that, and it certainly didn't have to be. I'm just a little out of order right now. I have to find my order. I'll probably start with not touching my doggone Smartphone so often. Those things are like "crack." No, really, they are. I play games on it. I check Instagram. I look at Twitter and Facebook. Of course, I text. The only time I'm not touching it is when it's charging and, the truth is, I even fiddle with it while it's charging. It's too much. I should be writing during all of that empty time.

I'm a little disappointed that I haven't blogged since the end of April (where does the time go). I have to do better by myself. After all, I am a writer. I'm supposed to make the time to embrace my craft. May 26th, 2013, wish I had something more introspective and interesting to talk about, but this is what you get today. Check me out in a week or so.

Simply TRB

It Only Takes One

Well, I got my feet wet over the weekend--I had my first book signing in eight years. It wasn't really a book signing, as much as it was an event with vendors, and I happened to have books that I was going to sign and sell. But you know what? I had a great time. I met some great people, made some great connections, and met a vendor that may change my life as a writer as I know it.

The vendor that sat next to me, to my right, offered all kinds of advice regarding events that I could participate in and sell lots of book. I believe her, so I'm going to look into it. I shared my table with another writer, who seemed to also have a good time. I also spent much more money than I should have (there were some great vendors there).

There was one vendor that made relishes, pestos, and salsas. When I tell you they were good, that is an understatement. There was also another room where they were doing manicures and pedicures, but I could never leave my table long enough to take advantage of any of it. I know there was some aroma therapy going on in there too because I received a coupon for it. Oh, yeah, and I sold some books.

Overall, it was a good experience and a great way to get re-acclimated to striking up conversations with strangers to sell books. But the highlight of the event was the one contact I made that truly has the potential of changing my life as a writer. That's all I'm going to say about it. Great annual event, Duke's Academy's Educator's Empowerment Seminar. Look for it in 2014.

Simply TRB        

Nigerian Sister, Friend, and Writer

Last night I had dinner with a dear friend who I hadn’t seen in about three or four years. The circumstances of our meeting each other are really funny, but I won’t go into it. I will just say, as a result of our conversation(s) I invited her to visit a writers’ group that I am a member of, BWWP (Black Writers With Purpose). She joined and happily attended several meetings. There was no doubt that she enjoyed herself, and that the camaraderie motivated her to write. During National Poetry Writing Month one year, she even participated in a Poetry Café with me at a local alternative school.

As I was getting to know her I visited her home and even got to know her two sons, the youngest of which is autistic. I admired how driven she was to aid her son in living the best possible life. I appreciated that she nurtured and encouraged her oldest son’s natural talents, and that she insisted he work hard for what he wanted. As a writer, I loved that she dealt with the difficulties in her life by writing. That is what we share in common, and the fact that she is Nigerian and my paternal family’s origin is West African.

The circumstances of our reconnecting are also noteworthy. A couple of weeks ago I decided to send an email about the re-release of my book, Every Time I Close My Eyes, to all of my Yahoo contacts. Low and behold, shortly after doing so I receive a call from my long lost cohort. She decided to use the last known number she had for me after she received the email, and the rest is history. 

I was glad our paths had once again crossed because as a woman, a person, I’ve learned so much from her. I’m moved by her knowledge of all things African (that may just speak to my ignorance of Africa). I could sit and listen to her talk about Nigeria, as well as other African cultures, for hours. We won’t even talk about the food that she has prepared for me the times that I’ve visited her home. I love that after all of these years, I visit her and her oldest son, who is back from France, where he graduated from college, is no longer a mature, responsible, teenage boy, but a very handsome, astute, well-balanced, college educated young man. I was marveled by the fact that her youngest son is speaking, that he plays the drums, is a whiz on the computer and all things technical. I respect that she raised him as a “normal” child, but along the journey learned all that she could about autism so that she could make sure her son would have a “normal” life. That was not all that had changed. She is now a married woman. I thought that would change the dynamics of our visit, but it didn’t, he’s a great guy.

After cocktails, and then dinner, we settled down in her family room and we talked. We talked about writing and all the things that happened in our respective lives that led us to become writers, and the things that continue to facilitate that desire. I’m excited that I’m going to be a part of her publishing experience (she will be published this year). I know, with all that has transpired in her life the last few years, seeing her words published will add a new dimension to her life. I’m hoping it will fulfill her lifelong dream of being a published author and fuel a desire to write more. I’m still excited for myself, but even more so for her because I know well the feeling of accomplishment and pride after birthing a book that is quality through and through. All I can say now is I hope she’s excited, too.

Simply TRB   

Maxwell = Muse

I actually finished Every Time I Close My Eyes in 1998 after coming home from my first Maxwell concert. I can't tell you which song I heard first, but I immediately began trying to figure out who this brother was because I was so moved by his music. I was living in Germantown, MD, and struggling with coming up with an ending to the story. I was tapped out. I heard Maxwell was going to be in concert in Washington, D.C., so I quickly bought two tickets and invited a friend/former co-worker to go with me.

Let me tell you, I fell completely in love with the man and knew that I had found my muse. I went home after the concert, and for the next 4-5 hours I wrote three poems, two songs, and I finished the story.The concert made me realize I had purchased Maxwell's second CD, the next morning, after only a few hours of sleep, I went in search for his first CD and anything else "Maxwell." I have been a die-hard fan since that time. 

Tuesday and Wednesday of this week I listened to Maxwell on Youtube (ain't Youtube great). It brought back all of the old feelings I had for him. Those who know me well know those feelings hadn't gone too far away. By Wednesday evening I felt "some kind of way" and really needed to write. I was back in that zone--filled with emotion and wanting to write "with" my heart (forget writing from my heart). I'm still there. I thank Maxwell for that. 

I could say some other stuff, but it would make me sound, uh...very "stalkerish." If you didn't already know. There is a very fine line between adoration and stalking. As a matter of fact, I don't want to scare Maxwell, so I won't say I adore him. I actually admire and respect his work, and in a very quiet place in my heart I look forward to composing some music along with or for him (you to to put it out there, right).

In the mean time, I'll continue to appreciate my muse, Maxwell, for what he does for and to me and I look forward to working on Daddy's Big Girl a little more tomorrow. 

Simply TRB  

#gooddayafterall

Had a really stressful day today. It's 10:52 p.m. and I'm getting ready to stuff some Tilapia with spinach and Parmesan. I'm also going to have a glass of wine. I wish I had enough energy to write. I don't so I thought I'd blog instead. One part of my day was really great today, though. Someone at work received their copy of my book today and asked me if I would sign it. #feltreallygood She told me she loved the cover! #feltevenbetter She mentioned to two other people in the room that she was holding my book. By the end of the day I had received an email from one of the other people telling me she had just ordered my book, too. Before I left work for the day I had received an email from another co-worker telling me she had purchased an eBook version of my book. #ahamoment I also met a fellow author, Michael D. Harper. The title of his book is Junior (Volume 1). Can't wait to read it.

So, really, now that I think about it, I had a really good day. I was so focused on the few things that aggravated me during the day that I overlooked those sprinkles of goodness. I'm a little ashamed of that because I gave in to the negative. Didn't even attempt to fight it off.

Well, I haven't written since Sunday, so I need to get back on it. I think I got a little comfortable after I fixed an outline that I had somehow lost control of. It's my next story for publication. The outline was written a few years ago, right before I decided to write another story without the benefit of an outline. How's that one working for me? I might not have an outline, but I have a bunch of research. #loveresearchforastory

Another reason I haven't written in the last few days--reading up on and working on marketing and promotion. I'm mentally exhausted. I think I'm actually overwhelmed. By Friday I'll be back to normal and back on the grind. In the last week or so, I've learned the writing part is easy, the marketing and promotion part not so much. Any help would be appreciated.

(Disclaimer: Not going to proofread what I just wrote in this blog. I'd rather have a glass of wine and something to eat--even though it's 11:13 p.m.)

Simply TRB

Our Language (On the Road Back to GA from FL, 03/29/13)

I don’t know about other writers, but to me it seems like being a writer is like speaking a foreign language. I was always told, you know you can speak a foreign language when you begin thinking or dreaming in that language. As a writer, I find that no matter how personal a situation is I’m always thinking about how it might make a good story or a good scene in a story. Of course, I alter things a little, 'to protect the innocent,' but the nucleus of the story or the scene comes from something personal, emotional, or something that I've seen or overheard. I find that absolutely fascinating because I do it all of the time. I’m always thinking about writing. I find that fascinating, not just about myself but about other authors, as well. When I'm speaking with an author and he/she asks me to repeat something that I've said that's really funny or poignant, I know it’s because he/she wants to use it. Sometimes I’ll jokingly say, “Don’t use that because I might want to use it in a story.” So, I know other authors are always in tune to what’s going on and what’s being said around them, too. We're always thinking about writing, thinking in 'our language.'

Do you find that you do the same thing? I'm convinced a lot of  writers base tidbits of information in their stories on someone in their life; someone they met; or someone who merely crossed their path. I was recently listening to NPR and I heard an author say she based a character on either her mother or grandmother, but because of her beliefs she wouldn't allow the character in the story to die because the character was based on her loved one. She didn't want to feel like she was influencing the life (or death) of her loved one. I get that.

Another thing that I do that I think is interesting is, sometimes I’m more motivated by sadness to write than I am by happiness. What is that about? My take on this is, perhaps because it’s so cathartic to write that this is my way of releasing that sadness. Sometimes I write about what has made me sad (or how I feel) or sometimes I’m just motivated to write, and the final product could be about something that doesn't have anything to do with what has made me sad or how sad I feel. I don’t know that I’m equally as motivated to write when I'm happy. Perhaps that’s because I want to hold on to the happiness, and just keep it to myself. I don’t know. Of course, my writing isn't always motivated by sadness. Sometimes I’m just excited about writing--getting back to a story to see what's going to happen. This is more often the case. Sometimes a great scene pops into my head and I just want to see where it goes. Often, I’m curious to see what direction the characters are going to take the story. It’s like I’m reading the story for the first time (if you know what I mean).  

My best thoughts come to me in the car, though, driving back and forth from Georgia to Florida. Some years ago I bought a digital recorder. Now I just use the recording app on my smartphone. When I begin to think in 'our language' I just talk away my time on the road.  

Simpy TRB

More Is Involved Than Just Writing a Book

I'm not afraid to admit, I did everything a little backwards. That is, I published my book before I did any marketing. Not to say that I can't go full force with the marketing now because that's exactly what I'm going to do. Honestly, I'm just excited about having my book back out there.

I'm also learning how to tweet. Even though, I'm much more fascinated with reading tweets than I am with making tweets. We'll just say, "I'm studying the process." 

I'm hungry and I'm sleepy (it's 12:15 a.m.), and my right hand hurts, which is not a good sign. So, I'm going to go to bed and try this again tomorrow night. 

Feel free to leave comments telling me how to tweet. I really need some help. Thanks!

Simply TRB  

I Done Did It

Another, "I done did it." I put my cover out on Facebook today. Now I'm waiting for Amazon to do their thing. I'm really excited and extremely motivated to get my next book finished. The process of self-publishing, particularly through CreateSpace, is extremely easy (and there are many different ways to do it). Once you get it down, you got it. I think I could do this for a living. Well, if I could do it if I sold enough books.

This is officially my second time releasing a book. The first time, I distinctly remember thinking, "Who's going to read a book I wrote?" It was almost like, the audacity of me to write a book and really expect people to read it (other than family and friends). Don't get me wrong, I thought it was a great story. I think I was feeling something that a lot of new writers feel. A couple of Saturdays ago, I spoke with a member of the Atlanta Writers Club and she said those exact same words to me, "Who's going to read a book I wrote." She said she felt that way as she wrote her book. So much so that she changed stories and genres several times, until she was comfortable with a genre that she felt couldn't receive too much public criticism.

I don't feel like that this time. This time I'm excited at the prospect of receiving feedback--positive and negative. I'm looking forward to discussing the story with readers. I'm also excited about actually feeling like a writer this time. The first time I felt like someone who just happened to write a book. I honestly don't think I even considered writing another book until I had a few book signing under my belt (even though I had started another story). This time I feel knowledgeable and experienced--like I know what I'm doing, what I'm getting into and, sort of, what to expect.

And I'm happy, but I'll be even happier when I actually touch my first copy of the new book. I wish my grandparents were around to experience this with me. Even though the first release was never properly edited, my grandparents made me feel like a "big time celebrity author." Grandparents have a way of making your accomplishments feel larger than life. For that, and many other reasons, I mentioned them in the beginning of my book.

Wow, guess I should end here. I'm actually getting teary-eyed. I hope you continue to support my blog. Please check out my website. It's the first website I've ever had (I'm excited about that too). I hope you buy my book and thoroughly enjoy it. I hope it leaves you asking for more. I also hope you're motivated to accomplish a goal you have that's been lingering out there for awhile. Thanks.

Simply TRB          

Jumping Back In

Well, four more days and I'm back out there. My website: www.simplytrbaker.com goes live Monday night, March 25, 2013, and my book drops Tuesday, March 26, 2013.



I'm more anxious than I am excited. I think it's time--time to "jump back in" to the literary game. This time I know a little bit more.

(This is the first public post of the cover of my re-released debut novel.)

Simply TRB

Black History Month Speaker

Last month, for Black History Month, I was invited to the Elizabeth Andrews Alternative School to talk about writing and getting published. For the last 10 years I've been learning all I can about writing, editing, and self-publishing. Even though I know there is much more to learn, I felt very knowledgeable sharing what I have learned. I also invited a new author, Richard Martin, Jr., to talk about his writing/self-publishing experience. Mr. Martin hired Butterfly Whispers Copy Editing & Proofreading to edit his autobiography, and then I assisted him with publishing his book using CreateSpace. It was a great experience. So much so that I'm going to re-release my first book using CreateSpace.

I love writing, I love talking about writing, and I really love listening to other people talk about writing. My recent experience at Elizabeth Andrews helped me to realize how much I enjoy motivating other people to write. I'm excited about seeing where all of this goes, and who I get to meet along the way.

Simply TRB     

Not The First Blog Today

You will be proud to know, last night I wrote late into the night. I'm quite proud of this because I didn't know if I would get any writing in yesterday. One thing I found interesting was that I was having problems with the timeline of the story (I'm in chapter 17). I realized I had totally deviated from the outline that I wrote...years ago. Because I started with an outline of this story, I still depend on the outline for the structure, even though I have lots of notes to integrate into the storyline, too.

Well, not much to blog about today because I decided against posting my initial blog (I included the info in my personal journal instead). I really want to maintin the professional relationship with the person that was the impetus for today's orginal blog, even though I'm very unhappy, disappointed, and confused. That's all I'll say about that.

Now, I'm going to organize the tax info for my mother and myself, so that it's ready to drop in the mail tomorrow (two months earlier than last year); I'm also going to organize notes and other legal documents for a friend; I'm going to finish looking over someone else's photo-journal; and I'm going to work on one of my stories. A day off is always a test in maintaining a rigorous schedule (I'm also going to workout and, at some point, probably after Ellen goes off, I'm going to run to WalMart).

Happy Monday to everyone!

Simply TRB 

I Cried Today (written 02/09/13)

Every so often I transcribe interviews for these social workers/counselors and their juvenile, male clients. To tell you that I am left breathless by the interviews is an understatement. I would never divulge the nature or details of the information I transcribe, but, I will say, just a moment ago I broke down in tears (it’s not the first time). Even as I type these words I’m crying. To hear a young man, 17 years old, say, “Bad things happen to bad people,” in the context of what I've already heard, helped me to appreciate how lost and helpless an entire generation is. Particularly if you understand what he was saying was he was a “bad person.” Without some form of encouragement he would never understand that he’s just a young man who has merely made some “bad choices,” but he still has an opportunity to make different and better decisions.   

There have been times in my life when I also felt absolutely helpless: when my mom’s house almost went into foreclosure, along with millions of other homes; when my uncle was found dead a week after my dad and I looked for him; when I wrote my first book and it ended up becoming a legal fiasco, and I could go on. Each time I cried first, prayed, and then received the strength to get through each and every situation. Young people are so ill-equipped to deal with life as it’s dealt to them. Not that they can’t; they’re just ill-equipped and they often choose to listen to others who are just as badly prepared as they are.

Anybody who knows me knows that that I lean towards males because I have four brothers and four nephews. It wasn't so much that the client was a young man, but that he was a young person. I look at the plight of young people today, young men and young women, and it’s one of the most unfortunate situations in modern society. From a spiritual standpoint, I get it; from a purely intellectual standpoint, not so much. Spiritually speaking, it’s the stream of time we’re living in and no one is immune to what’s going on with society or with the world. Intellectually speaking, I don’t get it because we’re, seemingly, more advanced in every area of life than we have ever been.

Anyway, I listen to these interviews of all of these lost young men and my heart goes out to them, to any young person that's out there lost. It's apparent that they have no idea what's going on. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I just know, today I cried for a young man who has probably said many times, "I'm a man," even though he's really just a boy, and he may be getting ready to find out, the hard way, what it really means to be a man.

Pretty Good Day

Reading two books right now: "Captain Blood" by Rafael Sabatini and "Outcast" by Lewis Ericson. I'll tell you about them after I finish reading them.

Nope, didn't work on a single manuscript today. Well, not really true. I did read over ETICME again today. I'm still waiting on the cover, but I'm going to put it completely to the side after Friday. At some point you have to do that, stop reading over a manuscript that you've read several times (Disclaimer: Reading over a manuscript many times, several times, or even a lot may never feel like enough). I promise you, every time you read it you're going to find something to change. That's just how it is.

Oh, I did work on two other projects today, though. One of them belongs to a photographer friend who is going to release a wonderful photo journal, probably by the end of the month. The second project is also a photo journal, but I'm co-authoring this book with another photorgrapher friend of mine. Her book release is planned for later this year.

I did pretty good today. I'm pleased.

Simply TRB  

Today Is The First Day of The Rest of My Blogs

Today is Monday, February 4, 2013, and I am not feeling it. This should have been a vacation day or, at a minimum, a day at home writing. Though, I'm very excited about this, my first blog. Actually, this isn't my first time blogging. Apparently I made an attempt, way back in February 2010 (that's when I created my blog account--did you know you couldn't delete the title of old blogs). This time I'm actually going to let people know I have a blog. That will probably be very helpful...if I want people to read it, huh? This blog is going to serve a two-fold purpose: 1.) I'm really hoping this will create and maintain interest in my writing; and 2.) I will be able to meet my goal of writing every day (i.e., stories, personal journal, or, now, blog).

I think, as a writer I should write daily (that's what some of the great writers say). I've fought this idea for years. I used to tell people, "I write when the feeling hits me." The truth is, I'm a writer and the feeling should hit me every day. I should write "something" every single day. Having said that, I should let you know, I'm about to re-release my first book, "Every Time I Close My Eyes" (ETICME), first published in 2003. I revised it and edited it myself. I know, I know...a writer should not edit his/her own work. Do you want to know a secret? After my book was published in 2003, I never opened it to read it. The first time I actually read the story, as a book, was February 2012. Yeah, crazy, right? It was really like seeing it with brand new eyes.

Anyway, I tried to stay true to the original writing of ETICME because I was in a very different place when I wrote it. I want to show the distinction between my writing then and my writing now. To improve my craft, I've taken all kinds of classes and even joined a couple of writer groups. I hope my growth is reflected in my writing. I had no idea how to write back then. Didn't invest any time in doing anything except making sure words were spelled correctly (I thought an editor would take care of the rest). Well, I learned that I should invest much more in my writing, than I did, if I'm going to be taken seriously.

My plan is to have my second book, "Daddy's Big Girl," published by the end of February. At least, that's the plan, and then to have a third book published in August 2013. I don't know about you, but I'm excited about getting back out there.

So, thank you and welcome to my blog! 

(Thanks Monika Mitchell, 556 Book Chicks, for telling me I needed a blog.)

Taya R. Baker aka Simply TRB