The Power of Writing

What is the best thing about writing?

As an actor, I cherished every word in the script with respect to the playwright never thinking one day I’d be a writer. A mother hears her child say, “Read me a story, Mommy.” Read becomes“Tell me a story, Mom.” And here I am with a publisher, Kimberlee Williams-Vanilla Heart Publishing who calls and says, “Write another new story.”

The best is using the powerful gift of imagination. An idea wakes me from sleep. In the morning I write. Think of what the writer can do with a story. You create a situation, two people meet, maybe fall in love, a misunderstanding, obstacles you throw in their path to prevent an easy solution and at last, love wins. OR an evil presence, a parallel story to collide, illness, death, destruction, misunderstanding and love wins OR. . .Possibilities are endless. The author is in command OR is she? The characters take over as they often do. The author loses herself, cries, laughs, and writes until The End. You weep some more because your baby has grown up and you want to show her to the world. Then the real work begins. Promotion, marketing. Oh my. All you want to do is write.

Re-introducing To Be Continued, my first book with Vanilla Heart.To Be Continued newstyle 3D (2)

BLURB: Beth Malone wakes up one morning to find a note from her husband of forty years. “Dear Liz, it’s not you, it’s me.” Abandoned by her husband, Beth decides to re-establish herself as the winner she once was. When Frank Malone returns, he’s in for a big surprise!


After a late swim in the enclosure, Beth strolled back to the house enjoying the night. She reflected on the darkness, losing one minute a day until daylight saving time. Clocks fall back in one month. Survival one season at a time. So far—so good.

Locking the sliders, Beth turned to see a body peering into the refrigerator. Oh my God! I’d know that ass anywhere. Jaw dropped, Beth froze.

Frank Malone straightened up, cheese in one hand–tomato in the other, a huge smile on his whiskered face. “Lizzie,” arms outstretched as he advanced. “I heard about Susie’s pregnancy. We’re going to be grandparents. Can you believe it?” He moved to embrace her, food still clutched in both hands. Beth ducked under the tomato.“Get out.” “Ah Lizzie, I must’ve been having a mid-life crisis and now I’m back.” Face contrite, ever the performer. No wonder his patients loved him, she thought. He could appear boyish, serious, sympathetic, sexy, kind; whatever he believed his audience required.

No more, Frank; show’s over; long run ended when you walked out. Again she said, “Get out, Frank.”

Ignoring her he sliced the tomato and some cheese, placed them between two slices of whole wheat bread already coated with mustard and sat down. He bit into the sandwich, chewed and swallowed and took a long pull of beer. “You know sweetheart, I was sure I’d get a warmer welcome than this.” Soulful eyes peered up at Beth where she remained frozen to the same spot at the sliders. Another bite, another swig.

Time for action. She hurried to the phone, hit 911. “This is an. . .” Frank twisted the phone from her grasp and hung up. They were very close now. Smiling down, he shook his head. “Honey, you don’t really want to call the police.” Slick and seductive, just his style, Frank led his wife to a kitchen chair and continued with the bedside manner perfected over years of practice. “Wine?” When she didn’t respond, he opened a chilled bottle Chardonnay and poured a glass setting it in front of her. “You’re wet from the pool. I love when you’re wet, remember?” Blinking, Beth stared at the husband who walked away in March and out of who knows where, just turned the key in the lock she’d forgotten to change and walked back in.

“Get out Frank. Now. Take the sandwich and beer and get out.” For a moment he appeared startled. “But this is my home, our home. I have nowhere to go.” “Wrong. This is my home now. Maybe Susie will take you in or your buddy, Bruce. For the last time, get out and give me the key.” Bewildered, Frank plodded toward the front door, glancing left and right as if taking a quick inventory of changes made since his departure. Pausing at the door to what used to be his office/trophy room, he opened his mouth to speak. Beth cut him off. “Keep moving. It’s my home.” At the door, Beth held out her hand. “The key.” He made a big show of removing it from tight jeans and slapped it in her hand as if it were a surgical instrument. The door closed behind him with an audible click of the lock. Heart pounding, back pressed against the door for support, Beth said out loud, “Just when you thought it was safe to go into the water. . .” Even though Frank appeared to deflate as she marched him out, Beth knew he’d pump up soon enough.

She hadn’t seen or heard the last of Frank Malone.


BLIND SIDE: Webster’s Dictionary says: the side away from which one is looking.

Beth Malone sure wasn’t looking in the right direction all the years of her marriage to Frank. He’s abandoned her after forty years of what she thought was a good marriage. Once a winner, smart with Olympic Gold a strong possibility and a full scholarship to college close at hand, she meets Frank Malone. He’s handsome, a clever med student; everything her mom wants in a son-in-law. So Beth gives in to marry Frank, support them and pay for his education.

How can a smart girl cave and give all, you might ask? At seventeen, pressure from mom might be one answer. Her needs became secondary nature as she literally takes a back seat in their life together and more so when daughter Susie is born.

Now Beth stands alone and must learn to do what I call the dance of life. Place one foot in front of the other and move on. A novice at first, she makes mistakes and turns to her love of swimming to strengthen her. Giving back to the community is new to Beth and opens a whole new world.

Dear readers, what are your feelings as you read Beth’s struggle to grow as a single when all her grown-up years have been as part of a doubles team? When she cries out, “I want my forty years back.” do her words resonate inside you?

I look forward to hearing from you.



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2 thoughts on “The Power of Writing

  1. Enjoy your blogs so much. A glimpse into the life of a writer AND an actor/singer/model, etc. Keep it up; you have people who believe in you and relish your success. That’s what makes a writer unique in the world: We’re not jealous. We can’t be, because we’re all in this together, and your words are your own. Someone else may have the same experience, but his words would not be like yours. That’s what I love about writing. And about you, dear Charmaine.

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