Dr. Lisa Hamilton, the woman supposedly best suited to help me deal with my condition, is so not my image of a psychiatrist.She keeps a pair of running shoes by the door and has a model kayak on her desk.

I call it “riding the wave”. What else could you possibly call it? You can’t stop it once it gets started, so you may as well go with the flow with as little resistance as possible

So, as promised, here is an excerpt from Riding The Wave. Just a little something to get you started.  Episodes will post Monday-Friday from August 3 through the 28th.
I am just putting the Jeep in park when it starts.  I squeeze the steering wheel with both hands because there isn’t much else for me to do.  The heat is starting down below, and spreading rapidly.  I throw my head back against the seat and wait it out. Until a couple of months ago, I didn’t know that 90 seconds …

Earlier in the month, I mentioned a WIP that I actually plotted from beginning to end in one long stretch of an evening.
Well, I’m happy to say that you’ll be able to read Riding The Wave on Monday.  August will be all fiction, all the time at DFB.
Riding The Wave is about a woman in the middle of several life changes when she starts experiencing involuntary orgasms.  If I say much more, then you won’t have any reason to come back next month and read my story, now will …

thanks for your show about nothing.
It paved the way for internet navel gazing- also known as personal blogging. I believe in giving credit where it’s due.
I’m not hating (seeing as I fit into this category).
Just drawing some obvious conclusions.
Sincerely,
Diva
It’s Tuesday.  I’m trying to finish some fiction for the website for August, as well as make money to pay bills.  What do you want from me?

I unlocked all my FictonBytes. Have at ‘em. And don’t forget to tell me what you think.

She sat at her desk listening to the owl hoot.  It was pretty strange considering it was 5:05 in the evening.  She wondered if the gray days had the poor thing a little confused.  And then she wondered where he was.  Was he sitting on the fence separating her yard from her neighbor’s, or was he up in the tree on a low hanging branch? The thought of going out to look for him suddenly felt like a brilliant idea. But, then what?  Tell him that it was too early …

She fancied herself a writer, but she found that she had not engaged in “writer-like” behavior in weeks. You know, actually writing.  And it wasn’t because she didn’t have the tools or the space.  She had all the trappings:  the sexy and sleek computer, the roomy L-shaped glass desk that she had coveted for months before finally purchasing, the leather executive chair that embraced her like an old love when she sat down, Moleskine notebooks, great gel pens, and much, much more.  But this stuff did not do the writing …

I’ve got a new project underway.  As a matter of fact, I’ve got several irons in the fire.  Which can be a problem.  Means I tend to bounce around like the ball in a pinball machine (remember those?). 
My goal is to finish project one by the end of the month. 
And post on DFB, of course.
Anyway, the writing is coming after the bill paying gig and the parenting gig.  And the house painting.  And the soon to be packing for moving day in less than four weeks. But it’s getting done- …

I woke this morning to the sounds of birds tweeting outside my window. Real birds. I can’t remember the last time I actually heard real birds tweeting outside my window.