Over the years, I’ve taken a couple of nasty spills and hurt both of my hands. Of the two falls, my left hand experienced the worst injuries. So, imagine my frustration when I started having trouble with my right hand. By the way, I am not left-handed, but I am very left-brained.

My issues started when I tackled yard work this spring. I love working in the yard, removing winter debris and pesky weed upstarts that threaten to take over my flower bed. We live in a rural area, and our house sits on the edge of a farmer’s field. I’ve found weeds in my yard that I can’t identify. It’s like the well-known weeds invited the otherworldly weeds to come and join the fun.

Armed with my garden wagon, various tools, and new gloves, I set out on a lovely spring day to eliminate all unwanted plants. Within two days, I’d cleared the flower bed and began covering the ground with a weed barrier to prevent uninvited vegetation from putting down roots.

After a few days of gardening, both of my hands began to ache. But since I was close to finishing the barrier so I could spread river rock in the flower bed, I ignored the pain and pushed forward. And then it happened …

As I pounded a yard staple into the fabric and underlying dirt, my right hand cramped, and my ring finger slammed into my palm. I noted some pain, but what surprised me was that I couldn’t lift my ring finger. It was as if my brain couldn’t connect with my hand.

Now sidelined with a painful and swollen right hand, I abandoned my yard work. Thinking if I let my hand rest, it would be fine in a couple of days; I attempted to do tasks with my left hand. Everything took longer, and I felt extremely clumsy.

Thankfully, I schedule time to write every day and found my right hand managed to move across my laptop keys, albeit slowly. My current WIP, “Chaos in Cabo,” is moving slowly, too, and I started to think about the plot line and characters. Maybe I should shift my creative process to the right side of my brain as I’d done when switching to my left hand.

I have always been a linear thinker. I’m analytical when approaching my day job. Methodical in planning and organizing my calendar. I like order and logic. One of the compliments I receive regularly in reviews is: Kimila is a master plotter! The kudos belong to my left-sided brain.

My plot in “Chaos in Cabo” seems solid. Now, forty chapters in, I feel the beginning of the book has my characters headed down the right story threads. Sometimes, okay, maybe all the time, I struggle with the middle of my story, letting uninvited insecurities plant seeds of self-doubt in my head.

I decided it might be time to embrace non-linear thinking and let my imagination conjure up some implausible situations for my characters. Oh, what fun!

I’ve spent the last few weeks writing different scenarios for my characters than what I’d initially plotted. Maybe my hero can’t forget or forgive the past. If that’s the case, he might have to let the love of his life walk away and into the arms of another man. What if my heroine starts questioning who she’s really in love with, which could cause her to lose everything? Is my villain a good person whose moral compass was skewed after suffering abuse at the hands of a sadistic rapist? Or will she justify killing someone she perceives to be her rival?

Not only did I discover new things about the three main characters, but I also came up with the plot line for my next México Mayhem book, “Lost in Loreto.”

I decided on this blog topic those first few days of struggling to use my left hand. But it didn’t occur to me to Google (my favorite research tool) Left Brain/Right Brain until I began writing the piece last week. Since you’re all writers, I’m sure you already know this, but writers use both sides of their brain equally.

My right hand is still giving me trouble, and the preliminary diagnosis is osteoarthritis. Old age is definitely not for the weak of heart. But every time I have to switch to my left hand to complete a task, I smile and tell myself eventually, my hands will become equals like my very well-rounded brain!

Happy writing, Ladies ~

On June 2^nd my son Derrick would have turned 44. This year marks the 8^th birthday I haven’t been able to celebrate with him. And, as you can imagine, this is a hard day for me. This year a few of my friends bought me a ticket to attend a Beattle’s cover band concert. It was a perfect distraction.

I remember being excited about my second child’s birth, dreaming about what it would be like to have a darling little girl to complete my family. My first born, Norman, was a fifteen month old inquisitive boy who loved motoring around our yard on his souped up tricycle.

When my second child was born, I asked the doctor, “Is she perfect?”

To which he replied, “He has ten fingers and toes.”

“He?” I tried to sit up so I could see. “Are you sure the baby’s not a girl?”

“Pretty sure since he’s peeing on me.”

And so, Brianna Denise became Derrick James, son number two. As a boy mom, I loved the idea that Norman and Derrick would be best friends growing up. When I noticed that Derrick wasn’t hitting the same age related benchmarks that Norman had, I consulted a pediatrician. Within a couple of months, Derrick had his first diagnosis of cerebral palsy. Over the course of the next few years, he would receive five other designations, finally being diagnosed with autism at the age of eight.

As Derrick’s first birthday approached I remember thinking: He was perfect until he was born.

Every year, this sentiment would haunt me right before Derrick’s birthday. Of course, other thoughts piggybacked on this main theme. What would “normal” Derrick have been like? Would he have been smart? Would he have chosen a car or a truck to drive? Would he have gotten married and had kids?

After Derrick died, I thought about my musings and realized that Derrick had been perfect all along. His sense of humor was spot on and always accompanied by a big belly laugh. He couldn’t drive, but his mind had a built in compass and he never hesitated to tell you if you made a wrong turn. And though Derrick couldn’t be a husband or father, he was an excellent Uncle.

Now that I spend my days writing the Stoneybrook Mystery Series, and developing Derrick’s alter ego, Deputy Derrick Stone, I’m once again caught up in delusions of perfection. When I write … anything … I have a deluded expectation that it will be perfect when my fingertips touch the keys and tap out my thoughts. That, unfortunately, is not the case!

I recently discovered that there are still errors in my first novel, “Peril in Paradise”. Seriously? After personally reading the manuscript ten times and listening to the novel five times? I also had four Beta Readers read the book, not to mention paying two editors … and there’s still errors?

My enlightenment came from my investment into Grammarly. The AI editing software had no trouble pointing out all the flaws in my masterpiece. At first, I was extremely annoyed by this revelation.

I shared my experience with one of my Beta readers and she was amazed. “There’s no way all of us combined didn’t catch errors in the book,” she said.

Spurred on by her doubt, and since I hadn’t actually made any of the changes suggested by Grammarly, I decided to take the AI’s recommended corrections one at a time. I discovered that “Alice” (my nickname for the artificial editor) didn’t always get what I was trying to say. Alice did, however, find a few minor things we missed. So, I went through the manuscript and made the necessary changes and corrected things that made sense to my creative brain.

Next, I used Alice while I re-listened to “Redneck Ranch”. I’m double-checking the book for errors or anomalies since I’m having it narrated for an audiobook. Once again Alice couldn’t wait to point out my mistakes. And this time … I found a few storyline problems that Alice wouldn’t catch.

I had another conversation with my Beta Reader friend, and she said, “I know how much of a perfectionist you are, but your stories are fabulous.” She flipped to a part of the book featuring Deputy Derrick Stone putting together clues that would eventually solve the crime. After reading a small snippet, she grinned at me and said, “If there were errors in this section, I didn’t see or hear them.” She hugged me. “For me, and I think all of your readers feel the same, the whole book is perfect.” She grinned. “Just like Derrick.”

When I take a breath and try to look at my work from a non-perfectionist point of view, I’m proud of the seven books I’ve written. My narrator, Dawn, called me a plotting genius and couldn’t stop gushing about how good “Peril in Paradise” is.

Nothing is ever completely perfect. I think when we love something, we massage the person, experience, book, painting, sunset … into perfection. But the true talent is seeing the perfection in the imperfection.

Happy “imperfect” writing, Ladies!!!

Some of you know I lost my son, Derrick, to a sudden heart attack. The seventh anniversary of his death is coming up on May 11^th, a day I now dread. Luckily, I have family and friends who invite me to various activities in an attempt to distract me from the heartache of that day.

My favorite distraction since Derrick’s death has been writing and crafting my books. I currently have seven published books between my two series, including the recently published, “Whispering Willows.” By the end of May, I will have published my eighth novel, “Willow’s Woods.” Yes, working with two double W-titles was a tad bit confusing.

While I love my México Mayhem Series, my heart longs to live in Stoneybrook where Derrick is a fictional deputy sheriff. But regardless of whether I’m writing about an exotic adventure in México or creating a mysterious quest from Stoneybrook to the Oregon coast, I can’t wait to see the story flow from my fingertips.

Recently someone asked me, “If it takes John Grisham two to three years to write a book, how can you write two in one year?”

My first thought was, “Wow! She’s comparing me to John Grisham.” Of course, I came to my senses, realizing this person hasn’t read my books so a Grisham comparison would be silly. My next thought was concerning. “Is she’s implying there’s no way I can write one, let alone two, good books in a year.”

Hmmmm???? My reply was …

“Well,” I smiled, “Grisham’s books are usually very intricate legal thrillers, which isn’t what I write.” I sipped some red wine. “I think, despite writing two books in one year, my books are good. Maybe not John Grisham good, but enjoyable according to the positive reviews I’m receiving.”

Her next question was, “How do you find the time?”

I contemplated our exchange so far, then told her the truth. “I don’t know how much time I have left.” Tears pricked my eyes. “If my time on earth ends sooner than I’d like, I’ll have all these untold stories wishing they’d been written. So, I spend every spare minute writing, or editing, or listening, to the book I’m creating.” This time a much larger sip of wine. “After Derrick died I had two choices,” I continued, “I could slide slowly down the rabbit hole of grief, or I could immerse myself in a passion that brings me joy.”

In the seven years since Derrick died, I’ve lost other family and friends. Counseled parents who’ve lost children. Sat with wives whose husbands have passed away. Being a wordsmith, I feel blessed to offer comfort, always finding the right sentiment to share.

As I approach an anniversary I wish had never been created, I also draw closer to my sixty-seventh birthday. Celebrating Derrick on the eleventh will be both difficult and joyful. I love weaving in his autistic idiosyncrasies into his fictional alter ego and often find myself laughing at one of his favorite sayings or smiling at the memory of his famous belly laugh.

While I’d rather be turning “29” again … I’m thankful to be turning sixty-seven. Thankful I get to take another trip around the sun and spend every spare minute writing stories just waiting to be told.

Happy Writing, Ladies!

I love everything about writing my books. The research and plotting. Developing characters and creating scenarios for their fictional lives. Deciding what crime my villains will spring on their unsuspecting victims. And not knowing how the book ends until I make the journey with the characters is so satisfying.

I do not, however, enjoy marketing. Seriously! There is so much to learn about running Facebook ads. And don’t even get me started about trying, unsuccessfully by the way, to make an Amazon ad. I also can’t seem to master Tik Tok or Book Tok or any kind of Tok.

My trek into the nightmare of marketing is driven by the desire to increase my book sales. So far my endeavors have been participating in book events with Northwest Independent Writers Association (NIWA), as well as doing a few on my own. I love talking to potential readers and discussing my books along with other authors’ books. And I’m really good at sales! I’ve been told I can sell someone the shirt their already wearing!

Obviously, I’m participating in writing blogs for Ladies of Mystery, but I also try to post blogs on my author’s website. And have looked into writing a blog for Goodreads to see if I can attract more readers to my books.

One of the benefits to working events with other authors is learning how to well … market. Paty Jager has been helpful beyond words, answering my questions and holding my hand as I flatten my learning curve. From creating ads to crafting a newsletter to navigating tools like Audible, Paty has provided great insight. Her patience is endless and if not for her I would’ve tossed in the towel after the first week.

Now I’m running a Facebook ad every week or so and my book sales are creeping upwards. I haven’t been able to master an Amazon ad yet, but plan to keep trying. I noticed that my eBook sales are up via Draft2Digital. In fact, the Brooklyn New York Library ordered all five of my eBooks. What?!? As did the Jackson County Library in my hometown of Medford, Oregon.

One of my favorite marketing tasks so far has been scheduling more solo book events. I’ve landed a booth spot for Donald Daze in my current hometown and the Jackson County Library has invited me to do an event in June.

Marketing might be a touch challenging, but I do love a good challenge! I would love any tips or tricks you’ve had success with, so please feel free to share at author@kimilakay.com

I’m off now to work on my current WIP, “Chaos in Cabo”, because causing chaos for my characters is way more fun than marketing!

Happy writing, Ladies ~ Kimila

Footnote: As you know, I lost my son, Derrick, seven years so with each passing child, I deeply feel the loss for the parents. Dear friends of mine lost their 21-year-old son, Jason, in a motorcycle accident a week ago. My apologies for the short blog this time, but I’ve been in Medford wrapped in the comfort of family and friends. Hug those close to you because no matter how much time you think you have … it will never be enough.