Strange word to use when I thought it was the end of high school and then college. Naïve? Oh yeah.  Little did I know . . .

When I graduated from UNCG I thought my education was at an end and, since I knew everything, I was on my way.  Thank goodness I was wrong.  Even today I learn something new every day, whether it’s for my job or my family or my life.  And it’s not boring.

Maybe I’m no longer in a formal classroom with a defined teacher at the front, but my education never stopped.  Working in an office, of course I’ve had to keep up with technology – well I’ve tried at least – and psychology and accounting and  . . . well, you get the picture.  I’ve learned the art of Madeline Albright using necessary diplomacy and how to manage my time some.

Mostly though I’ve learned about people. I get to watch them all the time. And that has come in handy. The last thing I want to write is a two-dimensional character, someone unbelievable. Real people are layered, not all evil nor all good, but a great mix of it all. That’s what I try to bring to these people I create.

Kat is definitely not happy about the direction her life was forced into in Rth Rising, and Davd knows he wants more but isn’t sure what that is. It was fun watching them grow and fight me to change it when they didn’t think I’d gotten it right.

For today – congratulations baby girl – I’m so proud of you!

Excerpt from Rth Rising -

Kat’s graduation the next week was full of pomp and circumstance. She missed Da. He would have been proud of her on more than one level, knowing that like him, she made the best of what faced her and had done a good job. Of course, Gramma Lil’s pride nearly overwhelmed her.

Head, wearing his full dress uniform, caused a thrill she felt down to her marrow when he intoned her name, then attached the pin to her lapel. He actually winked at her though she knew no one else had seen it.

She had been stunned after the conferring of pins, to find that she had graduated the top of her class. She was aware her marks were good; but still she was surprised. He called her back to the front to award her the certificate. She could hear Gramma Lil, Bree and Danl’s clapping above all the others.

It looked as though Head wanted to clap as much as they did. Regardless of her preferences, she would be happy to report to this man.

At the reception following the ceremony, it felt as though everyone in the class came up and spoke to her, congratulating her. She wasn’t completely sure all of the comments were sincere; but it felt good, if a little embarrassing, to be the center of attention. Head stood beside her showing what felt like fatherly pride and letting everyone know how he felt about her achievements.

When things finally began to thin out, he turned to her. “I know your traditional education is completed, but I’d like to offer you a position reporting to me for the next year. I would be honored to mentor you.”

She blinked her astonishment, then smiled. “Sir, I would be honored.”

Head nodded. “We’ll talk in my office. Now, go have fun with your friends.”

“Thank you.” She stood there as he walked off and jumped a little when Gramma Lil touched her arm. “Do you believe that?”

“Of course I do—what?” Gramma Lil smiled up at her.

“Head just asked to mentor me this next year. Me!”

“I should thump you on the head,” Gramma Lil retorted.

“What?”

“You’re surprised! My darling Kitten, don’t you have any clue how incredible you are?”

“Gramma—”

“She’s right,” Bree chimed in from her other side. “Did you not know about the award? You looked thoroughly shocked. I am so proud of you.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Kat hugged Lil and then Bree. Danl winked at her and she grinned. They headed back to Kat’s apartment for dinner.

“Do you know where you’ll be assigned?” Bree asked as she helped put the food out on the table.

“Not really; though if I’m reporting directly to Head, I’ll get to stay here at Centerport. First years usually work in retail, keeping an eye out for petty thieves. The thought is, if you can get an anti-social person into treatment earlier, they don’t become true drains on Puter and hopefully won’t escalate to bigger crimes.”

“They’re actually sent to psych for readjustment?” Danl asked. “I always thought that was just a tale to scare kids.”

Kat shook her head. “It’s not widely discussed, but people, healthy people, don’t feel the need to steal from Puter. And besides, it doesn’t harm anyone. These people are just,” she shrugged, “readjusted. Afterwards they go back to their homes and their jobs and fit in like they’re supposed to.”

“Fit in,” Danl repeated. “I guess that’s for the best.”

Something about that comment made Kat look over at him; but he had turned away. What he said was correct. It was for the best, but his tone…They dropped the subject as Bree took her seat at the table.

Memorial Day Anthology

Many Americans have forgotten the meaning of Memorial Day  but we feel it’s important to honor our fallen heroes. It’s a day to wear the red poppy handed out by the older veteran, a reminder that brave men and woman forfeited their lives to keep our homeland safe.

We’ve lost the meaning of the true reason this day was set aside for; to morn and honor those who died serving a nation during a war, whether on foreign soil or right here at home. The people we remember were mothers and fathers. They were sisters and brothers. They were beloved wives and husbands. Sadly, they were the strongest and bravest of our children.

We’ve chosen to honor them with stories of bravery, love, sacrifice and in some cases, just the human need to honor our dead and move forward with life and love again. When we think of the men and women who serve us every day, we should shudder with humility, for they are truly a rare breed.

From the Revolution through the World Wars and to modern day Afghanistan and Iraq, we want to thank our men and women in uniform. Here at home we tip our hats to our fire, police, rescue, guards and all of the men and women who help ensure our safety right near our own front door. Our talented authors have created these stories to honor these brave Americans.

As poet Moina Michael wrote in 1915, “That blood of heroes never dies.”  We hope our contributing authors and their stories help accomplished just that.

On May 28, 2012, set aside a moment to think of those brave fallen. Celebrate life and diversity of the tasks of those who serve us and say a thank you to the heavens.

Rebel Ink Press

Thought I’d tease you  with a small glimpse into this world -

Davd firmly shut the door behind him and dumped his pack on the bed. It had been a good trip, but he needed to shower and check in before anyone realized how long he’d be gone.

He was good at that now, but he had to remain cautious. It had been a smart move to volunteer for gimp liaison. No one wanted the tedious job; therefore no one was checking on him when he was out of communication for short periods. No one even realized he was gone.

Out of the shower, he checked his pad for any meetings that might have been called while he was gone. No meetings, but a date with Kala tonight. He probably should have gotten out of it, but too late now. She was authorized by Puter to have a son and since her graduation, she’d been set on using his DNA for the job.

Wasn’t going to happen. She was okay in bed, but he had no plans to contract and therefore no plans to procreate. He’d seen what it did to kids. Fratz, he’d lived it. No way would he put some child through that on purpose. Puter wouldn’t miss one male child.

A quick liaison tonight would take the edge off though. Kala was enthusiastic and knowledgeable. She should be with all the practice she got. It didn’t matter to him; she was merely a sex partner, no strings. But sometime it might be nice to feel something for the women he slept with, maybe. At least he knew something was missing. Maybe someday the perfect woman would fall into his arms. He laughed to himself as he hurried out.

He made it to roll call early and caught up on what gossip he missed over the last four days. He did marvel at the thick-headedness of his fellow enforcers. They honestly thought the shirkers they brought in, the petty thieves they caught, were the extent of what was going on. They trusted Puter. Oh well, it made his job easier. Especially now that  Cal was in charge.

Davd took his assignment and made certain his absence had caused no stir. Alone, he headed out to check on a report of a possible shirker making a nest in a seldom-used area on the factory level.

That was what he was trained for, officially, but no longer his real work. He’d been . . . stunned wasn’t a strong enough word for how he’d reacted when Ralt had approached him. Ralt of all people. The man who seemed the epitome of a true rule follower.  Shirkers, real shirkers, were among them.

There were villages on the planet, near each of the arcologies, and an underground existed that kept people in contact and informed. They even helped people escape to outside. That no longer felt like a negative word to him.

The villages were generations old and those people lived in harmony with the land, not ignoring it or taking it for granted like the box dwellers did.

Having been to the village closest to Thirdport on numerous trips now, helping true escapees and taking in occasional supplies from the old stored items – those originally meant for that purpose anyway – he felt at home there. Much more at home than he did here.

A smile grew on this face. He had a home there now. Not big, just for him since he had no plans for a family, regardless of Puter’s edit. This was a house he had worked on each trip outside. Now it was there and ready for him when he decided to remain outside. Carla had presented him with cushions she had made herself from bright fabric scraps for the chair and couch. The homemade quill that covered his bed had been a present from the community, which had truly humbled him.

He knew he had helped out as courier, but to be appreciated like that felt different. It felt like home.

What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?

Good question. For me – well, I don’t see me climbing Everest or sailing alone across the Atlantic. I have smaller goals. Some of that comes from the EB, but that’s only physical.

Actually what I always wanted to do was write something that someone would want to read. I’ve always written – ask the girls (see Strong Women) but I was much too shy or maybe less than confident that anyone would care to read what I saw.

But I got older and maybe I got better. What the heck, you know? I’ll still eventually turn 60 or 70 or 80 whether or not I do what I really want to do. So I should go for it.

What I write isn’t for everyone. Neither was Shakespeare’s work. Okay, no comparison, but we both started out with a first project. And someone read it and liked it.

Personally I love science fiction. I love the possibilities of it. That works  with romance too, because there are so many possibilities there as well. Two people meeting, getting to know one another, finally connecting on a deeper level – that can happen anywhere and I can explore that.

So tell me, what are your secret fantasies that you never thought to really try? Come on, admit them and maybe, like me, you can make them really happen . . .

“The girls” were here the other weekend. That’s my roommates from college. Hard to believe how long we’ve been together, but I can’t imagine my life without them. It’s amazing and wonderful how we can get together (that’s in person and not just email) and pick up the conversation as though we’d talked the day before. It helps a lot that we don’t ever have to go into the backstory. We lived it together.

There are five of us – so different in appearance and passions and beliefs. A redhead, a brunette and a few blondes, probably all helped by chemicals now but who cares. I met them at such a pivotal time in my life. Leaving home for the first time for all of us, we banded together and grew each other up.

We dated together, got married together (all intertwined in each other’s weddings), had babies together and those kids grew up thinking of each other as cousins. I remember my son asking if the kids coming over were friend cousins or cousin cousins, and being happy with either one. The kids are still in touch even without us. One of my favorite pictures of Hubby is him in a hammock completely covered with one-year olds from one of our gatherings. All those kids got a copy of that picture in their high school graduation album. Now the kids are getting married and we’re losing our parents together. But to replace that loss some of us are becoming grandparents ourselves – a much easier thing to contemplate now than when we met.

Is it any wonder with these incredible examples that I write strong, independent, sometimes kick-ass women who might not like what they have to do, but can handle it. Hell, they can handle anything, and rustle up lunch while doing it.

If you haven’t read Rth Rising, give it a try. You’ll see what I mean.  And Learning Trust will be out June 17.

Thanks, Guys!

The Party is About to Get Started!  Stop by the Excerpt Extravaganza–April 13-15, 2012.

http://realmanticmoments.blogspot.com/2012/04/party-is-about-to-get-startedexcerpt.html?zx=36a9ec12eca72363

Don’t you love it when things just pile in on top of each other!! I’m in another blog hop – but it is a special time of year for me, so I’m indulging myself….

Of course I had to participate in this! Easter is my day. Really! I have to lay claim to it because I was born on it and got married on it. The first I had little control over, the second was kind of contrived.

The story of my birth was that Daddy was at the hospital and spotted the Easter Bunny trying to hippity hop down the hall but he had a baby in his basket and it was just too heavy. Daddy offered to take the baby off his hands to help out, but what Daddy really wanted was a chipmunk. Really, that’s the story I grew up with.  I still have a telegram from one of my aunts (who must not have loved me very much) offering the suggestion that they name me Easter and call me Essie. Fortunately that didn’t stick, though I was “James” for a couple of days, since they weren’t expecting a girl.

Now the wedding was different. I’m from a tiny town, maybe 3,000 people on Sunday morning when everyone’s home. So I go to my childhood church to make arrangements and there’s already a wedding that Saturday – who knew there were two women in town that weren’t already married, so I got shifted to Sunday – Easter Sunday. The florist loved that. It was also April 15, Tax Day. At least he’s never forgotten our anniversary.

Even though hubby groans about it, the kids still get Easter baskets – I don’t care that they’re both grown and gone. I got one as long as Momma was alive, so it’s only fair. Us Easter chipmunks have to stick together . . .

Come on and leave a comment – that’s two books I’ll be giving away – one with each hippity hop…

Check  out who else is on the hop    http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

When I spotted Carrie Ann’s request I had to jump in – My birthday is April 5. Happy Birthday fellow Aries!

Growing up we had a rule in the house – you only got a birthday party every three years. That actually worked out very well—1, 4, 7, 10, 13 and 16—Most of the high spots. After sixteen it turned into an annual slumber party, but the parents did forgive me for that eventually.

Funny, but it’s the in-between years I remember better. One year, probably when I was 11 or 12, I took a friend to the movies, one of my first horror flicks and we watched the entire movie through button holes in my coat, because we were completely covered and terrified. Another year I took a friend to a new kind of ice cream parlor—they made super servings with up to sixteen scoops of whatever you wanted. The problem, as I look back, was that everyone ate out of the same huge bowl.  That wasn’t too bad with one person, but we watched a group of kids slurping out of such a bowl, all over each other. Never went back and the place didn’t last long.

However, I think my favorite birthday is one that usually isn’t chosen by most people—the year I turned 30. I’m not a masochist, honest. And in the interest of full disclosure, I don’t really remember my 30^th birthday. No, I was not drunk, not even a little. My son was born exactly one month before that day. So I was in my 20′s when I became a mother, barely. Turning 30 kind of slid by without the angst of “OMG! 30!!” because of him. I was too busy and much too happy. I still am.

Now, please leave a comment! One lucky bloke will win an copy of my eBook – Rth Rising!  And you’ll be entered in the contest for the Birthday Blog Hop.  Thanks!

And now as an extra prezzy I’m up for best first chapter and cover – http://dreneebagbypresentsfirstchapters.blogspot.com/2012/03/rth-rising-by-donna-steele.html   A really good birthday….

http://carrieannryan.blogspot.com/

And hey! It’s my birthday too – April 5.  (Check out #21!) Leave a comment and someone will win a free copy of Rth Rising!

I did an interview with Linda Mooney- and no I do not have an accent…

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/other_worlds_of_romance/2012/03/27/donna-steele-is-my-guest-author-on-march-26th