Author Nicole Young

Sidetracked to Paris

2011-06-19T22:11:00.000-05:00

My three-hour daily commute sometimes feels pointless. I try to make the best of it and some days it’s only the paycheck that makes it worthwhile. But that changed earlier this month when I finally took the hours invested on the road listening to French language CDs, and spent them in France!

The crazy idea started as a guilt-trip from my then studying-abroad daughter that went something like this, “Come on, Mom, you know you’ve always wanted to go to France. My Prof said we should spend extra time abroad, and you know you want to join me for a few days. When else would you do it?"

“Tara, you know I don’t have the time or the money for that stuff right now. I’m still getting back on track…” I gave the standard spiel I use whenever I want to wiggle out of expensive requests from my kids. “We’ll have lots of opportunities later.”

“Yeah. I really see you going after your dreams, Mom. You’re always going to talk about it and you’re never going to do it.”

Ouch. She’d gone right for my pride.

I booked a flight.

We planned to meet in Brussels, where my daughter had finished her formal studies the day before. I was equipped with Google maps and a manual transmission. The combination gave us the opportunity to visit parts of Brussels the usual tourist wouldn’t get to see. My final impression: nice city, bad road signs. My basic knowledge of French and some very kind gas station attendants saved us.

Paris was much easier to navigate. Better signage, a map, and the Seine guided us into the Fifth Arrondissement. Our hostel (note that this is different from a hotel – something that booking.com does not differentiate) was only a few blocks from Notre Dame, the first stop on our two-day tour of Paris. Later, we ate at a sidewalk café across from the cathedral, where a saucy waiter managed to connive a kiss on the cheek from me.

The highlight of the day was the 9:40pm cruise along the Seine. La Vie En Rose played softly over the speakers as we came upon the Tour d’Eiffel, making the night so completely, amazingly French. It was a pinch-yourself-to-make-sure-you’re-not-dreaming moment. A double scoop of gelato and the purchase of an authentic Parisian scarf in the Latin Quarter completed our night.

We started Day 2 with a true continental breakfast. My favorite was brie cheese and strawberry jam slathered on a croissant. Then off to the Louvre. We made sure to see Mona, Venus, and Ramses, but had to cut it short for a stroll along the Champs Elysées. We were headed for the Arc de Triomphe, but got sidetracked for a late lunch.

We then decided to take the train to Versaille to see the palace there. We kept our visit short, bought some souvenirs, and zipped back to Paris. We found ourselves in the shopping district with no time to shop! We cut through the Jardin du Luxembourg on the way back to our room, making the usual stops for dinner and gelato on the way through.

As authors, we’re taught to bring all five senses into our stories. That night as we were trying to sleep, this lesson came to mind. Our sandals were covered with the white dust from the gardens of Paris. The dirt carries a distinct odor – not stinky, but very pungent. There was no sleeping until we washed our shoes and got rid of the smell!

The next day brought one of the funniest memories of our trip. I’d chosen our hotel because it offered parking, something that is at a premium in Paris. It added 26 Euros per night to our bill, but I was happy to pay – until we experienced the parking garage. It spiraled four stories straight underground, with parking for maybe six cars on each level. The elevator was broken, so the manager let us know we’d have to walk out the same way we’d come in – a narrow passage the width and height of one car, completely dark, with only a remote control with which to escape into daylight through an automatic door. The situation would never be condoned in America. The lawyers wouldn’t have it. That’s what made it so deliciously dangerous. The light from my cell phone shining against the rock wall guided us out on arrival day, and in on our final morning. Top it off with a jolting drive to the top in the stick shift, scared out of my mind that I wouldn’t be able to keep the car from rolling back into the pit while we waited for the door to lurch open, and you have the most exciting moment of my very dull life in perhaps ten or more years. Ah, Paris!

The best part of France for us was our time in the Val du Loire. Safe on the rural roads, we loved our trip into Vouvray and our stay at the Chateau de Jallanges. We visited Ambois and the castle there, then ate a very late supper at an authentic French tavern in Rochecorbon. There was no English on the menu, so we chose randomly just for fun. We were served raw salmon and raw beef, presented beautifully on garnished platters. The salmon was very good, but the beef was our favorite. And of course the meal came with a basket of French fries. Tres magnifique!

We hated to leave the countryside, and had we stayed another night, would have needed an extradition order to get us back to the States. Maybe it was the restored Chateau reminding us of another era, or the adorable donkey (we think this is the donkey that inspired the character in Shrek), or the two geese that accompanied us on our walk, or the son of the owners (the Successor, his father called him) that chased the geese away, or the incredible roses climbing the garden trellises… all made it nearly impossible to leave.

But we loaded our luggage, bid our new friends farewell and traveled on to Blois. We toured the very eclectic castle, then continued on our way back to Brussels for our return flight the next day.

The Sheraton sign gleamed over the Brussels airport. Our favorite sight of the day. We felt like we were nearly on American soil as we ate burgers for supper, cuddled into our snuggly Sheraton beds and called it a night.

The moment we cherished most was boarding the flight from Amsterdam to Detroit. Like Dorothy in Oz, we two American women gallivanting across Europe came to realize there is no place like home!

The more I experience in life, the more I have to write about! I think there’s a new series in this somewhere….

Blessings of a Long Commute - #9 Time to Sing

2011-02-20T22:01:00.003-05:00

There’s not much time left in my week to do anything but the basics, but occasionally I manage to carve out time to sing and fiddle with two country rock bands. I take the lead on some of my favorite tunes, but mostly I pitch in on high harmony. And there’s no better way to keep my voice in shape than with a three-hour vocal workout on the road. I’ll sing to anything – the rock stations, a good country song, the oldies, and the inspirational channels. Singing is a great way to rev up for a big day at the office, and decompress on the way home. In truth, I’d sing without the commute. But singing in the car makes the miles fly. And why not spend the time preparing for the next gig with the Country Roses or Diamonds and Gold? And after a long, cold winter, we’re looking forward to a summer filled with music and fun!

Left to Right: Vern Annelin, Nicole Young, Ann Bradshaw, and Renee Chandler, the four members of the Country Roses. Photo by Jamie Chandler.

Blessings of a Long Commute - #10 Brushing up on My French

2010-08-09T22:26:00.006-05:00

It's hard to rank the many blessings of being stuck behind a steering wheel 3 hours a day, Monday through Friday, but I'll start with the least important of the benefits and work up to the most amazing benefit of all.

Brushing up on my French has been something I've wanted to do since high school. A Border's in downtown Chicago on a Mommy-Daughters shopping trip provided the Berlitz volume and CDs that finally let me do just that. I can now count with some accuracy to 100. Given an unlimited response time and the ability to rewind over and over, I can also translate basic phrases like "I'd like a coffee with cream, please." Even more complex sentences such as "Could I please have a room with a shower" fall within my French language abilities. I found that I needed the book to understand everything in each section, so I would sit in the car before putting it in gear and review the spelling and meanings so I had a chance of making progress on the drive.

And that, mon ami, is number ten of the top ten benefits of a long commute. Bon soir for now!

Caught in the Act

2009-07-12T22:12:00.002-05:00

It’s such a pleasure when our kids catch us doing something right. My sixteen-year-old daughter recently cleaned one of the vacation rentals I own as a birthday gift to me. When I checked the property over, it met my high standards.

I asked her how she knew what needed to be done.

“Come on, Mom. I’ve seen you do it a million times!”

The same daughter aced the writing portions of the ACT and SAT. I wanted to shake my head in disbelief at her accomplishment. But why should her success be a surprise? As she was growing up, we would discuss grammar as if it were the weather, plot structure like we were planning the evening meal. She caught my excitement for words and brought it to her own higher level.

Our kids aren’t the only ones that catch our vibes as we chug along toward our personal writing goals. Friends, neighbors, the dishwasher repairman… We inspire them with our fearless exploits as we take a shot at getting published. Who knows, they might even turn off the television and turn on the computer instead. Suddenly we realize we are transforming the lives of complete strangers simply because as writers, we’re doing what’s right. Writing. May we all be caught in the act.

The Bottom Line of Living and Writing

2009-03-01T08:58:00.005-05:00

Below is the complete, tweaked version of my blog originally posted at the link above.

The Bottom Line Of Living And Writing

With three published books under my belt, I feel as if I should be able to ease into some ‘established author’ comfort zone. But the truth is, writing is like any line of work – you have to produce in order to get paid. For the small percentage of authors who can make a comfortable living from their books, it’s a no-brainer where to focus their time. But for the rest of us, writing to be published can sometimes be a luxury afforded only by those who have a reliable alternate source of support, whether an understanding, hard-working spouse or a full-time job.

I found this out the hard way. I’d written Love Me If You Must, Kill Me If You Can, and Kiss Me If You Dare when newly single, living off an advance, settlement money, and whatever miscellaneous income I could muster from my bed & breakfast and vacation rental home business. I was certain my mystery series would wow the multitudes and royalties would come pouring in, supporting my children’s food, shelter, and clothing habit.

But last fall, I found myself without the income I desired and grasping at anything that might produce an advance. I drove my agent crazy with half-baked ideas, uncooked proposals, and raw one-liners.

The Big D --Desperation -- rarely acts as a catapult. More often, it starves our minds, sending us down rabbit trails that don’t pay off. I knew I had to do something different if I were going to continue writing.

So I did that drastic, last-resort thing. I got a job.

The relief was immediate. A barrage of desperate ideas slowed to a trickle of well-defined thoughts. I now leave my agent in peace while I write a novel in a new romantic mystery series. I get a sound night’s sleep knowing that I’ll have electricity to recharge my laptop and enough new ideas to charge up my story.

I don’t write this as a bucket of cold water in the face of hopeful authors, but rather as a reality check for creative minds that sometimes veer toward optimism like a racecar with a blown tire. Slow down. Recalibrate.

Maybe for now your story takes a sideline to the bottom line. Embrace it. Put the emotional drama on the page where it belongs while you tend to the matters of daily living. Your reward will be the book contract that’s waiting just ahead.

2009, Unresolved

2008-12-30T22:41:00.003-05:00

The second hand is counting down the final hours of 2008. Holding to tradition, I ponder the past year and wonder what happened to the precious blocks of time that had been intended for writing, publicity, and career advancement. With a smile of satisfaction, I recall snuggle time on the couch with my ten-year-old daughter... reruns of Home Improvement with my twelve-year-old son... ‘girl movie’ nights with my sixteen-year-old… and an occasional special visit from my moved-out and moving-on eighteen-year-old son. Wasted moments? Not at all. Those stolen gems mark my history with love and laughter. They provide that feeling of ‘family’ I crave. They are what give the career goals and the hours invested depth and meaning.

If I were to look beyond the drop of a glimmering ball in Times Square, I might see a future of buckling-down and good intentions… a year filled with book contracts, promotion, and clever plot ideas.

But this year, instead of looking past midnight on any given day, I’ll be taking each day as it comes. I’ll be grateful for two new sentences added to a manuscript. I’ll pat myself on the back for arranging a book signing. I’ll give a cheer for every publicity postcard I mail before postage rates go up.

And when it comes to parenting, I’ll count my success in smiles and snuggles. If a kid gets inspired to do the laundry or dishes without being asked, I’ll know I’m doing all right.

Maybe my plans fall short of ambitious. Probably don’t even qualify to be considered New Year’s Resolutions. That’s okay. With a day-by-day approach put into strict practice, 2009 is sure to be an all-time favorite.

Wings to Fly

2008-11-30T23:40:00.004-05:00

Reading is a luxury when you work full-time, raise four kids, and write on the side. So when an associate passed me The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby to read just for fun, I didn’t hold much hope of cracking the cover. But once opened, I was hooked on the final journey of this stroke victim, whose active mind lie trapped in an inert body. The blink of his left eye the only method of communication, Bauby details the frustration, despair, and loneliness of his “locked-in” condition that instead of defeating him only heightened his appreciation for life.

As a writer, I found myself almost envious of the many adventures he lived in his own mind. His universe had no limits. He created and destroyed his own reality with the simple turn of a thought. He could have obsessed over the unfairness of his illness, the injustice of life and God. Yet, more often than not, he looked with fond humor at the past and present.

That got me thinking. How many of us have able bodies and sound minds and yet exercise no control over our attitudes and mind-sets? We’ve become victims of our own emotions. Our lives are a continual reaction to stimuli rather than the result of in-depth planning and measured action.

And where Bauby pondered and massaged each sentence before blinking the letters to his interpreter, so many are guilty of blurting out thoughtless strings of words, with regret only moments behind. Looking back, there have been times in my life when I wish my left eye had been my only method of communication. Scads of hurtful words would have remained unspoken, the effort to utter them greater than the desire to wound.

In a sense, many of us are walking, talking sufferers of our own “locked-in” syndrome. How can the butterfly break free of the diving bell? It really comes down to personal choice, mental exercise, and restraint. With plenty of books, programs, and support groups available to make the job easier, there’s no reason not to get started right away.

I’ll admit I’ve got a long way to go to get rid of my diving bell. But like Bauby, I quit looking back with regret at my many mistakes. Instead, my only regrets are missed opportunities. And when those second chances come along, I’ll be wearing my wings.

Where Love Should Reign

2008-07-18T22:27:00.007-05:00

My latest release Kill Me If You Can deals with several serious topics. Spousal abuse was the toughest to write. Growing up, I had a vague knowledge that a relative was living in a physically abusive marriage. I remember my mom wishing she could provide safe harbor for this relative. But Mom's fear that the woman's husband would hurt our family prevented her from ever making the offer. Incredibly, the woman and her husband were both devout Christians who attended regular marriage counseling sessions with their minister. At last, the woman left her husband after twenty-five years of marriage despite her intense religious convictions. I cried as I wrote Kill Me If You Can character Candice LeJeune's story, based loosely on my childhood recollections of this woman's experience as a Christian in an abusive relationship.

In researching the topic, I discovered that Christians can actually be more susceptible to abuse than non-Christians because of our strong, though sometimes misguided, understanding of submission in marriage. Where other women (or men) might easily identify abuse and remove themselves from the situation, women and men of faith may excuse the behavior, blaming themselves for not being a better spouse and choosing to stay in the dysfunctional relationship based on religious convictions -- even when their lives are in danger.

But abuse isn't just physical. There are forms of emotional, mental, and spiritual abuse as well. Words can eat away at self-esteem, fear can lay hold of the mind, the Bible can be made a weapon.

Every situation is different and there is no one-size-fits-all solution for those in an abusive relationship. Only the person held in its captivity can make the decision to seek healing.

Maybe you know someone in an abusive relationship. Maybe it's you. Do some research. Get the facts. Ask for help. Consider an action plan. Take one step right now toward life. Maybe it's as simple as making a phone call of support. Maybe it means seeking shelter.

No change is easy. In fact, it is guaranteed to be painful. But once you walk through the curtain of pain and out the other side, there is nothing more wonderful than knowing you chose life.

What I passed on

2008-06-18T15:33:00.003-05:00

When my kids were little, I tried to capture them on paper, insecure pencil lines on white parchment. I wrote poems about them, lines of prose inspired by the beauty and innocence of new life. As they grew older, I read stories to them, sometimes editing in my own version of the tale so my voice wouldn’t wear out by the third book. One day they learned how to pour their own bowls of cereal and grab an apple from the fridge when they were hungry. They were semi-self-sufficient. And I realized I could write more, perhaps a short story, or even – gasp! – a novel. Many bowls of cereal and apples from the fridge later, my children are authors themselves. Having watched their mother endure the ups and downs of being an author, they have still chosen to express themselves with the written word. There is no greater pleasure than knowing I handed to my children the love of writing. I could have quit. I could have passed. Instead, I passed it on.

Pictured left to right: Author's mother Sandy McCollough, son Tyler, Author Nicole Young, daughter Tara, friend Kaylee, and in front, daughter Ilana

Kill Me If You Can now available!

2008-03-18T05:13:00.004-05:00

My new release is now available! Kill Me If You Can is Patricia (Tish) Amble’s most heartrending tale yet, with her journey to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula involving more than fixing leaky tubs and repairing rotten decking. In her quest to find out about her mother’s suicide, Tish runs into other troubled women needing help. But in true Tish fashion, the more she tries to do the right thing, the more complicated things become. And before Tish knows it, she’s got a high-powered drug runner hot on her tail! Old flame Brad Walters may be her only hope of survival -- if she’ll let him. But in the end, Tish’s heart may be the biggest casualty of all...

Kill Me If You Can is the story that launched a career. The first chapter won the ACFW Noble Theme Contest in 2004, taking Best of Show and landing an agent, who then sold the three-book Patricia Amble Mystery Series to Revell.

Order your signed copy now at my website and get ready to join Tish on her next big adventure. Be sure to pack your bug spray!

2008 Vacation Adventure - Day Two

2008-02-06T21:16:00.001-05:00

2008 Vacation Adventure – Day 2

We started our day with a simple breakfast in the condo, then set out for a healthy walk along the ocean, where I got to play Lifeguard. Despite the promised sun, the day was overcast. We weren’t disappointed, however, since it kept the temperatures in the upper seventies instead of the extreme eighties.

The highlight of our trip this far is the cruise through the swamp we took today. Driving a high-tech airboat he built himself, Captain Bruce had us hunting down alligators, discovering a gator nest, and even holding a baby alligator! We cut across a cattle pasture – watch out for cows crossing! – and decided not to get out of the boat for pictures when we saw the bull guarding his herd. He looked as scary as some of the gators we came across!

Keeping with the theme of the day, we ate supper at R.J. Gators next to our Wyndham Resort. The snow crab was fun to eat and delicious after a day of tracking gators and touring the Florida countryside.

Now its off to the movies, then packing and cleaning for our trip to Port Canaveral and our Carnival cruise tomorrow!

U.P. Blessings

2008-02-06T09:27:00.000-05:00

What a joy to live in the Upper Peninsula. Just when winter starts to feel oppressive, here comes a fresh layer of snow and a Poker Run by snowmobile. That’s the fun we had this weekend when my guy Craig hooked a sled to the snowmobile and took our daughters and I on a wintry backwoods tour of the Garden Peninsula and Cooks area. We started at Craig’s house south of Garden, cut along by the lake, up through the trails past Mill Street and crossed the highway at Mini Mart. Then it was up Little Harbor Road and a left on PP Road where we met up with the official groomed trails. As the snow-covered wonderland flashed past our steady 20mph pace, I marveled at how quickly the trip to Sidetracks Restaurant in Cooks went compared to the three-hour plus journey by horseback. I loved checking the scenery to see where we’d been in the summer on the horses and remembering the green, lush landscape. After hot chocolate at Sidetracks, I jumped in the sled with Halle and enjoyed the full thumping and bumping of our trek. Tara had the opportunity to drive as we angled northwest and landed at Big Springs Bar where we had our tickets stamped, used the facilities, and rode a few miles south to our friends the Maki’s home where we had a trailer and truck waiting for the drive to Manistique and our chance to win big. Unfortunately, I got the best hand in our group – a flush with a King high. Not good enough to take home a cash prize. Down in the Elk’s Club dining room, we enjoyed delicious hot chili, prime rib sandwiches and cheeseburgers.

Yes, it was noisy on that snowmobile. And we stunk like gas fumes afterward. But what a great way to pass the cold weather – and what great memories for our girls and us. Come on up and give it a try!

A Sprinkle of Hungarian

2007-12-20T22:13:00.000-05:00

How Hungarian do you have to be to claim a Hungarian heritage? It’s all in how much paprika, dumplings, and stuffed peppers you consumed as a child.

I lay claim to a good dose of Hungarian, due to my grandmother’s heavy-handed use of that zesty red spice. However, I’ve only sprinkled it in a few dishes of my own, dooming my children to an upbringing nearly barren of Hungarian influence.

Over the years, genetics has done its part in sifting out the Hungarian, like paprika spilled on the wind. My great-grandfather was a Sarkody from the old country. His very Hungarian nose was passed down through the generations until it is now only slightly Hungarian on my children’s all-American faces.

So, what I couldn’t pass on to my kids, I passed on to my character, Patricia Amble, the heroine of Love Me If You Must, Kill Me If You Can, and Kiss Me If You Dare. Tish comes from good Hungarian stock. Her grandmother is a Nagy, about as common a Hungarian name as Smith or Jones is American. And Tish herself has a knack for making Chicken Paprikash, one of my own favorites.

One thing Hungarian that I can pass on to my children – and to you – is the family recipe for Chicken Paprikash that my mother and her mother used over the last century and into the new one. (Don't worry -- Lil' Puddin', shown above, is our family pet and safe from the kettle!)

The recipe for the best Chicken Paprikash can be found on page 295 of the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book Ninth Edition, circa 1981. Unfortunately, the volume can only be found used at Amazon or e-bay. My own copy is too valuable to part with, and so many other dedicated fans of this volume feel the same way. Other recipes found at Cooks.com just aren’t the same as Grandma’s.

The Better Homes and Gardens recipe recommends serving the dish over noodles (I prefer egg noodles). But my favorite way to serve Chicken Paprikash is over homemade dumplings. Here’s my mom’s quick recipe for homemade dumplings: Mix four cups flour, four eggs, a dash of salt, and one cup water. Drop by heaping teaspoons into boiling water. When the dumplings float to the top (five or so minutes) they’re done. Drain and serve.

E-mail me if you'd like the family recipe for Chicken Paprikash. Enjoy!

My Writing Angle

2007-11-06T22:40:00.000-05:00

Every author has a shtick. Now that I'm working on my third book- Kiss Me If You Dare - I can look at the pattern set by Love Me If You Must and Kill Me If You Can and figure out what my underlying message is. So what is it? It's honesty. We can all look good, smell good, and sound good, but what's really going on inside?

Check out this picture of me in my dining room. I'm all dressed up and headed to church. But squint to the right a little - and (gasp) there's my messy laundry room! Hearts are the same way.

In my series, Patricia Amble has taken off the glitz and bared herself to the world. Instead of pretending she's a really great person both inside and out, she's completely honest that she falls short in every category - except where she's blatantly lying to herself and the reader. Does that make her a bad person? Is she going straight to hell? After all, we can't hold her up as a lofty example of how a Christian should behave. Rather, some of us might prefer that she not be a witness for Christ at all - her laundry room is too big a mess! And yet, Tish has been set aside for a grand and wonderful mission.

If you find yourself judging Tish harshly, ask yourself if you're being completely honest with yourself in your own life. If you identify with Tish, congratulations! You have already begun to work on the agonizing task of replacing old habits with new choices that bring serenity to lives once filled with chaos. Need more help? A weekly support group can keep you headed in the right direction. Ask your pastor for one that's right for you. Or, e-mail me for ideas.

Lessons from a Horse

2007-10-23T22:03:00.000-05:00

The U.P. Equifest took place in October at the Fairgrounds in Escanaba. I was captivated by a horse trainer whose task was to turn an ornery horse that had thrown a previous trainer, into a usable animal. First, the new trainer put obstacles in the ring and agitated the horse with his training whip until the horse had to acknowledge the obstacle. As soon as the horse put its nose to the object, the trainer withdrew his harassment. The ideal horse-in-training would quickly learn to acknowledge each new item in order to avoid the haranguing whip. But for some reason, this animal continued to expend energy on avoiding the lesson rather than use the 'thinking' side of its brain and address the matter at hand. The trainer claimed the animal was deliberately side-stepping the obstacle out of laziness. Avoidance rather than action.

Watching the demonstration gave me pause. How many times did I expend energy attempting to avoid a situation rather than quickly addressing a crisis before I felt the bite of its whip? How often did my own procrastination take up more energy than the task itself?

When I can identify my behavior, I can correct it. It goes against my grain to use the 'thinking' side of my brain when its just plain easier to avoid uncomfortable stuff. But when faced with the 'energy output' vs. 'immediate action' equation, I can choose the better - and ultimately easier - solution.

Beauty in the chaos

2007-06-28T03:08:00.000-05:00

Mid-June. Hot pink blossoms caught my eye as I walked along the edge of a friend's well-tended yard. Just past the point of mowed and weed-whipped order were the tall grasses and wild flowers of an overgrown field, which hosted the luscious display of Sweet Williams. Viewed from the road, the tidy lawn with its trim white fences had brought more than one sigh of envy from neighbors and tourists over the years. But upon closer inspection, the true beauty was just off the path in the wilds of the chaotic field. But would the beauty be so beautiful if the contrasting order didn't exist to frame it like artwork?

With the arrival of a major birthday-milestone this month, I found myself contemplating life as I walked the lawn. It seemed the moments I look back on and cherish the most were merely chaotic events that briefly flared, then were gone. They were events that contrasted against the routine I'd ordered for myself, events that provided the out of the ordinary, just-off-the-path kind of beauty that seemed to dazzle so much more than the average, run-of-the-mill, daily experience. And yet, without the framework of that routine order, the beauty could not have existed. I would not have seen it. I would not have recognized it.

I continue to strive to create deliberate order in my life. Not so long ago, I would have considered the task a robbery of the spontaneous beauty that showed itself to me on occasion. But I'm no longer fearful of order. I see it now as a framework, a boundary, a backdrop to the beauty found in the chaos that cannot be escaped as we journey through life.

Want a little order for yourself? Help is available. Flylady.com and a twelve-step program put me on a path to find the beauty in life. There's a combination that's right for you, too.

Free Soul, Bought and Paid for

2007-05-22T21:35:00.000-05:00

What constitutes a saving relationship with God? Is there some pat formula consisting of an all-encompassing prayer repeated to the satisfaction of the listener, a contrite heart hoping to control urges that had previously controlled it, and a new energy and determination where before had been depression and despair? Perhaps we've known the beauty of a person thus redeemed.

Yet for some, our beauty is in the freedom of our souls, our necessity to love God and accept his love without man's intervention. To tell us how to love is as good as telling us not to love. We cannot--will not--conform to another human being's definition of love. We can only love when nobody tells us to. And we love more fiercely when we are told we cannot. The attempt to wrench away our salvation by telling us we're not doing something by the book only serves to make us grip more tightly the hand of our savior, who for some reason bought and paid for a soul that was clearly marked "Free."

My First Booksigning

2007-04-12T22:39:00.000-05:00

I'd heard horror stories about booksignings, how the author sits alone at a table filled with books and not one reader comes along. Thankfully, I can report a whole different experience. The Manistique Public Library hosted an artist's night this evening and I joined in with my new release, Love Me If You Must. The catchy cover and bookmarks, with their bright green and red, attracted a crowd. Many decided to purchase a signed copy for their personal library. The best part of the evening, however, was meeting the other artists and talking to the local art supporters that had weathered the blustery, snowy April evening for a dose of unique U.P. craftsmanship. I was in awe of the amazing talent that calls the Manistique area their home. Check out these great art websites: www.martha.fiebers.com, www.beaverchewfurniture.fiebers.com, www.nicoleyoung.net/GardenArtCards.htm

It's Official - I'm a Published Author!

2007-04-10T18:33:00.000-05:00

It's been a four year journey from page one to page 368, but Love Me If You Must is now on shelves. I've enjoyed the comments from readers and those who have stumbled across my website and various write-ups. It's such an encouragement to know that all across the U.S., and even the world, people love to read and yes - want to read my book!

Thank you to all who have said kind words, refrained from criticism, openly encouraged, and honestly critiqued. May God bless you on your journey.

Humbly yours,

Nicole Young

A New Author's First Autograph

2007-03-26T13:37:00.000-05:00

It's almost April, not far from the release date of Love Me If You Must. With that in mind, I brought a handful of bookmarks to town last Thursday determined to pass them out and rustle up some interest in my romantic mystery. Feeling a little shy, as writers sometimes do, I nonetheless passed one to the cashier at Jack's Grocery in Manistique. Hers was a familiar face I'd seen week after week while shopping, and yet she was a stranger. She looked at my eyecatching green and red marketing tool, then raved about her reading habit and support of local authors. She gave a promise that she would buy my book if I gave her my autograph. Such encouragement! Nobody had ever asked for my autograph before. I gave it willingly, a quick scribble of my name on the back of the bookmark. So touched by the milestone in my writing career, I went to the car for my camera, walked back in the store and pleaded with her to pose for my blog. And of course, in recognition of her enthusiasm and uplifting attitude, Peggy will recieve a complimentary--and properly autographed--copy of my first novel.

Hear and Obey

2007-02-21T18:10:00.000-05:00

How many have read the book or seen the movie ‘Ella Enchanted?’

It’s the charming tale of a young girl who must obey orders, regardless of the person issuing them or their consequences.

I’m probably not the only one who feels like an ‘Ella’ at times. A random sentence out of the mouth of others can become my marching orders for the day. An unfeeling criticism can change my course of action. A harshly stated opinion can formulate a new roadmap for my life.

What are the results of my twisted sense of hearing?

I allow others to control my life. I allow them to trump God when it comes to my personal destiny. What should have been a short, fast route to contentment becomes a circuitous, tortuous path to misery.

How can anybody know better than God what’s best for my life? They can’t.

How can I stop listening to the choir and pay attention only to the director? For people like me, it isn’t easy. This method of living is so ingrained from childhood, so stamped in concrete, that the route to healing takes work and time. For us, even the Bible can be a dangerous trail to self-flagellation, as the words warp and we hear only that we fall short in God’s eyes and must do more, more, more, to be worthy of His love.

That’s why I recommend a twelve-step program like the one offered by AA and Alanon. It may provide the best hearing aid you’ve ever worn.

A Lily Blooms

2007-02-20T10:07:00.000-05:00

Have you ever heard a lily bloom?

A dear friend honored me this February 14 with a Valentine’s bouquet. It found its way to the center of the dining room table where its colors and scents have blessed my workspace. Last evening as I typed, I heard the petals of a lily unfolding, like a tiny zipper opening one tooth at a time. I took pictures to document the slow but fascinating process. By this morning, the petals had peeled back in full blossom, as if the birth of new hope.

Are you too busy to hear the lilies bloom? Make some quiet time a priority in your life. Listen to nature speak to you about its Creator. Maybe, just maybe, the Creator has something to say to you.

Meet Sandra McCollough, Garden Peninsula Artist

2007-02-16T08:35:00.000-05:00

Someone once suggested that we pick our parents before we are born. If that's the case, then I am a very good picker.

Meet my mother, Sandy McCollough. From humble beginnings in Rochester, Michigan to a waterfront cottage on Lake Michigan, Sandy has set an example for spiritual growth. Always embracing God, change, and art, Sandy weathers through life with joy and love at the core of her being.

Sandy has held a variety of occupations in life, from administrative assistant to cleaning professional. Now, in her young 60's, she's embarking on the careeer of her dreams -- an artist.

Her whole life, she's created beautiful art. Now, she's sharing it with the world in the form of fine art greeting cards. Her inspiration comes both from nature and life's humorous side. Her mediums vary from pencil to chalk to water color. But what never varies is the attention to detail. You'll be amazed at the exactness of color and line, at her way of viewing the world that showcases its spirit, not just its contents.

Check out Sandy's webpage with all her incredible art at www.nicoleyoung.net/GardenArtCards.htm. You can contact Sandy for more information or to place an order at sandy@gardenartcards.com.

Home Again, Home Again, Lickety Split

2007-02-14T10:30:00.000-05:00

The days of sunshine and warmth over, it was time to return to the land of ice and snow. And we did -- gratefully.

Some places are for lingering, like southern California, and some places are for living, like Upper Michigan. I guess that's what vacations are all about -- learning to love the place you live. Home Appreciation Week. Unwind and un-whine, so when you get back to the business of life you can do it with that attitude of gratitude that sometimes gets lost in the daily shuffle.

Here's hoping you find that special place to visit, so you too can return home convinced you occupy the greatest space on earth.

Day 6 - Hicks in the City

2007-02-09T23:39:00.000-05:00

Today we classed things up and headed to the Getty Center in L.A. Fine art, beautiful landscaping and amazing architecture wowed us along with the views of L.A. and the foggy Pacific.

We took the 'shortcut' to the freeway through Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, and Sunset Boulevard. Evidence of the rich and famous met us at every turn.

But L.A. traffic on the way back to Anaheim made us click our heels and whisper ‘There’s no place like home.’

Tomorrow morning will be the best day of our vacation – when our flight takes us back to the Upper Peninsula and those we love best.

California Wine Country Day 5

2007-02-09T23:16:00.000-05:00

Today we headed out to wine country. Our first stop was Old Town Front in Temecula, about an hour from Anaheim. It reminded me of Michigan’s Mackinac Island shopping district, but with a western flair--and cars. We ate at Mad Madeline’s Hamburgers, voted the number one burger in California. Yum! A giant cheeseburger split in two and some fries held us over while we explored the area. We’d had such a great time horseback riding the day before, we were determined to do it again in the hills surrounding Temecula. Sid, the owner of the hamburger joint, tried hooking us up with some horses. Off we went on a wild horse chase that started at Leonesse Winery and ended at Vail Lake Stables, tucked back in an RV Park about ten minutes from town. The final result: a sign on the door that said ‘Back at 8pm.’

Disappointed but not dejected, we headed back to Temecula , where a Starbucks coffee and a duck pond cheered us up. In fact, the day was totally relaxing, especially after the thrill of the roller coasters the day before.

California Adventure Day 4

2007-02-08T00:21:00.000-05:00

The word of the day was ADVENTURE, and lots of it.

We left the hotel for the Palos Verdes Peninsula around nine for our 11am horseback riding appointment. The scenic route took us through Long Beach. It was sobering to see the other side of humanity – the seedier side – after having only been exposed to the posh ‘Newport Beach’ façade along the Pacific Coast Highway. When we arrived at Rolling Hills Estates, it was as if we’d entered THE FARM ZONE. Pretty white fences, a barn in every back yard, and buttons at rider height to activate the crossing signals made this my favorite community in southern Cal. Lori had the best trail horses and made a great guide. Her friend Loren came along as well, adding to the trail banter. We’re used to the smooth gait of Kentucky Mountain Horses, but handled the thrill of cantering on Moleek, an Arab, and Buddy, a buckskin quarterhorse, just fine. The route took us past Roseanne Barr’s former home, Donald Trump’s private golf course, and a foggy view of Catalina Island. A shrimp baron lived in a home that featured twenty-two bathrooms and an underground tennis court. We also met Burrito, a sweet burro that 'talked' to us along the way. Lori’s farm might only have been a half-acre, but she kept three dogs, a cat, two bunnies, a rooster, and ten horses on her spread. We found a quaint deli on the corner and had our best lunch yet, a turkey sub with cups of chili and chicken noodle soup.

After our horse ride, we couldn’t decide what to do next. I looked on the map and saw Knott’s Berry Farm. I thought, what a nice way to top off a horseback ride, visiting a berry farm and riding on a wagon, and picking berries, and buying some jams. Craig said, “It’s not a berry farm.” I said, “It’s a berry farm. It says Knott’s Berry Farm.” We followed the signs and found ourselves at an amusement park with roller coasters named the Silver Bullet, the Xcelerator, and Supreme Scream. My gut told me there wasn’t any berry-picking going on in there. I was right. I found myself hanging in space twice on the Silver Bullet, the longest and tallest suspended roller coaster west of the Mississippi; going from zero to eighty miles an hour in one second on the Xcelerator – twice; and free-falling from thirty stories on the Supreme Scream – thankfully only once. My favorite coaster was the log ride, which reminded me of a good old-fashioned Tunnel of Love. We took a lemonade break in between thrills and found ourselves in a cantina featuring ‘Miss Kitty.’ It only took her a few minutes to snag Craig up on stage to help with the performance. While she tickled his nose with her boa, I gleefully snapped pictures. He claims all he could see was my sinister smile and the flashbulb.

Finally, it was back to the hotel and Italian for supper. What adventures will we encounter tomorrow?

Day 3 -- and loving it!

2007-02-06T23:46:00.000-05:00

It wouldn’t be a trip to California without dipping our feet in the Pacific Ocean. That’s just what we did today – I only wish I’d taken off my shoes first! Who knew that the surf would crash on the rocks just as I was getting my picture taken? Shoes in hands, we finished our walk, but not before watching a man launch a kayak, meeting up with some pelicans, and wondering just how those homes stayed up on the cliffs. Afterward, the guys pulled around my Lamborghini for the ride home.

We drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, cutting inland at the U.S. Naval Weapons Station at Seal Beach. We used serendipity to choose our lunch stop – and found ourselves in Little Saigon. My shrimp was delivered, eyes and all.

It was back to the hotel for a nap and dry socks, then to supper at the Rainforest Café in Downtown Disney, a shopping district located outside Disneyland.

Then it was a soak in the hotel whirlpool, a movie, and another good night’s sleep.

Fun in the Sun Day 2

2007-02-06T10:59:00.000-05:00

Record temperatures hit both the California coast and our hometown of Garden, Michigan today. The guilt started to creep up along with the thermometer, which hit the mid-eighties for us, while back home school was cancelled for the second day due to extreme cold. But despite the realization that friends and relatives may resent the absolute perfect timing of our trip, we determined to have a wonderful time.

The day began with a drive south to San Juan Capistrano Mission. Along with incredible three-hundred-year-old architecture, the mission offered some entertaining goldfish that showed off their skill at follow-the-leader, and a sweet little bird that posed on a fountain. We'd hoped to go horseback riding today, but the statue "Empty Saddles" at the mission is as close as we came to a horse.

We walked through the shopping district and happened upon a restaurant in an Amtrak depot. While we ate our meal of chili and a turkey wrap, a train came through the station, whistle blowing and diesels roaring. The gentleman at the table next to us had just answered his phone and had to leave the patio for the quiet of indoors to finish his call.

We headed to Dana Point Harbor and signed up for a whale-watching cruise, picking up some nice windbreakers at a wharf-side shop for our voyage. Two gray whales traveling the coast met us just outside the harbor. I spent the next two hours snapping pictures each time they surfaced. I finally got a few good shots of spray, humps, and tails. Before disembarking, we recognized Tracey Glenn, a former Garden, Michigan resident, proving decisively that the world really is small.

We wrapped up our day with steak and lobster at the yacht harbor. The sun set just as we finished the last delicious bite.

California Vacation Day 1

2007-02-04T20:51:00.000-05:00

3:30 pm

So many activities to do. Only five days to go.

A visit to San Diego filled our first day as tourists.

After a satisfying breakfast of oatmeal and hard boiled eggs at the Peacock Suites breakfast buffet, we set out to see the U.S. aircraft carrier Midway in San Diego Harbor. We took a wrong turn and ended up at the San Diego Maritime Museum, a wonderful collection of old ships. We talked with a museum crew scraping the algea from the waterline of a Russian submarine. Since it was Family Day at the museum, we got a free ride around the harbor on the Pilot. I caught pictures of the San Diego skyline, two playful dolphins, and even a couple seagulls racing us back to shore.

We lunched on king crab and shrimp at San Diego’s Original Seafood Restaurant. The building hung out over the water and while we dined, a sailboat came within a few feet of our place at the window.

We walked along the waterfront to the Midway and spent the next two hours exploring the carrier. My favorite part was the tour of the ship's bridge, which took us high above the flight deck. I sat in the captain’s chair and enjoyed a great view of the harbor.

A hankering for the front row at the Super Bowl set in, and we headed back to the Peacock Suites for a spot on the couch and left-over Chinese.

Go Bears!

What to do when in southern California?

2007-02-04T20:47:00.000-05:00

With SuperBowl fever raging in Florida, I was truly grateful that I planned my winter escape for southern California instead.

On the flight from Detroit to L.A., I met a new friend, Heidi B., from the outskirts of Los Angeles. She provided wonderful ideas for sightseeing.

With home base situated at the lovely Peacock Suites in Anaheim, Heidi suggested the following attractions:

The Getty Museum in Los Angeles - Heidi loves the museum for its interesting artifacts and gourmet restaurant

Huntington Gardens in Pasadena - With the camellias in bloom in February, the grounds of this amazing home are among her favorite places. The teahouse comes with her recommendation, as well.

When I mentioned that we hoped to do some hiking in the balmy Southern Cal weather, she rushed to suggest some beautiful destinations, though they require a drive of up to eight hours to reach:

In Carmel, the Point Lobos State Reserve, complete with sea otters

Monterey Bay area

Up Highway One to Big Sur and the Julia Pfeifer State Park, where we might find our favorite activity, horseback riding

Ojai area

Santa Barbara area

Hearst Castle

For attractions in the San Diego/LA stretch, she recommended:

Palm Springs with its arial tramway

Dana Point where we’d find whale-watching cruises

Scripps Oceanographic Museum

With so many activities to choose from, I can’t wait to see which ones we’ll end up doing in the next five days.

Thanks, Heidi!

Order in the House

2007-01-16T09:50:00.000-05:00

What is it about creative people that make them so expert at distracting themselves? Perhaps we have a touch of ADD that in essence contributes to our creative streak. Or, maybe we were never taught good boundaries as children and we drift through life tackling projects at random, never having learned a strategy for getting through each day.

As I've matured, order has become more and more important in my life. The act of creating seems to come not from the chaotic but from the orderly. When my house is a mess, I'm thinking of laundry and dishes. At those times, creating seems almost criminal and comes with a good dose of guilt. After all, I'm neglecting the duties that benefit not only myself, but others in the home as well. With the new millenium, I have taken the time to put my life in order. I got rid of the excess in the attic and enlisted with Flylady.net to get my days under control. I've cut back on extracurricular activities and put the priority on my relationships and creative work.

Life's not perfect. I still have a day job. But I've tackled many of the skills I need to keep serenity in my days and the chaos at bay.

Need help with the chaos in your life? I recommend a twelve-step program, like the one offered through Alanon and AA.

Copyright 2007 by Nicole Young. All rights reserved.

Decorating the Tree

2006-12-11T19:00:00.000-05:00

My eyes are red from surfing the net. Almost as red as the tiny bow my mother holds up.

"Look at this, Ilana. Where should this go?" she asks.

My eight-year old finds the perfect bough for the tiny ribbon to call home.

The bellow of my ten-year-old dum dum dumming Christmas carols as he plays on the computer echoes through the room.

"What joyful noise," I comment and open a new window on my browser.

Stockings, candy canes, ornaments and more whacky holiday tunes make their way into our moment.

It's Christmas once again.

Wishing your family the best, moment by moment, this holiday season.