On the 1! So not J. LO

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Jennifer Lopez titled her album On the 6. She would ride the 6 train from the Bronx into the city (if not from NYC, the city is what everyone calls Manhattan). Well, I live in the city and the train that I use to ride to go everywhere was the 1 train.

At fourteen, I rode it uptown to Washington Heights to see my friends. At sixteen, I rode to 137 street to see my boyfriend. In winter, my boyfriend and I would ride the length of it from South Ferry to Van Cortlandt Park. We would ride for hours, talking and sharing secrets and deepest thoughts while I did homework or most times not.

That was all the past. When I was a different person, one I remember with both laughter, fondness, groans, and embarrassment.

Now, the person I am is a person who cannot even walk past the entrance of a train station without having a panic attack. I cannot ride the trains. I freak out. I’ve come close to blacking out. Hell, I cannot even think or talk about the trains with anxiety.

The logical side of me knows that my irrational fear is stupid. That I have nothing to fear. That I had done it hundreds, thousands of times.

My emotional side laughs in my face and I panic. My life is very different. My anxiety changed how I live my life. I do not meet up with long distant friends or attend my Romance Writers of America local chapter. I don’t take part in functions that I would have been the first to show up.

I am a person that now has to figure that I go somewhere I have to see if I have a ride back or money for a taxi. My life exists just where my feet can take me. I have sought help for it, taking prescribed medication and do therapy.

One day, maybe, I might be on the 1.

Or most likely not.

 

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I could just eat it up. A Romance writer’s snack.

When I was a toddler in Hawaii, my Godsister Bonnie would feed me M&Ms.  I would put handfuls in my mouth and just let the chocolate melt until it ran from the sides of my mouth. My love affair with snacks started when I was very young.

I still love my M&Ms but I have transferred my preference to the peanut ones. I don’t buy them anymore because I will eat the whole bag in one go and that isn’t good for the hips and belly.

But that doesn’t mean that whenever I see the yellow bag that my heart doesn’t soar and I feel quite giddy that I can’t stop myself from smiling. Sometimes, I just touch the bag to get a little thrill.

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Me as an M&M when my hair was blonde.

My family knows that I will go crazy for them and do not buy them. But with the birth of my grandnephew, that changed. He loves them and of course, I cannot steal candy for a four-year-old boy. That is just sinful. But my little man is a sweet boy and shares them with me but not the red ones because that is his favorite color.

But I don’t mind. I put them in my mouth and let them melt and I am in heaven.

Now it’s your turn. Share your favorite snack and why?

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Romancing History: A Romance Author’s Love of the Past

The first romance novel I had ever read was a historical.  I can tell you I was hooked. Nothing matter more to me than getting my next book. Instead of doing school work, I was reading. Luckily, I still managed to pass my classes.

So when it came to writing a novel, I—of course—had to write a historical romance. I have written a couple before I actually had my first novel, The Marriage Alliance,  published then came Claiming the Highlander. 

I have always loved history. To me, history is the way we can time-travel—experience the different lives and times. While I’m writing my novels like my medieval Highlander novels I am a clan chieftain raiding my enemies lands or I am a Scottish heroine struggling to stay alive against an evil English baron trying to kill me (my next novel The Laird’s Right, which is coming soon).

I have loved history since childhood when I would stare at my mother’s porcelain doll dressed as Marie Antoinette. My child’s imagination would transport me to 18th century France.

As I started school, I wanted to learn all about the past. The details from fashion, food to even the mundane like how they stood. I swore that I could somehow become them and once knowing the information, I naturally turned to writing.

Because I just didn’t want to know it. I wanted to lay down these characters’ I concocted so that they could exist. And history is written down to be shared. You heard of method acting well I’m a method writer.

I love traveling to the Highlands of Medieval Scotland.
And to Regency England.
And Montana Territory in 1870s.
And 16th century Scotland.

I hope you will join me on one of my travels. Sign up for my newsletter at Mageela Troche

Tell me what is one of your favorite time periods. Where would you escape?

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The Tale of A Romance Author and her Lovebird

As a historical romance author, it is only natural that my pet is a lovebird. Boobula is a black-masked lovebird and did not bond with a partner. I am the one he bonded with. Even as I sit at my desk, writing this post, he is in his cage tweeting away because my back is toward him and he hates that.

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Boobula is the first bird I ever had in my life. We usually had dogs—Toy poodles (Brandy and Chocalite) and a Rottweiler (Trouble). About seven years ago, my sister-in-law and brother got me Boobula for my birthday. I think like most people I had my misgivings of the birds. I thought they were a lovey-dovey kind of bird. Well, mine is more a fighter than a lover. He has a big personality and fights with me one minute then is the loving the next. He escapes from his cage and likes to attack my cell phone. But he is the cutest feathered beast in the world. IMG_1233

And that was why I had to write him into my first Regency novel His Lady Charlie.  My heroine Lady Charlotte “Charlie” Hammersley is the proud owner of a black-masked lovebird that perches on her shoulder, just as mine does. On my cover, a lovebird is included on the female model’s shoulder (though it is a lovebird but a different type). When I told Boobula about his inclusion in the novel, he ignored me. And he still doesn’t care.

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Type The End Time To Celebrate

Typing The End is a great feeling. I have written—most likely a novel that has taken me months and hours of being on my computer and more hours of scrolling through Pinterest. But the end has arrived.

I am no longer writing. I have written. So comes the celebration, right.

A bottle of champagne? pexels-photo-571250.jpeg  A trip to a sandy beach?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sadly, I don’t do either one.

For my two medieval Scottish Highlander Novels,  The Marriage Alliance and Claiming the Highlander, I have celebrated their completion by doing two things.

First, I take a couple of days off. I watch TV, lay in bed, anything to rest my brain so I can recharge because I have other projects I am working on and cannot waste time. But creativity is important so I can work on my next project.

The second thing I do to celebrate is a manicure.

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While I am writing, I don’t bother doing my nails. So by the time I finish a manuscript my nails look like some monster’s and not the hands of a lady (as my mother and grandmother would say). When I step out of the nail salon with my nails perfectly painted, and my hands wonderfully massage, my need to is fully recharged. Then it is back to my computer to do this all over again, which will be happening soon with

Then it is back to my computer to do this all over again, which will be happening soon with The Laird’s Right and Highland Scandal. Yeah, my hands look scary and that manicure image has me drooling.

Yeah, my hands look scary. I can’t wait for my manicure.  *stares at image with longing*

Now tell me what do you plan to celebrate and how you plan to do it.

 

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The Outrageous Wishes of This #MFRW Historical Romance Author

dandelion-nature-flora-white-51426.jpegIn case you do not know, I am a fan of Outlander both the novel series and the TV series. As a fan, I follow both Caitriona Balfe and Sam Heughan (on social media not in some stalker way). Well, Sam is an outdoorsy kind of man who climbs Munros (Munros are mountains in Scotland that are over 3,000 feet). The view from them is spectacular. One of my wishes is to climb or as they say, bag a Munro with Sam Heughan and raise money for charity. 

You see that wish isn’t crazy because of the company I want to have on the climb but the fact that I have fibromyalgia and arthritis. For me, walking from my bed to the kitchen in my NYC apartment is like a trek. I have to nap after I take a shower. I feel as if I have the flu every day of my life. So, climbing over 3, 000 feet is a test and a wish that seems an impossibility.  But oh, to see Scotland from that view…Heaven, Paradise…

pexels-photo-54300.jpegDo you watch late-night tv? I do. My favorite host is Conan O’Brien. I have loved that lanky, red-head since he hosted the Late Late Show. Conan has whole episodes where he travels to a country or region. A recent one was his trip to Israel and Palestine.  In one segment, he went to the Dead Sea and just floated in the milky blue waters. And I was so jealous. The water is so dense with salt that you cannot sink. People say the waters and salts are great for aching joints (that’s me) and for the skin (also me since I have skin). So, the next wish is to swim in the Dead Sea. 

Another love of mine is fashion. I love —haute couture—the skill, ultra lux fabric, and the designs…I think I need to fan myself. Naturally, that moment to don a creation has to be a high-fashion, Vogue-esqe fashion shoot.  I can see it, me posing with my hair perfectly styled, make-up flawless and diamonds and precious jewels shining under the lights and complimenting the most fabulous haute couture gown with a swooping train that cascades down the Grand staircase in the MET Museum.   Fashion Heaven.

After those three wishes come true, I’m flying to France and to Versailles. My mother had this porcelain doll dressed in 18th-century fashion, she had blonde hair and I just knew she was Marie Antoinette. I fell in love with Versailles (much like other people have) But I do not just wish to visit. I wish to stroll through Versailles by myself. As a child, I love to lay on the floor as an adult I still do. Imagine laying down on the floor in the Hall of Mirrors…or strolling through the rooms with the sounds of your footsteps and creaks and groans of the royal palace and no other noise. No one to distract you as you wander from room to room, up and down staircases or through the gardens with the sweet scents and soft air carrying the buzz of insects.

My last wish is a simple one and one of two that will come true one day. I wish to sit outside a home that overlooks the  North Sea on one of the Shetland Isles and look out to the horizon and become hypnotized by the surroundings.   Nothing more than that. 

Simple wishes I hope are fulfilled in my life. What about you? Do you have anything you wish to do? ♥

Don’t forget to visit other blogs. Maybe you’ll be inspired.

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A Book By Any Other Name Still Needs A Title

A book title is as important as a child’s name. It must encapsulate the story as well as be catchy so our readers will hopefully remember it when it comes time to slap some money down for it.

When I needed to name my Scottish romance—The Marriage Alliance—I was lucky. The title came to me at once. The Marriage Alliance is about a marriage of convenience. So, my title did all that was required for a title. It hints to the reader the story and the genre. I think it’s also easy to remember too.

What do you think? Does my title work?


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To Be Read…Eventually

I fear that my TBR pile is growing, turning into the paper equivalent of the Blob. Some books have been on the shelf for almost three years. That doesn’t stop me from putting down cash for new ones or heading to the library for others.

I suppose I should join Books Anonymous, BA. I’m Mageela and I’m addicted to books. I become excited when I enter a bookstore or the library. So much knowledge and entertainment existing in the world that I want to soak up. There’s a quote, “Wear an old coat and buy a new book.”
That’s how I pretty much run my life 🙂

The worst is the choice that has to be made when I must decide which book to read. They are all so interesting. Each one seeming to be a shiny jewel that I chose by doing my-mother-said. Other times by the feel of the book in my hand, the sound the paper makes when I flip a page or the print or if my eyes can stare at my Nook.

The choice are difficult ones that don’t affect the world but can us, the reader. Every reader decides in their own way, how do you choose?