When Kristine is not writing, she’s learning how to navigate the publishing and promotional side of the business. She enjoys spending time with her husband and furry family, reading, gardening, and binge-watching shows on Netflix.
To learn more about Kristine and read her prior blog posts, please click on her MEMBER PAGE
Kristine Raymond didn’t figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up until later in life. You guessed it! It’s being an author. Since writing and publishing her first book in 2013, she’s gone on to complete two romance series – one historical western and one contemporary – write an anecdotal, non-fiction short about her first year as an indie author and try her hand at contemporary erotic drama. When she’s not writing, she’s learning how to navigate the publishing and promotional side of the business. When she’s not doing that, she enjoys spending time with her husband and furry family, reading, gardening, and binge-watching shows on Netflix. Visit Kristine's MEMBER PAGE to read her prior posts and check out her books.
I had never seen a hummingbird in real life before moving to Kentucky 25 years ago. Or, maybe I simply hadn't noticed them. In my younger years, my life seemed as frenzied as those tiny birds. I was always going off in one direction or another - sometimes, two directions at once (not really, but you get my point) - barely slowing down to catch my breath, much less appreciate the beauty that surrounded me every moment of every day.
I'm older now...eh em...more mature, and definitely wiser, and I understand the mental, emotional, and physical benefits of pressing pause once in a while; and by doing so, I'm afforded the opportunity to witness Nature's miracles.
Copyright 2013- Kristine Raymond
Take this little guy, for instance. Several years ago, I noticed some hummingbirds visiting a flowering vine growing up the side of our shed. Captivated by these delicate creatures, I invested in some feeders and commercial syrup (more on that later) and made it my mission to entice as many as I could into our yard. Each year, approximately a dozen would show up; enough that my husband and I could sit outdoors and enjoy them hovering around, stopping to take a sip of nectar before zipping off again. We did this for several years and, let me tell you, I spent a small fortune in store-bought nectar. So I began researching to see if there was a healthier (for the birds) and more affordable (for my budget) option and came across a simple recipe for making hummingbird syrup. It's 4 parts water to 1 part sugar. That's it. No dyes; no additives. Just plain white sugar and water. Boil the water, pour it over the sugar, stir until dissolved, let it cool, fill the feeders, then sit back and enjoy the feeding frenzy.
Copyright 2019 - Kristine Raymond
This is my second (or is it third?) year of making my own nectar. During peak season - June, July, and August - I'm mixing up a batch and filling ten feeders daily. That's over a gallon a day! I guess the hummers like my cooking because they told all of their friends this year that our place is THE place to hang out. It's challenging to get an accurate count because they move around so quickly, but my best guesstimate is between 40 and 50 birds. For reference, there are seventeen hummers in the above picture on two out of ten feeders. Some of them are repeat customers. There's one bird we've affectionately named "The Screamer" because of the high-pitched noise he makes as he flies around. Each spring, I anxiously await that first sign of their arrival - a single bird hovering around where the feeders will hang. I start off making half a cup of syrup - just enough to feed those first few visitors tired from their journey north; adding more as one tiny body becomes two, then four, then ten, until each day I see more and more hummingbirds spiraling through the air in a breathtaking show of acrobatics. As the summer winds down, the hummers will begin their migration south to warmer climes. By mid-September, I'll be hanging less feeders, and by October, I'll be down to one - for those stranglers who wait until the last minute to pack up and leave. Then they'll be sterilized (the feeders; not the birds) and stored away over winter until that first hummer appears again in the spring.
If pressed to stake a claim on a single hue, I'd pick blue, though being asked to decide upon a favorite color is equivalent to stating which child - or fur-baby, in my case - I love best. There are too many shades and variations to narrow the choice to just one.
Copyright 2019 Kristine Raymond
In all actuality, I'm an earth tones gal; rich browns, muted greens and blues, and warm reds speak to me, enhancing my connection to the Universe. Now, that's not to say I'm biased against other palettes. Dependant upon the season, I gravitate towards a variety of color schemes. Winter months find me embracing jewel tones; in Summer, primary colors fill me with joy. Though not a fan of pastels, Springtime wouldn't be the same with them, and Autumn, the embodiment of earth tones, brings me full circle.
Color is as vital to my well-being as oxygen and water and food. While those aforementioned necessities nourish my body, the pigmentations produced by refractions of light nourish my soul and imagination. They revitalize me; igniting the spark that discouragement and uncertainty threaten to extinguish. One of my simplest pleasures is strolling the aisles of a craft store and losing myself amongst the various shades, irrelevant of medium. Paper, paint, beads, yarn, clay, wax, graphite - it makes no difference. The vibrancy is what quickens my pulse, stimulates my senses, and excites my inner creative.
When crafting a story, I channel that energy into my writing; enriching each detail and description with chroma - virtual as it may be. The sky is not merely blue. It's Azure or Cerulean or Sapphire. Time of day, atmospheric conditions, the character's mood - all influence my palette, not unlike an artist using oils or watercolors to paint a scene. I liken it to coloring with words.
Kristine Raymond didn’t figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up until later in life. You guessed it! It’s being an author. Since writing and publishing her first book in 2013, she’s gone on to complete two romance series – one historical western and one contemporary – write an anecdotal, non-fiction short about her first year as an indie author and try her hand at contemporary erotic drama. When she’s not writing, she’s learning how to navigate the publishing and promotional side of the business. When she’s not doing that, she enjoys spending time with her husband and furry family, reading, gardening, and binge-watching shows on Netflix. Please click KRISTINE'S PAGE to find out more about her.
My work in progress has been 'in progress' for some time now. Like all of my books, the story started out strong, then floundered as I got towards the middle. Maybe that's because I'm a panster, not a plotter. I always know how my story is going to begin - and end - but the in-between is sort of fuzzy.
I'm not sure if what happens to me can be classified as 'writer's block'. It's more of a 'words interruptus' sort of thing. There's nothing preventing the advancement of the story, as the definition of 'block' suggests. Quite simply put, the words don't yet exist in my brain. At least, not the ones I'm looking for.
Many an hour (or day) I've spent staring at a blank screen, wondering how it's possible that, after almost 52 years of life, the process of stringing a sentence together eludes me. After five years of this same phenomenon repeating itself fifteen times, I've come to accept that the words will come when they're ready, however frustrating and disheartening the wait may be.
So, I occupy my time with other pursuits - podcasting, designing promos or covers, giving interviews - anything to advance my brand until the day comes that I wake up with a head full of words, so many that I can't get them down fast enough. And it'll happen. I know it will. I just need to be patient.
What's that? How can I be sure? Because the proof is sitting on my shelf.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved jigsaw puzzles.Something about the myriad of colors and shapes fitting together precisely to form a picture is both enthralling and relaxing to me.
In my teen years, jigsaw puzzles were a big part of my life.While my classmates were at the movies or partying or whatever they were doing on Friday and Saturday nights, I was sprawled out on the floor of my bedroom listening to George Winston and Scott Cossu albums, patiently snapping cardboard shapes into place into the wee hours of the morning.Excitement building as the image began to take shape, it wasn’t unheard of for me to finally crawl into bed at two or three in the morning, not wanting to stop but unable to keep my eyes open a moment longer.
Over the years, my interest in my hobby waned as full-time jobs and day-to-day life and a husband filled my time, though, on occasion, I’d still pick up a puzzle that caught my eye, one with kaleidoscope colors or peaceful scenery.Not having the time or space to adequately pursue puzzling, boxes and Ziploc bags filled with jumbled pieces took up multiple dresser drawers in my closet.
When I began writing a little over five years ago, I found myself consumed with my craft, literally spending seven days a week at my desk working on some sort of book-related project – writing, proofing, designing covers or promotions, interacting on social media, writing blog posts – anything and everything you can imagine, and that pace slowly but surely caught up with me.I decided I needed to break up my work day (or night) and shift gears now and again.Focus on something I enjoyed that would still keep my mind active.So, into the closet I went, randomly opening a drawer and withdrawing the first jigsaw puzzle I laid my hand on.Since my office is a pet-free zone (well, it’s supposed to be, but that’s another post), I set out my mat on the table behind my desk and dumped all of those glossy pieces out of the box.
Though my days of sprawling on the floor are behind me (waaay behind me!) my soul hasn’t forgotten how much it enjoys the satisfying sound of interlocking pieces clicking into place or the slow, yet steady, emergence of a picturesque scene.When my mind gets bogged down or the words won’t come, I swivel around in my chair and spend a few minutes sorting colors or matching up odd shapes, the respite clearing my head, allowing my thoughts to flow freely, and I realize how much I've missed this hobby of mine.
Taste Bud Memories There are certain foods that taste better this time of year than at any other. Take, for instance, Sweetheart Salad. One spoonful of this fruity, whipped cream concoction and I’m transported back to childhood; immediate and extended family gathered around the table for a holiday meal. Though it very well could be classified as a dessert, Mom served Sweetheart Salad as a side dish each Thanksgiving and Christmas alongside the mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, and crescent rolls. I’m awfully glad she did because having to wait several hours for this sweet treat would’ve been torture! In keeping with tradition, I prepare this delectable confection only around the holidays. Though I’m sure it would be tasty at a Fourth of July picnic, the memories that accompany each bite are so closely associated with Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song” and holiday lights and balsam fir incense that it wouldn’t be the same.
Sweetheart Salad Add 2 cups of drained, crushed pineapple, ½ cup sugar, 1 ½ packages unflavored gelatin (in dry form), and 2 tablespoons of lemon juice in a saucepan and cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves completely. Remove from heat and cool.
In a mixing bowl, combine 8 ounces of softened cream cheese and one 6-ounce bottle of drained, stemless, maraschino cherries and mix on low speed until creamy. Stir into pineapple mixture and refrigerate. Whip ½ pint heavy whipping cream until stiff peaks form. Fold into chilled fruit mixture being careful not to over mix. Spread into a 9 x 9 pan and refrigerate. Enjoy.
Two more seasonal favorites are Molasses Cookies and Snickerdoodles. For eight months out of the year, neither of these goodies get a moment’s thought, but when the mercury dips and the ground is blanketed by fallen leaves, my mouth waters in anticipation of sinking my teeth into a soft gingerbread-like or cinnamon-covered cookie.
Molasses Cookies Mix thoroughly until creamy – ¼ cup shortening ½ cup unsalted butter, softened 1 cup packed brown sugar 1 egg ¼ cup dark molasses Add – 2 ¼ cups whole wheat pastry flour 2 tsp baking soda 1 tsp ground cinnamon 1 tsp ground ginger ½ tsp ground cloves ¼ tsp sea salt Mix until dry ingredients are fully incorporated. Dough will be sticky. Cover and chill for one hour. Preheat oven to 375. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and roll in Demerara or Turbinado sugar, placing cookies several inches apart on baking sheet. Bake 8-10 minutes. Let cool on baking sheet for several minutes before transferring to cooling rack. Enjoy.
Whatever seasonal treats you look forward to, I hope you’re able to enjoy them with those you love. Wishing you a joyous holiday season!
I’m not referring to child-rearing in the above statement, though I’ve heard it applies. I’m talking about the not-so-enviable task of promoting our craft, whether our medium is words, notes, paint, clay, stone, flowers, metal, wood – whatever we implement to give life to our works. While the process of creating is most often solitary rather than collaborative, when the time comes to reveal our masterpiece to the world it helps to have friends beside us spreading the word. I love promoting other authors, much more so than I do promoting myself. I think it stems from growing up in a time when it was frowned upon to ‘toot your own horn’ lest it sound like bragging. To make matters worse, I had little confidence in myself or my accomplishments; a personality trait that’s taken me decades to overcome. But since taking the giant, scary step of putting my words out there for all the world to read, I’ve learned to conquer that doubt and embrace the process rather than run from it. Now, don’t get me wrong. That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly taking out billboards to announce a new release, but I’ve discovered I’m not alone in how I feel. I’m surrounded by people who love the creating and despise the promoting, which presents an incredible opportunity for all of us. Rather than tout our own masterpieces; we willingly, lovingly, enthusiastically share everyone else’s! A win all around! That’s why I’m honored to be among this talented group of authors, songwriters, and artists in Originality by Design. We’re a group of like-minded folks who may be a little shy about plugging our own stuff, but celebrate our friends’ accomplishments. One voice alone can reach one person, but ten or twenty or one hundred voices reach so many more. It’s our little village – and the welcome mat is always out.
