Meet Kay Kauffman

I’m kicking off the week with a post from Kay Kauffman, another author with a strong line in extending a helping hand to fellow indie authors. There are so many of you it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling and a whole sackful of other clichés just thinking about it 🙂 Take it away, Kay!


Worth the Challenge

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Writing poems can be hard,
E’en when you know what to do.

But I wouldn’t have it
Any other way.
The challenge is what makes it
Worth doing at the end of the day.

The challenge is where
All the fun lies,
No matter how many times while
I’m writing I say otherwise.

After all, if one does not struggle,
One cannot grow,
A lesson I’ve learned often,
Much to my woe.

But practice makes perfect,
And so I will try
To improve my poor verses
Till the day that I die.

And look at that –
What do you know?
I’ve created a poem about poetry,
And it’s not a total fiasco!

As a girl, Kay dreamed of being swept off her feet by her one true love. At the age of 24, it finally happened…and he’s never let her forget it. A mild-mannered secretary by day and a determined word-wrangler by night, she battles the twin evils of distraction and procrastination in order to write fantastical tales of wuv…twue wuv…with a few haiku thrown in for good measure.


The author of Tuesday Daydreams: A Journal in Verse and A Song for All Seasons: A Journal in Verse, Kay is currently hard at work on the first book in a fantasy trilogy. She resides in the midst of an Iowa corn field with her devoted husband and his mighty red pen; four crazy, cute kids; and an assortment of adorably small, furry animals.
Tuesday Daydreams captures the life and imagination of the author in vivid detail, touching on joy and loss, life’s everyday hassles, and the many faces of Mother Nature. A Song for All Seasons paints vivid pictures of the Iowa landscape in all its glory, in addition to intimate portraits of family life. From frost-covered windowpanes and snowy vistas to rolling green fields and bright blue skies, each poem is a peek into a fading world of untamed beauty.


If you’d like to pick up your own copy of Tuesday Daydreams or A Song for All Seasons, you can find them at Amazon, Amazon UK, Createspace, Smashwords, iBooks, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble.
Care to save her from the chaos? You can find Kay in the all the usual places:
At her blog, where she shares random pictures and silly poems; on Facebook, where she shares things about cats and books; on Twitter, where she shares whatever pops into her head; on Pinterest, where she shares delicious recipes and images from her fantasy world; on Instagram, where she shares pictures of pretty sunsets; and on Tumblr, where she shares all of the above.

I thoroughly recommend a visit to Kay’s blog—it’s full of interesting things. Especially if you like books. And cats 🙂
Since Kay was too modest to post her Amazon links I’ll do it for her
Amazon US
Amazon UK


Promote Yourself: Lorraine Montgomery

My guest this weekend is Lorraine Montgomery who is quite simply a wonderful blogger. Lorraine writes about all kinds fo things, and has two blogs—one for life in general, the other mainly books, films, and reviews. I recommend you go and have a look, particularly at some of her book recommendations.

Here is Lorraine to introduce herself.

Retirement is Wonderful!

Having taught elementary school for more than 25 years and been involved in many amazing technology and curriculum projects, I find I’ve developed a myriad of interests based on literature I’ve read and music I’ve heard. I’ve followed The Wright Three to Chicago, Ansel Adams to Colorado, The Kon Tiki Expedition to Easter Island, Simon & Garfunkel lyrics to New York City, Frank Lloyd Wright to Fallingwater, Pennsylvania, and have only just begun.  I began writing my Bookshelf blog in May and am enjoying the challenge of keeping up with my reading, writing, movies, and theatre.

follow my adventures at

follow my book blog at

This is a post I did on August 19th after the sad death of Robin Williams:

A few months ago I wrote about one of my all time favourite movies, Dead Poets Society.  I have the poster on the wall of my ‘tech room’ along with one from King Lear and another from Stratford’s 1979 season, Henry IV, and one of Amelia Earhart.  Pretty heady company.  This movie touched me as a teacher.  The story centers around a young professor (O Captain, my Captain) at a prep school who inspires his students to reach out, reach up, and find what in the world has worth and meaning to them, to “live deep and suck out all the marrow of life” (Thoreau).  Their theme is ‘carpe diem‘ — seize the day!  It is a sad and poignant story because the one young man who reached the hardest and found the most finds himself thwarted and, faced with losing everything he has found, he chooses the most desperate and tragic of endings, he commits suicide.


The teacher, of course, was played by Robin WilliamsPeople magazine, along with many others, has proclaimed him a “comic genius” and yet many of his best roles have shown his dramatic side in an extremely profound way:  Good Will Hunting, for which he received an Academy Award; The Fisher King; Awakenings.  Even in his comedic roles, there were moments of pathos: in Mrs. Doubtfire; Good Morning, Vietnam.  He was indeed a comic genius, but he was so much more.  He had many roles: actor, comedian, father, husband, friend.  How many lives did he touch with tender moments or side-splitting laughter?  How many fellow actors, directors, crew members, in addition to viewers, stood in awe of his genius?  His gift was immense; his talent incomparable.  He was truly one of a kind.  His presence has gone but the glow from his movies, his humour, will continue to bathe people in its warmth for decades to come. Thank you, Robin Williams.

And thank you Lorraine. You have two beautiful blogs that are well worth browsing through.

Trixie’s blogspot

I was reading about what makes a good idea for a blog post. One suggestion was to interview non-bloggers. Bloggers are always interviewing other bloggers, but it can be interesting to interview someone who doesn’t have a vested interest. I thought of the ideal candidate.

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Trixie, when did you decide that you were going to a house cat?

Well, I was very young, about four, five months old. At that age, you do some stupid things, you know? I’d been hanging around the mosque for a few days and there wasn’t much happening. They tell me it’s always like that during the week, but I was too wet behind the ears to know that. Anyway, this kid with his little sister in tow stopped to say hello, and I could tell he’d be a push over. Something in the gooey way he looked at me. So, I yelled at him a little and he finally got the message and led the way to his home.

So you were adopted by a boy and his little sister?

Adopted? That’s a bit strong. I simply reminded him that every home needs a cat. The boy’s cat had just gone walkabout, permanently and he was feeling a bit down. I jumped into the breach. Charity work if you like.

Does the position suit you; do you feel you’re treated reasonably?

They’re a bit stingy with the Friskies. I have to shout until I’m blue in the face in the morning, to make the big one who gets up first understand about breakfasts. He thinks one bowlful is enough. One bowlful! After a whole night barely closing my eyes. Does he think the mice stay away because they prefer the wallpaper next door? Has he no idea what it takes out of a body playing the black panther all night?

I hear you share your lodgings with a dog. No problems there?

Don’t mention the dog. I’ve done my best to show the brute where it can sleep and where it can’t, but it lollops about the place as if it owns it, flopping down anywhere it fancies with its great hooves flying. I’ve been forced to take drastic measures, but the stupid people who live here haven’t understood. As if I enjoy peeing on the furniture and in the smelly dog’s bed! A dog’s place is outside, in a kennel, on a short chain, with a muzzle.

And the other cats?

Huh! Those two bird brains? The grey one has no idea of the value of good Friskies. Turns his nose up at what’s put in his dish. If I wasn’t there to clean it up they’d be complaining about the smell, or the mess or whatever. All he wants to do is drink out of the tap in the bathroom. Drinks like a Pole. And he’ll only eat meat! They’ve tried to get me to eat that stuff too, all slippery and bloody. Yerk! It’s not natural. Give me a nice bowl of Friskies anyday. Brekkies aren’t bad either, and Whiskas are okay for a change. But meat!
The other one is just mental. I mean, really. She falls over her own feet, plods around like a platoon of squaddies, and her eyes are weird. I mean, who ever saw a cat with eyes like an owl? She can’t tell the difference between the dog’s biscuits and Friskies. Chews on those giant-sized things for hours! Moronic, if you ask me.

You don’t sound too enthusiastic about your place, Trixie. Would you consider another position?

I might. If they had Friskies 24/24, 7/7, and the hours were acceptable. And there was no dog, and no other cats. I’d have to have my own cushion, and I’ve got rather attached to this one. And I have first breakfast at 4.30 am. At least the big one here has understood that much. And I have to have access to the beds. All the beds. Some people don’t like that. And I couldn’t leave the area. The Bear doesn’t wander too far these days, and White Pants keeps strictly to this territory. Isis, Black Prince and all the mob from the next block would miss me if I moved away. It would have to be a pretty good offer. I’d have to think about it carefully. Very carefully.

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