I Lost My Marbles...

Re-treat Yourself: The Jess Lourey and Erica Ruth Neubauer Writing Retreat

I arrived at the Franciscan retreat center in Colorado Springs, expecting to meet writers, but I met shaggy grazing deer instead. The center is the former home of a Tuberculosis Sanitorium, and numerous stone buildings sprawl under the Colorado Rockies at an elevation of around 7,000 feet. When I walked down the sidewalk, I announced my passing to the feeding deer, and it worked; they didn’t trample me. A few writers walked the grounds and fed in the cafeteria. The food was hearty but good!

The day started with yoga, and after breakfast, workshops frazzled my mind until noon. Then, we had free time to sightsee, write, or even nap. After dinner, we had group writing prompts and meditation. Snacks rained down like beads during Mardi Gras. My favorite memories include walking the courtyard labyrinth with a new friend, reading in the peace garden with a stunning mountain view, and visiting the nearby Garden of the Gods for a hike with fellow writers.

My favorite swag was a perfect glass marble intended as an offering for the writing fairies. (If the mischievous literary goblins whisper good intel in your ear, you can repay them with a marble left in a fairy hotspot of your choosing)

I learned many things, but the acronym that stuck was ARISE. You must include at least three of these in each scene:

Action

Romance, humor, or friendship

Information

Suspense

Emotion

The retreat concluded with sparkling wine and a wand ceremony, where each writer blessed a pen before handing it to the recipient. My blessing from each writer proved profound and life-changing. I'll never forget the warm fuzzies, and it still feels like a warm hug.

My lesson for you: Even if you aren’t a writer, don’t forget to re-treat yourself!

Look to your inbox for my next newsletter on July 21. You can read my writing articles Read like You're Standing in a Buffet of Steaming Hot Books and Be Like Samwise and Frodo and Help a Writer Out at Orange Blossom Publishing and Orange Hat Publishing this month. Plus, I have another Goodreads Giveaway in motion until June 30. 3,274 readers have signed up so far!

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“Nowhere can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

 

Have you ever gone to a retreat? I bet you have, and maybe it inspired you. My first experience with one happened in High School, and it was memorable, but not in a good way. My mother decided I should attend a retreat with a youth group from our small-town church. I wasn’t in the group, and since I hated church, I wanted no part of the deal.

The group raised money for the retreat by washing cars. I reluctantly helped, even though I had no plans to attend the event. But my mom thought otherwise. Then, something tragic and horrible happened. I was a teenager, so everything that wasn’t wonderful felt tragic and horrible. Every kid from my church opted out of the weekend except for one boy much younger than me. I still had to go—alone. I hitched a ride with some teens from another church located in a big city. They intimidated me immediately with cool talk of happenings beyond my pay grade, and they befouled me with their stinky cigarette contraband. Even so, I would have been happy to bunk with any one of them. But that didn’t happen.

My assigned room left me utterly alone without the welcome presence of crickets chirping. My room sat mutely inside an expansive dormitory floor with dim hallways reminiscent of midnight in a lonely hospital. I had no roommate nor adult supervision, and no one else checked in to my floor. Yes, you heard me correctly. I remained alone on the whole bleeping floor unless you count spiders. It was a nightmare! It was also eerie, as if a zombie apocalypse had scrubbed every living soul from the wing of rooms. At least I had privacy in the communal showers.

The first thing I did upon arrival was find the big city girls on another floor that bustled with laughter and voices. But they spurned me and my lonely predicament. I returned to my private wing. Needless to say, I’m only halfheartedly ashamed to say I ditched the scheduled events and spent all my time at a nearby mall. I didn’t even eat at the cafeteria, instead opting for pizza at Rocky Rococos. I'm sure my mother never heard the end of it.

I’m on a writing retreat in Colorado with Ted Talking and award-winning author Jess Lourey! What will happen this time? I’ll keep you posted.

 

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“A squirrel is just a rat with a cuter outfit!” ~ Sarah Jessica Parker

My April Book Pick. Ha!

We could learn something from the rattiest city in the world: New York. A team of creatives didn’t just turn lemons into lemonade or spoiled milk into a savory sharp cheddar; they turned a rat problem into an opportunity by creating hilarious, tiny ads distributed on rat-height, 13-inch sidewalk billboards, with a rat wearing a bandaid like a blindfold to solve the creature’s nocturnal sleep problem. Or the skateboarding rat that was shredding more than cheese.

This rat-centric ingenuity made me wonder what kind of rat creativity I could develop. A group of rats is called a mischief, and that’s what I’m up to in today’s post.

Me: Do you like my book?

Rat: Your book’s plot is so convoluted I could turn it into a rat maze for my inbred relatives who think inbred means their head is sticking through a loaf of wonder bread. Holy, Cheez Whiz, Ratman.

Me: Is my book as good as Kate DiCamillo’s The Tale of Despereaux?

Rat: Some things are better left in the dark. Roscuro wouldn’t leave his dungeon to read your tail. I mean tale.

Me: Will readers buy my book?

Rat: Some readers acquire new books like pack rats, but I don't consider pack rats (woodrats) to be a real rat. What was your question again?

Me: Rats often live with and near humans, so will any of your friends read my book? I keep some copies in my T.V. console for your relatives that may be hiding in my walls.

Rat: Rats have a keen sense of smell. So the answer is no, because your book stinks.

Me: Rats are easy to train, so can I train you to leave reviews on Amazon or Goodreads for my book? There are a lot of rats out there, and I could get millions of new reviews; I’m just saying.

Rat: No training bleephole. But we also carry disease, so would you like me and my friends to visit the people who left a bad review for your book, The Levitation Game?

Me: YES! Thank you, Mr. Rat! (Me with a fiendish grin, rubbing my hands together and cackling as if choking on a cheese curd)

The end!

I finally posted my first book marketng reel on instagram, and I hit 30, 000 words with my new WIP. My short story, A Yard Fit for a Princess debuted in the Women Who Write literary journal Goldfinch. Plus, click here to read my writing article at Orange Hat Publishing, inspired by The Lord of the Rings. 

“I have a rat inside my skull that runs on a treadmill - pitta-patta pitta-patta pitta-patta. I enjoy the company of other people who experience that pitta-patta in their skulls.” ~ Richard Lederer

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“I wish to be cremated. One-tenth of my ashes shall be given to my agent, as written in our contract.” ~ Groucho Marx

“If you dream of becoming an eagle, you follow your dreams and not the words of a bunch of chickens.” ~ Penny Johnson Jerald

I signed with Dreamsphere Books! My second novel, Chorus of Crows, will launch sometime in 2026. Here's a preview...

When retired farmer Oren Walton receives an offer for a romantic hook-up in his rusty R.V., he embarks on a summer-long relationship and respite from loneliness and heartache—the death of his wife and son, Parkinson’s disease. Finally, Oren feels happy. But there’s a problem: Oren’s daughter, Sedona, thinks he hallucinated the whole affair.

Soon, strange happenings percolate on the farm. Oren battles trickster crows and sleepwalks into deadly farm machinery mishaps. Strange visitors arrive with mud cleaved to their boots, and a miracle of birth occurs on the porch, both foul and fabulously freaky. Sedona doesn’t see a darn thing except she hears unusual wailing in the barn at night but figures it’s only a litter of undiscovered kittens nestled outside. Besides, life on the farm has always been weirder than a lutefisk supper since her mother’s unexpected death and the sad day her brother died in the hidden spot behind the barn.

As summer rolls forward, Sedona discovers her dead mother’s diaries. She finds comfort in her mother’s words, but they don’t insulate her from the dangers of living with her dad’s increasingly malevolent delusions. Lavinia, Oren’s annoyingly real lady friend, thinks Oren is off his rocker. And Jeb—Sedona’s summer romance—is sure of it. Only one thing is certain: no one will survive the pestilence at the farm unless an answer from the stars can solve the mystery of the spot.

~

I have a new lead magnet freebie with Water Street Design on Etsy. Every new subscriber receives a free, downloadable and adorable greeting card from the WSD star seller Etsy shop. If any current subscribers want a free card, just let me know! Look to your inbox for my next newsletter on Monday, April 21.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

“I'm a dreamer. I have to dream and reach for the stars, and if I miss a star then I grab a handful of clouds.” ~ Mike Tyson

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“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” ~ St. Augustine

Last month, I revealed that travel is my creative muse during Part 1 of this post. Here’s Part 2 and my list of fun travel tips for your adventures in Central America:

Nicaragua’s Flor de Cana rum is the sweetest spirit since Casper the Ghost. Order a servico completo, and you’ll get a bottle of rum, a can of Coke, lime, and ice. It’s an evening in a glass.

Do you want to fly 600 feet above the jungle and defy gravity (like in The Levitation Game) on one of the longest ziplines in Central America? Book Sky Tram/Trek in Fortuna, Costa Rica. Whoopee!

To see the most majestic volcanoes, visit Concepción and Maderas on Ometepe island off the coast of Nicaragua. It’s like Jurassic Park without the dinosaurs. 

If you can’t stay with George and Amal Clooney on Lake Como, travel to Lake Atitlan in Guatemala instead. It’s the most beautiful lake in Central America. 

If city lights are your thing, visit Panama City. That’s a no-brainer. But better yet, fly to Boquete; it’s the Switzerland of Panama.

Don’t go to an island off the coast of Belize. Instead, go to the mainland and explore spooky caves and Mayan ruins, like Xunantunich, a haunted ruin accessible only by ferry. It’s small but big on wonder and climbable ruins with a view. 

Dominicalito Beach in Costa Rica is silica nirvana. Go at low tide and park in the tree line behind the beach. There’s plenty of shade to relax with an Imperial beer and a long strip of sand for delightful walking. Old fishing boats bounce on one end, and the other looks like a chocolate chip cookie, with tasty rocks instead of chocolate chips and explorable tide pools scattered around toasty colored sand. 

They serve a heaping pile of delicious Mahi Mahi on the best booze cruise in Costa Rica. You’ll launch with Sunset Sails in Quepos near Manuel Antonio Monkey Park. 

Did you get rejected from the television show Survivor? Visit Yaxha in Guatemala. Jeff Probst and the gang filmed Survivor amidst the Mayan ruins; you can see it with a full stomach. Eating rice is optional. 

Do you remember the slogan, Calgon, take me away? Live it at Hacienda Orosi hot springs in Costa Rica. It’s perfect for celebrity selfies of you and me. 

My favorite travel memory occurred in Granada, Nicaragua, many years ago. We flew to Managua after Christmas and rode by van to Granada, an old city on the shores of Lake Nicaragua. Mombacho Volcano looms over the town; red roof tiles, colorfully painted doorways, and peeling architecture add interest. We walked downtown, peeking inside the open windows and doors of local residences that revealed holy Christmas shrines, bedazzled and sparkly. Food smells lingered everywhere, like street chicken, charred to an earthy blackness.

We dined at a local place, eating steak with a chimichurri sauce. It was beyond delicious. All the while, we were serenaded by a parrot squawking and talking in the background of the restaurant. It was sultry hot, and Minnesota suddenly seemed very far away. Afterward, we strolled the colonial city streets, stopping at a grand cathedral where angelic voices sang Christmas songs in Spanish, the sound reverberating along the painted frescos of a high carved ceiling like we were sitting in Sydney, Australia’s onion-shaped opera house. We listened for a long beat.

A book contract hit my inbox last week for my manuscript Chorus of Crows! I have until Friday the 21st to make a big decision. Wish me luck! 

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“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.” ~ Confucius

 

“I don’t mind a mango falling on my head, but never a coconut.” Wisdom from Patrick, our intrepid snorkeling guide in Belize.

The above quote will be the title of my travel memoir if I decide to write one someday. The funny phrase embodies everything I love about travel in Central America, where the juiciest mangos lie under a tin roof full of decaying jungle leaves. The rest of the structure may have black plastic tarp curtains that flap in the wind, a mishmash of plywood tables, a dirt floor, and an overall vibe of impending collapse. But you’ve never tasted a better mango. You might find a great curassow (a bird that looks like a feathered dinosaur) strolling among the vegetables and fruit or a stray cat curled up amid an abundance of avocados. Certainly, you’re not in Kansas anymore when the local cops linger amongst the yucca and melons while drinking coconuts from a straw.

My favorite fruit vendor, Chico, knows when the papaya is ripe at the farmer’s market in Dominical, Costa Rica. He won’t sell you lousy fruit. Unless, of course, you want overripe bananas for banana bread. 

Too many years ago to count, I created my blog Sharon’s Souvenirs and posted travel photos, along with stories of my jungle adventures in Central America and beyond. The blog was good practice for the novels that would manifest someday because I eventually grew up and started writing books. My novel, The Levitation Game, was inspired by my adventures in Guatemala. Sharon’s Souvenirs trekked to a new spot when I created my author website. But my old blog remains.

Travel is my creative muse. It's my fuel.

So which jungle do we like best? Here are my top three beloved destinations in Central America:

3) Nicaragua has nineteen volcanoes; we explored almost all of them several years ago. At temperamental Volcan Masaya near Granada, we had to back our car into the parking spot in case we needed to make a quick getaway. Ometepe island on Lake Nicaragua resembles the Garden of Eden, except with two feisty conical volcanoes, Concepcion and Maderas, gaping at the heavens with their steamy caldera eyeball. You’ll find the beach where they filmed two seasons of Survivor in Nicaragua. The remote location is near the laid-back beach town called San Juan del Sur, where a towering statue of Jesus overlooks the city, like Rio de Janeiro. Nowadays, there’s political unrest, so research before booking a trip. But there is so much to love about Nicaragua. 

2) Go to Belize if you want to have fun. There’s more to do in Belize than any other country in Central America. Explore exotic Mayan ruins still digested by the jungle, teaming with wildlife, flora, and fauna. Enter mysterious caverns by canoe and see human skeletons while listening to stories about the underworld. Snorkel the islands and immerse yourself in an opaque cloud of harmless tiny jellyfish. Once, while snorkeling in Belize, a giant sea turtle almost bit me, but a wee bit of danger can be exciting! Plus, Belize has local Garifuna music and delicious food. 

1) Ah, Costa Rica. My favorite place. It’s beach Nirvana, named after its beautiful coastline. Explore all the tourist highlights, then go to Dominical and relax with the scarlet macaws and howler monkeys. You might never want to leave. In CR, there are sea caves that roar with thunderous waves, cone-shaped volcanoes, coffee-dotted mountains, and cloud forests with hummingbirds that fly by your head like a Top Gun movie. There are ziplines, hot springs, and eco-friendly resorts. Have I mentioned the unsurpassed beaches? There’s even a beach shaped like a whale’s tail. Sigh.

Visit my website and blog to view our Costa Rica, 2025 adventures! Stay tuned for Part 2 of this travel post when my next newsletter hits inboxes on Febuary 17th. I’ll give some fun travel tips and share my favorite memory in Central America. This post is an excerpt from an article I wrote for The Creator's Roulette. 

Adios!

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The Red Feather

"The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away." ~ Pablo Picasso

My mother hid my gifts every Christmas, but I always found them. I was like a truffle-hunting pig, rooting them from locked suitcases and dusty cupboards, foraging for them in the attic. “Open your palm,” said my husband.

I splayed my hand and squeezed my eyelids, figuring the gift might be heavy, like pottery or books, so I clenched my muscles. I felt a weightless tickle. “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

It was a red feather. My husband had done this with a strip of red licorice, a pretty rock or seashell, a chocolate kiss. “That’s not funny,” I said.

That night, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I pretended to be asleep.

The next day, I found the red feather in the utensil drawer. I grabbed a knife and slammed the drawer shut. Opening the fridge, I noticed a bowl of dirt—or sand beside the milk. My husband entered the kitchen with bare feet, yawned in the annoying way he does, like a tired dog, and hugged me from behind. I didn’t say anything about the fridge.

On Christmas Eve, I wrapped my husband’s presents and placed them under the tree: a goofy tie with clowns I found online, some matches from our favorite restaurant, and a new phone. I put charcoal in his stocking in case I received more feathers.

There was only one gift under the tree for me. I frowned and stood, adjusting a few ornaments that were hanging backward. I noticed a tacky plastic palm frond projecting from the middle branches. Usually, I would laugh. But the lack of gifts made me feel gloomy.

After a candlelight dinner, we opened gifts. I glanced at the stockings, then handed my husband his packages. He opened them and laughed, wrapping the tie around his head. I eyeballed my single package, then the stockings. “Your turn,” he said.

I grabbed the gift with a red feather taped to the top instead of a bow. My stomach constricted. I tore the foil away and ripped off the tape; the box indicated it was a re-gift. I opened the flaps, burrowing into the tissue paper. I discovered an empty coconut and a photo of a Scarlet Macaw.

“We’re going to Costa Rica!” he exclaimed.

I ran to the fireplace, tearing the stockings from the mantel. I threw my husband’s stocking into the fire.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! The best gift you can give me is a rave, rating, or review!

"I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver" ~ Maya Angelou

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