Telling Stories
All these little compliments make my day and put a smile on my face. It’s a great feeling knowing that you've accomplished your dreams, that you've succeeded. There is something about these compliments though, something deep behind each word, that eats at me. The definition of success expressed in each sentence is measured by their own thoughts and feelings.
What is success to a child? I highly doubt that a five-year-old would find the fact that I published a book impressive. I’m just another adult to him — another old person in his eyes. No, no; success to him would be him scribbling a sentence on paper for the first time, using a “big” word, remembering to wash his hands before eating, feeding the dog without being told, eating all the broccoli on his plate without gagging. That is his idea of success and he should be equally praised as I have been praised, because success is not measured by the world, it’s measured by the individual. I’m not saying that I wish people wouldn't compliment me, because it’s really nice to be told how much chutzpah I have.
All I’m trying to do is remind whomever is reading this that the definition of success is not what the world says. Your success is determined by you alone. The five-year-old boy’s idea of success is determined by him alone. My success is determined by me alone. That is what keeps the smile on my face — not the compliments, not the praise, not the money.

My success (keyword: my) and filling others with joy put a smile on my face. People set different goals. Some don’t always set high goals, but that doesn't make them failures. It makes them who they choose to be. (Notice that I said it is who they choose to be. You can be anything you decide; nothing is impossible.) Thomas Edison said, “I didn't fail; I found 2,000 ways how not to make a light bulb.” (By the way, cookies put a smile on my face too. Hint, hint.)

My novel The Witches’ Sleep is available in Kindle Edition and paperback now. It’s about a seventeen-year-old girl named Ella Barnes, who is shot and killed by a masked man. She is shocked when she wakes up in a different world, a world of witches. Ella has to learn to adapt to a new body, new life and new world surrounded by new people. As Ella gets to know Raena, the world of the witches, and its people, she realizes that they aren't the perfect creatures they believe themselves to be, and she’s not the type of person to stand around and twiddle her thumbs. Will Ella succeed in changing the mindset of the people? Or will she be doomed to die another cold and tragic death because of her rebellion?