Finding Peace and Joy Again by Kitty Bucholtz
January 9, 2026 by Kitty Bucholtz in category It's Worth It by Kitty Bucholtz, Writing tagged as ADHD in writers, It's Worth It, joy, Kitty Bucholtz, menopause, Perimenopause, writing
It’s been a rough few years for me. Burnout, butt-kicking perimenopause, then menopause that didn’t “pause” my symptoms much. I’ve felt broken. And every January, I hope and pray that this year will be better. This New Year’s, I barely let myself consider the idea for fear that I will be disappointed yet again.
And yet…
A friend of mine has been urging me for months to read some of the materials she’s found on ADHD in adult women. I’ve resisted, feeling these diagnoses are yet another fad created by Big Pharma to increase their profits at our expense. But I finally listened to one of the audiobooks over Christmas vacation. I felt as gobsmacked as when I took the CliftonStrengths test a year or so ago!
Suddenly, it seemed a light turned on in my head showing me what I already knew about myself but with a lot more depth and clarity and understanding. Both times, it was like I could see things I knew were there (like the living room couch, the TV stand, the window covered with blackout curtains) but now I could SEE them! The couch is red and has thick, soft cushions. The TV stand is small, made of pale wood, but the TV is quite large. And the window is bigger and lets in more light than I realized when it was curtained.
What a difference!!
Personality traits that I have been both comfortable with and frustrated by now appear to be different than I’d thought. Maybe I wasn’t actually broken; maybe some of my tools had broken. The tools I’d used to cope with life (we all have them, whatever our personality traits) stopped working as well when hormones and stress blind-sided me. But the books I’ve been reading have reminded me that I am not broken and I don’t need to be fixed. I’ve just been shoved, hard, off course and need to catch my breath and remind myself how to get back up again.
I have no interest in getting tested for ADHD by a psychiatrist or psychologist, but I am very interested in improving my toolbox: sharpening old skills, developing new ones, perhaps letting go of mechanisms that no longer work as well for me. And I think this is going to make a big difference in my writing.
I’ve just started reading The Artist’s Joy by Merideth Hite Estevez, and The ADHD Advantage by Dale Archer, M.D. Both are blowing me away and making me feel — I’m not the only one who feels this way!! (The book that I first read on my friend’s suggestion is A Radical Guide for Women with ADHD by Sari Solden, M.S.)
If you’re feeling overwhelmed with life, or lacking joy and passion, perhaps some of these books or other similar titles will help you get a better handle on what’s not working and how to get back on track again. I’ll continue writing about this in the future in case it’s helpful!
New Year Fresh Start
January 6, 2026 by Tracy Reed in category Pink Pad by Tracy Reed tagged as Authors, goals, New Years, self-publishing
Happy New Year. I have a confession. I did not complete my 2025 To Do List. Nor do I remember what was on my list apart from releasing three books and making more money than the previous year.
Now that I have that out of the way, on to what I did accomplish.
Published one book
Closed out a series
Participated in two anthologies
Completed a book for an upcoming anthology
Read 132 books (reading goal was 100 books)
Participated in two signing events
Took on more consulting projects
Sold my first book cover
Wrote 37k+ words on a new book
Tweaked another book
Updated special edition omnibuses
Started direct selling ebooks on my website
Moved all of my print books to BookVault.app (more options and better quality)
Created a newsletter template I like
Participated in several free promotions
Discovered several new authors
Got a digital library card
Researched narrators for audio books
Revamped my swag
Signed up to be a sponsor for a book con
Met more author friends
These are just a few of the things I remember, because I failed to keep better notes. However, I made a vow to keep better notes this year, so I’ll have a more accurate record of my work.
I did make more money last year than I did in 2024. The biggest two surprises were the considerable decline in sales at Amazon and the increase in direct sales. The other shocking discovery was the sales increase happened without running any ads. I’m curious to see what will happen with ads. This year I’m going to add ads to the mix and see what happens.
As for 2026 goals, here’s a taste of what I want to accomplish.
Increase income
Audio books
More special editions
More signing events
Start a new series
Create a book box
Increase mailing list
Finish cliffhangers
Advertise
This is a small list, but I’m sure it will grow throughout the year.
What are your 2026 goals.
Books by Tracy Reed
Veronica Jorge: January Featured Author
January 1, 2026 by Veronica Jorge in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley, Featured Author of the Month tagged as Featured author, Reviewed by Veronica Jorge, Veronica Jorge, Write from the heart
Manager, Educator, and former High School Social Studies teacher, Veronica credits her love of history to the potpourri of cultures that make up her own life and to her upbringing in diverse Brooklyn, New York.
Her Work in Progress is a Young Adult Novel based on a search into her ethnic roots that explores identity, belonging, and self-discovery. Her genres of choice are historical fiction, where she always makes new discoveries, literary works because she loves beautiful writing, and children’s picture books because there are so many wonderful worlds yet to be imagined and visited.
She currently resides in Macungie, PA., but she’s still a Brooklyn girl at heart. How sweet it is!
Veronica’s story “Fiona Malone’s Fesh,” was featured in the Fall 2021 Issue of Bethlehem Writers Roundtable and is archived above.
In addition to her fiction, she has a monthly column, Write from the Heart, here on A Slice of Orange where she writes about writing, life and does book reviews.
Connect with her on Facebook @VeronicaJorgeauthor
Books Reviewed by Veronica
Spotlight on Bella Barwin
December 31, 2025 by marianne h donley in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley, Spotlight tagged as Bella Barwin
Bella Barwin writes galaxies ruled by dark dominance, desire, and the sting of surrender. The Alien Masters of A’Llure series features stand-alone romances in an interconnected world, with alien masters and feisty dragon heroines.
Claiming His Dragon:
A Dark Sci-Fi Alien Romance
Alien Masters of A’Llure Book 1
Jenna Barwin
ISBN: 9781952755309
Hidden Press Publishing
2025
My palm itches with the desire to tame her.
Ordered by my A’Llurian clan to choose a mate from the Drag’gon ambassadors, I expect cold negotiations and strategic pairings.
Then I see her.
Elegant. Spirited. With eyes that challenge and lips made for defiance. She awakens something deep inside me—something primal. My laz’zo stirs with the need to claim, to guide, to protect.
But she’s royalty, and royalty doesn’t follow orders or submits. Especially not to a hardened starship commander like me.
She’ll fight. She’ll defy. But I have ways of teaching obedience—lessons I’ll impress upon her slowly, thoroughly.
Until she learns. Not all cages are cold. Not all chains are visible. And love? Love can be the most exquisite restraint of all.
Because in the end, she’ll be mine—bound to me in every way that matters.
Capturing His Dragon
A Dark Sci-Fi Alien Romance
Alien Masters of A’Llure Book 2
Bella Barwin
978-1952755323
Hidden Depths Publishing
2025
She isn’t what she seems…
Standing in my spaceship’s brig, she’s a vision of fire—hair the color of a blood-lit sunset, skin patterns shimmering with edges of molten gold. Breathtaking.
But she’s also a stowaway—a shapeshifting dragon who infiltrated my spaceship, slipped past my crew, and dared to think she could remain unseen.
Defiant. Untamed. A potential enemy spy I cannot ignore.
Yet she stirs every ruthless instinct I keep buried, igniting a hunger as dangerous as it is undeniable.
And soon, she’ll learn that in my world, actions have consequences—consequences that are deeply bound together with desire…
Bella’s Books
Hover over Cover for Buy Button
Season’s Greetings
December 30, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as holidays, short fiction, writing
Just one week until Christmas. This is my last craft fair for the season—thank god! I have been selling my hand-crafted greeting cards every weekend since early October, and let me tell you, I’m burned out. I’ve done okay, made my table fees back at most events, but it’s a grind. Today, I’m set up in a community center near Reading, along with what must be forty other vendors.
This is your last chance, people, to find the perfect gift! My perfect gift would be a medical miracle for my dad. He’s been unconscious for two weeks, since the car wreck on I-80. The doctors say he should recover—if he wakes up. But he’s pushing eighty. It may not happen.
That would make a good card theme, right? A get-well wish made for people whose loved one is in a coma. May they snap out of it. Or, how about: Wake up, sleepy Jean. But that’s my dark humor bubbling up. Damn it, now my eyes are blurry.
The crowd today has been steady, and there’s plenty of buying going on, judging by the packed bags people are toting around. Most of the merchandise has no appeal for me; I’m not into ninety-dollar stone reindeer, or fat crocheted cats, or ceramic tabletop Christmas trees, or polished plaques that say “What-cha cookin’.” To be fair, my stuff doesn’t appeal to everyone either. I’ve had window shoppers tell me point-blank, “I don’t send cards.”
Still, I have my regulars and I love ‘em. They buy from me every year, oohing and ahhing over my new designs. But the nonbuyers are right: Who sends greeting cards anymore? Especially when you can zap out an e-card or text an emoji or even write a general Insta post—that takes care of a lot of people in one sweep.
Greeting cards are special to me, though. I used to do a bit of calligraphy, fancy addresses on envelopes, cool name tags, that sort of thing. Then I discovered watercolors, and the people at work said I had talent, and here we are.
But you can’t please everybody. Some folks don’t like my designs. Not religious enough, they say. I say, my cards touch people’s souls; do you? Other folks want a poem inside—they’re the Hallmark crowd. I don’t do poetry, not that kind anyway. Make me write a poem, and I’ll give you Macbeth: Foul is fair and fair is foul.
And some people even expect me to mail the cards for them. If you pay for postage, I’ll think about it.
It’s about a half hour before this craft event is over and I can stuff my wares into my SUV and head home. Later, I’ll stop by the hospital and sit with Dad for a while. And keep my fingers crossed, hoping. Mom passed six years ago, and he’s all I’ve got left. My brother lives across the country and can’t be bothered.
I reach for a box beneath my table to start packing up. The place is emptying out; I doubt I’ll get many more customers at this hour. Then I see him, one of my regulars. He’s heading my way, his eyes roving my displays and finally finding my gaze.
“Hi, Roy,” I say. “It’s about time you showed up.” I rib him gently; he always buys a handful of cards.
“What’s new this year?” He stands about my height, stocky with a beard. His watch cap in Eagles green has slid up his forehead, revealing the worry lines that come with life. I know nothing about him beyond his first name. He’s friendly enough, but he’s never revealed anything personal in our interactions. Married? Loner? I have no idea.
I spin the rack to a new design, a swirl of deep indigo tinged with a hint of orange along one edge. The dark of the storm before the dawn. Before I can pick it up, he has his hand on it.
“Yes,” he says. “This’ll do.” He selects a half-dozen other designs, then stares at me briefly. “The storm clouds are thinning, I think.”
I record his purchase and place the cards and their envelopes in a slim paper bag. He hands over the cash. Without thinking, I blurt, “Peace be with you.” Where that came from, I have no idea. I’m not devout about anything but my cards.
He nods once. “Best wishes for your father,” he says, and strides away.
“What?” I murmur. I must have misunderstood. When I open my hand to count the money, mixed in with the bills is a Patriots key chain. My dad’s favorite team, even years after he left New England. “Wait,” I call out, but when I look up, Roy has merged into the trickle of customers. I no longer see him.
Odd. He must had carried the key chain in his pocket and pulled it out without realizing it. I run a thumb over the raised logo. A Patriots symbol deep in Eagles country, just like Dad. He’ll chuckle at the irony—. I stop my thoughts before I lose my composure. How did Roy know about Dad?
As I box up inventory and break down my racks, my phone lights up. It’s the hospital. Suddenly lightheaded, I sit on my folding stool, gripping the phone so hard my fingers ache.
“Yes?” I say, afraid to hear whatever news they have to share.
There is a pause as a connection switches and it’s the nursing station.
They say: My father is now awake and alert.
And he’s asking for me.
More of Dianna’s Stories
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