Mary Connealy lives on a Nebraska ranch with her husband and is the mother of four grown daughters. She is the author of the just released Cowboy Christmas. Also the Lassoed in Texas series, Petticoat Ranch, the Christy Award nominated Calico Canyon and Gingham Mountain. A new series begins now. Montana Marriages, Book #1 Montana Rose, Book #2 The Husband Tree and Book #3 Wildflower Bride.

Also an avid blogger, you can find Mary online at: Seekerville, Petticoats & Pistols, My Blog, My Website

I think of myself as a creature of the night. Not in the cool, sexy vampire sense. More like the mold that grows in the shower.

I’m an insomniac. I started writing, at least in part, a long, long time ago to save my sanity in the wee hours of the morning when I could not get to sleep. (Yes, I did save my sanity. My husband has had me tested.)

Back in the day when I started writing, I was a stay-at-home-mom. I did that for twenty-seven years. Then God laid a job in my path. There’s just no other way to describe it. I’m a GED instructor, and I spend my days in a classroom with young adults who have dropped out of school and now want a chance to get back on the track they strayed from. I’m delighted to be able to help them with that process.

That leaves my days pretty full. But it doesn’t matter. They were full when I was a SAHM, too.

I spend the evenings writing when I suppose I should be watching TV like a normal American in the old West (the old West with Internet access and air conditioning). I set clear, but not overwhelming, goals for myself. I grow my Work in Progress by a thousand words a day, five days a week. Many days I write more, but I try never to write less. That’s a 100,000-word book every five months or so. It actually takes more like three to write one because, like I said, I often write more.

My goal used to be three hundred words a day. I chose that simply because it’s easy. About three paragraphs. But I found the first sentence was the hardest to write. So writing three

hundred words forced me to open that manuscript document and start typing.

I suppose you could call that disciplined, and it would be if I didn’t love to write. I crave it, thirst for it. So once the book document is open and that first sentence has been faced head on, I’m gone, having the time of my life growing my romantic comedy with cowboys in the dark of night (like mold with Internet access and air conditioning).