Lily Writes

October has been a little less about writing and a lot more about painting, traveling, and checking things off my bucket list.

Not that my fictional characters have been particularly cooperative about taking a vacation.

Love Nut is back from the proofreaders, and I’m working through the final corrections and updates before publishing. Meanwhile, I’ve started Love Not, Marco and Rose’s story, but the Hounds of Hell have been making an extraordinary amount of noise in my head.

Apollo wants his story told. NOW.

His book, Orbit, is the one I’m itching to write. But the first book in the new series really should be Plutone’s story, Inevitable. Which means I may find myself writing two books simultaneously.

Again.

One of my children is convinced I have ADHD. I suppose there’s evidence to support the theory, considering how often my characters shove one another out of line, demanding my attention.

Whatever it is, it works for me.

But October has been different. I’ve spent less time at my keyboard and more time collecting experiences, painting, and thinking about something my husband and I started doing years ago.

Playing the lottery.

Not exactly the way you might think.

What Would You Do With a Hundred Million Dollars?

Years ago, when one of those Mega Millions or Powerball jackpots climbed into the stratosphere, my husband bought a few tickets. And like millions of other people, we started talking about what we’d do if we won.

Not because we actually expected to win. We understand the odds. Buying a lottery ticket is a terrible financial strategy.

But dreaming?

Dreaming is free.

So we started making lists.

Initially, they were fairly predictable. A new car. Maybe a boat. A few Airbnb properties in beautiful places where we could escape whenever we wanted. The sorts of things people imagine buying when money suddenly becomes irrelevant.

We wrote everything down.

And every so often, when another jackpot became ridiculously large, we’d buy a few tickets and pull out our lists.

What would we do now? What would we change? What would we add?

The funny thing is that over the years, our lists began to look very different.

The cars disappeared. The boat lost its appeal. Owning vacation properties started sounding suspiciously like owning more things that needed maintenance, insurance, and somebody to clean the toilets.

Possessions became less interesting.

Experiences moved to the top.

And somewhere along the way, our silly lottery game became something much more valuable than a fantasy about winning millions of dollars.

It helped us figure out what we actually wanted from life.

From Lottery Dreams to Bucket Lists

One of the destinations that has always been high on my list is French Polynesia.

Tahiti. Bora Bora. Those impossibly beautiful islands surrounded by turquoise water, with mountains rising out of the Pacific and sunsets that look like someone got a little carried away with the paint palette.

The problem?

They’re a LONG way from Michigan.

My partner spent decades traveling to Japan, China, and South Korea for work. He hates flying. Hates airports. After that much business travel, I can understand why the romance of air travel wore off somewhere around his ten-thousandth security line.

Me? I only go to airports to begin and end vacations.

I love traveling. Bring it.

So when we began turning our bucket lists into actual plans, we started with destinations that were especially important to him but also appeared on my list.

We worked our way through some wonderful adventures.

And this year?

My turn.

Hawaii to Tahiti. A cruise across the Pacific, with several days at sea and stops at islands I’d been dreaming about for years.

We arrived in Hawaii a few days early so we could visit Pearl Harbor. I expected it to be moving. I knew the history, understood the significance, and anticipated the emotions.

It was even more powerful than I’d imagined.

Some places carry the weight of history in ways that photographs, documentaries, and books simply can’t convey. Standing there was one of those experiences.

And then we sailed.

Five days at sea. Crossing the equator. Learning to snorkel and scuba dive. Discovering what it’s like to look beneath the surface of those impossibly blue waters instead of merely admiring them from above.

Oh, this trip delivered.

And yes, I painted.

Because how could I possibly visit French Polynesia and NOT want to capture some of that extraordinary light and color?

Of course, I also collected stories.

I always collect stories.

A Singles Cruise, Some Meddling Widows, and One Very Interesting Island

I’ve had another Pink Matchmakers book simmering in the back of my mind for quite a while. I deliberately put it on hold because I wanted to take this trip first.

Research, you understand.

Very important research.

The book is Sylvie’s story. Her mother, Mickie, one of Pinkerton Falls’ original matchmakers, has signed her up for a singles cruise.

Sylvie discovers that she’s apparently the only passenger under forty.

Other than the crew.

And the OG Matchmakers, who are along for the adventure, have absolutely no intention of letting this minor detail interfere with their efforts to find Sylvie a man.

There are interested older gentlemen. Unsolicited introductions. Well-meaning interference. And Sylvie, who would rather throw herself overboard than endure another matchmaking ambush.

Then things get interesting.

Sylvie misses the ship’s departure and finds herself stranded on an island.

Enter Ford.

She thinks he’s a beach bum. An expat enjoying a laid-back tropical lifestyle with no particular responsibilities and nowhere he needs to be.

Ohhh.

He’s not.

And Ford finds Sylvie a delightful distraction. One he has every intention of keeping in his life permanently.

Naturally, Sylvie has other ideas.

I can’t wait to write this one. Between the OG Matchmakers, the tropical setting, and the possibilities for romantic chaos, I suspect I’m going to have entirely too much fun.

But I digress.

Back to the lottery.

What Our Lottery List Looks Like Now

If you’re keeping notes, here’s what our imaginary multimillion-dollar windfall would look like today.

Step One: Don’t tell anyone.

Seriously.

No announcements. No sudden extravagant purchases. No giant check photograph with two people grinning like idiots.

Quietly collect our thoughts and figure out what comes next.

Step Two: Meet with our financial planner.

Before doing anything else, we’d sit down with the professionals and work out how to make our money do some good.

High on the list? Paying off our nieces’ and nephews’ student loans.

We’d also establish substantial donations to university programs we care deeply about. One gift would support arts and letters. The other would support the natural sciences.

My husband and I have slightly different academic passions. That’s fine. There’s room for both.

Step Three: Protect the future.

Most of the remaining money would go into our family trust, invested with an eye toward long-term financial security and supporting the people and causes we care about.

And yes, we’d set aside some of the investment income for travel and experiences.

We’re not entirely selfless.

There are still places to go, things to learn, and adventures waiting to happen.

Step Four: Give the kids a little breathing room.

Of course our children would know about the winnings. We’d provide each of them with a lump sum to help with mortgages, home improvements, vacations, educational opportunities, or whatever else would make their lives a little easier.

They have excellent careers and aren’t sitting around waiting for inheritances.

But wouldn’t it be lovely to give them a little extra freedom?

Not enough to turn their lives upside down. Just enough to open some doors.

Step Five: Help where we can.

We’d seek out nonprofit organizations doing work that matters to us. Supporting people in need. Protecting the environment. Preserving wild spaces. Helping communities thrive.

And we’d do much of it quietly.

No naming rights required. No fancy plaques. Just the satisfaction of knowing that something good happened because we were able to help.

Pretty basic stuff, really.

Funny How the List Changes

There was a time when one of the biggest items on my lottery list was providing full-time home health care for my parents.

They’ve both since passed away, having lived long, fruitful lives into their nineties.

That item is gone now.

And looking back through our lists, I can’t help noticing how much they’ve changed as we’ve gotten older.

We started with I want to own this.

Somewhere along the way, that became I want to experience this.

And eventually, I want to help make this possible for someone else.

But one thing has remained remarkably consistent.

I want to learn. I want to experience life.

That’s been there from the beginning, even when it was buried beneath imaginary boats and vacation homes.

And here’s the really interesting part.

We haven’t won the lottery.

Not even close.

But we’ve already started doing many of the things on those lists.

Turns Out, We Didn’t Need to Win

A few years ago, I helped establish a scholarship fund at a university. I contribute to it every year, and there’s something extraordinarily satisfying about knowing those scholarships are helping earnest young students pursue their education and broaden their possibilities.

I didn’t need a lottery jackpot to do that.

I’ve also made lifelong learning a priority. Online courses. Local art classes. Workshops. And now I’m working with a well-known Canadian painter who’s mentoring me as I continue developing my skills as an artist.

I’m applying to juried art competitions and have proposals submitted for gallery shows.

Which is exciting.

And intimidating.

And occasionally makes me wonder what the hell I’m doing.

But isn’t that part of learning something new? Putting yourself out there, accepting that you might fail, and doing it anyway?

I spent decades building a career, raising a family, and doing the things that needed to be done. I loved much of that life. But there were always other things I wanted to try. Other parts of myself waiting for their turn.

Now I’m giving them one.

And I write.

Almost every day.

Even when I’m traveling, painting, or supposedly taking a break, the stories are still there. Characters talking in the back of my mind. Plotlines twisting into unexpected shapes. Entire fictional worlds demanding that I come visit.

Writing has always been number one on my bucket list.

Not publishing a certain number of books. Not hitting a particular sales target. Not winning awards.

Writing.

Telling stories. Creating worlds. Inventing people who fall in love, make terrible decisions, find their courage, and discover that they’re capable of more than they ever imagined.

Characters who stay with readers long after the last page.

That’s what I wanted to do.

And that’s what I’m doing.

So maybe the real value of our lottery game was never imagining what we’d do with millions of dollars.

Maybe it was forcing us to ask a much more important question.

If money weren’t an obstacle, what would we want our lives to look like?

And then, once we’d answered that question, figuring out which parts we could make happen anyway.

We’re still buying the occasional lottery ticket when the jackpot gets ridiculously large. We still pull out our lists and dream.

But these days, I’m much more interested in checking things off than adding new possessions.

A scholarship. A painting. A story. A new place. A new experience. Something learned. Someone helped.

Turns out, a pretty wonderful life doesn’t necessarily require winning the lottery.

Sometimes you just have to stop waiting for the winning ticket and start living the list.