Having Fun With Donna MacMeans

My guest is Historical Romance author, Donna MacMeans. Aside from being a lot of fun in person, she writes some fabulous books which make you laugh and sigh. I'm happy to be welcoming her back to Over Coffee. Isn't her cover gorgeous?

Thanks Sia for having me here today.


I had so much fun writing this last book, I’m hoping readers will enjoy it as well.  In particular, I had great fun with my hero, Michael Rafferty, and his sidekick Phineas Connor, a secondary character who I’m guessing will have his own book one of these days.  Michael Rafferty is the muscle of the two.  He’s an Irishman who works for British Intelligence.  He’s well-acquainted with London’s underbelly.  The bad guys that live in the sewers there are well acquainted with his fists.  His best friend and associate, Phineas Connor, is a stage magician and a master of disguise.  I patterned the relationship on James West and Artemis Gordon from the Wild Wild West - the TV show, not the movie.

When I first clicked on the men’s relationship, I thought I’d watch some reruns of that show for a little character study.  Somehow I don’t remember the series being quite as campy as it is on my dvds (grin).  Memories work that way I guess.  I remember my brother and I watching the show after school.  James West was like an American James Bond for the Victorian period.  Remember their private railroad car with all the cool gadgets?  I understand that the show is now considered one of the first examples of Steampunk.

            
I also learned that the show was cancelled at the height of its popularity because SOMEONE decided it was too violent.  (Remember when James West punched the woman with the knife in the animated segments?)  Robert Conrad was known for doing his own stunts so I imagine the insurance costs to produce the show didn’t exactly aid its longevity.  Anyway, I don’t have to worry about either of these things in my REDEEMING THE ROGUE.  I’m not sure you can say I have a lot of violence in the book, but there are an awful lot of dead bodies.  This book definitely has a high body count.  Fortunately, the insurance cost for fictional characters is eminently affordable (grin). 

Here’s an excerpt so you can get a taste for the relationship of these two:

The vaguely annoying threat of a knife pressed to the small of his back gave Michael Rafferty pause.

“Your valuables or your life,” a guttural voice hissed.  “I reckon a couple of swanks like you two have nice fat pockets.”

Michael glanced at his associate.  Receiving his slight nod, Rafferty turned abruptly, rapping the miscreant’s hand sharply with his walking stick.  The knife fell and slid along the street.  Deprived of his weapon, the thief resorted to his fists but soon discovered he was out-classed there as well.  Rafferty had the man’s face pressed to the side of a well-appointed Mayfair townhouse with his arm twisted in a painful hold.

“Well done.”  His companion applauded.  “You didn't need my assistance at all.”

Rafferty winced, feeling the sting of a cut on his lip.  The bloody bugger had landed one lucky punch.  Blast that it had been the fist with a ring.


“Some of that famous sleight of hand would have been appreciated,” Rafferty said, shaking his hair clear from his eyes.  “Or is that only for the stage?”

His friend, the renowned Phineas Connor master of illusion, laughed.  “My performance on stage is limited to cards and doves.  You’re the one, Rafferty, known for his fists.”  He glanced at Rafferty’s captive.  “At least among the Irishmen that should know better.”

The man squirmed. “Rafferty?  Is that you?”  He swore like a seaman, which —based on his filthy rags — he could have been.  “I swear I didn’t know.”

Rafferty tugged the crook’s arm higher and heard fabric rip.  “Check his pockets.”

While Phineas rummaged through the man’s clothing, Rafferty glanced around the corner of the building to a line of hansoms in front of a stylish townhouse.  Such an elite gathering might offer temptation for the kind of criminal he held captive.  “This is a dapper neighborhood for a wharf rat like you.”

“I was minding me own business until you two came along,” the thief muttered.

Silver glinted in Phineas’s hand, the contents of the thief’s pocket.  Rafferty gave the man a shake.  “A half-crown?  Who else did you rob tonight?”
 

            “I didn't rob nobody.  That was for a message.  Half now and half when I brings the reply.”

              “What sort of reply did you expect to a knife in the back?” Rafferty tugged the arm, earning a squeal from the thief.

            “The message weren’t for you.  I was to hand-deliver it to a lady, I was.  I thought you two was easy pickings while I waited for her to show.”

            Phineas retrieved an envelope from the crook’s jacket.  No name or address was noted on the front but a blob of red wax sealed the back.  He bounced the letter off his fingertips.  “Nice quality stationery.  Too nice for the likes of a gutter rat.”

            “Who’s the lady?”  Rafferty asked.  When an answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming, he tugged the twisted arm higher.  “Tell me before your arm leaves its socket.”


            “I don’t know her name,” the cutpurse bellowed, his eyes squeezed shut.  “All I know is she’s dressed in green and she’s going to that party of swells.”  He slid his face on the limestone to point the way with his chin.


            “Barnell said…” His eyes widened and his mouth clamped shut. 

You might notice that Rafferty is a little rough around the edges.  As he’s about to be assigned a mission to masquerade as a British diplomat assigned to Washington DC, he’s going to need some sprucing up.  That’s where my heroine comes in.  Lady Arianne Chambers is the  sister to a duke who agrees to transform the rogue into something more convincing for his mission.  It’s sort of a reverse Pygmalion.  All to solve a mystery and catch a killer.

Publishers Weekly neatly summed up the story this way:  Irish rebellion, smuggled guns, and the assassination of American president James Garfield form a lively backdrop for this sweet, sexy, and smartly told Victorian romance.

Romantic Times gave REDEEMING THE ROGUE a 4.5 Top Pick with the comment: [Redeeming the Rogue] is pure joy; funny, sexy and exciting.”

I hope you will give it a try.  I’m running a contest with a Kindle as a prize.  You can find the details at www.DonnaMacMeans.com.

Plus I’ll give a copy of REDEEMING THE ROGUE to someone leaving a comment that tells me their favorite character(s) from an old TV show.  (Old of course being relative - grin).


Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound, Powells 

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Before beginning her writing career in earnest, Donna MacMeans kept books of a different nature. A certified public accountant, she recently abandoned the exciting world of debits and credits to return to her passion: writing witty and sensuous romances. Her debut novel, The Education of Mrs. Brimley, won the 2006 Golden Heart for Best Long Historical. Her second book, The Trouble with Moonlight, won the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice award for historical love and laughter. Originally from Towson, Maryland, she now resides in central Ohio with my husband, two adult children and her kitty keyboard companion, Shadow.

Visit her website at https://www.donnamacmeans.com

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Gary Alexander--The Writer's Life--Interview

A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.

Gary Alexander says he’s been “abusing mystery readers for over thirty years” with various short stories and two series. As a writer he knows all about writing because it’s a burning desire within and the hit and miss vagaries of getting published.

His latest book isn’t a mystery but uses his experiences and knowledge of Vietnam to create, Dragon Lady, his first literary novel.  

Gary stopped by to chat with us a bit about a writer’s life.   






 When did you decide or know you wanted to be an author, to get your works published?

I think it’d been in my subconscious since I was a kid. I was a voracious reader and really appreciated good writing. In my early 30s, I finished reading an anthology of published stories, very disappointed with most of them. I told my wife, Shari, that I could do better than this guano. She said, well, why you don’t try? Six or seven years later I sold a story to the late Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, $25 on publication.

What other kinds of jobs have you held?

Mostly in the insurance industry. I worked in the field and could set my own hours. I carried around a tape recorder and often plumped out a story idea while stuck in gridlock.

Dragon Lady is obviously based on some personal experiences. Was it difficult to write about these?

Difficult and cathartic, more of the latter. Over the years, Dragon Lady evolved, all versions rejected or (mostly) ignored by editors and agents. Ones who responded said they weren’t interested in a Vietnam War story. It isn’t a war story, it’s an anti-war story. I emphasized humor to highlight the absurdity of it. The parallels to Afghanistan are stunning. I could go on and on---

How did writing this novel differ from writing other books/stories where the characters and plot were so far-removed from your personal life?

When I’d drop the manuscript into the mailbox, the character went with it. The exception to that were my series characters. They became friends.

Like a lot of authors, you’ve suffered your fair share of rejections. Do you think a writer’s life is difficult?

I was thinking about that the other day while taking a walk. Passed a garbage man unloading our Dumpster. Walked by a convenience store as the clerk cleaned up trash in the lot. Stopped by a bar for a beer; the bartender was running her butt off because the waitress didn’t show up for work. On the way home, a police car and fire truck zoomed by, sirens on, headed for who knows where. I’d say there might be a few jobs more difficult.

But the rejection is tough. Do you have a low opinion of the editors and agents who rejected you in the past?

I used to. But then I’d set manuscripts aside that the “idiots” had rejected. When I’d completely forgotten what they were about, I’d read them again. Guess who the idiot was? Almost half the 150+ short stories and 12 novels I’ve sold have been repair jobs after I’d let the works ripen.

What was the oddest/worst rejection you ever received?

What hasn’t been the worst? The uniformity of the comments makes me want to tear what remains of my hair out. “Not what we’re looking for.” “Not quite right for us.” “Not what we need.” Ad nauseam.

How do you deal with writer’s block?

In the old days, I’d pace around the office, sharpen pencils, and mutter obscenities.

And in today’s electronic era?

I pace around the office, sharpen pencils, and mutter obscenities.

How do you know if you’re a writer?

Easy question. A writer is one who cannot not write. Would-be writers have told me that they plan to take up writing after they have time, after the kids are grown and out of the house or after they retire from their day jobs, after after after ─

I believe it was Ross Macdonald who said that nothing ever got written because the writer had time to write it.

We’ve all read stories about 28-year-old first novelists who write bestsellers. How do you react to that?

Homicidal thoughts.

Seriously, have you ever read a bestseller and wondered, “How did this get published and become so popular?” How do you deal with those negative feelings? Do those feelings have an impact on your own work?

Many, many times. Just makes me work harder. I try not to dwell on anything over which I have no control.

Gary, thank you for taking time from your writing schedule to visit us today. What about you?

• As a reader or a writer, have YOU read a bestseller you wondered how in the world became published much less a bestseller?
•  
• As a writer, how do you deal with your rejections?

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Dragon Lady synopsis

  

In 1965 Saigon, Joe, a young draftee, becomes obsessed with a Vietnam girl named Mai, his own "Dragon Lady" from his beloved Terry and the Pirates cartoon strips that his mother still sends him. As he pursues a relationship with her, Saigon churns with intrigue and rumors--will the U.S. become more involved with the Vietnamese struggle? What's going on with a special unit that's bringing in all sorts of (for the time) high tech equipment? Will the U.S. make Vietnam the 51st state and bomb aggressors to oblivion?

But for Joe, the big question is--does Mai love him or will she betray more than just his heart? Excerpt

Gary Alexander’s intelligent voice, filled with dry wit, and his own experiences give this story a sharp sense of truth, recounting the horror and absurdity of war. Reminiscent of books such as Catch-22, Dragon Lady serves up equal measures of outrageous humor and poignant remembrance. Gary Alexander was one of 17,000 US soldiers in Vietnam that spring. When he left in the fall, there were 75,000 troops in-country.

Buy: Available as an e-book: Amazon, Smashwords, Istoria Books

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Gary R. Alexander enlisted in the Army in 1964 and served in Saigon. When he arrived in country, there were 17,000 GIs. When he left, 75,000. Dragon Lady is Gary’s first literary novel. He is the author of several mysteries featuring stand-up comic Buster Hightower--Disappeared, Zillionaire and Interlock--published in hardcover by Five Star/Cengage. He has had short stories published in several mystery publications, including Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. He resides in Seattle.


His website can be found here: http://garyralexander.com/

Istoria Books is giving away free copy using a 100 percent discount code from Smashwords.com that will allow a reader to "purchase" the book for free in a variety of ebook formats.
 

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Living With Imaginary Friends

My guest is the delightful Linda Wisdom. She writes paranormal romance, among other things, and I find her witches irresistible. I’ve read quite a few of Linda’s books and have enjoyed her realistic characters and her sense of humor in writing those characters.


I love the comfortable office she has inhabited with all her imaginary friends. She explains a bit of how she gets the friends to migrate from their 3D form in her mind (I’m sure it gets quite crowded in there) to the pages of her books.


I’m so glad she could visit with us Over Coffee!




First off, thank you so much, Sia, for having me here today!






A kickass witch walks into a bar one night.


Yes, it sounds like the beginning of the typical joke, but what can I say? That’s how Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend begins with Hellion Guard Maggie O’Malley walking into the underground club, Damnation Alley, looking for a Bloater that’s been a bad creature and needs to be taken in. If she knew that would begin a crazy path in her life, she might have stayed in and let her team take care of the Bloater.


Writing is a challenge. Every day I sit down at my computer with the intention of coming up with ideas that I hope my fans will love or at the very least, not hate.


I’m what you call a pantser writer. Namely, I write by the seat of my pants. For me, it’s all about the characters. They make the story work, so no surprise they’re pretty much formed in 3D inside my head and tend to hang out with me while I write. I like it like that. I want my readers to believe the unbelievable. That there’s nothing unusual about a witch sporting a black widow spider tat that speaks in a French accent and can put a perp down with barely a hiss. Where the local messenger service is made up of over-caffeinated ferrets and the librarian is a stiff-necked wizard who believes in rules with a capital R.


And who wouldn’t want to hang out with a witch who shares your mocha latte addiction and be a shopping buddy? She might even make sure that dress you want so badly is there in your size or at least fits you perfectly. And if your ex-boyfriend is giving you trouble, she just might have the perfect solution to get him to back off or end turned into a warthog.


No wonder I believe my characters live in the house. I was the shy little girl who lived in her own little world populated with imaginary friends. I wrote about them back then and now I have a whole new cast of characters and creatures that I like to think are as quirky as I am.


All you’d have to do is see my office to see just how offbeat I am. You’d see a variety of dragon figurines, witch and faeries, my collection of Halloween Barbie dolls that increase every October, and wonderful magick candles to inspire creativity. I have a plush panda bear my dad gave me when I was three years old, a few plush wolves in sheep’s clothing. Hm, isn’t that how we see some men? And other plush critters that I’ve added over the years. Not to mention my own hellhound, Barney, my white mini-Schnauzer who’s waiting for his turn in one of my books. Between all of that, my DVDs, and a variety of reference books I feel at home in my very own imagination space.


That’s the kind of place I like to play with my ‘what if’ scenarios. I have two large windows where I see trees, rabbits, and birds. Sometimes I’ll even catch a cat on the prowl. Don’t worry, thanks to Barney doing his part to warn the cats off, the birds and rabbits always get away.


The way I see it, my space is perfect for a pantser writer. Nothing is super organized, my favorite figurines that offer inspiration are at hand when I need it, and coffee is always within reach. It’s cluttered and comfortable and I’d say very me. And I’m sure that a tidy minded person would have a heart attack if they walked in. If there’s dust I’m sure it’s faery created. My bunny slippers sneak around looking for licorice root and chocolate and there’s a gargoyle I have to make sure stays away from Pay Per View TV.


Just like my childhood, my characters and creatures don’t just live inside my imagination. They’re as real to me as the animals living outside. The witches tag along to Starbucks or if I window shop at the mall. There’s a vampire who’s with me when I drive at night. Could I have a better bodyguard? A wizard attorney who whispers “are you sure you should write that?” in my ear and now a very sexy half fire demon who just inspires all these sexy thoughts.


What can I say? This shy kid found a way to give life to the people inside her head. I just hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

• Now let me ask you something. Were you a shy kid with imaginary friends? And did they help you? Or did you wish you had a pair of fangy bunny slippers?

DEMONS ARE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

A Bewitching Woman on a Mission…


Feisty witch Maggie enjoys her work as a paranormal law enforcement officer—that is, until she’s assigned to protect a teenager with major attitude and plenty of Mayan enemies. Maggie’s never going to survive this assignment without the help of a half-fire demon who makes her smolder…


A Hotter-Than-Sin Hero with an Agenda…


Declan is a proprietor of an underground club and busy demon portal. No way he’ll allow his demon race to be blamed for the malicious acts of some crazy evil Mayans. But he’s already got his hands full when the sexy witch offers him a challenge he can’t refuse…5 star review

I apologize. I don't have a direct link to an excerpt, but both Amazon and Barnes and Noble will give you a preview.

Buy: Books a Million, IndieBound, ChaptersIndigo

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Linda Wisdom has published more than 70 novels with 13 million copies sold worldwide. Her bestselling books have been nominated for RT Book Reviews awards and the RWA RITA Award. She recently won the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for Hex in High Heels. Linda lives with her husband in Murrieta, California, where she is working on her next book, A Demon Does it Better, set to release in January 2012. For more information, please visit http://www.lindawisdom.com/.

Monday Musings: Grappling With Spring Clean Up

Spring brings storms. Lots of storms as the ground prepares for the growing season. Aside from the storms, spring brings lots of extra work. We have weeding and preparing those garden beds for planting, cleaning up the debris of winter rains or snow, and working on the outside buildings and the house itself. Finally, we see the yard clean and looking good. Granted it’s still bare bones but it’s ready for the next step, beautifying it.


The work we did in the past, the planting and pruning, is now showing evidence of growth. Shoots from the bulbs we planted are pushing through the dirt. We can almost see what everything will look like when it’s done. We’re not done but we’re on the way. Now comes the mulching, trimming, and weeding.


Isn’t that just like our writing? The initial work is showing promise but there is still much clean up we have to do. Trimming, weeding, fertilizing, and mulching. Not always the fun part but necessary if we want it to match our vision.

I've been writing this winter plus I’ve pulled out some of my older manuscripts and I’m analyzing them. Some are good stories and have good bones but the execution is poor. Editing, pruning and weeding, is necessary. Some are close to the query stage and actually I’ve had some good feedback on them.


Now it’s a matter asking myself questions. Am I telling the reader the story, or are am I putting them on the spot to feel and see things unfold. I learned quite a bit by some of my recent 5 star reading.

• The Second Duchess puts me in Barbara’s mind and environment so I trying to answer the same questions she is. I had no warning that a certain dish would kill a character close to Barbara, but I was there and felt the shock when it happened. My mind was reviewing who would or could have done it and why.

• The Dawn Country puts me in each scene and again I’m there on location as the story unfolds. I’m running with Koracoo and Gondo. I see by their actions they’re terrified as to whether they will be too late and the actions of their guilt for being unable to protect their children. I watch in horror with the kids as their captor orders the death of a twelve-year-old child.

• Rock Hard doesn’t tell me Sed is a controlling man, the author shows me and allows me to see and draw my own conclusions. Ditto with the fact Sed has a heart of gold. I’m in the scene so I’m seeing him pull on the SOB persona to protect his heart. Jessica demonstrates by actions her distrust of Sed and his motives and her own.

Each of these authors has a different writing style and choose different words and phrases to place me there, but all three are highly skilled at showing me the inner character by their actions and connecting me emotionally to the characters. None of the three bog me down in info dumps, their characters are distinct, and everything done moves the story to the next level without losing the momentum or the richness of the setting. To me, that ability is a five star read, or like a friend mine who is also a contest judge, says; that’s a winner.

I want to be a winner too. That means I have to look hard at what I’ve written. I have to step back and not be emotionally attached to what I’ve written. As with my garden, if it’s meant to be for lilies then the daisies, as pretty as they are, don't belong there. I can move them to a place it fits better. So it means being able to analyze the theme of each flowerbed or, in this case, chapter, and pulling out what doesn’t belong or detracts from the theme I’ve developed.

So, I’m grappling with manuscript clean up and questions:

• Am I starting the story in the right place? How do I know? Do I have a hook that draws the reader forward? Do I have a hook at the end of the chapter to make the reader feel they just can’t stop here they have to see what happens?
• Is having your character reflecting on something that happened an info dump? Could I show that worry in a better way? Like my friend said, a well thought out sentence can signal the problem better and give the necessary clue to the reader there is problem without a page or so of reflection.
• 
  
• The contest judge says, “Goals, motivations, and conflicts are laid out in the first 7000 words, without TELLING and without infodump/backstory. They are simply integral to the character descriptions.” Have I done that?
• 
  
• “Each of the characters has a unique voice, that's conveyed mostly through subtle turns of phrase, word order…” Do mine? Or is the reader lost without tags?
• 
  
• What the heck is an inciting incident and how do I know if mine is a valid one?

Ah, spring brings a lot of work, both with my gardens and with my writing.

What are you grabbling with? If you participated in Nano, as I did, what are you doing with your Nano entry?

Up coming guests, Stacy Netzel, Linda Wisdom, and Olivia Cunning and her Sinners



The Wide, Wide World

It’s my pleasure to have debut author, Liz Michalski, visiting with us Over Coffee. According to Liz, in her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and over sized show dogs. These days she chases after small children and a medium-sized mutt.

Anyone who has wrangled “oversized” show dogs, even a medium sized mutt, is okay with me. I wonder how she does with Great Danes? Oh, wait, she’s wrangled horses too, so she’s already been trained. I plan on calling her the next time I have to give a bath to my pack, lol!

 Liz is a wife, mom, critter owner, and freelance writer and has written hundreds of articles. If that's not enough to make your head spin she has now embarked on a career as an author. Her book is set in rural Connecticut with dogs and cats, a bit of heartbreak, love, and a ghost.

Liz is very familiar with sitting in front of a computer screen for hours. She shares how she balances the butt in the chair times with things that recharge and refresh her for yet more work.



Most days I worship at the altar of the electronic god. I sit, glued to my laptop, waiting for the next e-mail to come in, typing out a few pages of my manuscript, surfing the internet to see what my fellow writers are doing. I bathe in the glow of the screen from early morning until late at night. Of course, I do other things: I make breakfast, do housework, read, feed the dog, volunteer, visit with family and friends. But because I'm a writer who works at home, the computer has somehow taken on a central importance. It has become my boss, my colleague, my electronic water cooler all in one.

I live in New England, and it's been a long, cold winter this year. In some places, the snow drifts in my neighborhood are well over my head. (Granted, I'm only 5'2, but still.) The computer has served as a particular life line this year, my portal to the outside world when the view outside my window is unyielding white.

But still.

Too much time in front of the screen makes me feel vaguely claustrophobic, as if this World Wide Web is actually shrinking my domain. I know others feel the same -- I've read about resolutions to cut down on screen time this year, to use software to lock out the internet so real work can get done, to banish the computer to another room for a time out.

For me, these strategies aren't enough. To counteract the computer's spell, I need time outside, in the real world. So at least twice a week I bundle up and head for a hiking trail. I take the dog and sometimes a friend and tromp through the snow, which oftentimes has come up over my knees. (I keep meaning to invest in snowshoes....) Because my chances to do this are limited, I go no matter what the weather. In snowstorms, it's often so quiet I can hear the hiss of the snow as it falls against my jacket. Last week, it was freezing rain, and I debated staying home, but the dog looked so woe-begotten I pulled up my hood and we set off. Deep on the trail, the rain fell more softly, blocked by the trees. It was both a peaceful and a strenuous walk and when I'd finished I was glad I'd gone.

I've seen deer on these hikes, rabbits, even an owl, perched at the top of the tree like a lump of wood. He turned his head a few times, blinked sleepily, then closed his eyes against the racket we were making. I've seen the dog bounding in snow so deep it looked as if he were swimming. I've had thoughtful conversations with friends about the lives we live now and the lives we once imagined, about our families and our dreams and goals, conversations that would be impossible in e-mails or IMs. Mostly, though, I've listened to the silence and appreciated the view around me. On my favorite walk, there's a bend where the pine trees tower overhead like the ceiling on a cathedral. The path turns sharply, so you can't see what's ahead or much of what's behind. There's only this space, so small but yet so immense at the same time, and each time I come across it I stand still for a moment and try to impress it upon my memory so that when I'm back in front of the computer I can recall it and remind myself that the world really is wider than my 15-inch monitor.

• How do you recharge after spending time in front of the computer?  

Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books.a.Million, Borders, Indiebound 

EVENFALL Blurb:
That's what they say in Hartman, Connecticut, where the Murphy women are known for their beauty, willfulness, and disastrous luck with men. No one knows the truth of this saying better than Frank Wildermuth. Fifty years ago, he fell in love with Gert Murphy, but through fate and bad timing wound up married to her sister. He spent the rest of his life quietly regretting his mistake. Now Frank's dead -- but not quite gone—and it's time to do some haunting of his own.

All Andie Murphy ever wanted was to get out of town. But she’s back to settle Evenfall, her Uncle Frank’s estate, where some things never change -- and some things have changed a lot. Aunt Gert, for example, still drives her crazy. On the other hand, Cort, the wide-eyed farmboy she used to babysit, is all grown up -- with a whole new definition for the word sleepover.

But if you're a Murphy woman, love never goes smoothly. As Andie struggles with her feelings, Frank sees a chance for redemption -- one that could cost his niece dearly. They'll both need to decide --

Is true love really everlasting? Is home just an address, or a place you carry in your heart? And if you truly regret your mistakes, can the long-buried dreams of your youth come alive again? Excerpt 

She's been a reporter, an editor, a freelance writer, and has written hundreds of articles for newspapers, magazines, and private corporations.

In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and over sized show dogs. These days she chases after small children and a medium-sized mutt.

She likes dark chocolate caramels, champagne, and licorice tea (preferably not all served at once). In summer you'll find her visiting farmers' markets and trying to talk her family out of making her swim at the Connecticut shore.

The rest of the year she's home in Massachusetts with her husband, daughter, and son, hard at work on her next novel.

You can find Liz: Website,  Facebook, and Goodreads

A HARD THANKSGIVING

With the holidays upon us I will be posting a short story during Thanksgiving Day and during Christmas week I will also be posting a story a day from various writers.


The story today is written by my friend, Beth Hill. She writes stories with a lot of emotional impact and I thoroughly enjoy reading her short stories. I hope you will too.

Gentle. Her hands were so gentle as she bathed him. Washing days-old, weeks-old, grime from his body. Washing, too, the burdens he’d carried for nearly sixty years. The pains of his broken body. The anguish of his brilliant mind.

She never spoke. Never whispered. Never cried.

She turned him gently, lifted his fingers, his hands, his arms. Leaving no part untouched or unwashed. She gave his body the attention he’d not allowed her in life. Not because he’d minded the attention. But because he was never with her long enough to satisfy her curiosity, her need to discover the himness of him.

I helped her move him, though his weight was less than I expected. He’d always seemed a big man to me. But that was mere memory from a child’s eyes. Though great in reputation, he was an ordinary man in build.

And yet, she treated him as if he were large in every way. To her, perhaps he was. A giant of a man in her world. A giant she’d never fully known. A giant she’d had to give up way too soon.

We dressed him in his uniform. She would have wanted to do it without my help, but she was a realist. We worked in silent unison, making sure he was perfectly turned out for his final appearance.

Other officers would pass by, looking at him, wondering what had made him the leader he was. Subordinates would salute, admiring his courage one last time. The President would offer his respects.

He wouldn’t accept looking anything less than faultless.

And she would stand by his side the while, doing her duty as he’d done his for so many years.

And no one would know the grief that had racked her when she’d finally faced it. Faced that he was gone. Faced the pitiless truth that an unseen enemy had sneaked past his defenses, had set up camp within his body, had destroyed him from within while he’d been so ably defending his country in a desert far from home and from her.

I watched as my mother brushed the hair from his brow one final time. As she kissed his lips, gently. So gently. As she closed her eyes while the attendants arranged him in the casket.

I tried to be thankful, this last week of November. Tried to list the blessings of having had this man as my example, my mentor, my friend.

But I’d lost the ability to thank God for anything this week.

I’d remember to be thankful again. Soon. But for today, today I would grieve as only a son can. Today I would stand before a grateful nation and accept their condolences.

Today I would speak the words that showed the world what I thought of my father.

Words he’d never hear.

Words I should have told him last week and last year and all the weeks and years before.

Words of thanksgiving that needed no holiday to be spoken.

She slipped her hand into mine. And squeezed. Gently.

“He knew, Thomas,” she said. “He always knew.” Her fingertips brushed the casket as the men rolled it past. Then she lifted her face to mine. “Our love was his strength. It freed him to be the man he was destined to be, fueled his steps and his thoughts and his dreams. He loved me. He admired you. And now we say our public goodbyes. As is fitting for his family.”

“Mom . . . ”

She shook her head. And released my hand.

And we followed his lead, though once again we could not follow him into battle. He would go first, as was his way. And we’d remain behind. But we wouldn’t forget. We’d never forgotten him while he was away.

I’d live as he’d taught me to, with honor and strength. And I’d think of him where he was, no longer in a desert, but in a strange land nonetheless. And soon I’d be smiling, imagining what he was doing. Just as I’d done as a child picturing him in foreign places.

And I’d be thankful for having known him, for having been touched by him, for having been loved by him.

Not always gently, but well and completely.

And I would ask God to watch over him there in his final duty station, knowing that He would. That He would make sure he knew I loved him. Knew I would be the man he raised me to be. That I would be the legacy he deserved.

That I would love fiercely.

Act wisely.

And walk boldly into both battle and peace. As he had taught me.

As he had done.

~*~*~*~

Beth Hill is a Freelance fiction editor. She loves the written word, the ability we have to create worlds and emotions with well-chosen phrases. Beth is firmly convinced that all writers can touch their readers, that they can craft marvelous stories to entertain and satisfy those readers. The articles at The Editor’s Blog are intended to help writers create the best stories they can, no matter where they are on their career path.

The Art Of Storytelling

We’re writers. Storytelling for us is like breathing. Storytelling is as old as time. Oral storytelling is a long-standing art of most cultures. Much of it set to some form of music or through use of rhythms in word formation or a drum to remember the stories. I’m sure some of the stories were a way of sharing lessons learned, but I’m equally sure, making up stories were also a form of entertainment told around the cook fire. A way to also share the activities of the day and connect.

Storytelling hasn’t changed all that much. We observe something in life that catches our interest. Maybe it’s something we’ve discovered through research, or something we’ve lived, or people watching, a snatch of a song, or a movie or show. As storytellers we take those observations, experiences, or snippets of life and give them emotions, setting, and an ending—sometimes happy sometimes not. It’s a way to take our experiences and knowledge and connect emotionally with our audience, the reader and ourselves. Our own campfire tales.

I read an interesting article not long ago, in The Scientist, about the Science Of Storytelling. The title caught my eye. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I started reading it and it wasn’t what I thought it would be but it was interesting.

The gist of it was science is a story about ideas and lessons learned. Not all that different from the stories around the cook fire or in a shaman’s circle. Scientists tell their stories via published papers and books, which has little or no narrative or personal thoughts.

A non-profit organization, The Moth, sponsored an event at the World Science Festival, called Matter: Stories of Atoms and Eves, and the point of this storytelling session is each story of the event had to be true, short, and told without notes. Not easy for a scientist trained to tell the facts and nothing but the facts and removing any personal feelings from the information. Each of the participants shared their knowledge but from a personal standpoint designed to connect with the audience and perhaps show the passion they felt towards their area of study.

As writers and storytellers we know how to craft and tell a story, not so easy for the uninitiated as one participant, Irene Pepperberg, noted. “It was quite the effort trying to get a 40 minute presentation into 10 minutes.” She gamely shared the unique difficulties and excitement of working with her research subject and “colleague,” Alex the African Grey parrot. In 2007 Alex died and she said, “I realized I'd lost the most important being in my life for the last thirty years.”

Each of the highly regarded participants told their stories. It was actually very fascinating to read the stories and then look at the body of research behind them. For that night, they were storytellers and connected with a rapt audience of over 250 people. Well-respected “elders” sharing their experiences around the cook fire, so to speak.

The thought of “elders” isn’t that far removed in light of what The Moth’s executive and creative director, Lea Thau, said of the evening. “I was extremely moved by the evening. When you have someone who's contributed as much to the world as these people have, it adds a bit of gravitas, and we're all in awe. But the thing I love about storytelling is that it levels the playing field.”

Really, the art of storytelling, on one level or another, is merely tales around the cook fire or the dinner table. A way of connecting, sharing, and entertaining.

Do you think the art of storytelling has changed? Any thoughts?
















This week I will be attending Romance Times Convention in Columbus, Ohio. I will be having some interesting reports, interviews, and a few intriguing pictures you're sure to enjoy.

Have a great week!

Getting There

Debut author, Joanne Kennedy, is my guest Over Coffee today. Joanne writes romantic suspense with a little bit of humor stirred in to keep it interesting. She lives in Cowboy country so it's no surprise her debut is about those tough and sexy American icons, the cowboy.

Joanne's talks about the need to love what you do. Reaching your goals when you love the work is a joy. When you love your work, climbing the steps isn't a hardship. Each level brings new goals to achieve and even when you *get there* you still have steps to climb.

The road to publication is a long road, paved with rejections and frustration—but I made it. I’m finally “there” – but now that I’ve reached my goal, I’m surprised to find that, in the words of Gertrude Stein, “there is no ‘there’ there.”
When you first start writing, you think to yourself, “If I could just finish this…”

You finish it. Then you hope to win a contest. Then you begin the long process of submission, aiming for goals like getting requests for partial manuscripts, then fulls, then getting offers of representation from agents.

When I signed with my agent, I really thought I was “there.” And I was close—closer than a lot of writers get with their first agent, because I was lucky enough to strike gold the first time out and sign with a really good agent who’s also a fine human being (actually, I think she’s a goddess). But even with her knowledge and contacts, it took over a year, many revisions, and finally a second manuscript, to make a sale.

And now that Cowboy Trouble has hit the stores, there are still goals ahead of goals and more goals. I hope the book sells well. I hope it gets good reviews. And if it does get good reviews, I’ll be worrying about the next book—will it live up to the first?

I can always find something to worry about.

But in some ways, that’s a good thing. No matter how well the book does, I’ll always be reaching for the next milestone. Bestseller lists. Awards. Making a living if I’m lucky, and then a better living.

The striving never ends—and that’s good. Life loses its flavor when you have nothing to aspire to.

But that realization showed me that the ultimate reward writing offers doesn’t lie in any of these achievements. The real reward is in the writing itself—the good days when the words flow freely, the triumphs when I solve a particularly gnarly plot problem, the weird, almost mystical joy of creating a world and characters who inhabit it and make it real, and even the satisfaction of knuckling down and getting the job done on a difficult day.

If you don’t take joy in the simple act of doing what you love, forget the other goals. Because if you think achieving any of them is going to complete your life, you’re wrong.

Whether your talent lies in writing, painting, teaching children, or running a business, you’re lucky if you’ve found what you were meant to do. Doing what you love is a privilege and a joy.

In the all-consuming quest for success, it’s easy to forget the biggest blessing of all: you have a talent that only you can offer. You have a place in the world.

So for all you aspiring writers out there, and everyone else who is always aiming for some elusive goal, take heart. When you sit down at your desk or your piano or your word processor, take a deep breath, and light into the day’s work, you’re already “there.”

What do you love to do? What are your goals, and how would achieving them change your life?

COWBOY TROUBLE

Fleeing her latest love life disaster, big city journalist Libby Brown's transition to rural living isn't going exactly as planned. Her childhood dream has always been to own a chicken farm—but without the constant help of her charming, sexy, cowboy neighbor; she'd never have made it through her first Wyoming season.

Handsome rancher Luke Rawlins is impressed by this sassy, independent city girl. But he yearns to do more than help Libby out with her ranch…he's ready for love, and he wants to go the distance. When the two get embroiled in their tiny town's one and only crime story, Libby discovers that their sizzling hot attraction is going to complicate her life in every way possible…

~*~*~*~

Joanne Kennedy has worked in bookstores all her life in positions ranging from bookseller to buyer. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and won first place in the Colorado Gold Writing Contest and second place in the Heart of the Rockies contest in 2007. Joanne lives and writes in Cheyenne, Wyoming. For more information please visit http://joannekennedybooks.com/.

Pit Bull Approach to Writer’s Block

USA Today Best Seller, Catherine Mann, is my guest today. She’s a frequent speaker at RWA conferences. Writes emotional packed tales around some hot military heroes for Harlequin and Berkley Sensation. You may have read her Dark Ops stories with Berkley.

I’ve often wondered how authors handle deadlines around writing several books a year in more than one series. How do they keep it fresh? How do they handle the normal writing blocks when on deadlines?


Cathy shares how she handles it.

People often ask how I combat writer’s block when penning four to five books a year. My answer? I step away from the computer and search out new ways to clear the cobwebs. Although I never could have foreseen that this week’s cobweb clearing journey would lead me to Doga Class with a pit bull.

Yes, you read that right. Doga. Pronounced Dough-Guh. In essence, it’s yoga with a dog, or in my case, doga with a pit-bull.

I’ve never participated in yoga or mediation before. But I’m an active supporter of my local Humane Society, including fostering motherless puppies. When I heard that my local shelter was starting a monthly doga class, I was smack dab in the middle of a huge plot snarl and doga seemed like a great way to nab some cobweb clearing time. (Photo to the right Cathy with foster pups)

I had read up a little on doga and knew going in that the purpose for shelter dogs is to help them become more adoptable by:

1)Relaxing tension/aggression in a dog stressed from being penned up.

2) Relaxing nervous/timid dogs who need confidence.

Doga incorporates chanting, massage, acupressure, as well as reflexology with the paws. (Probably more than you cared to know - pardon my digression!)

Arriving at the shelter, I asked them to pair me with a dog that needed help rather than me just picking a doggie partner. Ask and ye shall receive.

Meet Tayler:

Now, I’ve fostered bulldog puppies before and have a deep affection for the breed. They’re sweet dogs by nature, and are sadly often misused by their owners. (Don’t EVEN get me started on the evils of dog fighting.) Yet knowing all of this, I was still nervous about finding my center and oneness in a lotus position with a huge animal I didn’t know, an animal clearly unhappy about being penned up.

Boy, was I ever in for a surprise. After only a little heart-to-hound Mudra and some Downward Facing Dog, Tayler was a regular pussy cat, resting her chin on her paws, rolling on her back, covering my hands and face with doggy kisses. She was totally mellow - and also apparently majorly into aroma therapy!



By the end of the doga session, my writer’s block had cleared. Thanks to Tayler, I realized I simply needed to look at the plot problem from a different angle and enjoy the unexpected path.

So this week when folks ask me how I combat writer’s block, I just smile and say, “I took the pit bull approach.”


For a chance to win an autographed book by Catherine Mann, simply post a comment. Three winners will be chosen, winner’s choice of HOTSHOT (Berkley Sensation) or BOSSMAN’S BABY SCANDAL (Silhouette Desire.)

• CURRENT RELEASE:

MORE THAN WORDS: STORIES OF HOPE, an anthology by three bestselling authors: Catherine Mann, Diana Palmer and Kasey Michaels, Harlequin, March 2010.

• Catherine Mann, Touched by Love
• Read an Excerpt

~*~*~*~*~

USA Today bestseller Catherine Mann writes action-packed military suspense for Berkley Sensation and emotional, steamy romances for Silhouette Desire. With over two million books in print in twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins in both the RTIA and Bookseller’s Best contests. A former theater school director and university teacher, she holds a Master’s degree in theater from UNC-Greensboro and a Bachelor’s degree in Fine Arts from the College of Charleston. Catherine currently resides on a sunny Florida beach with her military flyboy husband and their four children. FMI check out her website at: http://catherinemann.com

Doing It Like You Mean It

"The writer’s state of mind is an effort of perception, a sustained devotion to the equal observation of things without and within."

My guest is Anthony Flacco. He's worn many professional hats in his career. Anthony writes both non-fiction true crime, has a historical crime series out with Ballantine, and screenwriter for Disney, Discovery, and NBC Studios.

Anthony is well aware of the difficulty writers face in pursuing publication. The sheer numbers of submissions we're competing against for attention. His topic covers the need of well crafted proposals and queries, as well as developing, what he calls, a writers state of mind.



It was just over six years ago when my partner of fifteen years left independent publishing in Hollywood to open her own literary management company (Sharlene Martin of Martin Literary Management). She was already an entrepreneur who had crafted a successful and nationally recognized business on her own, and by the time that she went forward with literary management her expertise had been fortified by her years of watching me engage in those same struggles known by all of us who write for commercial publication--especially with regard to the securing and maintaining of effective representation. She decided to specialize in nonfiction books because they are what she most likes to read. For her, the result was a rapid rise to success and power in the nonfiction book world. For me, there has been a backdoor benefit that I never could have anticipated beyond collecting jokes about sleeping with your agent or having a representative who returns my calls.

That unexpected benefit rose from my work as editorial consultant for her company, which I originally took on in the inevitable need to help her run her business in the afternoons while I did my own writing throughout the night.

• My prior one-way experience of the literary marketplace expanded exponentially once I crossed to the other side of the desk and began to read and evaluate incoming submissions, edit book proposals and book manuscripts to put them into sellable form, and—most gratifying of all—converse with my partner every day on issues of writing and the publication game.
  
  That’s how an afternoon job that I never applied for became the most important one of my writing life outside of the writing itself. It stabilized my psyche in ways I could not have predicted, to the point that in a perfect world I would love to be able to rent my seat at the editorial desk to any one of you, perhaps charging by the hour or by the day (you know, just to keep the lights turned on), and thereby provide you with the same invaluable bird’s-eye view on the profession while you watch the tsunami of hopeful manuscripts wash across the transom. I’m pretty sure that the experience would change a lot of things for you as it certainly has for me, all for the better.
  
  
  You would find that the chance to watch and sometimes assist other writers who struggle with the same issues that you do is revelatory in its power to take the sting out of the blows that you often endure in the marketplace, since they turn out to be the same ones suffered by virtually everyone striving for authorship. (And I include the wildly successful ones who rake in royalties of seven figures.) Are there exceptions? Maybe. And they are about as relevant to the rest of us as the knowledge of who won this week’s Lotto—loose factoids.
  
  
  The revelation’s power arrives in two separate forms. The first is common to all who struggle to get published, since it involves the process. The second is typical of every writer—and this part includes those rich ones with the big waterfront mansions—because it involves living the writer’s life and maintaining a writer’s state of mind.
• 
  
  Regarding the first, the real and relevant truths about the struggle for a contract with major publishing houses is this: those publishing house slights, those yawning chasms of silence that loom up right where a response to your submission ought to be, were never the personal affronts that they seemed, not to me and not to you. The onslaught of material is daunting in the extreme.

For sad example, in the past I confess to having written to publishing house editors to ask if they would be willing to read and evaluate my work—and was genuinely disappointed by their indifference. If I had a rationale at all in wasting my time that way, other than that of seeking a toe-hold anywhere I could find one, it would have been something to the effect that I hoped for my work to be strong enough to grab them in the first few lines, they might be willing to invest their time and energy on my behalf out of sheer excitement over the stuff on the page.

It’s painful to admit to that now, because during the intervening years I have witnessed countless such requests coming in over the transom and I can’t help but appreciate the vast quantity of time and work that each would involve. Impossible. But the world is full of people who will ask for it anyway.

• The result is that as a writer, I still look for feedback all the time—but never inside of the profession. Writers’ groups and literate friends are there to do what busy professionals simply cannot.

When you stop by to rent your time in the editorial seat, you will likely find that the amount of work and creative energy that you see being wasted by many prospective authors will knock you backward. The sight of it will permanently change the way that you go about things. Conversely, the stunning work of serious contenders who bear a passion to tell their stories will keep the high water mark clear before your eyes. Perhaps not all of us feel driven to seek the highest level of quality in our work—ordinarily—but you can bet that an awareness of the avalanche of competing manuscripts will amp up your energy for excellence.

And yet in our enthusiasm for a new book idea and our desire for a major contract, it’s easy to forget that ideas—good ideas, even great ideas—are like that shared anatomical trait on our collective nether regions. It takes so much more, more, more than that in the outrageously competitive world of nonfiction books.

• From the editor’s side of the desk you observe how many intelligent and often supremely well-educated writers will try to cut corners on their queries, their proposals, their drafts. Even the most brilliant among them will frequently reduce their rationalizations for sloppy work to the same handful of familiar excuses that my ears burn to consider:
  
  “But I’m so busy (or) I can’t afford the cost of doing it right (or) Hey--if you appreciate my work, you won’t need a well-crafted query letter and a fully completed book proposal. You’ll cut me some slack and give me a boost. Why? Well, naturally, because I’m meeeeeeee…”

If that sounds laughable, it only emphasizes the extremes to which any of us can wander if we look for easy ways to publication. We ignore the broad statistics of more than a quarter million titles coming to the market each year, forgetting that each and every one of them represents a single find among a daunting pile of rejected works.

• The second big reveal from this side of the desk:

I am now immune to the delusion that any amount of literary success can relieve a whittle or a jot from a writer’s responsibility to maintain the writer’s state of mind.

The challenge is difficult enough when you are balancing jobs and family along with your writing sessions, all the more so when you are juggling the endless temptations and demands of a life of privilege. No serious writer is ever free of the fear of wasting our fleeting moments on earth by neglecting opportunities to keep our thoughts primed and our discipline tight toward capturing those fleeting flashes that drove us to write in the first place. The writer’s state of mind is an effort of perception, a sustained devotion to the equal observation of things without and within. My time behind the editor’s desk has left indelible memories of those who achieve and maintain that state of mind, and who produce their work from within it.

As for me, I’ve started a collection of jokes about the wisdom (or folly) of sleeping with your agent. But the real result of my afternoon job has been to slap a pair of glasses onto my head with mirrors attached to the sides. They provide a clear and present view of the pack with whom I have chosen to run: countless thundering feet that will trample the ambitions of anyone who refuses to keep pace.

• As for wealth and glory, they are always the most unpredictable girls at the dance. It does no good to chase them--they come to you on their own. We all know stories of brilliant writers with exquisite works who were derided by critics or initially ignored and then later rediscovered. Therefore, regarding the writer’s state of mind, “doing it like you mean it” reveals a writer who never forgets that public appreciation and acceptance of one’s work may be the result of someone else’s subjective call, but the excellence of it is there to be guaranteed by you.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Anthony is the author of the new historical true crime book, The Road Out Of Hell, which has just been released by Union Square Press at Sterling Publishing. It tells the true story behind the murders that formed the basis for the movie “Changeling,” but focuses on young Sanford Clark, the thirteen year-old who was held for two years at the Wineville murder ranch and forced to participate in the most gruesome of crimes.

Anthony’s primary research source for that story is Jerry Clark, the surviving son of Sanford Clark, which is why Jerry’s name is on the book. Anthony is also the author of the nonfiction book ”Tiny Dancer” from St. Martin’s Press, which earned high praise from the NYT Book Review, and the true-crime book, “A Checklist For Murder” from Dell Books, which sold to NBC Studios as a TV movie.

He has two historical crime novels from Ballantine books, “The Last Nightingale,” nominated by the International Thriller Writers Assn. as Best Paperback Original for 2007, and also the novel, “The Hidden Man,” in 2008, which continued the San Francisco murder mystery series.

He is a masters degree graduate of the American Film Institute, where he won A.F.I.’s Paramount Studios Award for his screenwriting. He has worked as a screenwriter for The Walt Disney Studios, NBC Studios, and The Discovery Channel. His work was also featured in the 1000th issue Commemorative Edition of Reader’s Digest.

He is currently a member of the Writers Guild of America/west, the International Thriller Writer’s Association, and the Mystery Writers of America.


Anthony Flacco website You can see the book trailer and blurb for the book here as well.