If You Only Have A Little Time to Read....

I am currently bogged down in the second round of edits for Daddy Wanted, which should be released sometime next month. (I can hardly wait!!!!) But in the meantime, the rest of you should be reading. Summer is coming with long, lazy days (I hope), where you can sit outside in the shade and devour lots and lots of books. So get your reading muscles in shape now and download some short, free stories.

Once upon a time, two people met--Luke and Rachel. You really should read about them--especially since you can do so for free. Prism Book Group has free short stories available at their website as well as at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. At 24 pages, Lightning Stikes is great for your lunch break. After the Storm, which comes in at 31 pages, is a sweet dessert. I helped to write the ending for After the Storm, so you really MUST read it.

Blizzard Wedding, part of the continuing saga of Luke and Rachel, will soon be available at Prism Book Group, too.

Get your reading muscles in shape now! You don't want to have a flabby brain when the warm weather hits. :^)

Transitions--Or How Did I Get Here?

I'm on the second round of editing Patriot's Heart, the book I finished during JeRoWriMo. On the first round I found plenty of glaring errors, but now I'm using a fine tooth comb--so to speak.

I've discovered some transition problems in my story. There are many ways to handle transitions, but each one must be clear.

I've found several blog posts with good advice:

http://menwithpens.ca/how-to-write-transition-scenes/

http://theeditorsblog.net/2010/12/16/mastering-scene-transitions/

There are many more blog posts on this topic for it is important. Transitions should be smooth and carry the story forward without boring the reader. The reader should know where the characters are and how much time has elapsed.

Writing a book is challenging! There are so many details to work out, but I have fun doing it.

My Job at the Glass Factory

Pictured above is a large lump of glass. I got it from the Midland Glass company where I worked two summers during my college years. The plant was located in the Cliffwood section of Aberdeen Township and employed many of the residents. You can read about the history of the plant HERE and HERE.

I considered myself fortunate to get the job because the wages were very good for a college student. I made about $1,000 each summer. (My salary for my first year as a teacher a few years later was $8,000.) I got triple time for working on the Fourth of July and overtime was usually available, too.

While many of our neighbors in Cliffwood Beach worked at the plant, only one was on the same shift as me. My family had only one car which my father needed to get to work, so I rode with our neighbor to work everyday.

The glass factory in the summertime was really hot. I swallowed salt pills so I wouldn't pass out from dehydration. There were fans here and there but they did not help. The noise level was horrendous. That is where I learned to yell, "Yo!"

I worked packing bottles into cartons on a line with two other women. I stood for most of the time although if I was lucky I got to sit at the light box and watch the bottles twirl by so I could spot bad ones and pull them out of the line.

There were a number of furnaces and each one produced millions of bottles. The bottles never stopped coming at us. If we didn't pack the bottles fast enough, the line would back up until the bottles started popping out. I got cut several times.

Sometimes, if a particular mold was bad, I had to run over to the lear, a huge metal link chain belt that brought the bottles from the furnace. I would pull out a whole row of that mold. Run back, pack bottles, and then run back to the lear to pull more of the bad bottles before we packed them.

Sometimes, the supervisor told us to look for a particular mold number on the bottom of the bottle and toss it out. When you're packing a gazillion bottles, it's hard to read mold numbers. We snatched up four bottles at a time, glanced at them and stuck them in the box. The supervisor would glare at us and tell us we were packing bad bottles.

No surprise there.

For me, the hardest thing about the job was the fact that we worked rotating shifts. We worked 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. one week. Then 4 p.m. to midnight the next week. Then came the midnight to 8 a.m. shift. Getting through that shift was a struggle. Some nights I found myself nodding off at the lightbox. One night, all the bottles twirled into dancing ladies with lovely long dresses. I nearly fell off the stool.

Working that shift messed up my entire body. I didn't know what meal I was eating and I wound up with strange cravings. I came home at 8 a.m. and gobbled down heaping bowls of instant mashed potatoes. I went to the pool, fell asleep, and wound up with a bad sunburn.

It was a terrific incentive to finish my education.

When we were cleaning out my parents' house to sell it, my sister brought the glass lump to me.

"Don't you want this?" she asked.

"What am I going to do with it?"

"Use it in the garden," she said.

Mostly I use it to hold down the tablecloth on the picnic table, but I'm glad my sister salvaged it before it wound up in the dumpster. It's a good souvenir of my job at the glass factory.

Win This Book!

There is ALWAYS a contest at my website. The two winners of the next contest will receive paper editions of The Company You Keep. This is my Fourth of July contest--so the winners will not be announced until July, which seems like a long time from now but it will go fast. So sign up today here: Contest.



There are some great reviews for this book at:

Novelspot (with the original cover)

Mindfog Reviews

Coffee Time Romance

Of course, if you cannot wait until July you can purchase the book at Amazon or Barnes & Noble (or Kobo, etc.)

The winners--as usual--will be announced in my fan newsletter in July. Good luck!

The Belford Special

Here's the Irish side of the family at one their summer bungalows in Belford, New Jersey. (There were two bungalows. This photo is probably from around 1930 or so.) My grandfather is the man who is standing up on the right, my grandmother is leaning forward over the table, and my father is that cocky kid at the end of the table smiling at the camera. From what I've been told the family spent summers in Belford every year when my father was young. They lived in Jersey City, but air conditioning had not been invented yet, so summers at the beach must have been far better than roasting on the sidewalks of the city.

One of the favorite dinners in Belford was what my father called, "The Belford Special"--meatballs in tomato sauce served over mashed potatoes. An odd combination but I guess it adequately fed the small Irish army sitting at the table. At my father's request, my mother frequently served The Belford Special at our home when we were growing up.

Many years ago, we picked up my father's cousin Rosemary and went looking for one of the bungalows because Dad did not remember where it was. We found the little house had been converted to a year round residence complete with a deck. It was nice to know it was still there.

I should go back and see how it fared Superstorm Sandy.

Book Dedications

I am still editing Patriot's Heart. I dropped one entire thread as I raced to finish the rough draft, so now I am weaving that thread through the book. However, I paused for a moment last night to consider the dedication. When I wrote Sea Of Hope, I completely neglected to include a dedication, but that was my first published book and everything about the publishing process was new to me.

Since then, I have given considerable thought to the dedications in the front of each book. To me, it's the best way for me to thank and honor those who have helped me on my writing journey. I admit that sometimes the seed of the idea for the book came from the honoree, but most often I just want them to know how much they've meant to me and enriched my life.

Heaven's Blue: For my cousin, Sandy Karchella, and all the other lost children. May the Lord find them and bring them home.

A Rush of Light: To my three daughters...
Let your light shine.


The Keeper's Promise: For Bobbie L.

Irons In The Fire: Dedicated to my parents who taught me all about the magic of love.

The Company You Keep: Dedicated to Rich, my very own hero.

The Beast of Blackbirch Manor: For Billy

The Fiend of White Buck Hall: For Jan

Kiss of Blarney: For Emily, my friend

Prince of the Mist: For Tommy, My Irish Grandfather--A True Leprechaun

Daddy Wanted: For A. Thanks for the inspiration.

Who would you dedicate a book to?

I Finished!

Yesterday I finished the JeRoWriMo challenge, the New Jersey Romance Writers' version of NaNoWriMo. I wrote a total of 30,148 words during the month of February. I actually wrote more than that since I deleted 800 words where I had written myself into a corner. On Wednesday, I came to the end of Patriot's Heart, but I I went right on to the sequel, Patriot's Pride.

Now I need to go back and edit. Once it's ready, I'll have to send the manuscript around and see if a publisher is willing to offer me a contract for it. It may be quite a while until it is up for sale. Nevertheless, I was thrilled to accomplish so much in just one month.

I did not come in first among the other writers in the group. There were many who surpassed me, but it did help to have a cheering squad. My thanks to Nancy Herkness for setting the challenge up. It was great!

Required Reading for All

In yesterday's New York Times I saw an article "On Keeping On," by Bill Keller, an op-ed columnist. He wrote about a book of poems Taps on the Walls: Poems From the Hanoi Hilton by John Borling who was a prisoner of war for six and a half years in the infamous North Vietnamese prisoner of war camp known as the Hanoi Hilton. With no pencil and no paper, John Borling found a way to keep his mind active and entertain his fellow prisoners using a code. He tapped out poems and messages. He memorized the poems and when he was finally freed, he recorded them.

Now, forty years later, the poems have been compiled into a book. Late last night, I downloaded the book--and then I could not get to sleep. The poems are haunting and proof of the incredible strength of the human spirit.

Read them.

A Kiss--from HEAVEN'S BLUE

Here's another Valentine treat--a kiss from HEAVEN'S BLUE, my other EPPIE Award-Winning inspirational romance. Enjoy!

He touched her shoulder as she stood grinning up at him,
and strands of her honey-colored hair fell across his knuckles.
He wondered how many nights Samantha had fallen asleep
next to the microscope. How many lonely evenings had she
spent in this god-forsaken wasteland when she had all the
sweet goodness of the sunshine glowing from within her?

His hand went from her shoulder to cup her chin. Her
tender lips drew him, and before he realized it, he tasted her
and found the warmth of the sun along with the nectar of
summer wildflowers in her kiss. Somehow, he had known it
would be special, like her. He had never met a woman quite
as unique as Samantha Lyons.

He came to his senses when a stray mosquito landed on
him, intent on drawing blood. As he slapped the annoying
bug, he drew back and saw shock engraved on Samantha's
face. A flaming blush blooming on her cheeks made her only
lovelier, and he bent towards her again.

“N-no!” she sputtered. “No! I—I...”

Then she rushed out the door and hurried across the yard.

David watched her enter the cottage. He frowned as his
mouth turned as dry as all those grains of sand on the beach.
Realization slammed into him like a direct hit on the solar
plexus. He swept his hand over his face. In a moment of
weakness, he had let his guard down. Would Samantha
dismiss him as coldly as she had the unfortunate Ginger?

He had to stay here! Right now everything hung in the
balance, and he had to keep James safe. Nothing mattered
more than that.

...self-control.

David ran his hand through his hair and paced the floor.
How could he have done this? His shoulders drooped as he
reasoned that any man would have attempted the same
thing. She had looked so luscious, like a peach ripe for the
harvest. He licked his lips and still tasted her flavor there.

A dull ache, like that from an old wound, gnawed at him.
How could he have forgotten that he wasn't just any man?
Right now, he was a criminal. Samantha had only to pick up
the phone and call the nearest police station.

Bleakly, he knew the truth was that he had been a little
bored after one week and went asking for trouble.
Furthermore, he had gotten it, risking his own son's future.
What kind of father was he? Would he never learn?

Find it at Amazon--click HERE!

Tally for the Week

I have typed out 7,859 words this week in the JeRoWriMo writing challenge. There are writers who have put down far more words, but for me this is good. I will have to do some major editing later, but the point of the writing challenge is to write and forget about editing since the inner editor stifles creativity. The inner editor can also prevent forward progress, which is what usually happens to me. When I'm writing, I often go backwards and edit. Then I move forward, then I go backward and edit again, which means it takes far too long for me to write a book.:^(

This story has taken a few interesting turns. Joshua Huddy made a cameo appearance in the story this week. The heroine's pig has turned into a wonderful secondary character. I originally planned for the heroine's sister to have her own book, making this the beginning of a two book series. However, now I am considering giving the twins their own books, too.

But I'll think about that later. Right now got type out some more words!

The Editors' Reunion

Four former editors from the Jersey Journal gathered together for lunch yesterday. They usually get together at least once a year. Dad, the oldest of the quartet, is on the left, Marty to his right, then Milty, and Arnie. They started off by bemoaning the loss of yet another daily newspaper, The Times-Picayune. They talked about old times at the Journal and the people they knew.

Arnie said my father was one of two reporters he knew who actually resembled Hollywood's version of a newspaperman. :^)


Miltie is going to be 90 in May. He does not wear glasses and has good hearing. However, he doesn't write anymore and neither do the others. They talked about one journalist they all remembered who typed faster than anyone.


Marty still has an electric typewriter. Like the others, he has an email address, but none of them--except for Dad are on Facebook.

I had a great time listening to their stories. They made the life of a newspaperman sound very exciting. :^)

-30-

The Rewards

I spent many years teaching young children. I taught first graders for seven years and pre-k classes for eighteen years. For me, it was a joyful experience. I read stories, sang songs, made dough sculptures, and macaroni necklaces. Learning the alphabet was great! We baked applecrisp for the letter a, bread for b, and carrot cake for c.

Some of my students presented quite a few challenges, but that's where I honed my teaching skills. It wasn't always an easy job--even working with small children, but it was very rewarding. I got plenty of smiles, hugs, and kisses.

Recently, I've seen some of my former students. They are so grown up. :^) Talking with them and knowing that they've done well in life has been the biggest bonus of all. Obviously, I had a very small part in their success, but I was at the beginning--and that's an important place to be.

Do I miss teaching? Sometimes, but I have other responsibilities now and I always have my writing. I have been productive since I retired from teaching. I finished Daddy Wanted and got a contract for it. I finished The Pirate's Wraith and have been searching for a publisher interested in time travel. I have one third of Patriot's Heart written and hope the writing challenge of JerRoWriMo will speed my word count along.

I am grateful I was able to teach. There was never a dull day in the classroom and we shared far more laughter than tears. For anyone looking for a career, I highly recommend it--as long as you've got plenty of patience and a positive attitude. You won't get rich in a classroom, but the rewards will warm your heart for the rest of your life.

My Mother's High School Class

Cecil Township is in western Pennsylvania. Mom is in the second row from the bottom, the third student from the left side. My mother has such curly hair in the photo! Her hair was naturally straight. Since most of the young ladies have curly hairstyles in this class picture, I assume curls were in vogue.

Mom kept in touch with a few of her classmates. There were some reunions, but as she grew older she could no longer attend the event, the town was about four hundred miles away from where my parents lived. That is one of the reasons why I think social media is a great invention. Keeping in touch is so much easier. Sharing photos is a breeze.

Mom went to art school after high school. Then she joined the Marines and spent World War II in California. Afterwards, she came back east. She was working in a photography studio in Jersey City when she met my father.

It would be interesting to know how the rest of her classmates fared after they graduated.

My Thumb and the Synovial Cyst

Last month, a bump appeared on my thumb. I searched around on the internet and decided it must be a ganglion cyst. My primary care doctor thought it probably was that, too. He chuckled and said the old time method to remove it was to hit it with a heavy book. Hubby volunteered to whack it for me, but I declined his offer. (There are scores of videos of people on YouTube smashing ganglion cysts with books. I DO NOT recommend it.)

I went to a specialist yesterday who informed me it was a synovial cyst. He took X-rays and also diagnosed me with arthritis in my fingers, too. Well, my fingers have been very busy for a long time so I shouldn't have been surprised.

The specialist believes surgery to be the best option. However, he said I should think about it as long as it isn't bothering me and it isn't growing larger.

I don't like the idea of going through surgery. I also don't like the idea of not being able to get my thumb wet for two weeks, keeping my hand above my heart, etc.

Daughter #1 volunteered to cook supper but I suspect we would be eating hot dogs and beans for the duration.

I got brave this year and signed up to write 30,000 words next month with JeRoWriMo, NJRW's February writing challenge event. I don't want to miss out on that!

One of my friends suggested massaging the cyst everyday and I may do that because for now I've decided to wait. The cyst isn't that big and it's not bothering me. Having surgery would be a huge expense for such a small thing.

Jenny Milchman's Book Launch Party

On the left in the photo is Jenny Milchman who is introducing Lois Winston on the right. Jenny Milchman had a book launch party at Mendham Books, in Mendham, NJ, last night. Jenny Milchman's Cover of Snow, is a thriller published by Ballantine Books.

I "met" Jenny in an author's discussion forum at Amazon. I read her blog, which includes Made It Moments--the success stories of other authors. It took a long time for Jenny's dream of publication to become a reality so at her launch party she allowed others to speak about their hopes and dreams.

Lois Winston spoke of the literal dreams which started her on the road to publication. Shelley Freydont, pictured in the photo below started out as a professional dancer, but she, too, had vivid dreams which led her to write.

A poet spoke of her love of words. A teacher spoke of her desire to make the world a better place. Rabbi Ilene Schneider just wants to entertain those who read her books.

Hubby wanted me to speak so he could take a photo of me. :^) My hope is that nobody makes the mistake I did in getting an agent who charged a hefty fee just to take me on as a client. I lost a lot of money in the process and the agent did not help my writing career at all--also she made me a lot poorer.

As usual, I digressed so I don't know if anyone really got the message, but just in case make sure you read this article about agents.

It was a wonderful evening! Mendham Books is a terrific bookstore. Jenny Milchman is a talented and gracious author. I am glad hubby and I braved the rush hour traffic on Route 287 so we could join in the party.

Solitude and Creativity for the Writer

Writing is a solitary occupation. Putting words on paper--or the computer screen--involves a lot of concentration. As an author, I record my daydreams and then offer them to others for their entertainment. If readers enjoy my story, they might buy another one of my creations. If not, I have to come up with a better flight of fancy.

Ideas are everywhere, but a book must be specific--it cannot wander around as real life does. There must be a point to the story and it needs a beginning, a middle, and an end. That process takes a great deal of thought. Sometimes I hit a dead end when I'm writing. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm leading my characters along the right road.

I've found the creative process can often be nurtured with solitude. When I was younger and raising three small children, sometimes the only solitude I could find was in a trip to the supermarket or a session of folding laundry in my bedroom. Now that I'm older, I find a quiet walk conducive in stimulating my mind.

I found several interesting articles on solitude and creativity but this one, The Lost Art of Solitude, by Leo Babauta, offers a good guide to finding some quiet space to allow your imagination to flourish.

Give solitude a try.

Mom's Secret Rice Pudding Recipe

This is a photo of my mother from probably around 1952 (I'm guessing). For the record, my mother did not drink much alcohol at all. However, she did spend a lot of time in the kitchen. That mixer on the counter lasted throughout her lifetime.

She was a good cook despite the fact that she only owned one cookbook. Most of the meals she made were standard fare she had learned to cook from her mother without a cookbook. As a child, I remember Mom's meatloaf with great fondness but she also baked chicken, fried porkchops, boiled cottage ham with cabbage and potatoes. She worked for hours to make heavenly stuffed cabbage. She served an assortment of vegetables, though cauliflower in cream sauce was one of my personal favorites along with her green beans in cream sauce with bacon. She often served lima beans with breakfast sausages for supper and on Fridays we sometimes got a concoction of tunafish in a cream sauce with peas. I forget what the official name of that dish was, but she jokingly called it chicken of the sea to fool my sister who hated tunafish.

As time went on, she added "newer" dishes like chili to the menu. She made pizza from scratch, too. Everything she cooked was tasty and filling--and she cooked enough for an army. (Maybe because she grew up in a family with five brothers!)

When it came to baking, my mother's creations were the stuff of dreams. She should have opened a bakery. Her pies, cakes, cookies, breads, doughnuts and cream puffs were better than anything else I've ever sampled. Dessert was served everyday. None of us in the family were overweight.

I had a great childhood.

Mom had one secret recipe. She had gotten it when she was young and worked as a waitress. The owner of the restaurant gave it to her and asked her not to give it away. However, as the years went by, my mother gave it away to anyone who asked for it. So it really wasn't much of a secret, but she always called it that.

So for all you lovers of rice pudding, here's the best rice pudding recipe ever, Mom's secret recipe. :^)

1 Quart of Milk
1 Quart of Water
1/2 Cup Sugar
3/4 Cup Rice

Bring the mixture together in a pot on the stove, and let it simmer for 1 hour. (Mixture should become thick. Also you need to stir it every now and then.)

THEN, in a small bowl put:

2 Eggs
1/2 Cup Sugar

BEAT!

Pour in some of the hot rice mixture into the small bowl and blend so eggs DO NOT curdle.

Slowly pour the egg mixture into the mixture on the stove and let it simmer about 15 minutes.

COOL.

Add 3 Tablespoons Butter, 1 Teaspoon Vanilla. Pour into a pan and sprinkle with cinnamon.

Enjoy!

A Passive Verb

I had an overabundance of thats in Daddy Wanted, but I have an overabundance of wases in The Pirate's Wraith.

Was is a good word and used constantly in spoken English, but it is a passive verb. It is far, far better to use action verbs in a book.

Here is a passage peppered with the offending verb:

While none of this could be real, in the distance she heard haunting music played on a tin whistle. She did not know the melody, but it was in a minor key and the plaintive notes tore at her heart.

She had been in a horrific crash. Maybe she was actually dead. Maybe this whole scenario was simply happening on some other plane because her soul was now disconnected from her body...

But her body felt heavy and real. Damn. If she was dead wouldn’t she be either in heaven or hell? A terrible chill wound around her heart. Could this be hell? Surely not, for dead people did not eat or drink.

But maybe they thought they did. Maybe the bowl held virtual broth. She sipped more of it. It felt good going down, warming her right to her toes. She peered at the broth with suspicion.

“Is there alcohol in here?”

Here is my current edit after removing the problem. Of course, I changed a few other details in this segment and I still have some passive verbs in it--like be. So I may cross something out and redo it again. That's the problem with writing!

While none of this could be real, in the distance she heard haunting music played on a tin whistle. She did not recognize the melody, but the plaintive notes in a minor key struck a sad chord in her heart and troubled her.

She had been in a horrific crash. She could be dead. Her soul might well be disconnected from her body. The impression of activity about her could be happening on some other plane.

Did the dead go to heaven or hell? A terrible chill wound around her heart. Could this be hell? But her body felt heavy and real. Dead people neither ate nor drank, but maybe they went through the motions. Maybe the bowl held virtual broth. She sipped more of it. It warmed her right to her toes as it went down. She peered at the broth with suspicion.

"Is there alcohol in here?"

Writing is fun but editing is work. A writer must be both creative and meticulous about detail. Much of the good stuff in a book comes about on the third or fourth round of editing.

Computers make it easier. I love the delete key. :^)

Christmas Past

This is a photo of my family's first Christmas in Cliffwood Beach. My parents bought what was originally destined to be a summer bungalow and converted it to a full-time residence. The French doors led out to nothing at first. Years later an addition was built with a larger living room. The room pictured in the photo became the dining room.

Everything was small and cozy. We were happy and loved. That's really all that mattered.

Happy New Year

Tempus fugit. Time flies. (Or flees if you're concerned about the original Latin translation.) 2012 is history. 2013 presents opportunities. A whole lot of luck would be a nice thing to own, but it is something I don't count upon. If I want to get another book published, I have to write it, edit it, present it to editors, get rejected, and keep plugging away at the book until someone decides it is worthy of their publishing house. Or I can publish it myself, a wonderful option but it requires even more effort because then I am responsible for everything!

In 2012, I happened to catch a post announcing that the Prism Book Group was looking for manuscripts. I never heard of them until that point, but I decided to give them a try and they decided to give me a contract for Daddy Wanted.

That was either luck, a happy coincidence, an answer to prayers, or some sort of cosmic karma thing where the stars lined up just for me. I don't know--although I prefer to think God is listening to me, watching out for me, or trying to direct me. (Which is, I'm sure, a nearly impossible task.)

My mother, the daughter of immigrants, was extremely concerned about luck. Steeped in the traditions of my grandparents' old ways, she kept the rituals she felt would guarantee her a fine future. Though she was intelligent, she feared letting go of the ancient customs that had been handed down to her. Therefore, Mom roasted pork every New Year's Day but even more important to her was the poppyseed roll. If we did not have a poppyseed roll, she knew the coming year would be a disaster. When she became too frail to bake a poppyseed roll, I baked them--or bought them.

We often complained to Mom about some years that were very difficult. She warned us that things would have been worse if we had not eaten the poppyseed.

We will be eating pork today. We will have poppyseed rolls, too, which I purchased for an exorbitant amount. The rolls won't taste as good as homebaked, but I saved myself some time in the kitchen.

I know there will be good times and bad times this year. One special meal isn't going to change things. I know I have to glue myself to the chair and type out as many awesome stories as possible if I expect to get anywhere in the book business.

Still, I will be thinking of my mother when I put that poppyseed roll in my mouth. And maybe, just maybe she can shine a little love down on us as we sit around the table. That would be worth more than luck to me.

No Cookies, But Edits Nearly Complete

This Christmas I was--for me--ahead of schedule. I sent out the cards, I bought the gifts and wrapped them. Then my editor sent Daddy Wanted to me for preliminary edits. I decided the Christmas cookies will have to wait.

Last night, I finished combing through the edits. I've removed many of the obnoxious thats peppering the manuscript. I spell checked the document and discovered I spelled interrogation incorrectly. :^(

I printed out the whole thing and began reading through it today. I've found some little mistakes so I'm glad I decided to give it another look.

I can always buy cookies.

The Cover for Daddy Wanted

Here it is! The cover for Daddy Wanted. I love it. It's perfect. Really.

The heroine lives in Brooklyn--a place I've gotten to know fairly well.

I do not have a release date for the book, but I'll tell the world when I find out.

Visit the Prism Book Group to see more of my publisher's titles and take advantage of a special offer--30% off all titles until January 2nd and there are two free books available for a download as well.

Times Have Changed

This is my first grade class from 1973. Over the years, I taught in both public and private schools, but I always felt safe and secure on the job--despite the fact that for most of those years the schools did not have security systems.

Times have changed. Now, nobody is safe.

My heart goes out to those who are grieving in Newton, Connecticut.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace. Amen.

Overused Word--A Plague of THATS

I am bogged down with the preliminary edits of Daddy Wanted and working away until I am bleary eyed every night.

I don't mind. I want my book to the be best it can be. The passage below needed to be fixed.

So I studied it, switched words around, eliminated the plague of THATS and now it looks like this:

I hope the editor will find it satisfactory, but it is definitely better than it was.

Playing With Photoshop

I have an ancient version of Photoshop. Mostly, I use it to fix red eyes in photographs--but there is a lot more the program can do. I wanted to superimpose one photograph onto another and layer a transparent image onto a solid image.

Using the Help menu in Photoshop, did not help me. Instead, I found clear, concise answers from other people online. The internet is a wonderful thing.

So after an evening of fooling around, I can now place a giant woolly bear caterpillar on a bridge. This is wonderful because I have an idea for a book cover. No, the book cover will not be an image of a woolly bear on a bridge. That is simply practice, but it is a lot of fun. :^)

Rejections

I received another rejection yesterday for The Pirate's Wraith. It was a very sweet, very well-written rejection, but the basic message was negative. I went to the Liberty States Fiction Writers conference last March and talked to four editors--none of them leaped at the chance to publish my book. I went to the New Jersey Romance Writers conference last month and had interviews with two agents. Both of them have now rejected the book.

Trying to land a publisher or an agent is not an easy task--even though I've written plenty of other books. It's like banging your head against a brick wall, which is why I reissued Prince of the Mist on my own and I am glad I did.

Above is a colorful pie chart from Metric Junkie. It illustrates the sale of my Kindle books at Amazon. Prince of the Mist accounts for half of my Kindle sales this year so far at Amazon. My books have sold at other distributors as well, but Metric Junkie doesn't pick up the statistics from other sites and Metric Junkie only allows me to list ten books.

I look at the chart every now and then to boost my morale. I have not sold a lot of books but there are people willing to download my stories and live in my fantasy worlds for a while.

It is great to have a publisher. Having a professional edit the story and an illustrator design a cover allows me to spend my time writing more stories. I am delighted that the Prism Book Group is going to publish Daddy Wanted, but The Pirate's Wraith is not appropriate for their line.

Oh well. My imagination is far too active.

I may try one more publisher, but if that turns out to be a dead end I'll be releasing The Pirate's Wraith myself. I do not enjoy bashing my head against brick walls.

My Cyber Monday Purchase

I ordered this Sterno stove yesterday. It is a Christmas present for Dad. He's been requesting one ever since the power went out after Sandy's wrath. So while this will not be a surprise gift, I know it is one that is wanted. Of course, my sister is afraid of allowing Dad to use matches, but I'm hoping we won't have another superstorm anytime soon.

There are newer, more modern versions to hold Sterno fuel, but this one looks exactly like the one my family used when we were young. Many people today are only familiar with Sterno as it is used by catering facilities to keep food warm. However, my family used the little folding stove all the time on our trips out to western Pennsylvania to visit my mother's relatives when I was young.

With four kids, my parents rarely stopped at a restaurant to eat. On the long trip out on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, Dad pulled off the road when he spotted a rest stop with a picnic table. There Mom would whip up hot dogs and beans using the Sterno stove--or sometimes scrambled eggs. Whatever she made, we ate it up quickly and climbed back into the car to continue our long ride.

I can't wait until this little stove arrives. Maybe, once it's presented to Dad, I'll make him an omelet with it. Just for fun--even if we have power.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I want to wish everyone a wonderful Thanksgiving. I'll be hosting dinner for a dozen--so I still have a lot to do in the next few days. However, I'll be looking forward to the pumpkin pie at the end of the meal. I love pumpkin pie! What's your favorite?

Writing in the Dark

I type much faster than I can write in longhand. For our extended power outage I wrote using my old Alphasmart Neo with a Mighty Bright booklight clipped on the side. I did not use my iPad because I did not know when or where I would be able to charge it. (I intend to get an power inverter for the car for the next power outage.) I also read books with the booklight, too.

My Alphasmart and my booklight were great to have when the lights went out. If I sat right in front of the fireplace, I was nice and cozy. :^)

My Cellphone and Sandy

When Superstorm Sandy roared into New Jersey, she took out one quarter of the cell towers in the area. As the storm moved away on Tuesday morning, I wanted to call my friends and family to let them know we were fine--and I wanted to know how they had weathered the storm, too.

Our landline phone did not work because the battery backup only lasts for a few hours and our power had gone off a little after 8 p.m. on Monday night, which meant no wireless as well. I had charged my cellphone before the power went off, but it had no bars--no signal at all--in fact, it had a little gray x in front of the gray bars of powerlessness. I could not call anyone and no one could call me.

What would I do if I needed help? My anxiety level went up. As I said in my previous post, this was one of the worst aspects of the experience for me. I was cut off. I did not know how those near and dear to me fared in the storm.

I discovered that my neighbor, who has a different cell phone provider, had service, which was good because she had a huge hole in her roof and truly needed help.

We were fine, but I learned not to rely on technology for communication after a terrible storm. I sure hope the cell phone companies build stronger cell towers in the future.

I still love my little smart phone--when it works, but this country needs to work on a better way to handle communications during a disaster.

Superstorm Sandy

I was overjoyed to see utility trucks on my street on Tuesday night. After eight days without power, those trucks brought hope with them.

I was born in New Jersey and I have seen many storms blow through the state. In my lifetime, Superstorm Sandy tops them all in the devastation it left behind all along the Jersey shore.

My family and I are fine. Our house remained intact, only losing several shingles. While our yard is littered with massive branches, we are lucky that none put a hole in our roof. Some of our neighbors weren’t as fortunate.

In our neighborhood, the biggest danger in ANY storm comes from falling branches and trees. In the nor’easter of 1992, five pine trees were uprooted in our yard and one of those trees took the power lines down with it.

Afterwards, we had many huge trees removed that were close to the house. (Expensive!) Still, the trees remaining on the property continue to be a threat. During the Valentine's Day ice storm of 2007, one dropped a large branch on hubby’s car, which broke the window.

When the monster storm, Sandy, made a direct hit on New Jersey homes close to the beach or on barrier islands were destroyed. The destruction was so thorough it appears as if a tsunami caused it. My heart goes out to those who lost everything.:^(

We live on high ground—66 feet above sea level to be exact. However, we also live close to a large dam over a river which is a tidal estuary. Last year, during Hurricane Irene, the dam overflowed and the river rose so high it covered the road and destroyed another neighbor’s house.

Before Sandy arrived, we took precautions—stocking up on water and non-perishable food. We had plenty of flashlights, our cellphones were charged, and I had restocked the woodbox.

As Superstorm Sandy approached, we checked out conditions online and viewed frightening photos of the flood conditions preceding the storm. One by one, people began to report that they had lost power.

We ate supper as the gusts outside increased. Our power went out a little after eight and the winds whipped up into a fury. By then, darkness had fallen. We could no longer see what was happening but that only made the situation worse as we heard loud thumps reverberating all around the house—the sound of large limbs or trees crashing to the ground.

At one point, a great branch from a silver maple landed inches away from the front the bay window.

The experience was nerve wracking. Daughter #1 checked the attic to make sure it did not have a hole in it since several times we heard something fall on the roof.

The ferocious roar of the wind died down after a while and we went to sleep wondering what the dawn would bring.

In the morning we looked out the window and saw a gigantic tree embedded in our next door neighbor’s roof. Several other neighbors had gutters ripped off, or had smaller branches stuck in their roof.

Large trees had been uprooted and fallen over the power lines. Roads were blocked by the trees or the power lines or both.

We had no power, no phone, and no internet for eight days. My cell phone was useless, too. Previous to this storm, the longest we had gone without power while living in this house was twenty-six hours during the ice storm of 2007.

Still, since we had a gas stove with a pilot light we could cook. We have a fireplace. We had hot running water. However, we do not own a generator.

It didn’t take long for the milk in the refrigerator to sour. We had to toss everything except the beer in the ‘fridge.

For the first few days after the storm the temperature inside the house remained comfortable. Then the thermometer outside dipped into the thirties at night and the house became rather chilly. Sitting directly in front of the fire is great, but halfway across the room it is not as toasty.

Candlelight is noted for its ambiance, but it is tough to read in the dim glow of a candle—or even a massive collection of candles. However, I have a book light, which is great for reading in the dark, and I have a little emergency radio.

Hubby does not need electricity to play his accordion. When I got tired of reading, Daughter #1 and I played Bananagrams. (I love that game!)

The hardest part of the experience was not being in touch with all the relatives. Daughter #1 went back to work on Wednesday, where she had heat, light and cellphone service. She sent everyone a message to let them know we were fine.

I managed to get out a few tweets here and there, but we had the clean up to contend with and Friday morning we went looking for gas for my car and wound up sitting in a gas line for an hour.

The gas station had a separate line for those with gas containers. Many people have generators and while they do make life without power more bearable, getting gas for the generator creates another crisis.

Since our water company did not fail, we donated the water we had purchased before the storm to those who are without anything in the many shelters in the state.

We missed our internet and television news but sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine and a book is pleasant. If it had been cold enough to freeze the pipes, our experience with Superstorm Sandy would have been far, far worse.

While we have been inconvenienced, there are many, many families in New Jersey and New York who lost everything and would be grateful to return to their home even if it lacked power.

This one storm decimated our state. If you can help out, please donate to the charity of your choice to bring aid and comfort to those affected by this massive disaster.

On the Cover--a Man or a Woman?

I am filling out the cover art form for Daddy Wanted. I know what my heroine looks like and I know what my hero looks like. I have cover ideas. The problem is I have too many ideas. All the scenes in the book run through my head and I find it difficult to narrow down the choices.

I know simple is better. Too busy is not good. Too dark is bad. In today's world, a cover needs to be stunning though only an inch in height. I put together the cover for the current edition of Prince of the Mist. I know it is not an award-winning design, but it has been able to catch the attention of readers and that is what it was supposed to do.

But what about Daddy Wanted? Should there be a man on the cover or a woman? Do women readers of romance seek to identify with a beautiful woman, or are they longing to gaze at a handsome man?

What's your opinion?

Paranormal Research for Your Story

This article was originally written for an online workshop, but with Halloween coming up I thought it would be fun to share with everyone.

The term, paranormal, encompasses many aspects of unexplained supernatural phenomena. Science has yet to detail the facts behind experiences with ghosts, demons, poltergeists, alien abductions, and channeling. In addition, some people claim to possess unusual mental powers such as telekinesis, clairvoyance, ESP or extrasensory perception while others believe themselves to be intuitive, or what some call sensitives. The realm of possibilities for your paranormal story is endless.

Research for your paranormal story can be accomplished online, by reading books, at special presentations, watching television, or simply by listening to the experiences of friends and coworkers. You can use your own experiences with the supernatural as well.

The web is a always a magical place to explore and offers everything from the explanation of terms to plot ideas. Paranormal research societies abound all over the world, and each one of them has a website. Though much of their evidence is anecdotal, you can read the stories of those who have experienced the supernatural first hand. Some of those tales can really give you the creeps!

Special presentations or conferences are also a good way to get ideas. If you like being scared, you might try what I did one time. I attended a Horror Writers meeting where ghost hunters presented a talk and told of their experiences. I got lots of good material, but also lots of goose bumps. However, if you are unable to go to a ghost hunter’s presentation and your heroine and hero long to be ghost hunters, the web is the place to learn how to do it. You can find lists of equipment needed to record ghostly activity.

You can go on a ghost tour, too. It seems every city in the country now has ghost tours. I doubt that you’ll see any ghosts, but it is a good way to learn some history and gather ideas for your own story.

There are a wealth of books on the topic of all things paranormal. Time-Life Books has an excellent series, Mysteries of the Unknown, which include books on Psychic Powers, Dreams and Dreaming, Mystic Places, Transformations, and so on. Reading the books in that series can spark ideas in your mind.

The idea for my book, Irons In The Fire, came to me when I read this small paragraph:

On Fridays the fairies have special power over all things, and chiefly on that day they select and carry off the young mortal girls as brides for the fairy chiefs. But after seven years, when the girls grow old and ugly, they send them back to their kindred, giving them, however, as compensation, a knowledge of herbs and philtres and secret spells, by which they can kill or cure, and have power over men both for good and evil.

................................Lady Wilde, 1826-1896

My heroine, Catherine, is a descendent of one of those young mortal girls who had been a fairy chief’s bride. However, Irons In The Fire is not a historical, it is a contemporary.

I do feel there’s a lot of truth in the old writers’ admonition, “Write what you know.” True, I’ve never met an Irish fairy, but though I am not a paranormal expert, I have had some paranormal experiences.

On a few occasions, I have accurately read someone’s mind. Apparently, it is not a difficult skill--especially if you know someone well. According to an article in Psychology Today (http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/pto-20070830-000002.html) just about everyone is a mind reader. Annie Murphy Paul wrote, “Drawing on our observations, our databank of memories, our powers of reason, and our wellsprings of emotion, we constantly make educated guesses about what another person is thinking and feeling.”

I’ve been married to the same man for a long time. Reading his mind is easy. :^)

My heroine, Catherine, can read minds. While she’s much better at it than I am, she can’t read everyone’s mind. When it comes to the hero in the book, she is at first distracted by his sexual appeal. And who wouldn’t be? Britt has the brawn to save her from a watery grave, but he is also the senior reporter at the newspaper where she has been hired. He is to be her mentor on the job and they are going to be in constant contact with each other on a daily basis. As Catherine becomes more familiar with Britt, she knows what he is thinking--and he is thinks she is a very desirable woman. One who really turns him on.

It’s enough to make her blush constantly.

But Catherine has more than one simple problem. She has precognitive dreams. She had one of her uncle’s death and she knows he has been murdered despite the fact that the police have labeled his death an accident.

The accuracy of precognition has not been proven, but I believe it because I have experienced it. My mother, and my oldest daughter have received messages about the future, too. All of our incidents involved communication about our close family members. For instance, one of my mother’s more dramatic dreams involved seeing her brothers in an accident. Later she found her dream to be the truth.

I’ve never doubted that precognition happens and that it can be accurate. But my hero is a full-fledged skeptic and believes that anyone claiming to be psychic is a charlatan. In every instance, he believes there is a logical explanation when Catherine demonstrates her abilities. He has his reasons. Here's an excerpt from the book:

Psychic. The very word made him grit his teeth. Fakes, the lot of them. Visions, séances, crystal balls, and Tarot cards. He'd seen it all. His mother had fallen under the spell of a psychic claiming to have received messages from Britt's long dead father. Believing that other world to be a better place, his mother had committed suicide.

Unfortunately, in another precognitive dream, Catherine sees the hero as dead and lifeless. Horrified, she tries to warn him, but he refuses to listen to her premonition.

Catherine yanked on his lapels until his lips were a whisper away from hers. She closed her eyes and murmured a fervent prayer for his safety, but she decided he needed something even more powerful than a prayer. She kissed him. At first, he kept his lips firmly pressed together. But she poured all her heart into her wish that he would escape his unhappy fate. She savored his taste, and with a groan, he relented and let her tongue slip into his velvet warmth. There, mingling with the flavor of coffee, she discovered a passion that left her breathless.

As they spend time together, she grows to care deeply for him and mourns the fact that she cannot save him from his terrible fate.

Or can she?

People have been using spells and incantations for thousands of years. I do not advocate relying on any charms to get what you desire in life, but when used in fiction, spells and incantations can be useful plot devices for paranormal stories. In fact, you can often put your hero and heroine into more trouble when they rely on such charms, which is exactly what happens to Catherine and Britt.

I researched Irish legends and myths to find the incantations I used since Catherine has been told she is the descendent of fairies. She wears a cross said to have a drop of fairy gold in it--a talisman from her mother.

One of my favorite books on the topic is Irish Cures, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions, by Lady Wilde. Another favorite is Celtic Myths and Legends, by T.W. Rolleston.

Online, there are plenty of spells and charms. Love spells, lucky spells, protection spells, money spells, missing pet spells, and spells for health. You can be deluged with subject matter if you go searching for it. There is so much information you might get lost in the web forever, so it’s best to keep your search within a narrow range, which is why I stuck to Irish spells in keeping with my heroine’s heritage.

When Catherine finds an ancient book of spells in her uncle’s study, she realizes that perhaps she has a chance to save the man she has come to love.

For this, I used an old spell involving yarrow. I remember my mother putting a little square of cloth with yarrow inside it under my sister’s pillow so she would dream of her future husband. As far as I know, my sister did not have any dreams of her future husband. She did eventually marry, though I cannot say whether the yarrow had anything to do with that decision.

By all accounts, yarrow is considered a very powerful and effective herb in the use of spells. According to one reference I found, yarrow could be used to guarantee an individual’s safety and in my book Catherine uses yarrow for that purpose.

Because Catherine knows Britt is doomed, she feels compelled to share her love with him. She finds bliss in his arms, but that only serves to make her more desperate to save him. Hoping to be with him in his next life, she uses a forbidden spell--one that will change his destiny forever and take away his free will.

Of course, the villain in the story uses the most powerful charm of all because he is a serious threat.

Whatever paranormal story you write, make sure the stakes are high. That’s what creates tension and keeps the reader turning the pages. No matter which paranormal path you choose for your story, the plot should make sense just as it would in any other type of story.

While there is little scientific evidence to support paranormal incidents, people love spooky tales. Have fun researching paranormal ideas for your story! You’ll never tire of the supernatural.

One Mischief Night Long Ago

I never allowed our daughters to go out on Mischief Night. Aside from the fact that I don't believe allowing children to commit acts of mischief is ever a good idea, I had a personal experience with Mischief Night that continues to haunt me.

Once when I was young, my brother, my younger sister, and I grabbed a few slivers of soap and went out into the early evening one October 30th. It was already dark. We ventured away from our own block because my brother suggested it. (He was adventurous, I was not.)

Some big teenagers came along and demanded our soap. They looked huge and mean and we were scared. So we handed our soap to them. I have no idea why they wanted the soap, the pieces were pathetically small, but because they were so terrifying I assumed they wanted to soap up some windows. However, our younger sister started bawling and the big guys gave her back her small piece of soap.

At that point, my brother and I decided it was a good time to head home. We had not soaped up any windows and we never went out again on that night--even when we grew into big, scary teenagers.

There for the taking...

The New Jersey Romance Writers Conference is over. It was fantastic--as it usually is. Authors and writers from all over the country come to the conference to network, give workshops, and schmooze. :^)

Many of the authors bring along promotional items and set them out on the tables provided for that purpose. I put out candy bars attached to Buy One Get One Free offers for the Prism Book Group. Those disappeared before the last Friday evening workshop. I also set out some sticky notes and people did take them, but the candy bars went faster.

I think there are a lot of hungry writers!!! (I ate some of the candy other authors offered.)

Some authors gave away books. These are the ones I took. There were more. I think giving away books is great if an author can afford it. (Hint: Authors have to buy their books. The books cost a little less for the author, but the books are not free--unless the author has a deal with their publisher for a certain amount of free books.) I have become a fan of several authors after receiving a free book from them.

Hope Ramsay gave away a little holiday pin to advertise her latest release, a Christmas book. I thought this was so clever! Makes me want to write a Christmas story.

Julie Rowe gave away beautiful--and useful--Thank You notes with envelopes. I thought this was a brilliant idea.

Catherine Greenfeder gave away matches and a candle in keeping with the theme of her book, Sacred Fires. M.Kate Quinn gave away emery boards. I always need emery boards. I love useful giveaways. :^)

Sabrina Jeffries gave away her books, brochures, bookmarks, and a red pencil case. (I love pencil cases!) However, I found her bookmarks intriguing because they open up--like little brochures. So nifty. Inside, are The Parasol Papers--with "All the Regency News Fit to Print." Fun and collectable.

There were plenty of other wonderful giveaways: lip balm, pens, key rings, etc. Authors spend plenty of money on these items. In addition, the New Jersey Romance Writers gave all conference attendees a totebag and a mug.

You should go next year.

Come See Me at the Book Fair

You can see many other authors, too. You can buy their books and ask them to autograph them for you. Books are wonderful gifts. Do your Christmas shopping early. :^)

The nicest thing about this book fair is that a portion of the proceeds go to the Literacy Volunteers of America so that everyone can read.

Don't miss this fantastic event!

Promotional Giveaways

The New Jersey Romance Writers' Put Your Heart in a Book Conference is coming up. I spent yesterday afternoon wrapping up candy bars in tulle, tying a red ribbon around them and attaching them to a Buy One Get One Free card for Prism Book Group. The Prism Book Group will be publishing Daddy Wanted, my sweet contemporary romance. Right now my book is in the editing stage so I will not have it available at the book fair. However, I will have several of my other books there including Prince of the Mist. The book fair is open to the public, so if you're looking for something to do in New Jersey next weekend stop by. There will be lots and lots of authors at the book fair--most way more famous than I am. You can read about it HERE, where you can also find the important details--such as time and place. :^)

I will also be giving away sticky notes, which everyone seems to enjoy because they disappear rather quickly. Whether the giveaways have helped my sales, I cannot say for sure. Nevertheless, I enjoy offering handouts to one and all.

What kind of author giveaway do you like?

My Old Songbook

This sad-looking, beat-up songbook has been with me for a long time. I bought it while I was in college. It was a great extravagance at the time, but folk songs were very popular then and I loved them.

I sang "Where Have All the Flowers Gone" and strummed along on the guitar. "The Tramp on the Street," "We Shall Overcome," and "Amazing Grace" were other favorites.

The Civil Rights movement was in full-swing and anti-Vietnam War fervor was at its height during my college years. I was not a protester. I had enough to do with commuting to college and studying. In addition, my brother was headed for the Air Force and I had a penpal in Vietnam.

Nevertheless, I believed in the message of all the peace songs--and still do for that matter.

The penpal abruptly stopped writing. My brother died when his plane crashed. I could not sing "Where Have All the Flowers Gone" for a long, long time.

Ultimately, my grief diminished. The war ended. I was able to sing again. I got a job and bought more music books--which contained more folk songs. I got married and gave birth to three daughters. I started singing my folk songs to them. When we went camping, we packed the guitar into the car and brought it out to sing folk songs around the campfire.

I've been singing the same songs for forty-five years--but so has Joan Baez.



The old songs are the best songs.

Even Blizzards Are Human

Last October, an unusual early snowstorm crippled part of the nation. The photo above shows my northern sister with an old-fashioned two-handled saw. She and her husband had to use it to get rid of the tree that fell on their driveway. They had an electric chain saw, but no power. In fact, they had no power for eight days--an event my sister refers to as Snotober, but some folks called it Snowmaggeddon.

Hurricanes have been named for decades, but now blizzards will have names, too, according to USA Today. The Weather Channel will be using classic Greek or Roman names for this year's blizzards.

Yes, humans like to names things. They could simply attribute numbers to storms, but people have a crazy tendency to attribute human personalities to everything. There's a long word for this--anthropomorphize.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary it means:

: to attribute human form or personality to

: to attribute human form or personality to things not human

People give names to their computers, their boats and cars. Some people are rather creative when it comes to naming things. I love to go to the marina and read the names on boats. Some people are quite clever when it comes to creative license plates on their cars, too.

As an author, I name the imaginary people I invent for my stories--and I give them personalities, too. This is not so crazy when you look at the fact that meteorologists are now going to give blizzards names.

As the article in USA Today states, it could make for great headlines.