Guest Post: Katie O'Sullivan

Today is a very special day. Katie O'Sullivan is here to talk about her new book from Crescent Moon Press and it is terrific! :-) Don't forget to enter her contest. (See the instructions below.) You could win a copy of her book.
Hi, Penelope! Thanks for inviting me here today to introduce myself and talk a little about my new release, SON OF A MERMAID.

I’m an author, an editor, and the mother of three teenagers. I live year round on Cape Cod, near the beaches and crashing waves that make this area a magnet for tourists three months of every year. The ocean and sandy shores remain even after the tourists pack up to go home, and my family takes full advantage of life surrounded by all this natural beauty.

The true locals call people like me “wash-ashores” – someone who visits Cape Cod for a vacation or a season, and ends up staying. Which means, I’m not really from here. Originally from New Jersey, I spent summers on the Jersey Shore. My husband grew up in the Boston area, and although his childhood summers were spent here on the Cape, he’s considered a wash-shore too.

When we started our own family, we wanted our kids to have the same memories of beach days and sailing lessons that my husband and I each have. We bought a summer cottage here on Cape Cod, and after several years we made the decision to move here full-time.

Although the opening scenes of my book take place in Oklahoma, most of the action takes place on Cape Cod, both above and below the surface of the Atlantic. The main character, fifteen-year-old Shea MacNamara, grew up on a farm in the middle of the U.S. He’d never even caught a glimpse of the ocean or learned to swim… when suddenly strange dreams start haunting him. Dreams of drowning, and dreams of mermaids.

He has no idea why he would be dreaming about drowning, when it was a tornado that destroyed his farm and changed his life. Just as he has no clue as to who – or where – his mother might be, only that she disappeared from his life right after he was born. It’s only after moving to Cape Cod that the pieces start falling into place.

In the following excerpt, we catch a glimpse of one of Shea’s nightmares.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Excerpt from SON OF A MERMAID, 2013 from Crescent Moon Press

The blue-green coolness swirled around him as his body tumbled down through the water, arms and legs flailing as he struggled to hold his breath. Millions of tiny bubbles of precious air traced the path of his descent, escaping from his clothing and through his nose.

Eyes wide even as the water rushed past, he watched a huge school of shimmering minnows part down the middle as they swam around him, surrounding him like a silvery box. Turning his face upward to the surface, he could see the blue sky receding further and further as he sank deeper into the water’s depths.

His throat and lungs burned from the effort of holding his breath. Darkness pressed hard against his eyes, and swirls of strange colors danced in front of him as his whole body strained against the lack of oxygen.

I need to breathe, he thought wildly, his whole body feeling like it was on fire. I can’t hold out much longer. His feet finally hit the mucky bottom with a thud, coming to a stop as the mud swirled around his legs.

There, hovering before him in the water, swam a beautiful woman with flowing golden hair…and a green fish tail that sparkled with golden flecks among the scales.

A mermaid.

Her big green eyes looked so familiar, like the ones he saw in the mirror every morning. She smiled at him, reaching out to take his hand. His head pounded as searing pain ripped through his throat, as if his entire body would tear apart any second from the effort of holding his breath.

The mermaid squeezed his hand and nodded. The pain receded as Shea stared into her eyes, lost in their green depths. As she nodded to him again, he opened his mouth to exhale the stale air that pounded like a jackhammer in his lungs. Large bubbles rushed to the surface as he struggled to breathe, but there was no air to be had. Only salty ocean water rushing in to fill his mouth, his lungs, his body...


Shea woke with a start, clawing at the sheets and disoriented for a full minute before remembering where he was. At the Hansen’s house. Because his own home – the farm where he’d lived and worked all his life – was gone, swept away and crushed by the freak tornado.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *
Thanks again, Penelope, for inviting me to visit! Readers, be sure to leave a comment below and enter the official Rafflecopter giveaway You could win an ebook copy of SON OF A MERMAID, or a cool beach stone mermaid necklace or other swag!

If you want to learn more about me and my mermaids, you can find us in the following spots online:

Follow the Blog – http://katieosullivan.blogspot.com
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatieOSullivan
Twitter - https://twitter.com/OkatieO
Check out the website at http://www.katie-osullivan.com
Add Son of a Mermaid on Goodreads: Son of a Mermaid

Amazon Buy Link: Son of a Mermaid
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Brand Names in a Novel--Yes or No?

Guess where I went? Guess what I ate? Those are easy questions.

Everything in our society is labeled. I am typing on a Mac computer. I am wearing Riders' jeans. I drive a Jeep. I have a Maytag oven.

Advertising is big business and companies dump tons of money into making their products a part of everyone's consciousness.

But I had to take all the brand names out of my book. My hero no longer has an iPhone. (Sniff.) It's not a big deal and I do understand. My publisher does not want to be sued.

Then I picked up Meg Cabot's Size 12 Is Not Fat. I love Meg Cabot's book. I haven't finished it yet, but so far she's mentioned several brand names such as Banana Republic, Fritos, and Jolly Ranchers. The use of those brand names makes the book seem all the more real. Her heroine is living in my society, where unique labels are plastered liberally on every item.

What's the difference between Meg Cabot's publisher and mine? Her book is published by Avon, which is an imprint of Harper Collins. I suspect that publisher has excellent lawyers and knows all the ins and outs of copyright law, because an author must be prudent.

Check out this post Can I Mention Brand Name Products in My Fiction?

Or even better (for romance writers) check out this post A Rose by ANY Other Name.

Not everything in Ms. Cabot's book bears a brand name. Her heroine works at a college in New York City that doesn't exist in real life--a wise choice considering the plot.

Even Meg Cabot has to be careful about some brand names. :-)

Chicken and Broccoli Casserole

I made this last night for supper. It is so yummy. I originally found the recipe in a cookbook (The Texas Experience) hubby brought back from one of his business trips many years ago. However, I usually alter things somewhat to suit my taste and this recipe was no exception.

2 large packages of frozen chopped broccoli (16 ounces each)
3 pounds chicken breasts, cooked and cut in bite-sized pieces
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of chicken soup
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of celery soup
1 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon curry powder
2 cups grated Cheddar cheese
1 cup bread crumbs
2 tablespoons butter
Parmesan Cheese

Cook broccoli and drain. Arrange in a buttered 13x9 pan. Place chicken on top of broccoli. Combine soups, mayonnaise, lemon juice and curry powder. Pour over the chicken and sprinkle with Cheddar cheese. Combine bread crumbs and butter and sprinkle over all. Dust lightly with Parmesan cheese. Bake in a 350 degree over 25 to 30 minutes.

Serves 8.

(Hint: My sister buys already roasted chicken at the grocery store and uses that to make this casserole. I cook the chicken in a pan first, which takes a bit of extra time.)

Black and White Photography

Once upon a time, I took a photography course. I had a 35 mm SLR camera and I had to develop the black and white film. (This was long, long ago before the advent of digital photography.) The photo above is the one the professor liked. It shows my youngest sister in a window. The reflections made it really weird. Professors seem to like really strange stuff. I worked very hard in the development process, dodging the window sill because it was too light.

I found black and white photography difficult. My photos of flowers came out horrible. (I love flowers.) When I took pictures of people or landscapes, the photos were either too dark or too light, or there wasn't enough contrast. Or there was too much contrast.

Nevertheless, when the course was completed, I bought my own developing equipment. My darkroom was the bathroom in my parents' house. We had only one bathroom. I warned everyone before I did any developing, but invariably someone would decide they had to use the bathroom while I was trying to develop my pictures.

Eventually, I gave up black and white photography. I sold my developing equipment, but I kept the camera, bought color film, and paid for developing. It was worth it.

Hyphen Crazy

I am diligently combing through the third and final edit of Daddy Wanted. My Prism Book Group publisher has given me the date for the release of the book, June 19th. :^)

It seems with every book I've written I have either used one word too much or failed to remember some important grammatical point. In this book, it appears I went hyphen crazy. Yes, I put hyphens all over the place. Nonviolent became non-violent. Brokenhearted became broken-hearted. I should have checked the dictionary but with over 62,000 words in the book, those words looked good enough to me, which is why I know I need an editor. I can tell a story, but one very important part of storytelling is the details.

I must review the rules for hyphens. I will do that as soon as I send the edit back to my editor.

Have you ever put hyphens where they don't belong?

Ulysses, The Red-Eared Slider

This is Ulysses. He's a secondary character in Daddy Wanted.

Commonly known as a red-eared slider, Ulysses is a good listener. You can find out more about this turtle at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red-eared_slider

Red-eared sliders were common pets until the FDA banned the sale of the tiny turtles in 1975.

Did you ever have one of these as a pet?

Twitter Spring Cleaning

I have already written one post about Twitter. You can find that post here. This post is about keeping my Twitter account tidy. I have spent the last week or so--at odd moments--cleaning and organizing my Twitter account. This was a well-overdue project. There are websites that will manage Twitter accounts, but I decided to go it alone. I was raised in a do-it-yourself household and then went on to marry a do-it-yourself husband. I believe I can do it better myself.

Here and there as I went through my daily tweets I unfollowed people who were not following me. Many of them were rich and famous. It felt good somehow to hit that red UNFOLLOW button and remove the high and mighty from my feed. I have realized that there is no point in following famous people. If someone is following 14 people but has 50,000 people following them, they are famous. Why should they follow me? They probably only follow their siblings or perhaps their lawyer.

For the famous people, it is better to add them to a list. (Because, of course, I still want to read their tweets.) You do not have to follow somebody to move them into a list, but once they are on the list you set up you can read their tweets as your leisure. Your lists can be private or public.

Once I eliminated the famous people who don't follow me, I had more spaces for new people. Twitter will not allow anyone to follow more than 2,000 people until they get more than 2,000 people following them. I was stuck at around 1,600 followers for the longest time--until I decided to do something about it.

Now I have a very different Twitter feed. It's like a breath of fresh air--like opening the windows when the weather turns warm. :^)

I also discovered there were people following me who had not posted anything for three years or more. While it's nice to have a lot of followers, it's far better if they are chatty, live people. (It takes a great deal of skill to be chatty in 140 characters but there are those who do it well.) If someone has not posted in three years, I have to assume they passed away or gave up tweeting, in which case they should delete their account and try something else--like maybe Pinterest or Tumblr.

At any rate, I should have been cleaning out my account all along, but like everything else it was just going along and collecting dust bunnies. Now I feel so organized!

Have you checked your Twitter account lately?

Fashion Flashback, The Granny Dress

Once upon a time, the "Granny Dress" was the height of fashion. That's me in 1972 looking like I am ready for an afternoon tea party with a bunch of Victorians. Granny dresses were all the rage and I loved them. Most of the time I lived in my jeans--and I still do. However, it was nice to dress up for a few hours in ruffles. Sort of like going into a time machine, but only temporarily and while still having all the modern conveniences available. (I hopped into my Chevy Nova and drove off. I would not want to deal with a horse.)

I wish I had a photo of the pink gingham granny dress I made. I sewed that dress to wear for the special party the graduating class of 1971 (of what was then Jersey City State College) had on a Circle Line cruise around New York instead of a prom. On the boat I danced to the latest rock tunes in my granny dress.

My affinity for the style is even stranger when you consider that the dress code for women was only abolished a few years earlier. Until my sophomore year in college, all women were required to wear dresses to class--every day, all the time.

Styles come and go, but it is wonderful to have the freedom to choose what you want to wear.

Old Time Music

Here's hubby entertaining at Longstreet Farm in Holmdel Park. Since the house at Longstreet is from the Victorian era, hubby plays old time songs. There's an antique piano inside and he tickles the ivories of that instrument as well. However, the accordion is his favorite. When he sits on the porch in nice weather, he attracts a lot of attention. The accordion puts out a lot of volume (without amplification) for its relatively small size. Occasionally, children and adults come up and ask him what is the name of the instrument he is playing. Some people have never heard of or seen an accordion.

The accordion is a great instrument for ethnic music. You can find a history of the accordion here. It was very popular in this country in the 1950s. (Even I took accordion lessons briefly.) When Rock and Roll took over, the guitar became the instrument most young people wanted to play.

Hubby started accordion lessons when he was seven. Later, he took up the guitar, too, briefly. But he enjoys the versatility of the accordion.

I enjoy the old time songs. They are so sweet--all about love and romance--and I can understand every word! :^) Click on the link below to listen to one that hubby plays all the time.

What Would You Miss?

Last week, I received a contract for The Pirate's Wraith. I was thrilled! (I've mentioned the book several times on this blog, such as here, and here.)

The Pirate's Wraith is a time travel romance where a heroine from contemporary times winds up on a pirate ship in 1711. Unfortunately, she resembles the captain's dead wife and she is carrying the toy horse he carved for his son who passed away.

It was tough back in that century--no electricity and an appalling lack of knowledge when it came to disease. Despite a lack of caffeine, my heroine rises to the challenge.

So many luxuries we take for granted did not exist in the early part of the 1700s.

If you were thrown backward in time, what would you miss most of all?

A Little GIF for You

With the second round of edits out of the way, I am gearing up to promote Daddy Wanted. To me, promotion is more work than the actual writing of the book. However, I love little animated gifs. This one is currently destined for the Romance Junkies website, but it may wind up in other places as well. I spent a ridiculous amount of time making this--mostly because I haven't done it in a while so I forgot the procedure.

After I finished the gif, I went on to make an Advanced Reading Copy of Daddy Wanted so I can send it out to reviewers. (If you are a reviewer and enjoy sweet, contemporary romances without sex, let me know.)

I had postcards made and still have to send those out, too.

I'll be putting up an excerpt from the book here--and probably on my Facebook fan page as well. So much to do!

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.