Category Archives: Grace

Defying expectations

15 Monday Jul 2019

Posted by in Cover design, Grace, Self-publishing

≈ 2 Comments

If you read my last two posts, you might reasonably expect today’s post to include the new cover for A Gift of Time. Alas, I don’t have it yet. I do, however, have the new cover for A Gift of Grace, which feels like an appropriate substitute.

I didn’t ask the designer to add freckles to Grace, but we did get all fancy with both models’ clothing. Any second now they’ll be running into a bear. And I really like their expressions.

Alas, responding to comments on the last post reminded me that the point of new covers was to expand my audience and appeal to the many, many, many book-buying romance readers in the world, and those expressions are probably all wrong for that audience. I should have made him half-naked and had both of them looking sultry. Covers like that might not have been to my personal taste (or yours!), but the point of a cover is to appeal to a specific audience and I’m not my own audience. Or at least I am my own audience, but I’m not the part of my audience that can buy enough books to let me go on eating and paying vet bills.

Oh, well. I still like their expressions.

I’ve been working on lots of marketing type things. Some of it is very fun. Much of it is not. But on the fun side has been trying out keywords to include on my book listings. “Ghost romance paranormal suspense mystery” should be a terrible set — according to Kindle Rocket, there are 6046 books found with that search. But, at least yesterday, A Gift of Ghosts was at the very top of that list, which means it’s a terrible set for some other 6000 books, but not a terrible set for my book. That was fun to discover.

Speaking of Amazon, today is Amazon Prime Day and I had $10 of Amazon money from spending $10 at Whole Foods, plus the $5 Prime Day deal on printed books, so I spent a very pleasant 45 minutes looking at all the items on my wish list and deciding what not to buy. But I finally went for Salt Fire Acid Heat, a cookbook I’ve been debating forever. I’m probably not going to carry it around in the van with me, but I’m at my brother’s so I can store it with my Christmas ornaments and scrapbooks when I drive away. And I’m excited to read it.

I’m suspecting that this week isn’t going to be a terribly productive week for me, though. I’m dog-sitting, so I’ll have three dogs to take care of, and the puppy is energetic and always trying to convince the two older dogs to play. This does not go over well with the two older dogs, so dog-sitting the puppy is a lot more like dog-sitting a toddler than it is house-sitting. But it should be fun, even if it means that I don’t finish all the many miscellaneous things that I’m working on.

Fifty Point Conservation Area, Grimsby, Ontario

15 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by in Campground, Grace, Personal, R, Randomness, Travel

≈ 8 Comments

I wrote the name of this campground as Conversation Area initially, which really amused me. And it would be so apt! This is a lovely campground on the shores of Lake Ontario. Our site is a pull-through adjacent to another pull-through pointed in the opposite direction, so we’re very close to our neighbors but facing in opposite directions. Conversation would be easy, but is not required.

the sun setting over Lake Ontario

Last night’s view of the sun setting over Lake Ontario.

The campground itself is pretty much everything I like in a campground — grass, trees, water, sunlight, space, beautiful walking, a dog beach where Zelda can play, birds, including the world’s cutest woodpecker working on the tree by the picnic table this morning and some unidentified species sauntering through the grass. Even the bugs were cute — I have no idea what the one crawling on the sink this morning was, but it was green and tiny, with long legs. Maybe some kind of aphid?

Also lots of birch trees, and I’ve decided that the wind rustling through birch tree leaves really makes a unique noise — it’s not the same as wind rustling through other tree leaves. The birch leaves sound like they’re whispering. And tons of cricket noise last night, or maybe they were frogs? But the night was loud and seventy degrees, perfect summer feeling.

So yesterday was Niagara Falls. It was crazily tourist-y, in the way all the main tourist attractions seem to be. Amazing people watching, and frankly, pictures of people would be by far the best photographs from any of the tourist attractions. Preferably pictures of people taking pictures. I started amassing a little collection of those in my travels, but then I realized that I would never be willing to post them anywhere, because it would feel so rude to post a picture of a stranger, but yesterday’s collection of strangers would have been amazing. It reminded me of being at the southern-most point of the United States, in Key West — lots of tourists, people from all over the world, there just for the sake of being there. That said, they were some pretty cool waterfalls, no question about that. And it was such a hot day that it was pretty lovely to stand in the spray of the mist.

Zelda in a field of wildflowers in front of edge of Niagara Falls

You can just see the top of the falls in the background. In order to get a real view, you walk down a hill to the right of the photo, and join a mob of people clustered at a railing, all taking pictures. We liked the wildflowers better than the concrete platform, though.

We also saw my very earliest childhood home yesterday — only somewhat out of our way. The interesting thing about that was not so much how different the neighborhood looked from my memory — very different, and so much smaller — but that I had the address wrong. The day before, when I was failing to find my other childhood homes, I told R confidently that my early memories were the most reliable and that of all the different places I’d lived in during my childhood, the only one that I actually remembered the address of was the first. Wrong! I had the street right, but not the number. I’m not sure that means anything, except maybe that none of my memories are reliable. But I had a very different feel looking at that house than at the others, much warmer and cozier. I’m glad we drove by, even though it was a very long driving day for me. It was worth the stop.

Today we’re headed on to Toronto. Our mattress hunt yesterday failed — perhaps the influence of the bed bug revival? Thrift stores don’t seem to carry mattresses anymore, unfortunately. But we’re going to check out Ikea this afternoon, so fingers crossed for good luck there. Otherwise, R might be going to steal one of the mattresses from the van for a few days while he orders a mattress online or tries for a Craig’s List find. Either way, he’ll have something on which to sleep tonight.

And somehow it is already 10AM, which means it’s time to get moving. Lots to do today, but much, much enormous thanks to the readers who have reached out to tell me that they read Grace — your words brought me much joy this morning! R and I had pancakes (gluten-free, of course) to celebrate!

Cedar Beach Campground

06 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by in Campground, Grace, Marketing and promotion, Mom, Personal, Zelda

≈ 5 Comments

In the distance — not so very far away at all, but obscured by trees and campers and people stuff — I can see a glimmer of blue. A lake. And I assume it has a nice beach, because this campground was, over the weekend, absolutely filled with families and kids having fun.

I, however, haven’t looked at it, because Zelda can’t really walk and she makes bad choices when left alone. Bad choices! I used to tell R, when I sent him off to do things with his friends as an early and then late-teenager, “Make good choices,” and eventually he said the same thing to me whenever I left the house. It always made me smile.

But I would scold Zelda with that phrase if I could. Alas, she wouldn’t understand. But if I leave her on the floor, she jumps onto the seats to look out the windows, and if I leave her on a seat, she jumps to the floor so that she can go try a different window. She wants to be able to see my return. So no walks for me, because every jump for her causes a yelp of agony and yet she refuses to not jump if I’m not immediately available to stop her.

I like my campsite, though. The campground is very much a seasonal place, a mix of permanent installations and trailers that look like they’ve been here for a while with some short-term spots. But there was a grassy row — I’d guess four campers could get squeezed in if necessary — that I had all to myself. With a cute family kitty-corner to me with three small kids and a brand-new trailer and very Canadian accents. They made me smile, too.

Today is seven years since my mom died. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, about why she is the only person I want when I need to cry. She was a brisk mother. My ex once described her as “austere” to me, which I thought was totally wrong, but she did not suffer fools gladly and his experience of her was undoubtedly different than mine. But she could be quite dispassionate. I could cry to her and she would be warm and loving and sympathetic, but she wasn’t going to take on any of my pain and she was going to stop me as soon as she decided I was wallowing.

It occurs to me that maybe I said it best in my eulogy for her, so I’ll link to that: my eulogy for my mother.

But I didn’t need to be a grown-up with her. It wasn’t about love, it was about her endless ocean of calm. She was extremely good at pulling small children’s loose teeth, because she didn’t particularly care how much you fussed. If you were ready to have the tooth out, she was going to yank it. If you weren’t ready, she was going to shrug and leave you alone. I think she was probably an excellent nurse.

There’s a line in Grace — oh, a paragraph. I’ll quote it:

She wished she could talk to her mom. Just for half an hour. To hear her mom’s voice, to let herself be folded into her mother’s hug. She could imagine the sharp, searching look her mother would give her, followed by the, “Chin up, darlin’. That’s my girl,” words of approval.

Pretty sure my mother never, in my entire life, said those words to me or would have said those words to me. That wasn’t her language, and she wasn’t a southerner. But a look, a nod, a “You’ll be fine,” the confidence in me, but the hug, too. That was my mom. I miss her.

But no wallowing! Moving on, I’m on the road today, headed to a provincial park. Did I mention that I’m in Canada? I’m in Canada. It was fun being confused by the distances on the road signs — 88 miles to Ottawa? How did I get that so wrong! Oh, right, kilometers. Sigh of relief...

And today I’m looking forward to trying out a Canadian grocery store. I’ve eaten only snacks for the past two days — healthy-ish snacks, carrots and nuts and dried fruit and jerky and turkey slices — but I am ready to buy some ingredients and cook some real food.

So those are my goals for the day: get moving, go to a grocery store, eat some real food, and enjoy Canada. And not let Zelda hurt herself anymore. I’m not happy with how the stitches look, but I’m not yet so worried that I am searching for Canadian vets. And she’s putting weight on her foot now, so that’s a good sign.

Eight days until Grace releases. I’m trying not to be anxious about it, but I am. I try to avoid reading reviews, but you have to read the first few in case there are issues with the file or problems with the download. I’m going to bet myself a container of Sanders dark chocolate caramels with sea salt — extremely delicious, not at all good for me — that at least one of the first five complains about pronouns and Avery. If two or more do, I’m going to buy myself something even nicer, although I’m not sure what yet. Maybe a sushi dinner at a good sushi place. A win! (Although if you’re reading this, planning on reading Grace, and willing to write a review, don’t let this influence you, please. I know that people are going to complain about Avery, just the way people complained about not knowing that Henry was black in A Gift of Ghosts, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.)

Ooh, after 10 already, so time for me to get going. More about Grace soon! I’ve got some fun bookmarks to give away, so I need to think about how to do that. But check it out:

spine of book

That is one ridiculously thick book. By my standards, anyway. My sister-in-law’s review: “Oh, it’s so pretty!!!”

A Gift of Grace

31 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by in Grace, Self-publishing, Tassamara

≈ 4 Comments

screenshot of email with book release

The above showed up in my email this morning. I thought, “Wow, that was surprisingly efficient of someone.” Well, or something — some computer system that is much speedier than I am, anyway.

But, yeah, since some people (or maybe just me?) have already received an email, it feels like a good time to say that A Gift of Grace, the fourth book in the Tassamara series, will be released on August 14th.

And is available for pre-order right now!

Book description for A Gift of Grace

25 Wednesday Jul 2018

Posted by in Grace, Self-publishing

≈ 17 Comments

print book cover for A Gift of Grace

The spine size on the cover is undoubtedly wrong. Grace is the longest book I’ve ever written.

The voices are driving him crazy. And he’s driving them crazy, too.

For Noah Blake, pretending to be normal is getting harder by the day. A near brush with death in Iraq has left him suffering from chronic auditory hallucinations. Ignoring the voices he hears isn’t always easy, but Noah knows it’s better than the alternatives.

Yet when a mysterious redhead hands him a seemingly innocuous business card, a new voice — that of a teenage boy — becomes too insistent to deny. It wants him to go to Tassamara. It swears he’ll find help there.

It’s bad enough to have hallucinations, but doing what they say is bound to lead to disaster.

Isn’t it?

I wrote that sometime before December 8, 2014. The reason I know the date is because that’s when I had the cover done for A Gift of Grace. I’m… amused? Yeah, that’s the word. It still applies! Four years later, innumerable revisions, a plot that’s included multiple career changes for my main character, about a hundred thousand words written and not used, and here I am, back where I started.

So what do you think of the blurb? Does it sound like something you want to read?

Two years

24 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by in Best of, Grace, Travel, Vanlife

≈ 7 Comments

Eureka Springs, Arkansas

Eureka Springs, Arkansas, at a campground where every site had a water view.

Tomorrow marks two years since the day I signed the paperwork on my house and drove away. Which means today is two years since I wandered around my house, doing last-minute cleaning, having one last torchlight swim, feeling surprisingly peaceful as I said good-bye to my home and ventured out into a new life.

My brother asked me the other day if I’d take my house back if I could and I didn’t even hesitate before saying, “Oh, yeah, definitely. If I could afford it. I loved my house.”

But I have no regrets. It’s amazing to me to look back on this past year, which feels like it’s lasted a lifetime, and remember all the things I’ve done.

Campsites by the numbers:

    8 parking lots
    28 state parks
    3 national parks
    2 national forests
    1 Department of Natural Resources
    1 Bureau of Land Management
    6 Army Corps of Engineers
    4 county parks
    1 KOA
    3 Thousand Trails
    1 Good Sam
    1 independent, not affiliated with a program
    11 driveways
    2 streets
    2 guest beds
    1 air mattress in an office

If I’m counting right, 75 different places in 32 different states.

I saw Mount Rushmore and the Grand Canyon; a moose in Montana and a bear in Washington. I visited friends and family across the country. I cleaned out a refrigerator in California and organized spices in Seattle. I took a few ferries and walked on a few beaches. I got elevation sickness in Arizona and a phenomenal cold (or possibly an extended gluten-reaction) in Arkansas. I took a lot of pictures; I wrote a lot of words.

It was a good year.

As it comes to an end, I’m honestly not sure what the future will bring. I love experiencing a beautiful sunrise surrounded by nature, but I’m really tired of needing to strategize about how to shower. I like seeing new places, but I’ve lost all enthusiasm for driving. But I told a friend recently that I’d failed to plan an exit strategy.

And there’s still an awful lot that I want to do. Vermont again, Canada, Wyoming, more time in Montana, another visit to friends in the west, another visit to friends in the northeast. I’m fairly sure that a year from now, I’ll be writing a post titled “Three years” but maybe by then I’ll have some better ideas about where I’d like to settle down and how I can make that work.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a book to edit. I did a first round of revisions last week, after a quick fix on an incorrect name turned into a first-pass edit. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m waiting on feedback from some early readers now, trying not to look at it again until I hear from them, but after my own first read through, I’m fairly sure it’s solid enough that I’ll be publishing it soon. The actual date might depend on when I have internet. I’m heading into Vermont and as I recall, cell signals there were pretty much non-existent. It might have to wait until I get back into a signal-friendly zone. I’ll know more soon, though. And I’m really, really glad not to be going into Year 3 with Grace still unfinished!

FINISHED!

17 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by in Grace

≈ 20 Comments

Um, yeah, so… I have a first draft. Or, I suppose, one could call it a 900th draft but the first one that actually has an ending. A real ending. One that maybe, sort of, works. There were definite moments of delight in writing it, when a line or an idea fell into place, but I haven’t read the whole thing yet so I don’t know how well it all holds together.

I said that I was going to send it out to three people without reading it, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to do that. I don’t know who the three people would be and I hate to waste some of my best copy-readers on a version that might suck. Also, I hate to waste anyone’s time on a version that might suck. But I definitely know that I shouldn’t start reading it myself for at least a couple of weeks. I need a little distance.

Along the way this week while I was eking out word after painful word — I wrote every day but deleted most of what I wrote as I went — I did some editing of earlier parts. The section that I put an “abysmal” comment on a few weeks back? It was still abysmal. I’ve fixed it, I think, but there’s a definite character motivation issue there that I might not have solved.

And I think some of the timing might be flawed. Some ideas might be out of order because of how long I spent writing, and some scenes that made sense… well, you know, I think for the moment I’m going to stop ripping it apart and criticizing myself. I finished it.

I FINISHED!

Also of note, Z took her last antibiotic today and ate three small meals.

And I got an email from a listener — the first person (that I know of, anyway) that listened to the audiobook and enjoyed it. Yay!

What a lovely day it is. 🙂

Progress report

09 Monday Jul 2018

Posted by in Boring, Grace, Zelda

≈ 6 Comments

Tried to write a post last week, and you know, I just didn’t have anything much to say. It is an incredibly beautiful summer in Pennsylvania — blue skies, warmth, green grass, lightning bugs, blueberries. I’m so glad to be here. It’s amazing to me how much it pleases me to know that I will not be driving more than ten minutes for any day of the next two weeks.

I’m spending much of my time staring at a computer screen, writing a sentence here and there on Grace and then deleting it. I consider it absolutely ridiculous how much I’m agonizing over this — seriously, I know I’m not writing the Great American Novel, it’s a happy romance, all that needs to happen here is for my delightful heroine to fall into my charming hero’s arms with a nice fade to black. But knowing that apparently doesn’t make it any easier for me to actually write it.

I’m still persisting, though. I’ve considered re-reading the whole thing to see if it makes any sense, but I’m not going to — I’m going to give it to three first-draft readers as soon as I actually finish a first draft and not even look at it again until they’ve finished reading it and sent me back comments. And if they never finish reading it, I will know that it just doesn’t work and I’ll let it go. And get a job as a waitress, maybe, because if I’m not going to be a writer, I seriously need to do something with my life.

The other thing I’m doing with my time is fighting with Zelda. I used to say that Zelda would do anything if I could make her understand what I wanted, but this is no longer true: she understands that I want her to take her pill and she is sad that she can’t oblige me, but she also thinks I’m trying to feed her poison and she is not going to cooperate. I would love to get someone to take a video of me trying to get the antibiotic into her, but it would be a long video.

I can try to hide it in any food and she will turn her nose up at it. Nothing works for more than two pills. She’s now refusing to eat steak, prosciutto, hot dogs, chicken, canned fish, as well as canned dog food, if she thinks there’s any chance it might contain a pill. I literally put chocolate on a pill — a tiny amount, I know chocolate is deadly for dogs in any quantity — and she ate it once, but then not a second time. That’s how desperate I’ve become.

Fortunately for my sanity, the Best Brother Ever is feeding her slices of Whole Foods roast beef when I bring her in the house. She’ll eat that when he feeds her. I’ve thought about trying to get him to give her pills, but I suspect she would willingly starve to death in that case and I’d rather know that she’s getting at least a few calories.

Some days I don’t bother trying to make it easy, I just try to force it in her mouth. This morning, I got it in her mouth, held her mouth closed, stroked her neck while whispering sweet nothings to her, and counted to 60. At the end of my count, I let her go and she spit the pill out at me. Not the first time.

I have to remind myself on a daily basis that ehrlichiosis can be fatal — if she dies of it, I’ll hate myself if I haven’t actually kept her on the antibiotic for the whole three weeks. But I am counting the days until we’re done.

I wish I was also counting the days until Grace was done. But every day I wake up thinking, “this is it, I’ll finish today” and every day, I go to sleep thinking, “maybe tomorrow.” But it’s still early, so I’m still on the “this is it, I’ll finish today” mantra for today. It’s more likely if I start staring at that file, though, so I think I’ll get back to that. 🙂

Not quite ripe

13 Wednesday Jun 2018

Posted by in Grace, Pennsylvania, Personal

≈ 3 Comments

unripe blueberries

In 2017, June 13th was the first day of picking blueberries and by June 19th, they were getting ripe faster than we could eat them. Much, much faster!

Alas, this winter was colder so the blueberries are slower. I’m counting the days and watching the calendar — I’m going to be seriously dismayed if I miss them entirely. Not so much so that I would change my plans: I’ve got campground reservations already paid for until after the 4th of July, so I’m going to be doing the things I’m planning on doing. But I do love blueberries right off the bush, warm from the sun, and specifically, from the fifth bush in the first row in my brother’s blueberry patch. I will be sad if I miss them this year.

Meanwhile, though, I’m having a lovely time with my niece and nephew.

My nephew’s playing PS4 games with me: we’re spending a lot of time in a game called Monster Hunter, which has both a story and much wandering around an interesting environment. I’m never going to be good at PS4 controls — the days of building that kind of fine-tuned muscle memory are probably long gone for me — but I’ve been having fun anyway, and he’s very tolerant of my incompetence.

My niece is walking the dogs with me and talking about books, friends, stories, words. On our most recent walk, we searched for synonyms for “walk.” I started us off with “stroll” and “saunter” and “mosey” — her dog likes to mosey while Zelda strides. My favorite was one of hers, “amble.” So we ambled along, building memories.

And when they’re at school, I’ve been writing. I suspect my first draft of the ending — the only part of the book that is going to be a true first draft, given how many revisions the first 2/3rd of the book have gone through — is going to be seriously underwritten. Every time I open my file and read my previous day’s words, I shake my head and spend the first hour of my writing time adding some context and setting, tweaking my descriptions and re-organizing chaotic dialogue.

But I really am in the ending and it really is pretty close. The scene I’m currently writing is turning out much longer than I expected it to be — despite or maybe because of the underwriting. But after this… two more scenes? Given that I’m not going anywhere for a week, if you don’t hear from me for a few days, it’s because I’m writing Grace and picking blueberries, with nothing much to blog about besides those two things.

Santee State Park, South Carolina

24 Thursday May 2018

Posted by in Campground, Grace, Reviews

≈ 2 Comments

For some reason, my pictures of this state park are really not impressing me this morning. Generic green trees and a wood chip path; generic dock and gray sky reflected on water; generic blue sky with some kayaks in the background. I’ve seen them all before, only labeled with different locations: Pennsylvania, Maine, Florida. So have a Sarasota commencement sunset instead:

Sunset at the New College commencement

My neighbor at this park just pulled a full size ladder out of a mysterious compartment on his trailer. He also has two kayaks stuck in the back of his truck. I’m not quite jealous — I would never want to pull a trailer and he’s using the ladder to clean off the roof of his slide-out so he can close it to pack up, which is not a chore I would want to add to my list. But last week, R and I finally figured out how to use my bike rack and the conclusion, after almost two years, is “ha-ha-ha, what a useless piece of equipment.” I mean I guess I thought that’s what the conclusion was already? I never believed I would be able to lift a bicycle high enough over my head to get it on the rack to begin with.

But it turns out that yes, I’m now strong enough to lift a bicycle onto the rack (whee) and it doesn’t matter because I’m not tall enough to lock it into place without somehow carrying a ladder around with me. I’m sure you’ll be unsurprised when I tell you that my van has no available room to carry around a ladder. And while two years ago I did optimistically think I could become strong enough to lift a bike over my head (I am! A light bike, anyway!), I don’t optimistically think I’m going to grow taller any time soon. Not to mention, even R had to bring out something to step on to finally get the lock on, so yeah. Bike rack, not much use. I’d rather have a kayak than a bike, anyway.

But back to the state park. It’s a nice enough place, which feels a lot like damning with faint praise, but I don’t intend it that way, not really. If I’d stayed here on my very first trip up to PA two years ago, I think I would remember it fondly. As it is, though, my view is of my neighbor’s trailer — admittedly, there’s a lovely lake behind the trailer, but I’ve stayed in so many places with really spectacular views by now that I’m jaded about having to look through people stuff to get to the nature stuff. Still, nice level sites, plenty of room between them, good walking, friendly people, lots of small dogs and children to admire, birds chirping… it’s a great place for a quick stop on my way to PA.

And not such a quick stop, really. I got here Tuesday around 4 and I’m not leaving until tomorrow (Friday) morning, so two full days here. My idea was that breaking up a long drive with a couple days of rest would give me time to do lots of writing. Eh. About 400 words yesterday was the best I could do. The fact is, long drives are tiring and the routines of moving are time-consuming. I spent more time yesterday searching for a place to stay Friday night, so I could avoid going through DC (at rush hour on Friday on a holiday weekend, aka nightmarish), than I did actually adding words to Grace.

Of course, that said, I should probably admit that I spent a lot more time playing with graphics and photographs than I did writing Grace, too. It’s not like I’m going to become a designer anytime soon but it’s fun to play sometimes. I designed a lovely post-apocalyptic horror thriller cover — well, not lovely, more grim and dark in an attractive sort of way. (Tagline: a post-apocalyptic thriller for the desperately bored.) I also turned a perfectly nice tree picture into a muddled mess of a graphic, having discovered a magnifying glass and a scatter tool.

But today’s another day, another chance to get some real words written, so I’m going to get back to it. I suspect part of my resistance is that I’m so close to the ending — I really could finish it with another 10K words, so within two weeks, quite easily. But that would mean I’d have to start letting other people read it and I’m not sure I want to. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Three plus years spent writing a book and at the end of the day, an unwillingness to let anyone else read it? But for my own sake, I need to finish it so I can move on, so back to it I go. Wish me luck!