Jenna Kernan's Blog

My mother is a very independent woman.  But since a mini-stroke she has mobility problems.  I never know if my efforts to help will be welcomed or treated as an insult to her sovereignty.  Sovereignty is the right word.  My mother was born the same day as the Queen of England and her Chinese sign is Wood Tiger.  Enough said.

A couple of years ago we got her one of those chairs that lifts you to your feet—welcome.
Last year be brought her an air-conditioner in the dog days of summer—unwelcome and soundly rejected.
Today we bought her this.  Hot rod red!

It’s used, but is heavy so will still hurt if she hurls it back in my face.  So…will she love it or hate it?  Will I get kisses or killed? Now how do we get this in the car? Maybe I can drive it home.
I’m not certain but I plan to approach wearing my bike helmet just in case.  And in the meantime I really like tearing around the yard in this thing. 
Great on the hills.
We deliver it this weekend.  If I fail, I will use this scooter to make a quick getaway.  If I succeed, my mother will once again be able to tootle around in her garden. This thing really corners!Prayers on my behalf are welcome.

There are many places to learn about history.  Today’s foray to an outdoor antique market included finding a basket of calling cards.
Calling cards were used in the mid-1800s when making a personal visit to the home of a friend or acquaintance.  The card served as notice of a person’s attempt to pay a social call.  This system did require that the recipient have a servant, housekeeper or family member at home to receive the card. 
Cards customarily bore only the bearers name centered in the white card and were somewhat smaller than today’s business cards.  The print itself could range from extremely simple black font to a very elaborate script. 
I have a collection of some of these cards left to me by a friend of my fathers who was alive at the time this custom was still in practice. 
My visit today had me pulling out my cards to re-examine them and also visiting some websites for information on the custom.  One tidbit I uncovered from the French name for the cards, Carte de Visite, from the American Museum of Photography and from The Art of Manliness the correct etiquette for leaving a card for someone with whom you are not yet acquainted.  The card was left with the servant and no visit was expected at this initial call even if the receiver was home.  The card served only as an indication of the visitor’s wish to call at some future time.  If the visit was welcomed, a similar card would be left at the original visitor’s home.  If not, well, no answer is still an answer.

I’ve given myself a project this year. 
Explore about Social Media.  I’ve taken classes, attended workshops and pestered fellow authors with ill-informed questions many of which highlight my ignorance.  I like to highlight my best features and ignorance seems to be one of them.Today was a milestone.  I gave a workshop on Social Media.  My friends will find this hysterical and it is.  I still don’t even have a Facebook page.  It’s on my summer to-do list.  But it does show that I have risen just far enough to know a little more than a very limited number of other authors.I was not foolish enough to appear alone (see pervious paragraph about lack of Facebook page).  I wisely chose a very competent co-speaker.   Laura Bradford (www.laurabradford.com ) spoke about her blog (www.elizabethlynncasey.com/blog/posts) and her Facebook pages (yes, she has one).   I took notes.  But it was dark so I don’t think the attendees noticed.I explained the basics of Twitter (https://twitter.com/JennaKernan) and GoodReads (http://www.goodreads.com/JennaKernan).  I could only explain the basics because that’s all I know.  But I am a good explorer and willing continue to ramble, hike and run along trails I have never traveled.  That’s part of what makes the journey interesting.

I'm so happy to have my very first Western Historical rereleased. 
WINTER WOMAN first appeared in September 2003 and rerelease in ebook format today! 

Here's a short excerpt.


Cordelia Channing finished her meal in silence and hollowness left her.  How long until she regained her strength?  How long would it take to recover from those months of want?     “That was a wonderful breakfast.  Thank you.”     “Yup,” said the trapper.     “I will clean the skillet.”     “No, you’ll rub all the seasoning out of it.  I got it just right.”     “Very well then.  I’ll just wash my plate.”     She took her leave of Thomas Nash, walking to the brook.  There she scoured her plate and utensils with sand.  Then she washed her face and neck with a torn handkerchief.  When she opened her eyes, he was kneeling beside her.  She jerked her hand to her throat.  “You gave me a start,” she said.     His voice sounded defensive.  “I came from down wind.”     “Are you suggesting I can smell you?”“You can’t?”     “Well no.  I mean you don’t smell badly.”     “I can smell you.”     A tingle vibrated up her spine, lifting the hairs on her neck.  What did he mean?  And why had his voice dropped to nearly a whisper?     “I have not acquired the knack,” she said.     He scrubbed his skillet quickly with sand and dipped it briefly in the water.  “I don’t know what you’re saying half the time.”  Then he dried the iron thoroughly with a soft bit of leather.  “The grease keeps things from sticking.  Too much washing or heat and you have to start again.  I’ve got to go hunt.  You stay put.”     A rippling wave of panic broke in her belly.  John had gone hunting too.  He never came back.     “I’ll come along.”     “I says ‘stay put.’”     Her hands grew moist.  What if he doesn’t return?  What if a bear or wild cat finds him or he falls.  She sprung to her feet.     “No, Mr. Nash, I will not.”     He pointed a finger at her.       “You can’t come.  You’ll slow me down and scare the elk.  If I can smell you, so can they.  You’re staying.”
     “No.”“I ain’t asking, you little-bit-of-nothing.  I’m telling you.”     He stalked off.  Delia followed him to camp.  She bridled the other horse as he placed the saddle on his own.       “Give me that!”  He jerked the bridle off the horse and stuffed it into his saddlebag.  “I’ll be back by dark.”     He swung into the saddle and rode off.  She doubled as if kicked by his horse.  Her knees drove into the soft earth and she fell on all fours.He left her.  John’s words echoed through her mind.  Don’t fret Cordelia.  I’ll be back by nightfall.  Don’t fret.She ran for her blanket and snatched up the hatchet the Indians had packed for her.  Nash had disappeared.  She turned to the remaining horse and stroked his head.  Could she control the creature with only a halter?  She had to try.She led the animal to a log and jumped onto his back.  With effort she managed to get her head and shoulders over his withers.  The beast walked after his comrade as she struggled to her throw her leg over the horse’s rump.  Seated at last on the horse’s bare back, she raised her chin high and gripped the halter lead.  “I’ll not be left alone again.”
Text Copyright (c) 2003 by Jenna Kernan.Cover Art (c) 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited.  Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.  Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited.  All rights reserved.  (r) and TM are trademarts owned by Harlequin Enterprises or its affiliated companies, used under license.
Click here to purchase WINTER WOMAN from Amazon.

Happy Mother's Day (especially to all you creative types)

Happy Mother's Day (especially to all you creative types)

Life is all about change.  It’s often unexpected and rarely convenient.  Sometimes we leap joyfully in a new direction and other times we are pushed. 

This week I got pushed.I’ve been sailing along for several years with my web designer and looking forward to a new design.  But the header design was taking a good deal longer than it should have.  That might have been a clue.  My designer announced that she’s getting out of the business.  Big changes for her.  I hope they are positive.  As for me, there is never a good time for that to happen but I have found a new designer.  This month I’ll be making the switch from the old familiar to the unknown.Timing is not really bad.  I have only re-releases this spring and nothing new until January 2013.  So by them I hope to have a new look to go with those new releases.  I’d like something that reflects both my paranormal writing and my Western historicals.  Also something that identifies my love for the outdoors.So I’m putting together a wish list and thinking about color schemes.  Oh, no, will I need a new author photo?
Change is such hard work.                                                                                        ~Billy Crystal~

I have some very good news.  I’ve signed a three book contract with Harlequin Nocturne.  The first book to release is Beauty’s Beastwhich is the fourth and final in the Tracker’s series.  The second two books of this contract will be something new.  Check back for details.

In the meantime here is a little more about THE TRACKERS Series:
Book #1: DREAM STLAKER (2009): A Native American shape-shifter defends a healer who is stalked by death.
Book #2: GHOST STALKER (2011) A wounded Native American shapeshifter’s efforts to escape three blood-thirsty ghosts, places him at the mercy of an enemy healer with supernatural powers as dangerous as his own.
Book #3: SOUL WHISPERER(2011) A Native American shape-shifting raven needs the help of an enemy, who can speak to the dead, in order to stop a supernatural killer.And coming soon....Book #4: BEAUTY’S BEAST (January 2013) A Native American shapeshifter must recruit the son of her enemy to defeat the Ruler of Ghosts.

I’m in the middle of the muddle of cutting pages and writing new pages and moving existing pages around.  During this stressful process I often wonder if I will lose or cut something I later need.  I handle this by keeping versions: Revision A, B, C and so on.  I also cut and paste the sections I might like to insert somewhere later into a separate file called, “Deleted from Revisions.”   I think I need to work on that file name. 

The process reminds me of moving. 
Right now my metaphorical house is torn apart; contents are strewn about in disorder.  I have dumped the important papers, the material that will likely get shredded and the new writing into a lopsided pile.  Later I’ll blend the old and new, add bridges from here to there.   
As I work through this chaotic mess, I wonder, as I always do, if I’ll ever get this disassembled house back into some semblance of order.   
Through it all I keep reminding myself that after this process I always have a better book than the one with which I started.  And that keeps me going, muddling methodically through the chaos.

“The chief glory of every people arises from its authors.”
Have you been to the Library of Congress in Washington, DC?
The interior is more spectacular than you can imagine.  Photos do not do it justice.  To appreciate this place you have to be there, looking up at the murals, around at the sculptures, over at the quotes painted on the walls, down on the wonderful rare books and through as you explore a myriad of interesting exhibitions.  This year I saw the first map that had the name America written on it.  From the third floor you can peer down into the reading room.  The room itself is colossal and awe inspiring.  I’ve looked down into that room for years wondering how to get in there.  During a tour this spring, I found out.
The answer is so obvious.  You need a library card.  You also need a reason to go into the reading room.  Research on my next Historical seemed like an acceptable purpose.   So on the second day of my vacation to DC, instead of going to see the Hope Diamond, I went to the Madison Building to fill out forms and have my photo taken.
I am now the proud owner of a library card for the Library of Congress and yes, I did get into that room.  The experience was very spiritual.  I can’t describe it except to say that sitting at that curved desk, surrounded by stacks of books and some of the most awe-inspiring art and architecture you have ever laid eyes on, was a joyful and deeply spiritual experience.
You have to go.  Really.