Tess Thompson's Blog, page 4

Love in Isolation

I’ve written a new book, Love in Isolation, that I’m serializing here and in my Facebook group, Patio Chat with Tess Thompson. So check back often for the next chapter.
In Patio Chat we chat about books, food, life and pretty much anything. We have live author visits approximately once a month and every new member gets a free e-copy of one of my books! If this sounds like fun to you, come check it out at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Patio...

Love in Isolation

TESS THOMPSON

Day One
Ellis

Today was going to be the day I finally took the seat next to her on the bus, acting casually, as if I hadn’t obsessed over doing so for over a year. I was going to slip her a note, introducing myself and asking her if she would like to meet for a drink or coffee. Instead, the governor of Washington ordered us to stay home as a way to prevent the spread of Covid-19. He shut down the schools and all non-essential businesses. They’re calling it social distancing. I’ve been social distancing my entire life. Just when I was about to take a leap into the world and approach the object of my affection, my plans were thwarted.
I live in a world without sound. I’ve been deaf for all my forty years. My disability naturally distances me from others.
Her name is Bronte. I know this because she carries a tote bag with her name sewn into the fabric. She lives directly across from me in an apartment with a balcony. I can see it quite clearly from the window of my apartment. Only a skinny alley separates us.
Bronte has light brown hair she often wears in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. If she wears makeup, it’s not evident. Her fair skin appears dewy, with a slight blush to her cheeks. All of which gives her the air of someone from another time. If I were a more fanciful man, I might suspect she was a figment of my imagination.

We wait for the bus at the stop in front of her building. While waiting, she reads on her tablet. A yoga mat sticks out of the top of her tote. When she gets on the bus, she continues to read, never looking up so that I might catch her eye. I depart before her, so I don’t know where she goes to every morning. In the winter she wears a red wool coat with a hood that reminds me of Red Riding Hood. During milder, rainy months that we have so often in Seattle, she wears a pale green raincoat. During summertime, she doesn’t ride the bus. Instead, she spends time on her balcony tending to her flowers or reads.

These facts have led me to this assumption. She is a teacher.

I assume, too, that’s she’s kind and thoughtful. When the bus is crowded, she always gives her seat to the elderly. One time, she gave it to a pregnant woman.

This afternoon I finished my work early. Without the commute, I was able to speed through the latest project. I’m a computer programmer for a company that makes accounting software. It’s not exciting but the work suits me. Supposedly I’m some kind of technical genius. The language of programming does not require much interaction with others. My team communicates with me via email or messaging.
I made a sandwich for a late lunch and ate it at my desk. I watched for her, hoping she would come out to the balcony. However, the weather was cold, and a wind blew with a ferocity that chilled one to the bone. I didn’t expect her.

I was wrong. She appeared, wearing her red coat and knit hat over her long hair. Her pots were empty of flowers this time of year, but she went to them anyway, digging her hands into the one the color of the summer sky. Then, she bowed her head. Her shoulders shook. Was she crying?

My heart skipped a beat. What had happened? Was someone she knew sick? Was she hurt or sad or worried? I drew closer to the window and put my hand on the glass. If only she knew I was here and that I would help her if she needed. But like the bus, she didn’t look up to find me.
She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat and drew in a deep breath. A split second later, she disappeared inside, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

I paced for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. There was an urgency to my thoughts, perhaps because today had been the day. I had the note tucked into my laptop bag. I’d promised myself. If the world hadn’t shut down, I would’ve given it to her.

But this crying—this was unexpected. What could I do?

That’s when it hit me. I would write her a note and put it in the window.

I’m not really a drinker, but I had a glass of whiskey. A small shot of courage. Then, I flattened the box from the toilet paper that had come this morning. I’d been unable to find any the last time I shopped, so I’d ordered it online. People were going crazy about the toilet paper. I’m not sure why. Did they think we would be using the bathroom more during the virus?
I used a magic marker and wrote in big letters.

BRONTE, MY NAME IS ELLIS. WE RIDE THE SAME BUS. MAY I HAVE YOUR EMAIL?

I hung the sign in the window. And now I wait.

DAY ONE
Bronte

The first day of isolation I spent watching the news with Mother. She’s seventy years and in fragile health after fighting cancer last year. When news of the virus first started to spread, I’d worried about bringing it home to her. I work with little children all day and as much as I love the little buggers, they’re like walking germs. Even in less scary times, I’d worried about carrying the flu home to Mother.
When we got word from the governor that schools were closing for at least two weeks, I went numb. I don’t have a lot in my life. My sweet first graders, my wonderful mother, my potted flowers and my books are it. I knew isolation was for the best, but still, I took the news hard. When I came home and told her I was not to report to work for at least two weeks, I pretended to be fine, when really, I wanted to cry. Mother worries about me, as if I were ten instead of thirty-seven. The last thing I want is for her to spend any of her precious energy on me.

I made her a cup of tea and left her in the living room with her easel and her watercolors. On the way home I’d stopped for some red tulips so that she might have a beautiful still life to paint.

My apartment has only two bedrooms, a living room that bleeds into a kitchen, separated only by a counter. What the place lacks in space, it makes up for in charm, with arched doorways and pretty wood floors. A bank of windows and the sliding glass door to the balcony brings light, even during dark months. We need that here in Seattle with all the gray days. My windows look directly out to the apartment building across the street, which isn’t ideal. I can only imagine what they think of the homely schoolteacher fussing with her flowerpots all summer. Or, maybe they don’t notice me at all.

When Mother moved in, I made a corner of the living room into a small art space for her where she can paint. Keeping busy is important for her health. Doing what she loves is the best medicine.

Mother’s last chemo treatment was three months ago. The doctors assured us she’s in remission. Her hair is an inch long now, soft and white like a chick. I’m down on my knees every night thanking God for her recovery.

The weather is cold here. Planting my pots is still at least a month away. But I went out to my patio and had a good cry. I’m afraid and anxious. I’ll miss my kids. I don’t know how to prepare lessons for them in this new world. Regardless, I’m going to have to figure out how.

After my cry, I headed inside and made a simple stir fry for dinner. Mother ate well, which pleased me. Then, I left her to watch Jeopardy while I did the dishes.

That’s when I saw it. A sign in the window of the apartment directly across the alley from mine.

BRONTE, MY NAME IS ELLIS. WE RIDE THE SAME BUS. MAY I HAVE YOUR EMAIL?

At first, I simply stared at it, thinking I was seeing things. Then, my mind started turning. Ellis. Same bus. Could it be him?
It had to be. There were only five of us who consistently stood at the same stop. One was a young woman with a backpack, who I assumed was a student. Another was an older woman who worked at a supermarket not far from where I taught. I knew this only because she’d mentioned it once. The other two were men. One of whom I knew. He was about sixty and lived in an apartment in my building. Mr. Sparkman who always smelled of whiskey. I had no idea where he went every day. But that’s not the point here. We’re talking about Ellis.

The last of the regulars was a man I guessed to be about forty. A gorgeous silver streaked his light brown hair. He wears these attractive glasses that make him look terribly smart but also hip and stylish. He never said a word to anyone. My only hint about his life was a keycard he sometimes wears around his neck, which tells me he works at one of our high-tech companies. I’ve never gotten close enough to see his name or just the company logo. I’d guessed him as a computer programmer. Probably some kind of genius or something that makes gobs of money. He carried an expensive leather laptop bag and dressed impeccably, which also hinted of a good job.

Ellis has to be him.

His apartment building makes my mine look like a movie star’s dumpy younger sister. That’s neither here nor there, but I thought it was worth mention because it’s such a perfect symbol of how different we are.

I’d figured he’d never noticed me, a drab middle-aged schoolteacher in my shabby coat. He must have noticed my name on my book bag. How else would he know my name? All roads led to one answer. This was the gorgeous man at my bus stop I’d admired from afar for at least a year. Honestly, I’d have given my pinky toe for the courage to introduce myself. But people like me don’t do stuff like that.

Okay, I told myself. Stay calm and think what to do. He wants my email. This was a strange turn of events in my rather monotonous life. What would be the harm? If he was a creep, I could simply block him.

Oh, hell yes, he could have my email. He could have my phone number too if it came down to that. Stay centered, I ordered myself, and don’t go too Emily Dickinson with fantasies about some man I hardly know.

“Mother,” I said. “I need a sign for the window.”

Fifteen minutes later, I propped it up against my flowerpots.

MY EMAIL IS BRONTETEACHES@GMAIL.COM

And now I wait for the reply.

DAY TWO

Dear Bronte,

Thank you for replying to my sign. I can’t tell you how long I’ve debated asking for your phone number or email. Before we were confined to our homes, I noticed you at the bus stop. For months, I’d been gathering the courage to sit next to you, but I always found an excuse not to. The mind of a shy man is elusive. I have many ways of talking myself out of things, especially when it comes to a beautiful woman.

Putting a sign in my window is an odd way to ask a girl for her email, but these are strange times. As the days continue on, one after the other with no end in sight, I’ve chastised myself for not having the courage to introduce myself to you when I could have. Now, we’re stuck inside our homes. I’ve spent a lot of nights wondering how my life would be different if I’d seized opportunities along the way. Maybe I wouldn’t be a single, lonely man of forty, completely isolated as the world shut down.

I’m deaf, which makes it difficult to approach people. Or, rather, it gives me an excuse not to. I can’t communicate the usual way, obviously, which creates complications.

I was prompted to reach out, however, because I saw you crying on your balcony. I’d seen you out there before, watering your flowers. By the way, your flowers give me such joy. I’ve never been able to grow anything. I’m not sure why. Looking at the bright flowers during our warm months makes me smile. I figure someone who can grow such beautiful things must be pretty wonderful.
My heart hurt watching you cry. I guess you could say it jolted me enough to get over myself and reach out. What is it that makes you cry? Has a man broken your heart? Are you lonely and the isolation has gotten to you? Or, have you lost your job and are afraid of how you will pay the rent? Or, is it something different? Whatever it is, and whether you tell me or not, please know that I’m sending warmth and prayers your way.

I promise I won’t bother you if you’re scared by my email. That said, I’m completely harmless and committed to staying inside, so don’t worry, I won’t show up at your doorstep. I work as a computer programmer for a high-tech firm. I’m lucky to be able to work in my office here in the apartment.

Have you been out to get groceries? Before this I always had mine delivered. I find it easier than going to the store. Crowds worry me. I’ve continued to have them delivered, although they won’t bring them up to the fourth floor. I have to go down to the lobby to get them. I’ve also started ordering them for my elderly neighbor. When this started, I made sure he understood he could not go out and that I would look after him. He’s a widower on a fixed income. An income that barely covers his rent, so I often help him out with groceries and medications. Like me, he has no family.

Yes, I’m telling you all this so that you can see what a great person I am.

Anyway, I suppose that’s enough for now. If you write back, I’ll share more about my life. Again, please don’t feel obligated to write me. However, if you’re bored or lonely, I would welcome a correspondence.

Yours,

Ellis Morrow

Day Two

Dear Ellis,

What a surprise you are. First, the sign in the window. Yes, a little unorthodox but very clever. Then, calling me beautiful? Well, how am I supposed to resist that? I couldn’t log on to my email fast enough.

In all honesty, I’ve noticed you at the bus stop too. In fact, I’ve often wanted to talk to you. However, we share the same affliction. I am also shy. You can’t imagine the number of things I talk myself out of on a daily basis. Perhaps we’re kindred spirits this way?
I pride myself on my powers of observation, but I must confess I didn’t pick up on your lack of hearing. In hindsight, I should have. There was one morning on the bus where a couple was having a ferocious argument, yelling and screaming at each other. You were the only one who didn’t turn to look at them. I now realize why.

You asked why I was crying. First, thank you for your concern. It’s very sweet. I was not crying because a man has broken my heart. One did. A long time ago now. Since then, I’m careful with my heart. I spend more time between the pages of books than in the real world. It’s much safer there. Fictional characters can’t hurt me.

I was crying because this virus has me scared and sad. My mother lives with me and is recovering from chemotherapy. She’s in remission, but still weak. I’m terrified she’ll get sick. In a way, yes, I was crying about my job. I’m a first-grade teacher and the governor has closed the schools. They haven’t said it yet, but I suspect they’ll close schools for the entire year. I’ll miss the children very much. Actually, I already miss them. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them in person, which hurts. No hugs or end of the year party where I give them each a framed picture of the two of us together. (I take them at the Valentine’s Day party.) This may sound silly to you, but the children are more than just my students. I love each of them. Even the ones who drive me crazy some days! At this age, they’re tender and sweet and they LOVE their teacher. I’ve not had a lot of love in my life, so perhaps this heightens my feelings. Whatever the reason, I treasure each of them more than they could ever know.

To answer your question, I haven’t been out to get groceries yet. Because of my mother, I’m reluctant to leave the apartment. I’ll have to order some in the next day or so. I’ve never done that, actually. I’m on a tight budget. I count my pennies carefully so that I’ll have enough to fill my flowerpots.

Speaking of which, I’m glad you enjoy my flowers. That gives me extra incentive this year to make them even more beautiful. This is funny, but I never thought about what they looked like to others. I do them for myself and for my mother. She’s an artist—a watercolorist. Flowers are her favorite subjects.

How are you keeping occupied?

Are you a reader? If so, what are your favorite books? I enjoy many genres but don’t care for horror. I’m much too scared of the dark for that!

Do you watch television? My mother and I love anything on Masterpiece Theatre. We’re currently watching a show called Unforgotten about an English female detective. She solves cold cases. The plots are interesting with twists and turns. But it’s the portraits of the people I find the most interesting. Characters with flaws and secrets, all struggling for redemption.
Have you been deaf since birth? Is it all right to ask you that? I hope so. I’d hate to offend you and break of our correspondence before we got started.

Please write soon and tell me more about yourself. Feel free to ask me anything. I’ll do my best to answer honestly.

Bronte

Emerson Pass and Giving Back

I have a new series releasing April 1. It’s a weird one…because I’m me. In a nutshell, Emerson Pass is a small-town romance series. That part’s not weird for me, as that’s my lane. I have a heart for small towns, having grown up in one. I can’t seem to stop writing about them. However, the weird part about Emerson Pass is this – five of them will be set between 1910-1930 and will be about the Barnes family. The other five will be contemporary, featuring the descendants of the original characters. (That’s the weird part, in case you were wondering). The contemporary volumes will focus on rebuilding part of the community after a forest fire.During the research for this series, I’ve had the honor to hear real people’s stories of terror and loss. Some, like in Paradise, California, barely escaped as the fire came so fast and furious no one saw it coming. The entire town was burned to the ground, leaving utter and lasting devastation. Others lost homes even though their neighbor’s house was spared. Some lost loved ones. The stories go on and on, as you know.I’ve been incredibly moved by the resilience of the human spirit to rebuild and restart. I’ve been humbled by the bravery of the men and women who fought to keep people safe, rescue them from danger, and work tirelessly to put the fires out.On a personal note, I’ve worried about my parents and friends who are so often threatened by fires in southern Oregon where I grew up. Almost every August they wait to hear if they’ll be evacuated as the sky thickens with smoke. One summer during a visit home, fire fighters (and their truck) parked on my parents dirt road to protect the neighborhood. My girls were little then and thought that was the coolest thing ever. My mom, not so much. Regardless, we were thankful to the men and their truck who spent night after night protecting their small part of the world.Many of the people who lose their lives are elderly, disabled or poor. Quite simply, they can’t get out fast enough. These stories of the loss of human life saddened me and terrified me. As many of you know, my mother is disabled. I can’t help but worry about her and my dad. Which makes all this very personal to me.Watching news coverage and documentaries about the fire fighters who run into danger to help those who cannot help themselves is one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever seen. That kind of courage is unbelievable to me. I’m pretty sure I could never be that brave.All this to say, I’ve decided to donate part of the proceeds of this series to firefighters and their families through The National Fallen Firefighters Foundation. It may not be much but at least it’s one small thing I can do to give my thanks.***FEEL GOOD ROMANCE + A REALLY GREAT CAUSE!Preorder The School Mistress of Emerson Pass by Tess Thompson today.A portion of the proceeds will benefit The National Fallen Firefighters Foundation!RESERVE THIS 20TH CENTURY HISTORICAL ROMANCE NOW:Amazon → https://amzn.to/2uSOrEkApple → https://apple.co/2wB0pmqKobo → http://bit.ly/32nO4hxNook → http://bit.ly/2SBDWyn#TheSchoolMistress #EmersonPass #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryRomance#Charity #GivingBack #Philanthropy #Donate #GreatCauses #NationalFallenFirefightersFoundation***How easily can an open heart unlock the door to happily-ever-after?When Miss Quinn Cooper arrives in Emerson Pass, Colorado, her entire life is packed into one small suitcase. Her widowed mother and baby sister are depending upon her for their survival back home in Boston. And the self-appointed mayor of the rugged mountain community is counting on Miss Cooper to prove herself a fitful teacher for the young and old alike.Lord Alexander Barnes is determined to bring a bit of English civility to the wild terrain of Emerson Pass. Using his own resources, the widower and father of five builds a schoolhouse and recruits a young teacher from the east to provide an education for both the adults and the children in his rapidly growing mining town. But when the lovely, and much younger than anticipated, Miss Cooper arrives in town, Lord Barnes finds himself providing more than just employment when the boarding house proves to be an unsafe accommodation for the school mistress.As Miss Cooper takes a room in the Barnes’ home, the five Barnes children are delighted. They are sure Miss Cooper is the perfect woman for their lonely father. But when a friend of the Englishman turns up dead, the hope for progress in the untamed town seems immediately lost. Can Miss Cooper and Lord Barnes bring change to the closed-minded locals? And will their endeavor open their hearts to something more?The first installment of USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson’s historical romance series brings a touch of whimsy and an extra dash of mystery to Edwardian romance. Readers will fall in love with the courageous Miss Cooper and swoon for the magnanimous English Lord as they struggle to save their exciting new world at the turn of the 20th Century.

xo

Tess

Keep Going!

Dear Friends,I’m pleased to send the third installment of my Christmas short to my newsletter subscribers. Keep reading to enjoy it, as well as the first two. The last one will come out on the 30th, so be sure to look for that.I wanted to share a little personal story with you as well. I joined my husband’s pool team a year and a half ago. To say I went kicking and screaming is an understatement. However, my husband is a super high level player and in order for him to participate, he needs lower level players on the team. I am terrible with spatial awareness and anything geometric. I’m not particularly competitive when it comes to games or sports. I hate doing stuff I’m bad at in front of other people. I like to go to bed early so I’m bright-eyed to write during work hours. I’m focused intently on the kids and my work – writing is hard and takes a ton of concentrated effort, leaving little energy for learning something new. And the kids are teenagers, so enough said there. All of these things factored into why I didn’t want to join the team.However, there was one huge factor that convinced me to do it. I love my husband. He’s so good to the kids and me, without asking for much in return. This was something I could do for him. Even though it was super scary, I did it. I won’t lie. This wasn’t like those movies where I have a hidden talent and I suddenly discover it and then there’s a series of montages set to music as I triumph over the meanest opponent in the bar and all my teammates surround me at the end and lift me into the air while chanting my name.No. It was humiliating defeat, week after week with no background music to make my losses poignant. As Cliff said one night, “You’d be fine if it weren’t for your terrible aim.”I even cried a couple of nights. This probably sounds really stupid, but I was embarrassed and ashamed. I hated everyone watching me, knowing that my husband is so good and probably wondering how in the world I couldn’t improve when I have access to him and a pool table at home. The whole experience was kind of awful, other than the wonderful people I met on my team and other teams. Honestly, that’s what kept me going back. I grew attached to the people, which is true of almost every season of my life. It’s the people who matter.That and I didn’t want to let Cliff down. It’s nearly impossible to find low level players who stay that way. Which I did so well. We had MANY teary discussions on the way home in which I told him, this was it. Next session you have to find someone else. During these teary rants, Cliff always stayed calm. He said I could do whatever I wanted, but that he thought I should stick with it. Just one more session and then we’ll see.Well, I listened to him and kept giving it one more session. I don’t know why, other than I love him so much and I’d grown so fond of our pool friends. We’d added a couple of awesome guys to the team who made me laugh even though I was disgusted with my playing. Other than my embarrassing playing, Tuesday evenings were fun.And then something started to happen. I found myself enjoying practicing at home. During little breaks from writing, I would sneak in a bit of practice, mostly when I had a plot problem to work through. On Tuesdays, I started winning every once in a while too, which is pretty damn fun.Too, the loyalty and support of my team members made me want to continue. They were never rude or discouraging, simply offered suggestions week and week. Over the summer, I started seeing minor improvements and then just this last month some major ones. After a year and a half, mind you!Then, last night, during playoffs, I actually played well. I knew which balls to try for first and how to hit the cue ball to make certain things happen. I stayed calm, even when I made a mistake. I remembered all the words the ‘boys’ on the team had told me about form and aim and strategy…and I won! As one of my teammates said afterword, “You hit FIVE balls in a row!”. To most of the people who play in that bar, five would be like, whatever. For me, it was huge. This doesn’t mean I’m great all of the sudden. I’m still terrible, but I’m BETTER. FINALLY, I’m a little better and that feels good.All this to say, I’m so glad I stuck with it even though I wanted to quit so many times. In some ways, it’s like the journey I’ve taken as a writer. All those rejections of the early years; all the tears and despair and self doubt; all the times I thought I should quit – only on a grander scale because writing was something connected deeply to my ego.Why should I share about my pool journey? I felt compelled because that’s what I do. But also because I try to use social media as a platform to inspire and encourage others. I know I’m not the only one who went out of my comfort zone this year. I’m assuming I’m not alone in struggling to be better at something simply for the benefit of the person I love. I am quite certain there are others who want something desperately that seems impossible. Whatever it is you’re trying to do – if you truly care about it – keep going. I’ve said this a lot over the years. Do not give up. Do you hear me? I’ll say it again. Do not give up.Professionally, I’ve had a few great years, making the ten years of struggle before now worth it. There are still milestones to reach, of course. I’m nowhere near where I hope to be but I know now my dreams will come true. I just have to show up every day at this desk and keep working harder than I think I can.Happy holidays, friends. Wishing you all a new year full of triumphs, hopefully with flattering montages set to music.Much love to you and yours. XO

National Novel Writing Month

National Novel Writing Month!

Many of you are starting NaNoWriMo today. I wanted to share my story, hoping that it will inspire or encourage those of you who are hoping to write that first book this month.

When I was 37 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl we named Emerson Blythe. I decided not to go back to my corner office job and stay home with her and my three-year-old, Ella Caroline. It was a bold decision financially, but in my heart, I knew it was the right thing for the girls and for me.

But there was another thing. One I could barely admit to myself. Secretly, I hoped to write a novel in between the exhausting, beautiful moments of mothering. I’d written a few plays, even won a local contest, but my dream was to write the kind of novel I liked to read.

I promised myself I would have one finished by the time I turned 40. I didn’t dream of publishing or becoming a bestseller. I just wanted to write that one book. That one damn book I thought was in there somewhere.

Maybe to prove to myself I could. Maybe because I believed deep down I was talented and had something to share. Maybe because no one thought I could. Definitely because of a deep need for creative expression.

I wrote during the babies’ nap times. I wrote in the early mornings. I wrote in fifteen-minute stolen moments. I hired teenage girls to babysit for two-hour chunks. Whenever I could, I worked on that manuscript. I also devoured every craft book I could find. I worked with a writing coach who provided harsh feedback but also pointed out my strengths.

When I had a complete draft, I sent it to friends and a few agents. They provided feedback. Gut-wrenching, cry in the bathroom type of feedback. I rewrote and rewrote and rewrote.

By the time I turned 40, I had a book. That book was Riversong. To my surprise, a small publisher put it out into the world. It became the #1 Nook book for like three weeks in 2012 and went on to sell hundreds of thousands of copies on Amazon and the other retailers. That little book I fought so hard to write launched my career as a novelist.

Yesterday, I completed my 21st novel. There have been a lot of ups and downs in the time between now and the first words of that very first manuscript. As far as sales go, I’m high and low and somewhere in the middle on any given day. I make a decent living, which I’m proud of and grateful for. I made the USA Today list last year, thanks to a Bookbub. Do I still hope to make the New York Times and other lists with a new release at full-price someday? You bet I do. Do I get down sometimes and compare myself to writer friends who do so much better? I hate it about myself, but yes I do.

However, I’m proud of something that has nothing to do with money or sales rankings. To me, this is the key to a satisfying writing life. I focus on the writing. Always. Because of my absolute dedication to craft and hard work, I’m a better storyteller now than when I started. No matter the flux of the industry or sales rankings, I have a clear intention. I want to be a great writer. I want each book to be better than the last.

I will never stop learning or challenging myself. I still read craft books. I attend workshops. I read authors who are better than me. (There are so many of those.) I’m never satisfied.

So, all this to say – if you’re staring at the blank page today, just write something, anything. The more you write, the closer you’ll be to finding your voice and your story. Steal those fifteen minutes and write a few sentences or a paragraph. Believe in yourself enough to make time for your dream. Be unapologetic in your pursuit.

For those of us struggling to find our readers in a flooded market, just keep writing great stories. Keep digging deep into the well of your talent and creativity. Readers will come.

Don’t give up. Don’t give in to your fears. You can do this.

For more inspiration, I’ve included a link to a letter from the iconic Anne Lamont on this first day of National Novel Writing Month.

To each of you starting out on this courageous journey of self-expression, I salute you. I believe in you.

Comment below if you have an inspiring story of your writing journey to share with us. Or if you just want to ask me to cheer for you, pray for you, or to simply send snacks and water. Much love. xo

Pep Talk from Anne Lamott

Photo by Dustin Lee on Unsplash

It’s Almost Fall!

Happy Almost Fall, everyone!

I’m in reflective mode the last few weeks as I begin writing the ninth Cliffside Bay novel.

Writing Cliffside Bay has been one of the highlights of my career. Since the fall of 2017, I’ve been living and breathing with the ten couples of my little seaside town. The concept started with five best guy friends who have been as tight as brothers since their college days. What started as a Friday night poker game in college deepened into a brotherhood. They nicknamed themselves the Dogs, after the painting of the five dogs playing poker. In the first of the series, “Traded: Brody and Kara”, we pick up their stories during the year they each turn thirty. Each volume features one Dog and his love story, but we follow their collective stories throughout the series.

Some in the author community love to say romance novels are easy to write or trivial or not real art. Well, I know I speak for all of the women and men who write romances that we work as hard or harder than anyone in this industry to create living, breathing worlds for our readers. Our loyal fans will tell you why they love our stories. We make them ‘feel’. In series, such as Cliffside Bay, we give them whole worlds to escape into.

My Cliffside Bay novels are small-town romances – if we have to give them a specific genre. However, they’re more expansive than a simple love story. These are tales of second chances, friends that become family, redemption from the darkest of pasts, and most of all, how love can save even the most broken of souls.

As it sometimes happens with writers, after I finished the fifth book, I couldn’t let go of Cliffside Bay. There were secondary characters who spoke to me in the middle of the night. “Tell my story. Give me my happy ending.” Thus, the Wolves were created. As they say about themselves, these guys are more like the Mangy Wolves of Cliffside Bay than the rich and successful Dogs. Divorced, widowed, left at the alter, scarred from military service and horrendous childhoods, these guys are broke and broken.

The eighth in the series, “Scarred: Trey and Autumn” releases next week. Today, the sixth in the series – the first of the Wolves stories – “Missed: Rafael and Lisa” is on sale for 99 pennies.

Haven’t read the series? The first, “Traded: Brody and Kara” in on perma FREE. Don’t know my work? Think you’re not interested in ‘romances’? Looking for a new series to get lost in? Take a chance. Download it and see if I can’t get you hooked on my Dogs and Wolves.

Oh, and not to be remiss on mentioning my heroines, the Wags and the Bobcats, let me tell you about them. In a nutshell, they’re badass. Fierce, smart, funny, resilient, loyal. You know, like YOU.

The last two in the series will release later this year or early next. I’m writing “Jilted: Nico and Sophie” right now for a November release. “Departed: David and Sara” will be out in either December or January, depending on how life goes these next few months. I’m a mom first, so sometimes the writing doesn’t happen as fast as my little mind works!

Tess xo

Traded: Brody and Kara

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2lGOEFQ

B&N: http://bit.ly/2lKjUUf

iBooks: https://apple.co/2kFajhc

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2kFaqcC

Missed: Rafael and Lisa

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2IyuxRR

B&N: http://bit.ly/2WxFdtP

iBooks: https://apple.co/2XHLMpu

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2Sxd8jk

Scarred: Trey and Autumn

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Yyo7NB

B&N: http://bit.ly/2M6M6gb

iBooks: https://apple.co/33gL4DD

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2yNZzk5

How is it August already?

Hello friends,

I hope your summer is going well and you’ve had a lot of fun time with family and friends. I know some of you already have kids back in school. Mine don’t go back until after Labor Day but the girls start sports this week. For me, summer flew by with two trips to Oregon and writing Scarred: Trey and Autumn.

I’m excited to share the eighth Cliffside Bay book with you. Writing these books has been such a fun and rewarding journey. Thank you for being along for the ride. I hope to get the last two Wolves books in the series done by the end of the year. If the writing muses cooperate, I should be able to accomplish this. Until then, here’s a bit about Scarred: Trey and Autumn. Have a wonderful rest of your summer.

Much love, Tess xo

Calling all Cliffside Bay fans!

Scarred: Trey & Autumn by USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson arrives September 16th.

PREORDER NOW:

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2Yyo7NB

Apple → https://apple.co/33gL4DD

Barnes & Noble → http://bit.ly/2M6M6gb

Kobo → http://bit.ly/2yNZzk5

#cliffsidebay #treyandautumn #scarred

BLURB:

For Autumn Hickman, online dating has been an exercise in nothing more than coffee and failure. There simply isn’t a man on the planet who can compare to her best friend, Trey Wattson. And while Trey is everything Autumn has ever wanted in a partner, she knows the man who loves life’s most beautiful things could never cherish anything as scarred and mangled as her.

Trey Wattson is in love with his best friend, but he can’t seem to reach her. She’s guarded, and for good reason, but Trey doesn’t care. He knows Autumn’s soul, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Desperate to claim Autumn’s heart for his own, Trey conspires with The Wolves to create a fake profile on the dating site Autumn frequents. But the more Autumn trusts Trey’s online persona, the more it becomes clear that Trey is gambling with the very thing he wants most of all.

Return to Tess Thompson’s beloved Cliffside Bay and discover for yourself why true love is built on honesty and trust, and why best friends often make the very best life partners, in this anonymous online romance set in your favorite charming small town.

Happy June!

Happy June!

I don’t know about you guys, but the spring flew by. My 16 year old daughter got her driver’s license in March and has already had her first fender bender in the high school parking lot. Sigh. This mothering of teenagers is no joke.

Bonus Son 2 just arrived home from college for summer break. I love having him home, not only because he fills the house with sunshine, but because he runs all kinds of errands for me. Bonus Son 1 just got a new job and will be continuing his college courses over the summer. My little one, Emerson, turned 13 last month. She is now officially a teenager. How did that happen? She’s excited to start another season of cheer in August. The summer vacations here in Washington are short, especially if you participate in a fall sport, as they start in the middle of August.

I’ve been busy working on several new projects, including the 7th Cliffside Bay book, “Healed: Stone and Pepper” as well as a Christmas authors for a promotion called “Christmas in July” with fourteen other small town romance authors. I’ll be sure to send a note out about that next month. All the novellas will be on sale for 99 cents and are similar to my tone and genre. Thus, it’s a great opportunity to find some new authors. My novella is about the wedding of Lisa and Rafael from the 6th Cliffside Bay novel, Missed. It’s set in Cliffside Bay, of course, but also Emerson Pass, Colorado, my new fictional town named after my second daughter. Speaking of which, did you know I named Cliffside Bay after my husband Cliff?

I’ve included the links to grab your preorder copy of “Healed: Stone and Pepper”. Order your copy now and it will magically appear in your ebook reader device on June 24th.

Best wishes for a wonderful rest of June. May it be filled with roses and sunshine and a good book!

Healed: Stone & Pepper arrives June 24th!!!

PREORDER NOW:

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2VoqFY1

Apple → https://apple.co/2JHsn4v

B&N → http://bit.ly/2YrHX8v

Kobo → http://bit.ly/2E68d0s

#Healed #StoneAndPepper #CliffsideBay

It’s Cliffside Bay and beyond in this heartwarming enemies-to-lovers romantic adventure from USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson.

Stone Hickman is the last of a dying breed. The former Marine believes in integrity, service to his country, a hard day’s work, and taking care of his loved ones. When he meets the clever Pepper Griffin, their obvious attraction has him ready to count the stunning beauty among the people that he cares for. But Pepper doesn’t share the instant connection. In fact, she wants nothing to do with him. And for honest, straightforward Stone, not knowing why only makes the rejection worse.

Pepper Griffin is the epitome of scrappy. For years she’s struggled to make acting her career without any help at all from her famous father. While she’s still accepting meager roles with little screen time, her best friend has steadily risen to the height of fame. To make matters worse, that very same friend is happily in love, newly engaged, and wants poor Pepper, whose love life is as sad and pathetic as her last film role, to serve as her maid-of-honor while Pepper’s enemy, Stone Hickman, is sure to be the groom’s best man.

Though Pepper despises the best man, she loves the bride-to-be more. To keep the peace, Pepper willingly includes Stone in the wedding planning process. When the unlikely pair find themselves stranded in a snowstorm while searching for the perfect venue, they’ll have to work together to survive the chill even if that means thawing Pepper’s heart.

 

Milestones

Last week my sixteen-year-old daughter got her driver’s license. She immediately went out that night to visit friends. I’m fairly certain I had a few more gray hairs by the time she arrived home. It’s such a rite of passage for a young person. I remember being so excited the day I passed my test – a million years ago now. My dad told me driving was the ‘great freedom machine’. That stuck with me all these years, especially considering his mother never learned how to drive. She was always reliant upon others to take her places or do errands.

Having access to a car widens the possibilities for a young person. Which, as a mother, is terrifying. But as I’ve said before, parenting is just a continuous cycle of letting go. From the moment that precious baby is placed in your arms and the great love of your life takes hold of your heart is the moment you’re forced to begin the process of letting go. We must let them become a person, separate from us. We know this. Yet, it’s hard. And scary. Life moves forward, always. So, we adjust to a new normal and pray for our children to be safe.

Speaking of milestones, last week was the eighth anniversary of the publication of my first novel, Riversong. The last eight years have been a wild ride of ups and downs. My initial publisher closed their doors after publishing eight of my books. (Weird about the number 8 so often showing up!) After getting my rights back to those first eight books, I decided to self-publish and haven’t looked back since. Now, at 20 novels and 3 novellas, it feels like I sort of know what I’m doing. Still, I’m nervous for every release, always striving to be a little better with each project.

My latest release is Cliffside Bay Christmas. It’s a novella that’s meant to be read between Tainted: Lance and Mary and Missed: Rafael and Lisa. I just had to tell the stories of the two Christmas babies born to Honor and Zane and Kara and Brody. It was such a joy to write that I’ve decided to write another one to celebrate a wedding. Stay tuned for that…

Anyway, I hope May brings sunshine and lots of flowers to your world. I’m wrapping up the final draft of Healed: Stone and Pepper and enjoying the beginning of spring here in Seattle. The yard we tore apart and replanted last year at this time is starting to bud and sprout outside my office window. My cats are basking in the pools of sunshine coming through the windows today. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we’re like moles crawling out of our holes, squinting into the sunlight and wondering what is that strange yellow ball in the sky?

Happy spring and much love. Xo

Tess

Photo by Logan Fisher on Unsplash

Missed: Rafael and Lisa

Same charming small town.
Brand new heartwarming characters!

Missed: Rafael & Lisa by USA Today bestseller Tess Thompson arrives on March 24th.
DON'T MISS IT - RESERVE A COPY TODAY:

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2WZWGrn
Apple → https://apple.co/2X9TEB4
Kobo → http://bit.ly/2HSrB5j
Nook → http://bit.ly/2SrHhAK

BLURB:
Return to the beloved beach town of Cliffside Bay, where USA Today bestseller Tess Thompson spins another emotional, intriguing tale about overcoming adversity and finding strength in love in this standalone story about Lisa and Rafael.
After years of struggling as a starving actor, Lisa Perry's dreams are finally coming true. Splitting her time between Los Angeles and Cliffside Bay, the young beauty has a successful television miniseries, her first movie role, and quality time with her best friends Maggie and Pepper. Everything is coming up roses until a single tragic moment changes Lisa forever.
Haunted by unshakable memories and near-crippling anxiety, Lisa must face a publicity tour full of crowds and interviews in order to move her budding career forward. And with the help of Rafael Soto, the head of security for Brody and Kara Mullen, she finally begins to relax. Though the pair are as different as night and day, something about her temporary bodyguard soothes the young actress, and soon their relationship turns from professional to passionate.
But what neither anticipates is that despite the obvious threats to a beautiful ingenue, it's actually her protector who stands in harm's way. Will Lisa and Rafael be able to face the danger awaiting him together, or are they destined to accept yet another tragedy they can't stop?
USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson welcomes you back to Cliffside Bay to explore the rich, heartwarming stories of the characters who brightened the original five novels in the series. Each book in the Cliffside Bay Series is intended to be read and enjoyed as a sweet standalone, but for maximum enjoyment read this binge-worthy series in order.

Missed: Rafael and Lisa

Same charming small town.
Brand new heartwarming characters!

Missed: Rafael & Lisa by USA Today bestseller Tess Thompson arrives on March 24th.
DON’T MISS IT – RESERVE A COPY TODAY:

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2WZWGrn
Apple → https://apple.co/2X9TEB4
Kobo → http://bit.ly/2HSrB5j
Nook → http://bit.ly/2SrHhAK

BLURB:
Return to the beloved beach town of Cliffside Bay, where USA Today bestseller Tess Thompson spins another emotional, intriguing tale about overcoming adversity and finding strength in love in this standalone story about Lisa and Rafael.
After years of struggling as a starving actor, Lisa Perry’s dreams are finally coming true. Splitting her time between Los Angeles and Cliffside Bay, the young beauty has a successful television miniseries, her first movie role, and quality time with her best friends Maggie and Pepper. Everything is coming up roses until a single tragic moment changes Lisa forever.
Haunted by unshakable memories and near-crippling anxiety, Lisa must face a publicity tour full of crowds and interviews in order to move her budding career forward. And with the help of Rafael Soto, the head of security for Brody and Kara Mullen, she finally begins to relax. Though the pair are as different as night and day, something about her temporary bodyguard soothes the young actress, and soon their relationship turns from professional to passionate.
But what neither anticipates is that despite the obvious threats to a beautiful ingenue, it’s actually her protector who stands in harm’s way. Will Lisa and Rafael be able to face the danger awaiting him together, or are they destined to accept yet another tragedy they can’t stop?
USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson welcomes you back to Cliffside Bay to explore the rich, heartwarming stories of the characters who brightened the original five novels in the series. Each book in the Cliffside Bay Series is intended to be read and enjoyed as a sweet standalone, but for maximum enjoyment read this binge-worthy series in order.