Barbara Edwards's Blog, page 27

Follow up on my political turn

Actually helping on a political campaign was a leap for me. I didn’t know what to expect. I did ask to be there when the candidate arrived to give a speech.All research is grist for the writing mill.

Barbara And Senator Lowell Weicker at the Terryville Fair

Talk about weird. Me, not the candidate. What do you wear to a rally? Dress up? Dress down? What if someone takes my picture? I finally decided comfort came first. The temperature was hitting the high eighties, so khaki slacks and a summer top was my final choice.

The election headquarters is in a former storefront. The furnishings had been removed and tables and chairs installed. A large display of political paraphernalia was displayed near the door. Bumper stickers in two sizes, pens or pencils, tee shirts bold printed with the candidates name were being handed out and worn by the volunteers. There went my concern about what to wear. The pretty blue shirt is in my favorite color.

I was greeted by several people upon arrival and shooed to the tables. My help was needed on the phones. Haha. The phones reminded me of the computer named Hal, all lights and buttons. Did they know what they were doing asking me to use a machine? I looked at the elderly lady sitting across from me. She was certainly ninety and diligently pressing buttons.

I closed my eyes, sent up a prayer and started. First record a message to leave if no-one answers. I did get a few actual people. Half didn’t want to answer a few questions about what is important to them. Half were supporters or interested in knowing more.

I watched the others. Here was my biggest surprise. The group was almost a reflection of the population of our country. Young, old, male, female, ethnic groups and experience were all involved. If I tell you what they talked about you’ll instantly know who I support. I was so impressed by the college students who knew the issues and ready to work hard to get them implemented.

After my hand got numb from dialing, the candidate arrived to give a pep talk and shake hands. I watched this savvy person circle the room. Every person received attention. I was impressed. Not a plastic or fake reaction to the people who worked.

I shook hands and made a couple dumb remarks. A winning smile and thanks for my support made me glad I went.  I’d do it again.

Visit my website www.barbaraedwards.net

Filed under: writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, bumper stickers, election headquarters, lowell weicker, politics

Is arguing about politics a waste of time? by Barbara Edwards

So maybe my title is a tad misleading. When I decided arguing about politics made me angry and didn’t affect the big picture, I decided to try “Another Adventure.” (I always use the reasoning that any new knowledge is ‘grist for the mill.”)

I leaped blindly into the political area. Well, maybe put in a toe in some very turbulent waters is a better description. I know who I’d like to have elected. So I volunteered to help.

Working as a volunteer for a politician is uncharted waters for me.  I’m a registered voter and I consistently vote in every election. I like to argue about political topics. I have a lot of opinions that disagree with a number of family and friends.  I once ran for local office and lost, sooo….

Why am I volunteering?

I hate the way the politics have taken over the news. Years ago the Presidential election started after the National Conventions. Voters had four to six weeks of bombardment and argument.  It got hot, but it was over and the new guy (or girl?) took over. Now the news builds hate and resentment against every candidate and I don’t like it.

I’m obsessive about following issues I regard as important. Did you notice I’m keeping this in a general context? I don’t want to get into an argument with you. I’m sharing how I feel and hope it chimes a chord with you.

I’m helping at a rally. Helpers do lots of stuff. Wear a hat with the candidate’s name. Cheer during the speech. Actually meet the candidate and find out if all those pretty words mean anything. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. I’m too good a writer to be taken in by empty phrases.

My husband and I are debating a yard sign. He says no because the neighbors are the other party. I say yes because I care about who wins. I winced when I overheard someone say their grandchildren will not have the kind of life we enjoyed.

I believe in the United States of America, The Bill of Rights, The Constitution and the power of the people to control our nation’s future.

Are you doing anything positive?

Check my website for excerpts: www.barbaraedwards.net

Filed under: history, writing Tagged: adventure, Barbara Edwards,, current-events, politics

Every family is dysfunctional.

Every family is dysfunctional. That’s my opinion after becoming a die-hard people watcher. How do you measure the odd behavior of people, especially behind closed doors.

I recently remarked on my feelings and got an argument from a close friend who declares her family is normal. There is nothing remarkable about anyone in her large family. Of course, you have to eliminate the aunts who didn’t talk for years but have since made-up. The drug-addict cousins don’t  count either since they went on the wagon with the alcoholic uncle who beat his first and second wife until they divorced him. No-one is in jail right now either.

Are you laughing? I did bite back a smile and nod in agreement since I like her.

My own family is a prime example of ‘normal’. No-one aired dirty linen in public when I was growing up. The heavily drinking uncles who had a mean streak after too many, the aunt who divorced four husbands, the cousin who stole a car or the pregnant fifteen year old all were kept in the family closet.

Now people publish all this stuff on FaceBook or MySpace without a qualm and others read it and accept the dysfunction as regular business.

Why do I care? I guess I want to understand. Why does an abused wife stay with that creep? Why does a person choose to get lost in drugs? Or the opposite: why does an addict decide a sober life is worth fighting for?

Every action needs to make sense to me. That comes from plotting and writing stories about people.  My hero has a reason for loving to run. My heroine has a reason to be afraid of being followed. So I study those around me. I take that tiny scrap of over-heard conversation and build a whole background for the speaker.

Do I use what I learn? Gosh, I wish I could but so much is a tiny fragment of the puzzle. Do you see the hidden parts of those around you?

Visit my website: www.barbaraedwards.net

Http://shelfari.com/authorbarbara_edw...

http://amazon.com/author/barbaraedward

http://www.Facebook.com/BarbaraEdward...

In Ancient Awakening, Police Officer ‘Mel’ Petersen investigates a death only she believes is murder. By disobeying direct orders from the Rhodes End Chief, she risks her career to follow clues that twist in circles to her backyard and lead the killer to her.

Ancient Awakening

Her neighbor Stephen Zoriak is a prime suspect. Steve worked for a major pharmaceutical company where he discovered a weapon so dangerous he destroys the research. He is exposed to the dangerous organism. He suspects he is the killer and agrees to help her find the truth.

In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.

Excerpt:

“Don’t touch me, Mel, not unless you’re willing to do a lot more,” he warned as her hazel eyes flared golden.

“Don’t threaten me, Steve. You’re…”

He pulled her into his arms despite the alarm bells clanging in his head.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

Her widened eyes met his. Mel’s hands were trapped against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.

Her mistake. His mistake was to crush her mouth under his.

Mel’s soft lips parted. Need exploded. The taste of black coffee didn’t hide her sweet flavor. As her tongue tangled with his, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers burrowed through his hair.

Steve hungered to peel the starched shirt off her soft shoulders, lay her on the thick turf and ease his desire. He tasted her brows, her cheek, along her throat, seeking the source of her call. Her pulse whipped under his mouth, awakening another need.

His teeth gently closed on the vulnerable vein.

He wanted, wanted, wanted…

Cold alarm chilled his pounding blood.

Steve gasped for air. He’d forgotten his own ironclad rule. Mel’s eyelids flittered open to reveal the molten glow of desire but he forced himself free.

He had no right to touch any woman. Not until he knew he hadn’t become what he had set out to destroy.

Barbara Edwards

The Wild Rose Press: Ancient Awakening, a Black Rose

www.barbaraedwards.net

Available on Kindle

Filed under: family and friends, writing Tagged: Ancient Awakening, Ancient Blood, Barbara Edwards,, dysfunctional family

Building readership following

Annie’s Heart

When I wrote my first book I didn’t even know about readers. I wasn’t worried about those vague future participants in my success. I wasn’t thinking in terms of number of books sold, but in getting the darn thing written and published. I spent months writing my manuscript.

Then I put my hours into finding a publisher. When I say hours I mean hundreds of hours before the call came.

Whoopee! Someone out there thought my book worth putting on the market.

Then came the edits. Oh boy, who knew that that wonderful person who loved my story was so picky? My editor wanted the grammar correct, the plot to flow smoothly, the characters to be consistent, the dialogue to make sense. More months spent on rewrites and edits.

All of this is to please the reader. And I thought my book was perfect when the editor offered a contract.

To get to the point: readers.

Another Love

Readers buy books. Since my book is so good, I knew it will fly out the door. Hah. A few friends bought it. A few more read the great reviews and bought it. Then nada. I did book signings and sold more. Sold a bunch at the Romantic Times convention.

I needed a way to reach readers. The next move was a website, only someone had my name on hers. Turns out she was an exotic dancer. Sigh. Didn’t exactly drive readers to my site. I added free reads and buy links. I persisted since all my friends and family owned a copy and I really needed to find more.

For a time I became lost in the world of cyber promotion. Do you realize how much time you can waste on the web? That writing time is lost forever when it could be used on the next book instead.

Ancient Awakening

I went on FaceBook, Yahoo groups, Goodreads, Shelfari, Twitter, posting my profile and book information everywhere I could find. Sales hiccup with each action.

Then I had the AHAH moment. Another author said, you need to write more books. Each book adds more readers. It’s called a geometric progression in fancy language.

This was what I really wanted to hear. Write, write, write. So I wrote and published several more books. The giant leap didn’t happen. A steady climb, but not huge.

The point is still readers. My publishers are great, supportive and helpful, but they can’t add readers. I get my name out there.

Ancient Blood,

A part of me is still the hermit writer huddled over my laptop, but another part is the media mogul spending part of each day inviting readers to learn more about me, like what they learn and be interested enough to buy my books.

 

Visit me at: http://www.barbaraedwards.net

Facebook: http://facebook.com/BarbaraEdwards

Ancient Blood http://on.fb.me/naHRY5

Twitter: http://twitter.com/barb_ed

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/barbaraedward

Filed under: My Books, My Favorite Books, writing Tagged: Ancient Awakening, Ancient Blood, Annie's Heart, Another Love, Barbara Edwards,, writing

Funerals and Superstition by Barbara Edwards

The older I get the more I think about death. I read the obituaries with interest. Not to find names for my characters, but to see if anyone I know is listed. Did you ever hear the joke about knowing you’re not dead if you don’t see your name?

I’m not babbling. Making a joke is one way to deal with grief and stress. I don’t like funerals.

Old cemetery

They remind me too vividly of the loved ones I’ve lost. They happen all too frequently when you have a large family.

Funerals rites are based on superstitions. You wouldn’t know it to attend one of the hush-voiced solemn visiting hours the modern American thinks is normal. Sitting around the casket comes from the practice of attending the dead until they could be interred. The body was never left alone. What if the dead person wasn’t dead? Someone prayed and watched since being buried alive was a real fear in the days before adequate medical aid.

Did you ever notice the big double doors on many old houses? That was to carry out the coffin, throwing wide both doors. At no other time were they both opened because the departed spirit could return only through the way it left.

How about the mourners eating together after the burial? That was based on the belief every morsel eaten was taking away the departed’s sins. Some cultures paid poor people to come and eat at a banquet since the sin was absorbed by the consumer.

Paranormal romance by Barbara Edwards

Wailing and weeping loudly is to frighten away evil spirits that might trap the departed soul. The more primitive the culture, the louder the cries. In many Middle Eastern countries, they hire professional mourners to cry and weep.

How about that beautifully carved tombstone? It was heavy enough to hold a restless spirit in its grave.

I wonder how many superstitions I’ve forgotten? Do you know any?

Visit my website at http://www.barbaraedwards.net for excerpts from my books, buy links and free reads.

 

Filed under: history, writing Tagged: Barb, Barbara Edwards,, funerals, spirituality, superstition

On the Road- Again- by Barbara Edwards

Sunrise at Sugar Hill

The plan is to spend time at St George’s Island State Campground as a host couple. The best laid plans get thrown into the trash fairly often.

The phone call came. A close relative is dying. Come home.

So here we are packing away all the things we’d arranged for our comfort in the Florida heat. The screened room is down. The chairs packed, along with the

The pond through the trees

small grill and the folding table. I’m so disappointed that we have to leave early. Family come first, though.

I admit I wasn’t sure about volunteering during the increasing heat, but what the hey? I’ll try anything within reason.

The worse day was 94 degrees and high humidity, so we took it easy until the late afternoon.   Between us, we found the weather was bearable as long as we paced ourselves.

I had another trip out at dawn to hunt for turtle nests. This time was different with swarms of flies driving us crazy as we drove the beach. It was another adventure I want to repeat.

The campground is between the bay and the Gulf,

Rattlesnake Bay, great fishing

within easy walking. The fishing is wonderful. Or so I’ve been told by the fishermen who take poles, nets, coolers on a cute wheeled cart and haul everything with them.

The wonderful Loggerhead Turtle pictures the Ranger took and  shared for the other morning are for another time.

I took pictures at dawn and dusk. Of the birds. Of the soaring clouds before a local storm. And I love being here.

Sunset over the dunes

We’re already planning the return trip. We’ll be armed with more bug repellent, a bigger fan and a television antenna that gets the channels.

Visit my website at http://www.barbaraedwards.net for buy links for my books

 

Filed under: Camping, family and friends Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, Fishing, St George Island State Campground

Memorial Day is for every soldier by Barbara Edwards

Minute Man National Park

Memorial Day is for every soldier in every conflict. I feel so strongly I am reblogging this post from my Memorial Day blog on Roses of Prose.

Memorial Day’s about more than parades, red poppies and barbeques.  Memorial Day honors sacrifice.

So visiting the Minute Man National Park in Lexington-Concord Massachusetts has special meaning.

The shot heard around the world happened in a tiny village where a handful of men gave to the 350 million Americans alive today their freedom. As I walked their path, my heart

Minute Man Statue, with my husband Bill

was in my throat. We don’t appreciate the struggle they endured. They lost their farms and businesses, their men died.

The area is charming with a few period houses still open. The park has two visitors’ centers and interpretive guides dressed in period attire. The path followed by those resolute men goes for

Interpretive guide

miles. I’m going back with my younger grandchildren. I want them to know where they got their freedom.

Would you be willing to sacrifice so much? I hope I would.

I came from a family that fought. My Father’s and Mother’s brothers (seven in total) all went overseas in World War Two. They marched through France and Italy, North Africa, Japan and the Pacific Islands. They serve on ships.  My Father built ships at the Brooklyn Navy Yards. My Aunt Edna was a riveter putting airplane wings together.

Barbara Edwards at monument

My daughter and her husband served in the United States Army. Two of my sons and a daughter-in-law served in the United States Navy. Just their service adds to more than 100 years. My grandson and granddaughter are in the Navy with number three in the early enlistment program for next September.

I am the grandchild of emigrants. My family appreciates the freedoms here. All four escaped the religious suppression, forced military service and virtual slavery of a serf type life. I love this country.

The shot heard around the world

My husband’s family has been here since the 1600s. One of his ancestors joined the Minutemen. A company of armed men journeyed overland from New Haven, Connecticut to Lexington in two days, an incredible feat.

My eyes fill with tears as I picture their hardships. It was all for my family and me.

Take the time to visit the park. Walk where they marched and died. Listen to the lectures and learn why you enjoy the freedom you do.

Salute the flag and stand during the National Anthem.

Put flowers on the grave of a soldier on Memorial Day.

Say “Thank You” to our military.

And register to vote. Use the greatest privilege they sacrificed for: Vote for a free and responsible government.

Visit my website at http://www.barbaraedwards.net

Filed under: history, writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, Memorial Day, Minute Man National Park, salute to soldiers

Turtle Patrol on St George Island by Barbara Edwards

The turtle patrol goes out at dawn. Not a bad time to hit the white sand beach. I checked my alarm clock several times during the night. I didn’t want to oversleep and miss this opportunity. Not everyone can go on patrol, but I’m a volunteer on St George Island State Park and allowed.

The birds fly low over the water and the sand as our four-wheel drive gator crosses the beach. We need to stay close to the water’s edge so the tide wipes away the tracks, but at times the trash left by inconsiderate tourists has us crossing close to the dunes. Another duty for the volunteers is keeping the area clean.

Loggerhead turtle tracks

The turtle expert is explaining to me what to look for, but I’m too excited to listen. She’s attended hours of class and been certified to hunt and mark turtle nests.

We’ll be checking over nine miles of beach for the turtles. The first tracks we find circle erratically, not normal unless the turtle is disturbed. Then we find someone’s sandle prints and  paw-prints from a large dog. Someone took his dog for a walk after dark where he’s not allowed and it harassed the Loggerhead Turtle.

We still need to check for eggs. A nest can contain from one to one hundred and fifty

looking for predator tracks

eggs. Maybe it didn’t lay, but if it did the nest needs to be covered with screen to thwart predators and posted with warnings.

We kneel in the sand and poke our hands into the sand. It is hard a couple inches down if it’s undisturbed. A soft place indicates the turtle dug down to deposit eggs. And there is a distinct odor from the turtle’s body fluids. After searching for an hour, we write-up a report that we didn’t find eggs, then the hunter notices a dead weed and swarming flies. Determined to be sure, she digs again. She finds the

finding the eggs

nest underneath and carefully shows me the golf-ball sized eggs. I am thrilled.

We cover the nest and move on.  Another track crosses to the dunes. An experienced ranger claims that nests in the dunes indicate a rough hurricane season ahead. The turtles instinctively shelter their eggs.

The second nest is covered and marked and we continue down the beach. Last year there were forty nine nests on this section of St George Island beach. This year we’ve found a Green Turtle nest along with the Loggerheads.

Verifying the eggs are there

I spot a shell and stop to pick it up. A sunray is pretty and a keeper.

We don’t go shelling since it’s not allowed with a gator, but the trip itself has been an adventure.

I told my guide I’d love to do it again. Maybe after the fifty-five to seventy days it takes for the baby turtles to hatch.

Marked nest

Watching the tiny turtles head for the open water under the moon must be worth staying up all night.

Visit my website at http://www. barbaraedwards.net

St George Island beach

 

Filed under: Camping, writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards. Loggerhead Turtles, St George Island State Campground

Writing is a Lonely Profession

Welcome to my slant on what it means to be an author.

Writing is a lonely profession.

I sit for hours in front of my computer with the only company the people who populate my head.

Even when I’m with others my thoughts are concentrated on my plot, a turning point, a pivotal scene or black moment.

No one understands like another author.

So here is my transition to why I’m blogging today.

MFRW, a supportive group of authors is offering the opportunity to join.

Opportunity Knocks at Marketing For Romance Writers Summer Camp. Open the door to our MOTTO: SEEK, TEACH, LEARN, SHARE, SUCCEED.

Marketing for Romance Writers Summer Camp is July 14th – July 15th. To receive updates for the camp or learn more about it and MFRW, please sign up here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MarketingForRomanceWriters/

I’ve taken the MFRW classes on using Twitter, Facebook and Triberr with great success. I enjoy the interchange of information with fellow writers. Questions get asked and answered. The list of shared information goes on and on. The best part is that it’s other authors sharing what they’ve learned.

I’ve found a hundred plus friends who cry with me, laugh with me and celebrate with a glass of cyber champagne at success.

I’m Barbara Edwards. I write paranormal romance for The Wild Rose Press and Historical Romance with WingsEpress.  My stories are dark and edgy. My heroes have something broken, either their spirit or an important aspect of their lives. Meeting the heroine sets them on the path to healing.  All of my heroines are independent, stubborn women. Life has handed them problems that they face with resolution, intelligent, and love.

In Ancient Awakening, Police Officer ‘Mel’ Petersen investigates a death only she believes is murder. By disobeying direct orders from the Rhodes End Chief, she risks her career to follow clues that twist in circles to her backyard and lead the killer to her.

Her neighbor Stephen Zoriak is a prime suspect. Steve worked for a major pharmaceutical company where he discovered a weapon so dangerous he destroys the research. He is exposed to the dangerous organism. He suspects he is the killer and agrees to help her find the truth.

In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.

Excerpt:

“Don’t touch me, Mel, not unless you’re willing to do a lot more,” he warned as her hazel eyes flared golden.

“Don’t threaten me, Steve. You’re…”

He pulled her into his arms despite the alarm bells clanging in his head.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

Her widened eyes met his. Mel’s hands were trapped against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.

Her mistake. His mistake was to crush her mouth under his.

Mel’s soft lips parted. Need exploded. The taste of black coffee didn’t hide her sweet flavor. As her tongue tangled with his, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers burrowed through his hair.

Steve hungered to peel the starched shirt off her soft shoulders, lay her on the thick turf and ease his desire. He tasted her brows, her cheek, along her throat, seeking the source of her call. Her pulse whipped under his mouth, awakening another need.

His teeth gently closed on the vulnerable vein.

He wanted, wanted, wanted…

Cold alarm chilled his pounding blood.

Steve gasped for air. He’d forgotten his own ironclad rule. Mel’s eyelids flittered open to reveal the molten glow of desire but he forced himself free.

He had no right to touch any woman. Not until he knew he hadn’t become what he had set out to destroy.

Barbara Edwards

www.barbaraedwards.net

Available on Kindle

Author Website: http://www.barbaraedwards.net

Blog Site: http://barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://facebook.com/BarbaraEdwards

Twitter: http://twitter.com/barb_ed

Authors Den: http://authorsden.com/barbaraedwards

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/barbaraedwards

Buy hyperlink Ancient Awakening http://www.wildrosepress.us/maincatalog/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_136&products_id=4511

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002TG4NFG

Buy hyperlink Ancient Blood http://www.wildrosepress.us/maincatalog/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_136&products_id=4511

Opportunity Knocks at Marketing For Romance Writers Summer Camp. Open the door to: SEEK, TEACH, LEARN, SHARE, SUCCEED…and discover MFRW’S MOTTO of Achievement.

Filed under: writing Tagged: Ancient Awakening, Barbara Edwards,, MRFW, summer Camp

What IS That on The Roof? By Barbara Edwards

 

The camper is set-up, the screen-room ready, the folding chairs and tables arranged for watching the world go by on St George Island State Campground. I’m putting away the stuff in the kitchen when my husband calls me.

“Com’on out and see this.” Knowing the drill, I grab my camera and tiptoe outside. He laughs and points at the camper’s roof. At first I didn’t see it. Then, “What is that on the roof?” I exclaim.

St George Island is five miles into the Gulf of Mexico across a long causeway.  It’s one of the major stops for migratory birds and has one of the top ten rated beaches in the United States. So birds are common. I saw a bald eagle on a telephone pole. An albatross winged alongside the car during our trip over the causeway and miles of dunes are fenced to keep the nesting birds safe.

I’m not a birdwatcher. I can identify the common birds like cardinals and crows. The rest are just pretty objects to watch. I have several Audubon bird identity books and we looked up the visitor.  An egret sat on my roof.

“Glad it’s not a stork making a delivery,” he quips with a wink. Did I mention he thinks he’s a comedian? See photo of crab? 

The next day I saw the egret in the next campsite and wondered if it was lost or hunting. For many years egrets were hunted almost to extinction for their curly feathers. Turns out it was hunting. I knew they ate frogs and fish. I learned they also will snatch a swamp rat from the md and eat it. That time I didn’t have my camera.

So what does St George Island have to do with my writing? I’m planning on sitting in the screen room and finishing my next book.

Visit me at http://www.barbaraedwards.net

 

 

Filed under: Camping, My Books, writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, egret, St George Island State Campground