Stephanie Verni's Blog, page 14

Finding Italy…and Paris

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Italy.

I’ve never been to Paris.

The closest I came to speaking French in another country was a visit to Quebec when I was in 7th grade.

I began taking French classes that year—in 7th grade. Later, in high school, Mademoiselle Hammerstrom had our class read Les Misérables in French. In college, I took French classes as well.

Last week, my husband and I started watching Stanley Tucci’s program Searching for Italy. My passport is updated and I’m ready to go. When it’s safe to travel again, I need to go to both of these countries. I make my father-in-law laugh when I tell him I’ve got to get to Italy to “be with my people.”

It is funny, but it’s also somewhat true.

Italians know how to live, and sometimes I think we forget here. Always so focused on work, work, work, sometimes we forget to live, live, live. I saw this first-hand as my husband and I sat in Florence and watched shops close up for lunch as we vacationed in Italy for two weeks. At the time, the two of us were working crazy hours, and it struck me—what he hell are we doing to ourselves working the way that we do? We needed to stop and smell the roses, drink wine, enjoy people, and enjoy food. Even to this day, my husband and I work a lot.

It’s one of the reasons we got a boat last summer. To live a little.

But, back to Italy.

When Tucci made that homemade Italian red sauce (or as Italians like to call it, gravy) stating it only took four ingredients, I have decided to try it as well. In fact, I’d like to try to make almost everything that Tucci tasted or ate on that show, a show that showcases food in the 20 regions of Italy. He’s visited some of the regions so far, but there are many more regions to come.

As for France, the pull to see Paris, Provence, and Normandy is strong. My husband wants to go to the beaches of Normandy as he loves to learn about World War II history. I want to stroll the streets of Paris, taste wine in Provence, and see the lights of the Eiffel Tower.

I think all of this lockdown and being cooped up has reignited the travel bug in me—in both of us, really. We find ourselves talking about traveling and reminiscing on past trips a lot these days.

Teaching a travel writing class (and travel writing as a part of feature writing, as well), has sparked the fire, and it’s worse than ever before. So often, the sights are wonderful to see, but some of our best memories of our travels come from people we’ve met along the way, dined with unexpectedly, met from places all over the world, or found through our travels.

We all know envy is one the seven deadly sins, and I know it’s true, but I’d like to be Stanley Tucci just for one region. He can have the other 19.

Well, it’s been a while…

Hello, there!

I’ve been absent here for quite some time, and you may notice some changes.

After 10 years of blogging, I have changed the name of the blog to reflect my author name. I thought it was about time. Nevertheless, taking a step away from blogging these past few months has been very good for me. I’ve revamped and recalibrated and have been able to focus on writing my books, as I’ve just finished writing and am now editing my fifth novel, tentatively called The Letters in the Books. Probably my most challenging story to tell thus far, it focuses on four main characters who are down on their luck and an empath who pulls them all together. The novel is set entirely in Annapolis, and as you can probably imagine, I’m pretty excited to get it out there in your hands.

In late January, early February, both my husband and I became ill with the virus. We recovered pretty quickly, and actually worked throughout our illnesses at home. Since we are both working remotely, we were able to take good care of ourselves and got through it.

Teaching my college classes from home has had its pluses and minuses, but I can sincerely tell you that I miss seeing the students in person. In the fall, I will be back on campus for three of my four classes.

During this time, I’ve also joined a writer’s group, and am incredibly happy to be a member of it. There are five of us in total, and we all write romance/contemporary fiction, so working with them and reading their work has been a pleasure. I love connecting with other writers and seeing how they work and what motivates them. Additionally, we are all going to contribute to an anthology of stories that will come out in early 2022. I’m writing a short story, and am already 6,000+ words into what may end up being a 15,000-20,000 word contribution to that collection.

Last weekend, my husband and I took a trip to Boonsboro, where prolific romance/mystery writer Nora Roberts lives. She has invested so much into the town of Boonsboro, and she and her husband own the Inn BoonsBoro, the gift shop, the bookstore, the gym in town, and her sons own the two restaurants. I’ll fill you in more about it after the piece I wrote about it is published in a local publication.

So, you can see, I’ve had a long hiatus, but how are you all doing? What’s been filling your time during this pandemic? I’ll have to share a piece soon about all the television shows my husband and I have watched that we’ve enjoyed. One thing’s for sure: the pandemic surely has made for convenient “together time,” has it not?

Be well, and I’ll write soon,

Stephanie

Short Stories Can Lead to Bigger Creative Endeavors

When I first began this humble writing journey of mine, I started by writing short stories. I’d sit in my high school classes and write stories instead of paying closer attention to my teachers (sorry, Mom and Dad, I probably could have brought home some better grades, especially in Geometry). Something happened to me when I wrote stories—it gave me such a sense of pleasure and accomplishment in ways that I didn’t feel in other endeavors. Even if I just shared the stories with close friends, I enjoyed hearing what they had to say about the little fictions I was telling and to see if they enjoyed reading them.

This is an actual page of my first short story with this doodle on it that I wrote in class. I’m so glad I saved it. I look at it when I’m feeling down about writing, and it gets me motivated straight away!

All these years later, and after deciding to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing in Fiction several years ago, I’m still at it. I haven’t had commercial success with my books, just a little bit of local success, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t stopped trying. With five fiction books under my belt at this point and a new novel almost completed and ready to shop around to see if any agents bite, I love the whole process too much to let go of any it just yet.

Those short stories have often led me to write longer works. My first novel, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, grew out of a short story I wrote during a creative fiction class while I pursued my first master’s degree in professional writing. I had taken the class as an elective—thank goodness. My late professor, Dr. George Friedman, returned the short story I had written, marked up and with a grade on it, but said these words to me that I never forgot: “I think you have a novel here.” That short story, initially called Contelli’s Mimosa, became Beneath the Mimosa Tree, my first work of fiction. After 20 years of working and raising kids, I finally got off my duff and wrote the novel as the thesis for my MFA and then turned it into a published work of fiction. Incidentally, I published the original short story, after making George’s edits, in my collection of short stories and poetry entitled The Postcard and Other Short Stories & Poetry.

As well, another short story featured in the collection, called Life with Nan, became a full-fledged novel called Little Milestones. While I changed the setting from the Cotswolds in the U.K., I moved it more locally to St. Michaels, Maryland, and piggy-backed the story onto a previous novel I wrote called Inn Significant. When I heard readers asking me if there would be a sequel to Inn Significant, I decided to turn Life with Nan into less of a sequel, but more of a continuation, by bringing in new characters, but also by bringing back some of the characters from Inn Significant. It was simple: I couldn’t get the characters in Life with Nan out of my head. They had to go somewhere, and so they safely landed in Little Milestones.

The point of me telling you these particular experiences is because you truly never know what will happen with your writing if you don’t give it a try. Starting with short stories CAN lead to bigger things. Or, as many of the characters in my short stories can attest, they are happy just living on the pages of a shorter tale. Some, however, are clamoring to be more fully developed into a novel. Either way, the important thing is to tap into your creativity and let it tell you where it wants to go.

It will find its way.

*

Stephanie Verni is the author of five works of fiction: Beneath the Mimosa Tree, Baseball Girl, Inn Significant, Little Milestones, and a collection of short stories and poetry called The Postcard. She is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice. Visit her Amazon Author Page by clicking here.

Show recommendations to binge-watch

Let me first start this blog post by saying this:

It doesn’t matter if you know all the characters depicted in the writings of Charles Dickens; it doesn’t matter if you like or have ever played chess; and it doesn’t matter if you’ve ever worked in a senior facility. The shows I’m about to recommend to you are all wonderful distractions during our ongoing lockdowns.

First up, DICKENSIAN.

Available on Amazon Prime, Dickensian is a wonderfully done “who done it” romp through Dickens’ London as the characters from all of his books come alive as they cross paths and interconnect in this 10-part series. The biggest complaint I have about this series is that there wasn’t a Season 2. So much more storytelling could have occurred after the last episode. Getting the ability to see the backstory of Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, the Barnaby sisters from Bleak House, and the Cratchitt’s and Ebenezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol, among other works by Dickens, was a treat. Meriwether Compeyson from Great Expectations is the perfect villain. Fagin from Oliver Twist is a little devil. Mrs. Cratchitt’s commitment to her husband and family are all told in this wonderful show that will surely take you away. The costumes and settings also put you there, and the acting is superb.

My favorite character was Detective Bucket (pictured in the forefront here, played by Stephen Rae), who has come into the fold to solve the crime of Jacob Marley’s murder. I bet you can’t guess who the murderer is…

Second up, THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT

Available on Netflix, over 62 million people have watched this seven-episode series about a girl who has an extraordinary gift—she is a chess-playing prodigy. Beth Harmon grows up in an orphanage/school and, through her connection with the school’s janitor, learns how to play chess. She astounds him, and things begin to happen. Simultaneously, she deals with a drug addiction that begins in the orphanage, and continues as she is adopted and into adulthood. It’s a unique story, and we see Beth grow and change, along with her chess playing. You won’t regret this one–the storyline, fantastic outfits that she wears as she grows and matures, and the set design are really wonderful.

Third up, DEREK.

As an American who ONLY watched the British version of The Office, written and created by Ricky Gervais, my husband and I decided to watch this show. It’s two seasons of total sweetness, raunchiness, raucousness, and just a good time, with sweet characters in funny situations centered in a senior care home. Derek, played by Gervais, is sort of a special guy – he’s a nerdy, quirky character, but the kindest person you’d ever want to meet. According to an interview with Gervais, he said that he’s the kind of person you just want to be friends with, and he had to make him a little nerdy so that he’s not too perfect. This show is touching in parts so much so that you may shed a tear. I loved it. It’s my favorite of all Gervais’ works to date.

Finally, all of these shows are very well written. The amount of research for Dickensian–to make it all work well–is astounding.

So, now that I’ve finished binge watching these shows, what have you got for me? Clearly, I’m up for something new, and the Game of Thrones prequel doesn’t come out until next year. I cannot wait for that.

What do you recommend?

***

Stephanie Verni is the author of five works of fiction: Beneath the Mimosa Tree, Baseball Girl, Inn Significant, Little Milestones, and a collection of short stories and poetry called The Postcard. She is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice. Visit her Amazon Author Page by clicking here.

Here’s Hoping for a Brighter 2021

Sneaking in a little editing to close out 2020.

Happy end of 2020 friends. Earlier, I went for a walk, cleared all the cobwebs of 2020 out of my brain as best as I could, and I’ve made room for more positivity in 2021. I’m not exactly sure there’s going to be a switch flipped and all will be normal starting tomorrow, but adjusting the mindset can be helpful. With what I’ve dealt with over the last three months, I’m hopeful that 2021 will bring some brightness.

I don’t know about you, but when I finish writing a novel, it’s tough to jump right in and begin the daunting task of editing and reworking the darn thing. I need to step away and miss the characters a little bit before I get back in there and perform literary surgery on them all. Dissecting each one takes time. With five narrators in this particular novel, it requires wearing different hats for each character (and you know my affinity for hats by now)! But really, taking a breather for a few days is important. Right now, I’m just rereading and editing the prologue, because it sets the tone for what comes afterwards, and it’s vitally important for me to get that just right.

I’ve also got a pretty sassy dress upstairs hanging on hangar with nowhere to go. We’ll be snuggled up here ringing in the New Year as we just started watching The Queen’s Gambit. Since over 62 million people have watched this series, I’m sure some of you have watched? What did you think? We’ve only just finished the first episode.

I hope you all are snuggled up and are warm and cozy as you ring in 2021. I will raise a glass of cheer to you all. Wishing you the brightest 2021 we can all possibly imagine.

XoXo
Stephanie

Ending 2020 with a Manuscript and Some Thoughts

Monday 12.28.2020

At 10:15 p.m., I finally finished the first draft of the manuscript of my new novel. I typed the words “THE END,” but as we all know, it’s the beginning. Of edits. Of rewrites. Of additions and subtractions. Maybe even a tantrum or two.

A Writer’s Muse: Annapolis

Hello, Readers!

Happy Holidays! I hope you are all doing well, despite our circumstances.

I’m writing to you today, on Friday, at the end of the semester. Yesterday, all my grades were entered, and the semester has officially ended. While it wasn’t a perfect semester, I believe the students and I got through most of the important material we needed to cover, and I’m excited for the spring semester.

Which leaves us with the space between now and when the semester begins in January for me to work on my novel.

I love that space when I get to write—to really write. It’s exciting to dive in and begin to comb through what’s there, what I like, what will go, and what is yet to come.

In order to get myself psyched up to continue writing this story that’s set in Annapolis, my hometown, once again, I figured it was important to get inspired. Some people utilize people as muses when they write. I seem to use a place. Annapolis is my muse. I have a pretty wild/vivid imagination as it is, so being able to imagine my characters in this city as the story unfolds is important to me. Plus, as I’ve mentioned before, I pride myself on writing fiction that feels as realistic as possible. As a reader, I enjoy the most realistic fiction I can dive into for pleasure.

So imagine, if you will, four people who are pretty down in the dumps. Each one has been through something tough—a breakup, two divorces, a problem with drinking too much and disappointing your family, and we have a cast of four characters who must overcome the depths of these doldrums when the story begins. Then, enter an empath who has some baggage of her own, but whose sole goal in life is to help others, and we have the makings of a story with a lot of possibilities.

That’s the story I’m writing.

Set in Annapolis.

And these are the photos I took last Sunday as I walked the streets and attempted to “hear” what my characters wanted me to know.

Writing requires you to be a good listener, no matter who the muse is.

***

Other Books by Stephanie Verni
Beneath the Mimosa Tree (2012); Baseball Girl (2015); Inn Significant (2017); The Postcard (2018); Little Milestones (2019)—All available on amazon.com and bn.com

Give the Gift of Books

If this year’s taught us anything, it’s that sometimes life throws us curve balls that are unforeseen. As we’ve all navigated this crazy 2020, sometimes the best remedy is to sink your teeth into a book that offers hope and positivity.

I thought I’d share the novels I’ve been writing and publishing since 2012. If you need a gift for a reader, my books are available on BN.com and amazon.com.

Here’s the list:
Beneath the Mimosa Tree (2012): Can two friends who turn into lovers find forgiveness 10 years after one of them makes a mistake?
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Baseball Girl (2015): After losing her father, a woman secures a job working in professional baseball when she meets a ballplayer and a sports writer, and learns to open her heart to love again.
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Inn Significant (2017): After the loss of her young husband, a woman moves to a small town to run her parents’ inn, as she begins to cope and recover from loss and depression.
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Little Milestones (2019): The follow-up novel to Inn Significant—a woman moves from New York City to a small town to live with her grandmother, and meets a cast of characters from Inn Significant as she attempts to start over.
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The Postcard (2018): A collection of short stories & poetry written over the course of 20 years, focusing on love, friendship, family, and forgiveness.
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Thanks for considering one of my books!

One of My Favorite Scenes

[image error]This scene takes place in Annapolis…the neighborhood where I set the novel is across the Severn River from the Naval Academy — Pendennis Mount. It’s a lovely neighborhood.

***

I’ve been decorating a little bit today for the holidays. I’m feeling terrible, still trying to deal with a chronic health issue, but I’m trying to remain positive and optimistic. Evert time I break out my Christmas decorations, I always think about a particular scene in my first novel, Beneath the Mimosa Tree.

The scene unfolds at the holidays after ten years, when two former lovers and next door neighbors are reunited. After years of not speaking and feeling anger and guilt over a mistake that was made, the two come face-to-face in the driveway as Annabelle and her family return from getting a Christmas tree. Michael, home from London, is staying with his parents next door and sees them struggling with the tree. He comes over to help, and this is the scene that unfolds.

It took me many, many tries to get this scene just the way I wanted it. As well, when you carry around a story for a novel for 20 years in your head before you write it, you want to write it the right way and do it justice.

Michael and Annabelle are forever in my heart. I’ll never let them go.

xx

AN EXCERPT FROM BENEATH THE MIMOSA TREE/STEPHANIE VERNI copyright 2012/Mimosa Publishing

Annabelle

When the doorbell rang, I was upstairs touching up my makeup. Vivi had arrived, our first guest of the night. I heard the commotion begin.

“Put the music on, dear,” my mother shouted to my father. “And make sure the candles are lit.”

Admittedly, I was nervous; I had butterflies all day. My hand even shook slightly when I dialed the phone. Delia coached me yesterday during my session, but ultimately, she just wanted me to relax and let whatever I had to say come from my heart. I was sure that over the years Michael had probably questioned if I even had one.

In a simple black dress, tights, and tall boots, my dark hair curled for the occasion, I headed downstairs. When I reached the bottom, I heard the doorbell chime and opened the door for Carol. While our relationship still felt a little awkward, it was far better than it had been even a year ago.

“So good to see you,” I said to her. “Here, let me carry that for you.”

I walked her into the kitchen where my family was standing and placed her picture perfect lemon meringue pie on the counter. It looked like it should have been on the cover of Southern Living magazine. I was pleased to see she made it for us; it was one of her specialties.

“Where’s Mr. Contelli?” I asked.

“Remzi,” she said, correcting me, “will be over in a few minutes. He was trying to wrap some presents—last minute, of course! Poor dear. He’s not very good at wrapping.” She winked at my mother, and they exchanged knowing glances.

“Michael’s coming, right?” I asked her, not really caring who was listening, but wanting to make sure he’d be there.

“I think he’s planning to stop by,” she said. My heart sunk. I hoped he wouldn’t stay away. Not tonight.

The doorbell continued to toll, and soon, the room was filled with friends, colleagues, and our cousins. Vivi pulled me aside.

“You okay?” she asked. “Your spirit has deflated since Carol walked in the door.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“If it’s about Michael, go knock on his door. Tell him to come.”

I looked at her for more encouragement. She wanted me to take a leap of faith. She knew it was eating me alive—had been eating me alive—and haunting me for countless days and nights over the years.

“Should I? I mean, what if he just wants me to stay out of his life. What if it’s too late to make an apology?”

“Maybe it’s too late, but maybe it’s not. If you have something to say to him, more than likely, this is going to be your best opportunity to say it.”

She put her arm around me and walked me to the coat closet in the front hall. She opened the door. “Put one on and go. No one will even notice you’re gone,” she said, as she schemed with me, sharing a smile of encouragement.

I looked at her, still unsure.

“Go,” she said. “You’ve lived with regret long enough. Don’t regret this too.”

* * *

Mr. Contelli was wearing his coat, a red scarf wrapped around his neck, and was ready to head over to my parents’ house when he answered the door.

“Is Michael home?” I asked. I was flustered, but there was something in his eyes that told me he sympathized with me at that moment.

“Let me tell him you’re here, Annabelle. I think he was just going into the shower,” he said. He was doing his best to make me feel comfortable.

He disappeared upstairs to check and then came back down and escorted me into the library, a place I hadn’t seen in a very long time. It looked the same, minus the couch under the window; the previously empty shelves were now fully stacked with hardback books and several knickknacks. I had always loved this place in the daytime; the way the light came streaming through the enormous picture windows that overlooked the Severn River added a sense of serenity to the place. The crystal chandelier centered over the desk added a touch of femininity to a mostly masculine room. It used to be Michael’s favorite place in the house.

“He’ll be down in a few minutes. He asked if you don’t mind waiting,” he said.

“Not at all.”

“Okay,” he said, as I attempted to search for any signs that he might still hold a grudge against me. “I’m going to head over now. I’ll see you in a little while?”

“Yes, you will. Thank you very much.”

The front door shut, and I heard his footsteps marching off across the path to the party.

I stood in the room near the desk and looked around. The Contellis’ home was beautiful, I thought—much simpler than my parents’ home, but with great detail. The fireplaces were etched, the walls showcased stunning crown molding, big and thick, and the floors were worn old pine, with dings and imperfections that gave them character. It was subtle but elegant. The middle drawer in the desk once housed our personal keepsakes—Michael’s sketches, my poetry, our letters. I wondered if our items were still in there. It was always known as “Michael’s drawer,” and others were asked to “keep out.” I fashioned myself in the seat of the desk, and slowly opened the drawer. Deep in the back of it, behind a small box of rubber bands, staples, and dried up Elmer’s glue, was a shallow, old cigar box. I could still hear the murmur of shower water running, so I pulled it out.

It was just as I remembered it. The colors may have been a little faded, but it was still filled with some of our memorabilia. I felt like an intruder, but curiosity consumed me. There were charms and stickers, postcards and photographs. I noticed all the letters had been opened, and I started to peruse them. The first letter was from Michael to me when he had first been accepted at NYU. It read,

Dear Annabelle,
Can you believe it? I’m so excited. I’ve always wanted to live in New York. I can’t wait for you to visit.
—Love, Michael

The second one I examined was from me to him; my sophomoric poetry back then was something that belonged shoved in a box in the back of a desk. It pained me to read it.

And then I came across an unopened letter addressed to me from London. There was postage on it, but it had not been mailed. I stared at it for seconds, minutes. My hands were shaking and I grabbed the letter opener. I knew it was wrong, but I gently opened it, trying to keep it as intact as possible, and unfolded the letter.

Dear Annabelle,
It’s been nearly a year since you left me distraught at the airport and I’m still hoping you’ll explain it to me. I’m in London now. I’ve been working at a newspaper in London; the position doesn’t even have a formal title. My master’s program is going well so far. I’m convinced this was a good decision. I muddle through without you, though it doesn’t feel the same. I think it would have been great to experience all of this together.

I hope this letter reaches you at a time when you’ve been able to think clearly about what happened and can explain to me why you did what you did. It hurt, Annabelle; it still does. Any communication from you would be welcome. I really want to understand. I’m still so angry, I can’t see straight, and some days I’m so mad I don’t know what to do other than to throw myself into my work. But if I did this to you, if the shoe had been on the other foot, wouldn’t you want to know why? Wouldn’t you deserve and require an explanation?

I always assumed we meant more to each other than what has become of us.

Despite it all, I love you…always,
—Michael

I stared at it, the words beginning to blur as tears rolled down my face, ashamed, embarrassed, guilty and disgusted at the way I’d hurt him. I was crying because of the love I had let go of and never had the guts to attempt to rectify. Reading his words—his thoughts—was agonizing. A lump sat in my throat, and I stood as I heard his footsteps approaching from the hallway.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said cheerfully as he entered the room, rubbing his hands together, with a forced smile on his face. “I just needed to…”

He abruptly stopped speaking and looked at me quizzically when he saw me standing there crying, the letter in hand. I collapsed into the chair.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, barely choking the words out through tears, unable to look him in the eyes. “I’m so sorry, Michael.”

[image error]Beneath the Mimosa Tree is available via Amazon.com and BN. com, along with my other books, Baseball Girl, Inn Significant, Little Milestones, and The Postcard and Other Short Stories & Poetry.



[image error]

My 5th Novel Has a Name (at least for now)

[image error]Working on completing my newest novel.

Today, it’s official. I have a book title. I have a copyrighted ISBN number. I have a “mood” for the cover. And while I am going to seek traditional publishing this time around and solicit an agent to represent me, I still need to go through this process to help move in the right direction and keep me motivated should I venture down the self-publishing road again.

The characters in this novel are not only in my head, but in my soul. Each one is a part of me, and a part of you, and a part of everyone we have met along the way. With five main characters, a beautiful setting, and an empath who uses letters to communicate with people who are hurting, this story has forced me to think from different perspectives—from both the male and female perspective.

It’s easy to get down on your projects when you can’t spend as much time working on them as you would like. I often fantasize about being able to take a month or two away, writing in a beautiful location, to finish the process and get the story finished. Being able to fully immerse yourself in the characters would be an absolute treat. Unfortunately, I can’t make that fantasy come true, so I have to dig into my project when I can, and make the most of the time I get.

I’ve said this about every book I’ve written…that it comes from a place of needing to write and offering readers hope about life. So often, we lose hope. I’ve been in that boat for several months now as I’ve struggled with health issues and wonder if I’ll ever feel the way I used to feel. It’s downright depressing, actually, so being able to spend some time in fiction is a great place to be…crafting my story has given me a sense of purpose through this journey, and as I always say, Life Is Better in Fiction.