Connie Johnson Hambley's Blog, page 16

Dorchester Irish Heritage Festival

Celebrate Irish heritage with song, drink, laughter, and craic. (Don't know what craic is? Well, you have to come and see for yourself!) I'll be at the Dorchester Irish Heritage Festival to sign copies of "The Troubles" and will certainly have copies of "The Charity" on hand for the uninitiated!
Florian Hall
Dorchester, Massachusetts

BOOK LAUNCH: Among the Shadows by Bruce Robert Coffin

"Among the Shadows" by Bruce Robert Coffin
Join me in congratulating Bruce Coffin on the launch of his first crime novel!
I met Bruce at a Sisters in Crime event and was struck one fact: He's a cop who can write. We all assume cops are filled with great stories, but when you find one who can spin yarn and write about it in a compelling fashion, we have a winner! Buy his book from Amazon right now!!! What are you waiting for?
Haven't clicked through yet? Well, he's already getting great buzz:
“Compulsively readable, Among the Shadows is that rare cop novel that’s chock full of blood-and-guts detail while taking the reader along on a ride of a lifetime.  Detective John Byron is a great character, and the reader will be eager for the next installment of his story.” – Gayle Lynds, New York Times bestselling author of The Assassins

Bruce's bio:

Bruce Robert Coffin is a former detective sergeant with more than twenty-seven years in law enforcement. At the time of his retirement, from the Portland, Maine police department, he supervised all homicide and violent crime investigations for Maine’s largest city. Following the terror attacks of September 11th, Bruce spent four years working counter-terrorism with the FBI, earning the Director’s Award, the highest honor a non-agent can receive.

He is the author of the John Byron Mystery Series. The debut novel in the series, Among The Shadows, will be released on September 13.

His short fiction appears in several anthologies, including 2016 Best American Mystery Stories.

He lives and writes in Maine.
Read Bruce's short story  Fool Proof  in Level Best Books, Best New England Crime Stories 2016: Red Dawn, and in Houghton Mifflin Harcourt's, Best American Mystery Stories 2016, scheduled for release October 2016.

http://www.brucerobertcoffin.com http://www.mainecrimewriters.com 

More Short Stories by K

I've told you about K before and today is a very special day for her. She marks a milestone birthday with a limo filled with friends and dinner at a happening arcade and gaming spot.

To help her celebrate, I'm publishing two of her short stories. I've provided images of the pages she gave me and transcribed her words as accurately as I could. Enjoy!

~~~
SWIM LESSON LADY


Every Tues. + Wed. afternoon at 2:00 I go to the YMCA because I go to swimming lession w/ a woman name Betsy. This woman is hysterical. What I mean by that is she is very goofy and hysterical and she make these gofy sounds when she's in the pool w/ me and she tells me that's who I am. I had another swim teacher and her name was Chris E***n. She used to work at the YMCA by she was going to come back and teach But she couldn't. I miss Chris alot. I just found out that she will be coming to watch me swim. I'm learning to like this woman named Betsy alot. She shows me different stuff to do in the water like using barbells that I hold on to and kick my feet, kick board, and a noodle, the kick board   I hole onlto kick my feet also blow bubbles in teh water. Sometimes I like to put my face in the water, and also swim under water. Sometimes we swim in the deep end. Sometimes she gives me soemthing to hold me up or I do it on my own. I can float on my back and on my front with help. You have to meet this woman. You will dye laughing. She is Funny!


THE END

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



THE HORSE HANDLER

Theres This woman This woman is a horse handler at Windrush Farm. She comes to Riding Every Wednesdays and she puts a time aside or she set a special time once a week to spend the time w/ me. This woman come to riding w/ her hair up in a pony-tail and she puts her hat on which someone trys to take off. I wish that she would wear it down. She has pretty long hair to cover up a w/ a hat. She has this client who loves to ride horses and this client also loves to trot on her horse around and the barn and she is a star trotter now. She loves to trot that the best part of it all. 

I used to like to feed my horse carrots + apples. I can't feed him any more because the other horses would be jelious that they would kick or buck or even head butt other horses, but my horse still looks for his treats. Every week after I finish brushing him he would sniff my pockets for his carrots + apples.

One of my dreams is owning my own horse and riding him off into the sunset and having the wind blowing threw my hair.

This client of hers love to trot all over the barn. When it's time to put the horse away in his stall her client would get upset because she doesn't want to leave him there. He wants me to take him away again to go troting again he happy to have me on his back.



THE END





Happy Birthday, K. I love you! Your high voltage smile and positive energy are the highlight of my week!

Sisters in Crime at New England Library Association - Danvers, MA

The Sisters in Crime LOVE their local libraries and librarians, so what better place to show a little love than at the New England Library Association's annual conference? The Sisters (and maybe a brother or two) will be on hand to talk about our speakers bureau, new books, and all things mystery! Signing times will vary, so check in with me for a current list and times.
October 16 - 18
Danvers, MA

WOMEN WHO FIGHT by Ursula Wong

I think women are less about violence and more about ethereal power, but when faced with violence, women react. Strong women fight and sometimes they win. A surprising number of stories feature women warriors who by fighting, show how strong they are as women. I’ve talked with Connie about some of these wonderful gals before, including her magnificent Jessica Wyeth in The Jessica Trilogy , but here’s a new batch to consider.
Eowyn, from J. R. R. Tolkein’s The Two Towers, the second part of The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, dresses up as a boy to fight the monsters threatening the lives of the people in her father’s kingdom. Granted, the comforts of a middle-earth castle are limited, but she leaves them anyway for the battlefield. The only way she can do this is to pretend she’s someone else. But when she wields her sword, her actions show core feminine strengths of protectionism and love of family.
Hua Mulan from the Disney movie Mulan, leaves home disguised as a man in order to fulfill her aging father’s military obligation. She fights the misconceptions of her fellow soldiers who ask, “Can she do that?” She fights the opinion that women can’t fight. Ultimately, she decimates the enemy.  (The movie is based on a Chinese ballad which I didn’t read. Please don’t hate me.)
Tania Chermova is a sniper in War of the Rats by David L. Robbins. I admire her single-minded ambition to leave the comforts of home for war.  Among the ruins of Stalingrad, she does her job coolly and calmly. I claim it’s a superbly feminine trait to do what’s necessary, no matter what. Still, Robbins chose to have Tania shot at the end in an ambiguous conclusion and an obvious statement about the unfairness of war.
Ludmelia, the heroine in my new novel Amber Wolf , becomes a warrior to avenge her mother’s death. She joins the resistance to find the Russian soldiers responsible. Still, the act of killing haunts her. Horrible acts shake her to the core. Despite everything, she remains emphatically human with all the self-doubt, confusion, and passion that we all share.
I think women fight because their convictions leave them no choice. The heroines in these novels don’t shrink from their tasks, detestable as they might be. They don’t run back to the comforts of home because their work is hard.
Maybe we admire them because given the right circumstances, we’d to the same things, too.



Ursula is a retired engineer who writes gripping stories about strong women struggling against impossible odds to achieve their dreams. Her award-winning novel, Purple Trees , exposes a stark side of rural New England life in the experiences of a young woman who struggles for normalcy despite a vicious and hidden past. After losing her parents, Lily Phelps grows up fast to find work and build a future, but her secrets threaten every one she loves, and even her very life.



Ursula taps her Eastern European heritage in her WW II novel, Amber Wolf . Destitute after her parents are taken by Russian soldiers, young Ludmelia Kudirka joins the farmers who trade pitchforks for guns in a David-and-Goliath struggle against the mighty Soviet war machine. Rich with scenes and legends of Lithuania, Amber Wolf gets the turmoil of 1944 into the story of a family torn apart by the Soviet occupation.
Her short stories have appeared in magazines and the popular Insanity Tales anthologies. For more about Ursula and her prize-winning flash fiction, visit her on http://ursulawong.wordpress.com .

South Shore Irish Festival

A beautiful location filled with song and laughter? Count me in! Celebrate Irish heritage with song, drink, laughter, and craic at the South Shore Irish Festival. (Don't know what craic is? Well, you have to come and see for yourself!) I've been invited to sign "The Troubles" and will certainly have copies of "The Charity" on hand for the uninitiated!
Join me for two days of all things Irish.
Marshfield Fair Grounds140 Main Street
Marshfield, MA

When the Dead Need A Hand

Photo Credit Matt Brown

He's come to me sometimes. At night. In my dreams. We talk.

Well, I talk and he looks at me. Bewildered.

In my dreams we are in the middle of a family gathering. I can hear my parents and siblings talking and laughing in the kitchen. Ice rattles against cold plastic in the freezer then chinks into glasses. Cabinets open and shut as a meal is prepared.

In these dreams, I'm in the living room with my three children and their cousins. Everyone is years younger. My nephew-now-father-of-his-own is in these dreams, sprouting chin hairs with skin shiny from the surge of teenager hormones. My niece is placing my now eighteen-year-old daughter on her lap to build a tower of blocks. Everyone is there, in that place so many years ago where nothing could touch us.

He's there too. Always standing off a little to the side. Laughing at something said. He's barely a teen. His wild, unruly hair is busy doing its wild and unruly thing. He's whole. Happy. He says something, tries to enter the conversation, but no one hears him.

Except me.

No one sees him.

Except me.

Everyone is years younger with colleges still to be decided upon and no idea that marriages will fall apart or or that a car accident will take one of them weeks away from a twenty-seventh birthday.

"You're gone now. I'm sorry, but you're not supposed to be here." I tell him this because I can tell he doesn't know. 

In each dream I say the same thing to him. In each dream, he looks at me. Bewildered.

The first few dreams like this I awoke, sobbing with grief made fresh. He was so confused. He wasn't ready to be not heard or seen. "You're gone now. They can't see you." Then, I mustered all the strength I could from the love I have for him and said "You're dead." 

I know a part of me needed to say those words so I could believe it, too.

Last night, in the middle of a living room strewn with plastic toys, shredded gift wrap, kids, and dogs, I stood with him in the hallway and said those words again.

This time, something flickered behind his too-young eyes. 

He was beginning to understand.

I was beginning to question.

Is there life after death? When someone so alive, so vital, and filled with all of the good things life has to offer and then is gone in a split second, what happens next?

I don't know, but I don't feel as if these were mere dreams, some random firing of my brain cells at night.

Feather Boas and Cigarette Holders

I know you're thinking being an author is glamorous and an author event is time to break out the feather boas and cigarette holders.

Okay. I'm gonna let you think that.

I'm also going to let you think that an "author event" is a glittery cocktail party populated with intellectuals, celebrities, bon vivants, and socialites who trade uncanny insights mixed with scintillating patter. 

Yup. Dead on. The secret is out.

Standing for hours in broiling sun next to malodorous people wearing mismatched shoes with food in their teeth and listening to diatribes with no particular point never happens. Not once. Ever.

Perfectly manicured nails never ever get broken setting up a vendor tent.

Backs and legs remain rested and never become achy or strained from lugging cases of books across parking lots the size of a football field...or two.

Each day is a rousing success.

Books are always clutched lovingly to the hearts of readers and are never ever carelessly dropped in dirt or smudged with greasy fingers rendering them unsaleable. 

Library halls and auditoriums are filled to standing room only for author presentations and interviews.

People are never rude or dismissive.

Events are well attended because publishers have unlimited budgets for marketing collateral and newspaper ads. Book publicists always under-promise, over-deliver on clever, attention getting and crowd gathering promotions. In fact, publicists give away their time and effort for free. After all, good ideas are a dime a dozen and publicists, like authors, love what they do so much they don't have to get paid.

Spouses always listen to every word a reader or an author utters. Why? Each observation and story told is fresh and new and interest never has to be feigned when someone says, "Here's an idea for a book you should (or I want to) write."

You don't have to love writing or the process of "all things book." In fact, the life of an author is so wonderful and easy, you don't even have to like those things to participate.


Boo yeah, being an author is glorious, exciting, and effortless. 

Rrrriiight. 

In the market for a bridge? There's one I'd like to sell you.

NOT YOUR EVERYDAY STRONG WOMAN: For K

I've told you about K before. Today I'm going to tell you a secret.

K and I work together to help her learn to ride a horse. First, we were just two women who happened to be paired together, horse handler and client. K had been riding on Wednesday mornings for a number of years before I came along. Through that time, she had many volunteers working beside her. Wednesdays happened to be the time I had free. Mornings worked best. Scheduling fate threw us together.
Now? Don't you dare try to separate us.
I've featured authors, musicians, playwrights, and more in my "Strong Woman" series. Each guest has written about what that phrase means to her or a person who personifies that phrase. It's my turn to tell you about K. Pocahontas by Disney
To many, the label of "strong woman" conjures an image of a scantily clad warrior standing at the edge of a cliff, spear in hand, with hair billowing in the wind. Somehow, the term means a larger-than-life powerhouse that parts the seas of humanity to bend us to her will or a force of nature who will not be cowed by convention.
K owns the "strong woman" mother lode. She lives a full and simple life with a strength and dignity we can only imagine. 
So, the secret? Her determination to accomplish things we take for granted is intimidating. This gal is fierce. 
Behind that thousand watt smile is a spine of stainless steel. Tenacity and determination in their fullest forms wilt when applied to her. She is gonna get it done!
Cards dealt at birth dictated a life of need and support. Don't think, even for a second, that this means a life for K of dependence or loss.
She works and lives independently, belongs to a swim club, is an award winning equestrian (as pictured above), and more. Oh, and she is surrounded by friends. She is a human tractor beam of positive energy.
And she has determined that she wants to write stories. I've

Reaping Rewards One Encounter at a Time

In the solitary world of a writer's life, praise will get you everywhere.
"Oh! I know you! ... er, well, at least I know your books! Love them!"
I can be bought. I have a price and it's humiliatingly low. Praise. Basking in it is the author's equivalent of a dog rolling over, paws skyward, belly up, and tail wagging. "Oh! Yes! More please!"
At the Bookstock book and author festival in Woodstock, Vermont, I was lucky enough to be the recipient of such praise. A husband and wife strolled by and the wife recognized the cover of The Troubles. I introduced myself and the rest of the encounter shall live on in my memories in the "Instant Replays of Happy Life Events" category. 
If you're a reader of my blog, you know I do the hard work of reaching out to readers in as many ways as possible. Spending gorgeous summer days at hot and dusty horse shows, cramped encampments of vendor tents, and festivals of every calling is what I do. I didn't know being an author was going to lead me to these events, but I'm there chatting and signing for hours without a break. I'll confess: Some days are longer than others.
So, we chatted and traded home town stories and favorite authors. I mentioned books I discovered through my book club and she said she had recommended mine to hers. One thing led to another, and we'll be scheduling a Skype book group session soon. She left, excited to have met me and even more excited her book group will be getting signed copies of my books. I watched her leave, infused with energy and refreshed. The rest of the day flew by.
When I started this journey, I dreamed of encounters like this. Now I'm getting them.