Kerry Peresta's Blog

Proper Alignment

Some weeks ago, I attended a mid-week prayer meeting and a lovely woman approached afterward and murmured ‘I’m not sure what this means but I feel that God wants me to tell you that He is aligning things for you’.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I had to ponder the word ‘ alignment’. As a writer, words are tremendously significant to me, and I looked up anything I could find. My questions circled around ‘align what?‘.

Since I’m on a deadline for book four in my series, of course, my mind flew to writing first. Yes, I thought! Please supernaturally align my publishing journey, because it’s confusing and chaotic as heck! Like manna from heaven, author speaking engagements started dropping out of the sky. My summer has fled…all due to God’s apparent ‘alignment’ of the chaotic marketing process a writer must embrace. It was quite the relief to feel as if I didn’t have to chase after book signings or speaking events, that it had started exponentially expanding. I’m positive the woman’s nudge after the prayer meeting helped me understand I’m not alone in the writing process…I have a powerful Ally.

The alignment circle continued to grow as my oldest daughter’s family visited last week. Bonnie has four girls, and it’s quite the merry chase when they come to visit. As you grandparents out there know, when young children visit for a week, the noise and sleeping arrangements, food prep, etc. can be exhausting. Wonderful and delightful, but exhausting. About the halfway mark, I felt my stamina begin to wane. My generous and gentle tone turned snippy. After all, I was used to making my own hours and taking a little break in the afternoons! My patience disintegrated. To my surprise (credit: alignment) out of the blue, my son showed up and loaded the girls in his car and took them to the dog park for a couple of hours. Bonnie went to a hair appointment. Suddenly and mysteriously, my afternoon had ‘aligned’ to give me a few hours of quiet.

That word! ‘Alignment’ began to cement itself in the back of my mind. Could it be that I needed that lesson from God? That all my striving, reaching, grasping, running, climbing, negotiating, jostling others out of the way…is unnecessary? That sometimes, just showing up is enough? That my best-laid plans may not be the EXCELLENT-laid plans that my Ally has in mind? Could I be frustrating the ‘alignment’ in lieu of my hard-fought determination to do things my own way?

Hm.

All those times I’ve wanted to give up.

All those times I’ve battled with the rejection inherent in yes, the publishing industry; but also in every aspect of life.

All those times my heart pounded with frustration that I’m not doing enough, or going in the right direction.

Could it be I just should’ve paused to listen? Trusted that my ways are ‘aligned’ by the one I’ve put my trust in?

It’ll probably take me the rest of my life to learn the lesson of ‘alignment’. That’s okay, though…I think it’s a powerful one.

Kerry Peresta News

Hi everyone! I’m sitting here breathing sighs of relief that my last book is in the tank, sailing off to my editor, to do her magic and get it ready for pub day. Whew! Two books released in one year! I don’t know if I want to do that again…just saying. Here they are:

Here’s what people are saying:

The Torching -This story starts out on an exciting note with a mysterious fire in Olivia Callahan’s home, and it keeps your adrenaline pumping for the rest of the book! How did the fire start? Was it intentional? Could there be an arsonist putting her and those around her in danger?
Adding Kerry Peresta to my list of authors to follow as I will now read anything she writes! FIVE out of FIVE STARS! Amazon reviewer

Back Before Dawn – Fast-paced, precisely plotted, and with an engaging cast of characters, Back Before Dawn taps into very real nightmares about the promise and peril of online dating. With a sure hand, author Kerry Peresta sends her heroine, single mom Isabelle (Izzy) Lewis, into battle against interconnected personal and professional demons that threaten her life.  Lori Robbins, Silver Falchion and Indie Award winner, author of On Pointe Mystery series.

Excellent event at Hilton Head B&N. this spring. Almost sold all the books on the table!

Recent writing blog interview

A few of your favorite things:  Like my character, Olivia, I love cats. I’ve had them as long as I can remember. My parents hated cats, but they suffered through all my kitties as I grew up, and now in adulthood I would love to have three (I have two) but I tried it, and it was absolute chaos. I settle for two, but I get ‘kitten fever’ every spring. Also good coffee, good red wine, great perfume (I love Jo Malone’s scents) and Bath and Bodyworks body spray. My newest one is Champagne Toast. Fabulous!

Things you need to throw out: A zillion T-shirts. I even have some from thirty-five years ago. It’s hard for me to let go of the memories associated with them.

Things you need for your writing sessions: A great pen (I use a Zebra fine point, ballpoint), sugarless gum, a scented candle, and my huge, vertical, monster monitor that sits beside my laptop, upon which sit three reference sites: Thesaurus.com, Emotion Thesaurus for writers, and whatever research I need for the current manuscript.

Things that hamper your writing: My husband stalking through the house in search of snacks, or his glasses, or his everything. He works at home, and my office doesn’t have a door, so I write in earbuds a lot. Also, I have four grown kids, and if they have an issue, of course I drop everything to connect with them. A distraction, sure…but a necessary one. Olivia Callahan has two daughters, Lilly and Serena, both teenagers. Her devotion to her kids is mirrored by my own.

Things you love about writing: The end product. When I began writing, I wrote from start to finish, pretty much shooting right through the story in a straight line to the end. Boom. It felt great to imagine something and transfer it to a published work. After the story’s down, though…the editing process begins! This is possibly the most important part! And it’s not a good idea to rush it.

Things you hate about writing: Structure. Outlining. I’ve found it necessary to track a plotline, have an ending in mind, concoct a roadmap at the beginning so I’m not staring at a blank page and pulling something out of the air. Even with an outline (of sorts) I depart, but at least I have an idea of where I need to end up. So I don’t actually HATE structure…I just hold it at arms’ length.

Hardest thing about being a writer: Marketing. Hands down. I love everything else. Half of an author’s job is marketing, and it is difficult to carve out the time to do it well, especially if I have another deadline on the horizon.
Easiest thing about being a writer: Editing. Writing books is better with collaboration, and I send each manuscript-in-progress to several beta readers before sending to my publishing editor. Then I cut out the ‘fat’ in the book, and chisel and hone the story. It has always reminded me of a sculptor chiseling away the unnecessary bits.

Favorite smell: Light, clean scents like Glade’s ‘Fresh Linen’, or Dolce & Gabbana’s ‘Light Blue’.
Something that makes you hold your nose: Onions. Fish. Garlic. Yuk. I have a sensitive nose, and unfortunately, my husband can barely smell anything. This makes for interesting marital discord…I mean discussion.

The last thing you ordered online: A hummingbird feeder that was guaranteed not to drip. I adore birds! I have seven feeders in my back yard. However…the feeder DID drip. I want someone to invent an awesome, dependable, dripless hummingbird feeder.

The last thing you regret buying: Oh gosh, where to begin? Anything from China, probably. I now do my best to discover where the item originates. I once had the bright idea to buy a leaf-covered, collapsible screen to put on one side of my deck as a leafy ‘wall’ of sorts. The marketing made it look huge. When I got it, it was an eighteen-inch square. And it wasn’t cheap! Sadly, I’ve learned that many things I buy that aren’t made in America may be a disappointment.

Things you always put in your books: Pets. Olivia has a wonderful, huge, ginger, tomcat named Riot. He is modeled after my cat, Felix. In Book Three, since she has undergone such tumultuous and unforeseen obstacles, she acquires a mature dog from a shelter who turns out to be the best decision ever. Riot is still unsure about this decision.
Things you never put in your books: Sex scenes. The ‘F’ word.

What are you reading now? Currently I’m reading Jode Millman’s Queen City Crimes series. I’ve started C. L. Tolbert’s Thornton Mystery series, and my typical Karin Slaughter newest release.

Things to say to an author: “Ohmigosh I couldn’t put it down! I can’t wait for the next one! That Monty was a scumbag, wasn’t he! And I’m so proud of Olivia!” I love it when my readers connect with my characters in a way that they must comment about them. And the overuse of exclamation marks is just icing on the cake. Oh, please! Get emotional about my characters! Olivia Callahan’s journey is both heartbreaking and heroic.
Favorite things to do: Walk through an art gallery, work out in a cardio or strength training class, listen to a symphony or a good jazz trio, enjoy a great glass of wine and appetizers with friends and my spouse at an atmospheric bar.

Things that make you happy: REVIEWS! They are so encouraging. My cats, good wine, robust coffee, a good conversation with a friend, my time with God in the mornings. A conversation with my grown kids, my grandchildren laughing or showing me their treasures, a flock of ibis lifting off the marsh. Life is a gift and there are many things that bring joy.
Things that drive you crazy: Slow, ancient, drivers; little kids going wild in the store and their parents ignoring them (is teaching civility a lost art?), people that insist on talking loudly on their cell phones in line, in a restaurant, in whatever public place.

Something you chickened out from doing: Not pursuing a career in real estate when I had the chance. It was such a great opportunity! An uberly-succesful agent was retiring, and I was primed to inherit an incredible list of clients. But I had four kids to raise, and starting real estate was going to pay very little until I worked into being an agent. I wish I’d had more guts! But the path I chose provided a regular paycheck and insurance. I still think about being a realtor, though…to the extent that I’ve snuck one into a new book I’m working on.

This is a long post, I know…but I’m due to send out a newsletter and need to find a new newsletter platform since Mailchimp has decided to charge more than I want to pay for the privilege of sending out e-newsletters. So…consider this Volume 5 of my newsletter, and thanks for being interested in my writing journey!

The Cone of Isolation

A few weeks ago, I sat dejected and lonely, pecking away at my latest WIP (for the non-writer…’work-in-progress’) wondering if the creation under my thundering fingertips had worth. The cone of isolation descended upon my head and shoulders like a willow-the-wisp. *Totally not sure what a willow-the-wisp is* but I just looked it up and somewhere in my subconscious, I must’ve logged its meaning -‘ a light that always seems to recede and leads the unwary to their doom’. Yep. Pretty good description of what it feels like to sit at a laptop for hours, chasing the light, our emotions sinking into gloom and doom.

Our feelings lie to us sometimes. I know this. We all know this. But still. It isn’t fun chasing willow-the-wisp.

My local writers’ group popped up with an all-call for those interested in a critique group. A critique group is for people like me who sit hours at a laptop, biting their fingernails and swiping the sweat off their brow, hoping what they put down on pages is good. Writers are notoriously hard on themselves. Yes, it’s part of the job description to accept rejection and correction and editing but seriously… once in a while we need encouragement. An attaboy or attagirl. An awesome review. A request for an author talk. Whatever. Especially if we have two or three different WIPs going at the same time, like I stupidly do this year. Anyway, the point is there are millions of us.

Thus…I’d been longing for a critique group, people who share the cone of isolation in similar fashion, but I wasn’t sure where to start. I raced to the all-call meeting thinking, ‘what perfect timing!’ and when the topic was (finally) introduced, with nary the blink of an eye I thrust my hand in the air and declared my need for one. Right now.

Twenty-five people offered up blank stares. I thought, what have I done? Am I going to sink through the floor in humiliation? Had I overstepped the writerly rule of introversion at all costs?

It took the group a minute to gather themselves, I guess, after listening to someone declare their need instantly and transparently instead of muddling around. Maybe. Who knows. I don’t care. All I know is four, lovely, writers approached and said they’d love to, and others stood on the fringes wondering if they, too, could join. But it is best to keep a critique group small if it is to focus and comment on a significant portion of writing. Still. I didn’t know all that much about critique groups and here I was, starting one. Could I do it? What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t (horrors!) like my writing?

We talked about expectations and preferences and settled on exchanging three chapters – three weeks to read and comment via email, fourth week to have the comments to the author. I’ve gotten two passes of comments now, and oh, my! They liked my writing! Holy water sprinkled on my soul. Plus…the writers are from diverse backgrounds and write in different genres, so their perspectives are gold. Always and forever…there are things a writer cannot see about their own work. Early on we agreed to fold in lots of praise with the more pointed suggestions that often furrow our sweaty brows.

Collaboration always makes stuff better. Always. Our egos need to park their hurt feelings at the door. Other people see things that we cannot.

Let’s just say…I’m much more encouraged about writing than I was a couple of months ago. All thanks to this critique group, and my desperate need to rip off the cone of isolation. May it rest in jagged, thorny, pieces.

The Christmas Pivot

This Christmas holiday, I’m torn between regret that my kids are grown, and joy that they are forging their own lives and their own traditions with their kids. Torn between regret that they live so far away, and joy that they still WANT to be with us for Christmas, however, this isn’t always possible.

I am rethinking my priorities. Has Christmas been more about my family than the birth of Jesus? After, all…though our culture has made it a mad, materialistic rush after gifts and the perfect Christmas decor, still…at its heart…Christmas is about the Christ-child.

This year, I am grateful that we have one grown child nearby, and will have the joy of focusing on him, rejoicing in his life, and sharing several Christmas events with him. Soon, he will have his own family and create his own traditions, so for a little while, I can pretend life isn’t all that different.

But it does change, doesn’t it? As we get older, and our kids go their ways…we must step back. The stepping back continues until we blink and find ourselves GREAT-grandparents (I’m not there yet) and then what? How do we accept the seventh and eighth and if we are blessed, ninth decade of life with grace and generosity of spirit?

That’s a tough one for me. I don’t adapt to change well, and spout off unkind words sometimes, when I’m in the thick of change. I must have time to adjust. This Christmas, for me, is about adjusting.

The adjustments are as follows (at least this is what is going on in my head):

1) I am no longer the HUB of Christmas action, and it’s hard to embrace this reality.

2) Even when I was the HUB, I didn’t do a very good job of it. I’m not the most patient person, I’m goal-oriented and road-mappy and get upset when someone doesn’t appreciate all my hard work of preparation or changes my carefully concocted plans at the last minute. I long to be the woman that never gets irritated, always has a hot bowl of something on the stove (I don’t enjoy cooking), and endless patience with the chaos and loud shrieks of children. Sigh. Oh well, I have other attributes.

3) I cannot wait to get my house back in order after everyone leaves. In truth, the minute the gifts are unwrapped, I’ll walk around plunging everything into a trash bag if someone isn’t already doing it.

4) I make myself so exhausted trying to keep order that I cannot really enjoy my people. Isn’t that stupid? Yes. Yes, it is. And part of this adjustment is looking honestly at what works. I want to be an enjoyable entity that blesses my people, not alienate them. However, it’s a two-way street.

5) Often, I leave Jesus out of the picture. Yes, I have Scripture-themed ornaments on the tree and angels around the house during the season, but when it comes to the gifts it’s all about the ripping of paper and squeals of delight. I’ve been too exhausted by preparation to focus on reading the Christmas story, and one thing I want to do forever…is focus on the true Christmas story, not its commercialism. I can certainly do that whether HUB, or un-HUBBED.

6) I can’t figure out whether I’m mad or sad but I know the pivot will run its course and I’ll figure it out. This year, I put up very few Christmas things in defiance. No tree, no outdoor lights, nothing. I am a grinch this year. I’m allowed. If I count up all the Christmases where I’ve been the HUB it makes my head hurt. Surprisingly, I don’t miss it that much. I miss my family, but not everything else. Although I like a sweet, blinking tree in the corner and lighted garlands on the mantle and a stunning outdoor display, it is a crazy amount of work. I may scale back the whole thing in the future. I do all that stuff for other people, anyway, not me. Not really.

7) Let go of fairy-tale expectations. Don’t believe the wretched commercials that show spouses receiving a wondrous gift which is responsible for resurrecting marriages and all manner of amazing, positive, results. It’s a commercial. It’s a lie. We are supposed to give gifts to honor the birth of Christ, i.e. wise-men style. When did I make Christmas about what I wanted, to the point that I’m dramatically disappointed if my husband doesn’t get me the perfect gift? A ridiculous expectation. Like…doesn’t he get an E for effort? It also extends to my grandkids and kids…if they don’t like what I’ve gifted them…I’m depressed and feel as if my effort has been wasted. Another lie propagated by those cursed TV commercials. And now they are everywhere! FB, Instagram, Twitter…all social media platforms. It is endless, brainwashing, and dismissive of the true meaning of the season.

It is cold and windy here today, on Hilton Head Island. My kids are preparing for a potential snowbound Christmas, and the one in California prepares for his first Christmas as an ex-husband. My heart aches for him. I wish I could gather all my chicks around me and tell them everything will work out. That everything will be alright. That change is a part of life, and they will adjust.

This year, I take the time to tell myself these things.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

The Unsung Heros of Author Events

Recently I was invited to speak at a local author’s group. Thinking the group size would be modest, I brought along ten or so of my books for signing and selling.

To my surprise, as we chatted and waited for the start time, over twenty people showed up. And kept coming! Until there were no seats left. I was stunned. Excited for an opportunity to share my ‘writer cred’ with this excited audience.

The more events I participate in, the more relaxed I become. This one was no exception. I love it when there’s a ‘moderator’ and all I have to do is lean back and answer questions. This talk was supposed to be a marketing overview for authors, but the questions ran amok, and we ended up talking about everything from queries to the top retail stores in the country that carry books. It was exhilarating!

What’s wonderful about scheduling author events is that folks are seriously interested in the life of an author. A day in the author’s life. How to become an author. Why we became an author. It’s like a shot of adrenaline to talk about these topics, as any author will tell you. It’s such a solitary pursuit, we are DYING to talk about what, who, why, where, how. This event was so much fun. People were raising hands all over the room to ask the next question after the bulk of the presentation was done. They even stayed afterward to chat and buy books.

I sold out, which was nice, but not as nice as the residual effect of a motivated group like these were. The bonus for an author in these events is the restoration of the bounce in our step. It’s like…okay. I can get back to my keyboard with renewed confidence and energy. These people liked me! They were there to hear…ME…ohmigosh. I was nearing the end of my zealous pursuit of ‘story’, about ready to throw in the towel on this blasted new plot that I can’t figure out…and then…these people! What a joy to be so validated. The breath is back in my lungs. My mojo is restored.

Potential writers, beginning writers, readers, and people interested in the craft of writing…authors need and love you. We are excited about every question, every book sale, every shy approach to chat. We would not be authors without your support.

Thank you, Island Writers Network, for an absolutely terrific evening. My mojo thanks you as well.

Money, Marriage, and Migraines

With the recent tanking of the economy and stock market, my husband and I have arranged an appointment with each other at 10:30 a.m. on Saturday morning to discuss each and every investment we have.

Sigh.

I look forward to these engagements with trepidation, because we have the classic marriage…one is a risk-taker and the other not so much. I’m the not so much one. Also, a male brain and a female brain are miles apart in how they process. Sometimes we arrive at the same basic financial conclusion, but I wonder if it’s worth all the gnashing of teeth and eyerolling and clamped lips to get there. I mean…I could just say, go for it, Jim! But the controller rises up in me with big, sharp, claws and hisses in my ear…what are you DOING? So I can’t just…let go of this. He is a huge risk-taker, investment-wise. I can’t see, in this current economy, how we could do any worse, but still. I want to take the reins on some of the decisions.

I’m reminded of my past life…a mishmash of crises and horrible decisions…and when I naively tossed all the financial situations to an ex-husband. Talk about a train wreck. I didn’t even see it coming, but I learned a huge lesson – no matter how difficult the discussions become, don’t bail on becoming involved in the family finances. My husband has a better head for numbers than I do, but my bottom-line instincts and common sense are better than his. Thus, we make a good team. We are frustrated with each other sometimes, but whatever. What marriage doesn’t have its frustrations?

Recently I read in some article that financial issues are the number one cause of divorce. I’d thought for a long time it would be infidelity, but nope. Finances. I thought that was interesting, and it highlighted for me how important it is in a marriage to be diligent about saving, investing, and spending.

My husband and I have very different ideas about spending, too.

Jim is a foodie. He admits it. He embraces it. He loves it. I like to surround myself with beauty, and that includes makeup, clothes, furnishings, nature. I’d much rather spend money on those things than food. Jim is horrified at this concept. I think it’s hilarious and unnecessary for him to clutch food to his chest like a teddy bear. This difference makes for some convoluted and difficult conversations around his constant treks to Harris Teeter, Publix, or his favorite, Wal-Mart. On the other hand, he never says a word about my various treks to Belk, Ulta, Marshall’s, and Homegoods.

We have an interesting dynamic in our marriage. Well, I call it interesting, my kids tell me to lay off Jim. I’m not the most patient woman, but I’m working on it. One way I work it out is writing. I recently wrote a short story about a thorn in my flesh for fifteen years with my husband…his desire for rockin’, rollin’, ear-splitting bass. In fact, we’ve crossed swords about this so often it’s become a (bad) joke. So I wrote a story about it. You can find it in the awesome “Rock, Roll, & Ruin” Carolinas Sister in Crime Anthology that just released. It’s titled ‘The Day the Migraine Died’. It was quite the cathartic exercise. I laughed all the way through typing it. You can get the ebook for $3.99. 27 stories from mystery and suspense authors, including mine. Forward by Hank Phillipi Ryan.

Find out more about this great anthology here! And tell me what you think of ‘The Day the Migraine Died’.

Thrilling New Suspense Too Grisly?

Recently I participated in a Zoom meeting with my publisher, Level Best Books, and participating colleagues to hear what the subrights literary agent had to say. I learned that there is such a thing as ‘too much violence’ in books that are marketed to mass market trade paperback companies, like Harlequin. As I write gritty suspense books, and I really like over-grisly-ing violent scenes, I don’t know if I’m a candidate for the Harlequin market. However, in the last thirty years, hasn’t the bar for ‘violent’ risen exponentially? I would assume that it has. What I consider too grisly is probably under today’s current bar. I’ve sent the literary agent an email. I suppose I’ll know if I’m a candidate for a mass market pitch soon. Also, this market doesn’t want the F-Bomb and ohmigosh I certainly am okay there, I never use that word in my books, but reality is reality and most people do use a degree of profanity in everyday speech. Depending. One of my characters is in prison, so obviously the guy isn’t going to mince words, for instance. Others are caught up in risky and dangerous conditions, so well…a few choice words are going to erupt, no getting around it. I want my books to be authentic. Not authentic enough to use the ‘F’ word, but authentic to a point.

In book three – which I’ve just sent to beta readers to give me objective remarks and point out discrepencies or deficiencies – Olivia has made remarkable progress in transitioning to a new career. I’m excited at the savvy, determined woman she’s becoming and the obstacles she is overcoming. There’s a lot of shooting in this book. Her new career involves guns. I suppose the reason for that is that I now own my own cute, little Smith & Wesson MP Shield and have spent time at the range. As it turns out, Olivia is going to need that gun in my third book. A lot. And I wonder…how much shooting constitutes ‘too grisly’ for my new thriller book? Or does it just count if I describe the scene in painstaking detail? And if I didn’t describe the scene, what would be the fun, oops I mean authenticity, in that?

Publishing is a funny business. The different niches have different requirements. Some don’t want to offend. Some REALLY want to offend. The term used is ‘gritty’, or ‘hard-boiled’ but without extreme violence or exploitative sex or extreme profanity. I’m like…where’s the line, here? What the heck is extreme violence vs. non-extreme violence? Plus, it’s a changing landscape, and much of what is acquired reflects the current trends and moods of culture. Interesting that sci-fi has rocketed to the top of the charts, and apocalyptic stories. My agent told me a few weeks ago that ‘menopause suspense’ was hot right now, because readers are looking for older protagonists.

I had to laugh. One, menopausal women are always hot (and sweaty), and two, I can write the heck out of that character. I can’t wait. In this series, I won’t have to ride the fine line between extreme violence and non-extreme, and I rarely touch a sex scene in my books, but I may have to get creative with profanity.

It Wasn’t Over ’til the Crawdad Sang

I just got home from watching the ‘Crawdad’ movie. I’m not sure why I was so moved by it, but I kept thinking…how atmospheric and gorgeous the scenery and cinematography were…and how I wished I could write like that.

I haven’t read the book. Reviews say the movie falls short of the book, but I cannot see how. It was a majestic piece of work, in my opinion. The kind of movie that moves me to put my fingers on my keyboard and wax rhapsodic about it.

I did not expect the murder mystery part of it. That was a lovely surprise and kept the story from being another sad sack movie about someone who’d raised themselves without the proper family to look after them. To be honest, I thought it might be a memoir.

It was anything but.

“Where the Crawdad Sings” captured, in the most captivating way, the essence of life. Heroism, individualism, sacrifice, rising above circumstances, the futility of wallowing in self-pity, humility, justice, kindness, generosity, innocence, purity, and more. It is (without being heretical) its own bible, of sorts. Lessons of humanity in ninety, too-short, minutes.

The twist at the end left me breathless, and even more so the mystery of whodunnit left hanging by several threads. This is the kind of device that keeps readers thinking about that movie for a long time…chewing on that last bit. Who did it? Why? How did they get him up there? Did they drag him up there, or did they PRETEND he’d fallen that far? Et cetera. As you can tell, it made quite the impact and I’m still chewing on the ending. Like a luscious, perfectly grilled filet paired with a Caymus red.

Which actually, I’m drinking right now.

Strongly suggest this movie.

Plowing Through on my Writing Journey

When I started writing in 2009 as a humor columnist, I wrote in 800-word sound bites that wrapped up neatly and made people laugh, but made them think, too. It was a fun couple of years writing that column weekly for the local newspaper. Then I decided to write a book, a completely different animal.

Planting those seeds, getting ready for the harvest! #writinglife #plowingthrough

Unfortunately, I just sat down at my laptop with the seed of an idea and started typing. I wasted a lot of time doing that, but I got a feel for how it felt to write a long piece rather than a short one. Then I started attending writing conferences, and my eyes were opened.

I’d made…Every. Mistake. In the book. (Pun intended)

I went back to my laptop armed with hundreds of pages of notes from writing conferences, and began afresh. One thing that finally wormed its way into my brain, after studying the publishing business from the ground up, was that I was cross-pollinatating women’s fiction and suspense, a process referred to as “genre confusion.”

Agents are great supporters!

This is not what publishers are looking for. The book has to tidily fit on a shelf beside other books of the same ilk, and my ilk was confusing. Genres have extremely specific rules, at least if you want to land a publisher; and if those rules aren’t respected the manuscript gets tossed on the slush pile. At the bottom. I got rejected more than thirty times, but kept trying. Finally, I landed a knowledgeable agent that had worked as an acquisitions editor for a major publishing house, and this woman taught me a lot about genre. As we worked together on my manuscript, she proclaimed that I had to choose: women’s fiction or suspense, and if that if she were me, she’d choose suspense.

So I did. Everything I wrote had a dark side anyway, and it didn’t appear I could willingly leave this behind, so instead, I embraced it. This has been great fun. Then, in wondrous and fabulous epiphany, at one of my writing groups, I heard the best definition of the difference between mystery and suspense ever: Mystery is Whodunnit. Suspense is Whydunnit.

The intriguing “Why” of the suspense genre nudges my books toward a women’s fiction/book club slant, and I’ve been writing dark and twisty stories about edgy protagonists ever since.

THE ‘WHAT IF’ FACTOR

Upon finally landing on a genre I enjoyed writing, I looked around for ideas. I am one of those people who enjoys talking to strangers and discovering fascinating tidbits about their lives, so it was no surprise when at one of my writing events for my first book, I stumbled across a story idea for the next one. Among all the authors sitting at tables, salivating for customers to buy their books, one woman drew potential customers like flies to honey. I couldn’t stand it, I had to find out what was so different about this author. I ran over to her table, and we began chatting. She told me she’d had a horrible car accident that had nearly killed her, and she’d been in a coma for six months. When she woke up, she said, she was completely different. Instead of a shy wallflower, she arose a confident, funny, arresting woman, in love with life and grateful for every second. She laughed about it, and I was somewhat horrified, but thoughtful. We parted ways, and The Deadening was born from that idea. I started playing the “What if” game. What if this woman was assaulted? What if her identity has been erased and she lands in a hospital as a Jane Doe. What if her personality is so different, that even her family cannot believe it. What if she had a ridiculously tragic marriage, and her new personality isn’t swallowed so well by her husband?

See how it works? It’s best to play the “What if” game with a couple of glasses of wine and a cat in your lap.

I am happy to report that as a result of playing the “What if” game, my publisher offered me a contract for the next two in the series. “The Rising” released in April of 2022, and the final book releases in 2023. By the time these books release, ‘what if’ I stumble over countless other story ideas in this wild adventure that we call life? I’m positive that I will, and I’m pretty sure they’ll end up as books, too.

Fi

Support local bookstores! Request THE RISING and they will order for you if they don’t have it on the shelves.

Bumpy Roads

Summer 2022 is almost here, and I didn’t know, back in the quiet, rain-drenched, fall…that a bumpy road was ahead!

Thus far, my writing journey has taken a back seat to nail-biting. For starters, the second book in the series, The Rising, was two entire weeks late (forever in launch terms) due to Amazon holding it up. And as a nice caveat, they wouldn’t tell my publisher WHY it was held up. Censoring? Supply chain issues? This was a head-scratcher. Next, my order of my own personal stash of books has been delayed, another mystery. Without a stash of books, I cannot do as many author events. I have Book One, but people are gnashing their teeth to get Book Two, and so far…nothing has shown up at my front door! Shipping problems? Who knows. All I know is…tomorrow I have a very cool event in Port Royal, SC, with 40 vendors, and I have plenty of The Deadening, but only three advance review copies of The Rising which I will sell at a discount, because the only thing different about an ARC is a cover that has not been finalized. I am holding out hope that a box of fresh-off-the-press copies of The Rising will appear on my doorstep before tomorrow! In the meantime, the fabulous bookstore owners where my events are held this summer are being nice enough to order the books for me. My stash will show up sooner or later.

But that’s just the beginning of the bumpy road…

My daughter’s family came to visit over the Easter weekend, and I was SO delighted because I hadn’t seen them in a while…and the night they arrived, I had a severe vertigo attack at 3AM. I don’t know if you guys are familiar with this condition, but ohmigosh, I’ve never endured such a thing. Hellish torment are the words that come to mind. I couldn’t get out of bed for a couple of days, and when I did, the whole world spun around me, even though it really wasn’t spinning. I could only sleep in one position: on my back as still and straight as a board. A friend suggested the Epley Maneuver…which I pooh-poohed because I tried it myself and thought I was going to die right there on the spot. However, after six days of spinning crazily I relented and went to a chiropractor. Poof. All better. After three treatments, I am back among the living. But wow. Just…wow. I don’t know if I have ever felt that helpless in my life. SO humbling, how finite and ethereal our health is.

After two weeks of dealing with vertigo, I’m in a mental state of limbo. I’ve tried to let go of expectations, because…let’s face it. Aren’t they usually way too ambitious? Being flat on my back and unable to lift a finger has given me an interesting perspective. I’ve returned to being grateful for the small, uninteresting, non-intimidating things, like standing up without my head exploding. Or turning my head to see something without my eyes rolling around in my head like marbles. Kneeling down and picking up a stray bit of debris on the floor without becoming so dizzy I fall over. Things like that make my day now. Doing laundry or fixing dinner is rather miraculous, too.

Isn’t it funny how the unexpected twists in life help us understand how finite and transitory we are? I don’t mean to get all philosophical or anything, but these issues – and we all have our own unique bumpy roads – can’t help but reset us. Our expectations. Our priorities. Our commitments. Our relationships.

I know that I will get back to normal, and the irritating barnacles of life will start calcifying my outlook again. But I certainly hope…that when I think about the helplessness and panic I endured for two weeks…that I will peel off those barnacles sooner than later.

Now.

Where are those darn books?