Emilie Richards's Blog, page 111

Sunday Poetry: “She roars, and we are conquered.”

[image error]Welcome to Sunday Poetry. If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday poetry blogs here.

To honor our grand-daughter’s 6th birthday today I’ve chosen a delightful poem about the birth of a little girl.  “Birth Day” by Elise Paschen, celebrates the beginning of a new life and new possibilities.  Do you remember a special birth that gave you this feeling of exhilaration?

Remember, we read poetry together here for the pure pleasure of the experience. There are no quizzes, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share. Absolutely no dissecting allowed. Just come along for the “read.” What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week? If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you? We’ll listen.

Emilie Richards’ Classics

As most of you know, I began my writing career in the romance genre and published dozens of romances before I realized I was writing about many things other than romance that I wanted to explore in more depth.

Slowly, without realizing it, I had moved into a broader “genre,” women’s fiction, which encompasses all the aspects of a woman’s life.  So my books no longer said “romance” on the spine.  Some of my readers followed me into my new books and some didn’t.  Some of my new readers would never have found me otherwise, because they made a point of  never picking up a romance novel.

Let’s fast forward.  Enter the ebook era.  Recently my publishing house informed me that I have the e-rights to my first twenty-nine novels and can publish them myself.

Well, isn’t that good news?

I’ve already begun the process, which will most likely take some time to complete.  The first book I plan to reissue is From Glowing Embers, seen here with its original cover.  I always loved this story, the first of a four book series I called Tales of the Pacific.  My faith in From Glowing Embers was confirmed when a German production company chose to make it into a movie for German Sunday night television a couple of years ago.

Now I think it’s time you had a chance to fall in love with the story, too.

But there’s always a catch, and here’s my dilemma.  I can’t publish the book with the original cover, which I don’t own.  So I’ll need a whole new cover treatment.  That’s where I need your help.

I’m trying to decide how to let my readers know that these ebooks are romance novels I wrote years ago.  They’re good books that I’m proud of, updated just a bit, but books with more romance than readers may be used to in my new books.

So how do I do it?

Well, I’m thinking of tagging them prominently with something like Emilie Richards’ Classics on the cover.

I’m also considering my cover treatment.  My thought would be to continue the “look” of my newer books.  A woman on the cover, perhaps with her back to the reader, as I did when my daughter-in-law and I designed the covers for Twice Upon A Time and Once  More With Feeling, that I republished as ebooks two years ago.

But if the covers are too similar to my new books, then will my readers make an informed decision?  I would love to introduce my readers to my “classic” romances, but I want everyone to know exactly what they’re buying.

One other possibility would be to have a similar overall look, but with a couple on the cover.  Something romantic enough to signal the content, but Emilie Richards enough to remind you who wrote it.

I would love your opinion.  And here’s the best news.  There’s a giveaway in progress.  If you comment on this blog (or any of my blogs) by midnight tonight, Tuesday the 12th of February, then you’ll automatically be entered for a chance to win.  One lucky commenter will win copies of Iron Lace and Rising Tides, in honor of Mardi Gras, and it might as well be you.  Am I right?

So what kind of covers would you like to see on these reissues?  What will help you make a decision about whether to buy and read them?  What kind of signal should I consider so all my readers are making informed decisions?  And last but never least, what kinds of covers are your favorites?

I always appreciate your help.  Please comment and let me know.  And do it before midnight, okay, so your name will go in the random.org hat for a chance to win.

Sunday Poetry: “She asks one question…”

Welcome to Sunday Poetry. If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday poetry blogs here.

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I’ve picked a romantic poem that tells the story of a young man searching for his beloved.  As you read  “The Exchange,” by Ron Rash, remember how you found your beloved — or how he or she found you.

I wish for you a loving Valentine’s Day, and if that’s not a possibility, one with happy memories.

Remember, we read poetry together here for the pure pleasure of the experience. There are no quizzes, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share. Absolutely no dissecting allowed. Just come along for the “read.” What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week? If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you? We’ll listen.

Postcard from Florida

NEED A DOSE OF SUNSHINE AND A LITTLE FLORIDA WILDLIFE?

He Went Thataway!

Our Backyard Gator Chillin’

Nighty-night at the Venice Bird Sanctuary

(Thanks to Michael McGee for the photos.)

Psst. . . Don’t forget there’s a giveaw ay in progress.  One commenter on any blog between last Tuesday and next Tuesday the 12th at midnight will be entered to win a two-book set of Iron Lace and Rising Tides.  Winner chosen by random.org.

Life is Just a Bowl of Kibble

Some of you may remember that I developed knee problems last year. The cause of the injury only became clear to me after surgery when I started taking walks with Nemo, the family beagle.

If you’ve raised one of these critters you know that beagles are mostly nose, and that nose leads them into all kinds of trouble. Their keen sense of smell is also the reason they are, according to some professional trainers, only about 85% trainable. Once they get a whiff of something interesting, everything else goes out the window.

I realized as Nemo began to pull on his leash after my surgery, or alternatively as I began to pull on the leash to haul him back, that I felt the tension in my injured knee. The initial cause of the problem became perfectly clear.

Nemo.

I turned the dog walks over to my husband.

This week Michael was unable to do the walks, so it was my turn again. Since I have no desire for more surgery, I developed a plan. I would feed Nemo only two scoops of kibble and carry the third in my pocket. Then, any time he came back to my side when I said “with me,” he would get a piece of kibble.

As it turns out beagles are not all nose. They are also tummy. Two days into this Nemo trots along beside me like a Westminster show dog. He’s even stopped eating rocks and things too gross to print, glancing at me after he eyes them to see if I’ve noticed how good he is, so he can get his next kibble offering instead.

It’s nothing short of a miracle.

We are all trainable. We respond to the things we love with joy and a desire to have more of them.  Life really is just a bowl of kibble, whatever your kibble may be.

You, my terrific readers, consistently dole out treats to me.

You buy and review my books  online or in print.
You email to let me know a story touched you.
You follow me on Facebook or Twitter, read my blog and comment, or talk about my work on Goodreads.
You ask for sequels, most notably to the Shenandoah Album series.
You select my books for your neighborhood book clubs.
You share pieces of your life with me, an honor I always appreciate.
You even chastise me when you think I’ve made an error, which shows you’ve paid attention.

Did you think I didn’t notice? And what’s your reward for that kind of generosity? I listen and what you say affects me. While publishers determine some of what I do, you determine it, as well. You are the readers who most affect me, the ones who “get” my books and show your loyalty in myriad ways. In return I try to please you by giving me more of what you like. I have to write what I’m inspired to write, of course, but you are part of that inspiration.

To show my appreciation this month, and in honor of carnival season and Mardi Gras, which is right around the corner, I’ll be giving away one two-book set of my Louisiana duo, Iron Lace and Rising Tides, to a reader who comments on any blog post between now and the end of Mardi Gras day, February 12, 2013. The comment must be HERE and not on my Facebook page or at Goodreads so that I can keep track. As always random.org will determine one winner from everyone who participates.

Laissez les bon temps rouler, and many thanks. You really are the best.

Sunday Poetry: “Hello Winter”

Welcome to Sunday Poetry. If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday poetry blogs here.

So it’s now the middle of winter… how are you doing?  For some winter is a difficult challenge that must be taken a day at a time.  For others the cold and snow is a time for silence and solitude, for healing and introspection.  How is it for you?  Perhaps this poem, “Relearning Winter” by Mark Svenvold will help you better appreciate this special time of year.

Remember, we read poetry together here for the pure pleasure of the experience. There are no quizzes, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share. Absolutely no dissecting allowed. Just come along for the “read.” What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week? If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you? We’ll listen.

Which Three Wrongs Would You Right?

By now many of you have had a chance to read One Mountain Away. If you haven’t, an important element of the novel involves Charlotte Hale, the principal character, who is looking back at her life. Charlotte isolates three things she did in the past that she wishes she could change, then she sets about making amends for each of them, doing something in each instance to help make up for the damage she caused.

Do you have situations in your past that you wish you could redo? If you answer no, I worry about you. Because I believe we all have those situations, and facing them and admitting we screwed up is an important part of being human. Of course dwelling on our mistakes isn’t particularly helpful unless doing so helps us find a way to ask forgiveness or take a step to fix the situation. If that’s impossible, than the next step is to head off a similar situation for somebody else.

I have more than a few things I wish I had done differently. But one of them has nagged at me since I wrote Somewhere Between Luck and Trust, the book which follows One Mountain Away, which will be at bookstores in June.

In Somewhere, Cristy Haviland, a major character, has never learned to read. This is not as uncommon as you might believe. Nearly a billion persons worldwide can’t sign their names or read a book. And two-thirds of them are women.

A few more chilling statistics?  85% of all juveniles who end up in juvenile court are functionally illiterate, as are 60% of prison inmates. 3 out of 4 food stamp recipients perform in the lowest 2 literacy levels.

Those numbers worry me, and I could go on and on. But I’m not writing this blog to  tell you what a terrible toll illiteracy takes on our society. I’m here to tell you my own story.

Many years ago, just out of college, my husband and I served as Volunteers in Service to America, better known as VISTA. We were, for better of worse, dropped off in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas with no clear agenda, little training, and no skills. Basically we were told to end poverty.

There was a lot of poverty to “end” in the county where we were stationed, at that time the third poorest in the United States. There were few jobs, and the social welfare system was heavily stacked against anybody who needed it. I remember sitting in the office of the elementary school principal trying to convince him to accept funds for a school breakfast program. My plea was hopeless. He was against the school lunch program, too, and believed that any child who qualified should work to earn their meal. So the children we were trying to help were forced to clear and clean tables in order to put food in their bellies. This was supposed to teach them they couldn’t have something for nothing. Of course children, whose lunches were paid for by wealthier parents, weren’t working for what they got. But that distinction escaped him.

We spent a frustrating six months trying to do something, anything, to make a difference. We fell in love with the people we worked with, with the landscape, with the culture, but we knew we weren’t doing a single thing that mattered. So after considering and reconsidering, we terminated our stay and went on to other things.

Forgive us, okay? We were in our early twenties. Alone, frustrated, and idealistic we wanted to make big changes, and couldn’t see that the small ones were important, too.

One small difference I could have made all those years ago still haunts me.Visiting a woman on the road where we lived, I learned that she couldn’t read. After we talked I told her I would help her. Then, before we could start our lessons, I left.

This is one of my “Charlotte” moments, a moment I look back on with dismay. I had something important to do, and I backed away. I’ve wondered about this woman ever since, but particularly while writing Somewhere. She was bright, motivated, delightful. Did someone else step in to teach her to read? Or by backing away, did I miss my real chance to change a life?

I can’t go back to 1970, no matter how much I wish I could. But this week I’ll attend a teacher orientation meeting for our local literacy council. If all goes as I hope, in the fall I’ll be assigned a student, and in a small way I will honor the woman I didn’t help. I’ll help another.

It’s really never to late to make up for a mistake we’ve made. We  may never be able to right the actual wrong, but like Charlotte Hale taught me, our past mistakes can guide us to new successes. We can always reach out. I hope to this next year.

Do you have a Charlotte moment you would like to share?  We’re listening.

What Three Wrongs Would You Right?

By now many of you have had a chance to read One Mountain Away. If you haven’t, an important element of the novel involves Charlotte Hale, the principal character, who is looking back at her life. Charlotte isolates three things she did in the past that she wishes she could change, then she sets about making amends for each of them, doing something in each instance to help make up for the damage she caused.

Do you have situations in your past that you wish you could redo? If you answer no, I worry about you. Because I believe we all have those situations, and facing them and admitting we screwed up is an important part of being human. Of course dwelling on our mistakes isn’t particularly helpful unless doing so helps us find a way to ask forgiveness or take a step to fix the situation. If that’s impossible, than the next step is to head off a similar situation for somebody else.

I have more than a few things I wish I had done differently. But one of them has nagged at me since I wrote Somewhere Between Luck and Trust, the book which follows One Mountain Away, which will be at bookstores in June.

In Somewhere, Cristy Haviland, a major character, has never learned to read. This is not as uncommon as you might believe. Nearly a billion persons worldwide can’t sign their names or read a book. And two-thirds of them are women.

A few more chilling statistics?  85% of all juveniles who end up in juvenile court are functionally illiterate, as are 60% of prison inmates. 3 out of 4 food stamp recipients perform in the lowest 2 literacy levels.

Those numbers worry me, and I could go on and on. But I’m not writing this blog to  tell you what a terrible toll illiteracy takes on our society. I’m here to tell you my own story.

Many years ago, just out of college, my husband and I served as Volunteers in Service to America, better known as VISTA. We were, for better of worse, dropped off in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas with no clear agenda, little training, and no skills. Basically we were told to end poverty.

There was a lot of poverty to “end” in the county where we were stationed, at that time the third poorest in the United States. There were few jobs, and the social welfare system was heavily stacked against anybody who needed it. I remember sitting in the office of the elementary school principal trying to convince him to accept funds for a school breakfast program. My plea was hopeless. He was against the school lunch program, too, and believed that any child who qualified should work to earn their meal. So the children we were trying to help were forced to clear and clean tables in order to put food in their bellies. This was supposed to teach them they couldn’t have something for nothing. Of course children, whose lunches were paid for by wealthier parents, weren’t working for what they got. But that distinction escaped him.

We spent a frustrating six months trying to do something, anything, to make a difference. We fell in love with the people we worked with, with the landscape, with the culture, but we knew we weren’t doing a single thing that mattered. So after considering and reconsidering, we terminated our stay and went on to other things.

Forgive us, okay? We were in our early twenties. Alone, frustrated, and idealistic we wanted to make big changes, and couldn’t see that the small ones were important, too.

One small difference I could have made all those years ago still haunts me.Visiting a woman on the road where we lived, I learned that she couldn’t read. After we talked I told her I would help her. Then, before we could start our lessons, I left.

This is one of my “Charlotte” moments, a moment I look back on with dismay. I had something important to do, and I backed away. I’ve wondered about this woman ever since, but particularly while writing Somewhere. She was bright, motivated, delightful. Did someone else step in to teach her to read? Or by backing away, did I miss my real chance to change a life?

I can’t go back to 1970, no matter how much I wish I could. But this week I’ll attend a teacher orientation meeting for our local literacy council. If all goes as I hope, in the fall I’ll be assigned a student, and in a small way I will honor the woman I didn’t help. I’ll help another.

It’s really never to late to make up for a mistake we’ve made. We  may never be able to right the actual wrong, but like Charlotte Hale taught me, our past mistakes can guide us to new successes. We can always reach out. I hope to this next year.

Do you have a Charlotte moment you would like to share?  We’re listening.

Sunday Poetry: “One sun rose on us today…”

Welcome to Sunday Poetry. If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday poetry blogs here.

I was inspired by the poem, “One Today,” written and read by the young poet Richard Blanco at President Obama’s Inauguration on Monday. For me it captures the essence of who and what we are as a country. Here you can either listen to or read it — or both.  What does America mean to you?

Remember, we read poetry together here for the pure pleasure of the experience. There are no quizzes, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share. Absolutely no dissecting allowed. Just come along for the “read.” What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week? If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you? We’ll listen.

Everything You Wanted to Know Or Didn’t According to Google

So there I was doodling away in a media training session when the instructor informed each of us that we should google our names frequently to see what was being said about us on the internet.

Really?

Of course everybody at the session had already done this. Repeatedly. But now we weren’t only being given permission, we were being told we MUST do it in order to look for reviews and information about the reviewers, misinformation we might be able to clear up, pirated copies of our novels to report to our publishers. And did I know there was something called Klout.com that measured our Google mentions as well as our followers on Twitter, the number of people who’ve friended or liked us on Facebook, the readers of our blogs. Google ourselves and get an idea just how popular we are.

Really? Just like junior high school, only electronically?

Do you google yourself? It’s an interesting experience. There are a number of Emilie Richardses in the world. Luckily for me none I’ve encountered so far are porn stars–which happened to an author friend when she googled her name. It is true, though, that you can find out many things about yourself that you didn’t know. Let me take you on a journey, a recent trip through Googleland with only the words Emilie Richards to guide me.

To shorten this I limited my finds to the last week on the web. Planning to try this yourself? You can start by clicking “search tools” after you’ve typed in your name, and choose a time span for your results. Otherwise they may go back before you’re born. (I really don’t doubt that possibility. Emilie in utero, after all Google knows all.)

Ignoring mentions related to this blog and my Facebook page and website, the first interesting mention I encountered was a blog post about One Mountain Away, written yesterday. 52 in 52 (the blog’s name) was a wonderful find, a day-maker for me. Thank you, Dodie, so glad I decided to look for my name today. For the record, I carry a little piece of Charlotte in my heart, too.

Next I found a TV listing for one of my German movies, only the listing was in Czech. As for which movie? That’s a real puzzler. But you can get a preview if you play the video segment. Maybe you’ll be able to tell us.  Immediately after that I got a used book listing in an unknown language. Care to hazard a guess which language it is?

I won’t go on about the listings in languages other than English, of which there are many, because that will show my stunning ignorance of all things non-English. Lots of them come with movie snippets, so google my name if you’re interested in watching videos.

My favorite movie listing came when I tried this a few days ago to see if googling myself would be fun to blog about. I found an English description of one of my movies from a book titled Duncan’s Lady. My story, a paranormal romance, was set in Scotland, and the heroine, Mara, had such strong psychic powers she couldn’t live in a city because she was too easily overwhelmed. So she built a little croft and raised a garden and only reluctantly interacted with the hero and his daughter. At least at first.

In the German version Mara is a doctor in a small town in New Zealand with no psychic powers, and the major romantic conflict is that she and Duncan are afraid they may be half-brother and sister.

I told you that googling your name was interesting, right? For the record there are similarities to my book. There really are.

Most of the names are the same.

I found more nice reviews, comparisons with other authors, pirated ebooks that I reported to my publisher, a Wikipedia page I was too terrified to read, and lots more. It was a little like diving for treasure, with the full understanding I might find nothing but sharks and dead fish. This time I only found driftwood and the occasional pearl.

Try it yourself. If you find something fascinating, let us know. And if you find googling yourself too boring, there’s always that college boyfriend you’ve wondered about for years and years.

Wonder no more.

If you haven’t told us what kind of books you most like to read–see last Friday’s post–then be sure to comment for a chance to win an autographed copy of Iron Lace. Full details here.