Emilie Richards's Blog, page 131

Waiting And Praying For The End

In my house it's easy to tell how close I am to turning in a book. 

1–We eat takeout and frozen foods from the last decade.

2–I begin to wear clothing that under normal circumstances I would use to dust my furniture.

3–I can't remember the date, often even the month, since it does NOT coincide with the month I'm writing about.

4–When the neighbors actually catch sight of me, they ask if I've been away.

5–I ask doctors and dentists if I'll survive until October 31st if I don't have that root canal or pesky laser treatment on my retina.

6–I wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

Lately cold sweat and I have become friends.  I've even contemplated counting cold sweat as a shower and thereby saving myself the minutes it takes to stand in a real one.  I am nearing a deadline and I still have ten chapters to write.

Deadlines are never fun, but some are worse than others.  One Mountain Away, which comes out next August has been a difficult book to write.  Some books are like that, and the truth is, after publication how hard or easy it was is never clear to anyone but me-and all those poor souls who listened to me complain.  Books I've cold-sweated over and books that just seemed to write themselves are either good or not-so, simply because they are.  Never because I worried more or less as I wrote them.

By the time all the pieces of this book began to fall into place, months had drooped by. Now I'm working at high speed.  Yesterday I finally took a break to outline the end.  After lots of work I'd gotten the first two-thirds of it outlined, but there was still the last third to go.  Of course, I didn't know the remainder was the final one-third.  I hoped it was the final one-fourth.  But no such luck.  After carefully counting all the threads I had to tie, ten chapters emerged.  Now, granted, they may be short chapters.  I am, in fact, praying they will be.  Everything's been set up.  We don't need scenery or in-depth characterization now.  We need to find out what happens.

Endings are tricky.  Because I've wrestled so hard with these characters, they're now old friends.  I know how they feel, how they think, how they'll react.  I also know that when I finally get the end I'm seeking, I will be sad to say goodbye.

The good news?  This is the first book of a series.  Next year many of these characters and I will be together again, sweating, prodding each other, hoping for a happy ending.  And you know what?  I'll probably be thrilled.  Writing a book is like having a baby.  Once we hold the little darling in our arms, we're overtaken by amnesia.  We just can't wait to do it again.

CHUsday: Where Do You Go When You Don't Feel Like Cooking?

Let's get the biz part over fast.  In an effort to make use of some of those MANY cookbooks lining your shelves, some (most?) of which you haven't opened in a year, we're doing a fun giveaway here called Cookbook Hoarders United.  Just try a recipe from one of your orphaned cookbooks (one you haven't used in a year or more, or never used) and tell us about it by clicking "comment" above.  For every recipe you try, you'll be entered for one chance at a giveaway of a copy of an autographed novel AND a silly kitchen gadget.  Behold Yolky, this month's gadget.  Separate eggs with ease by perching Yolky on the side of your bowl.  Need more info on what to do?  You can find that here.

There are days, though, when going into the kitchen is akin to going to the endodontist.  Those are the days when eating out sounds just about perfect.  Eating anywhere.  Cluck in a Bucket, Stephanie Plum style.  Big Bang Burger Bar, from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  Der Krazy Kraut from the Simpsons.  Anywhere.

Sunday was one of those days for us.  We had fallen prey to a Groupon coupon, and had bought a $40 certificate for $20 to a new brew pub one suburb over.  So we trotted over to the pub to see what was on the menu.  We've learned from past experiences that if we hold on to a coupon, we don't use it before it expires or disappears–witness the Taste of Morocco coupon somewhere in my office that expired six months ago.    After half-raw mussels and a $7 dessert the size of a silver dollar, we remembered why restaurants go the coupon route.  And still, ever-hopeful, we continue to play the game.

Novelists invent restaurants to give readers one more clue about who their character really is.  Wanda, from my Happiness Key series, was a favorite waitress at a down home joint called The Dancing Shrimp, but didn't make the cut when the building became Gaylord's, an upscale tapas bar.  That was really all you needed to know about Wanda.  My book in progress has a place called Cuppa, which really says a great deal about Harmony, the character who's a server there and the city of Asheville, where it's located. 

By the same token, the restaurants we choose in real life say a lot about who we are.  For the same reason I wear comfortable shoes and don't understand four-inch heels, I like comfortable restaurants.  I shy away from starched linen tablecloths because I invariably spill something.  I like friendly, efficient service and tables that aren't right on top of other tables.  I like seafood, fresh vegetables, innovative pasta dishes and bread that didn't come straight off the shelves at Costco.  I don't expect huge portions, and I don't expect ten page menus.  I'm learning that those little down-home restaurants are not always better than some of the chains, and right now, my favorite restaurant is just around the corner, with great pizza from a wood burning oven and entree salads, predictable quality and don't-need-a-second-mortgage prices.  But the first time I went there?  I wasn't impressed.  I only went back because the restaurant next door was closed for the day.

So maybe I'll try that little pub again someday, although I'll never order their mussels.  How about you?  You haven't YET pulled out the old cookbook to try that new recipe, and tonight won't be the night for your old standard either.  Where will you go and why?

Better yet, exactly what does your choice say about you?

Sunday Poetry: The Domesticity of Addition

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

Today's poem, Numbers by Mary Cornish, comes to us from Poetry 180, and I've included it in honor of all those students and teachers back in classrooms this month, struggling with addition or algebra or calculus.  I relate.  I would find calculus a struggle, wouldn't you? 

Cornish gives us a new view of numbers, one that suits me so much better than complicated problems, with only one correct answer, done in full view of a classroom on a squeaky chalkboard.  I shiver over the memory.

"Even subtraction is never loss.  Just addition somewhere else."  Is she talking about life or numbers?  You be the judge.

Remember there are no quizzes here, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share.  No dissecting allowed.  Just come along for the "read," and enjoy the experience.    What line, word or thought will you carry along with you this week?  And if you'd like to tell us where the poem took you?  We'll listen.

The Write Way: Daily News, Daily Blues, Pick Out a Story Every Time You Choose

Okay, who remembers Tom Paxton?  Remember his song Daily News?  "Daily news, daily blues, pick up a copy every time you choose.  Seven little pennies in the newsboy's hand. . ."  Seven little pennies?  Newsboy?  How old is this song, anyway?

Apparently it's this old: "Civil rights leaders are a pain in the neck, can't hold a candle to Chiang Kai-shek."  Ask your children or grandchildren who Chiang Kai-shek was and gauge accordingly.  Or for a real eye-opener, ask them about civil rights.

Vintage or not, I find myself humming Daily News sometimes when I see an article or headline in the newspaper that sounds like an idea for a book.  While I have access to many newspapers online, my book ideas usually come from the Washington Post, which is delivered straight to my sidewalk.  For this purpose a newspaper in the hand is worth two on the iPad.  It's the little articles, the ones you'd never notice online or that wouldn't even make it there, that often have the best story ideas hidden inside.  Local crimes and gossip.  Obituaries.  Letters to the editor. Advice columns–always good for romances and family drama.

This summer my friend Casey Daniels aka Kylie Logan and I taught "So You've Always Wanted to Write a Novel" at Chautauqua Institution in western New York.  Casey thought it would be a fun icebreaker to give our students newspaper clippings and ask them to invent a story. I wondered what kind of stories our students would come up with from ordinary day-to-day stuff like want ads and lecture reviews.  But their story ideas were fabulous and inventive. I knew we had a roomful of winners.  They proved me right.

I was reminded of that exercise this week when I saw the following in our paper:  New Mexico Gov. Susana Martinez has acknowledged her paternal grandparents came to the U.S. illegally, amid national attention and protests over her ongoing efforts to bar illegal immigrants from getting driver's licenses.

Wow, talk about the perfect beginning for a family saga.  Generations of a proud Mexican family brave hardship, poverty and illegal border crossings to give their children and grandchildren a better life and a chance to bar others, just like themselves, from doing the same.  No matter what you think about immigration issues, you must admit this has bestseller written all over it.

Or what about this one?  F-16 pilot was ready to shoot down her father's plane.  The article goes on to tell the story of a female fighter pilot (one of the first) who was sent up into the air over Washington on 9/11 with no weapons other than her plane itself, with orders to fly straight into a hijacked United Airline jet if it came into DC airspace.  The potential kamikaze's father is a United Airlines pilot, and she knew he could have been in that cockpit.  The jet went down in Pennsylvania, thanks to the heroes on board, but it's crystal clear that had it been necessary, Major Heather Penney would have been a hero, too. 

Can you imagine a better story to fuel a novel?

Wednesday of this week:

Md. man recognized suspect when fake beard slipped, prosecutors say.  Oh boy, oh boy! 

A motorcyclist who was pinned under a burning car expressed gratitude for the help of strangers who lifted the 4,000 pound vehicle to rescue him.  My eyes fill up reading that one. 

And this one's a shocker:  In ordering the Cherokee Nation to restore voting rights and benefits to about 2,800 descendants of members' former slaves. . ."  Former slaves?  Really?  I feel another family saga coming on.

There are a million great ideas in your daily newspaper.  If you want to write, start reading.  If you don't want to write, start reading anyway.  We all have imaginations.  Exercise yours. You'll be amazed at how much fun you'll have.

If you come up with an idea from your favorite paper and would like to share it on this blog as a comment?   In one week Random.org will choose a commenter to receive a copy of my novel Whiskey Island, (chosen because it's the direct result of a feature article in the Cleveland Plain Dealer.)  All you have to do is tell us your story idea and where it came from.  Or just tell us about an article etc. that you saw and why you think something about it might be interesting in a book.  We'll be waiting.

CHUsday's Winner and Herbed Oven Crisp Chicken

We completed August with some great entries in the CHU giveaway.  Random.org chose Lee Ann's entry–which was actually the first–a selection from the cookbook, Adventures In Cooking, from the Sunnyside Presbyterian Church in South Bend, Indiana and submitted by a Mrs. G.V. Swigart.

The book came to Lee Ann from Great-Grandmother "B," and Lee Ann chose this recipe (see below) because she'd never used sour cream in a chicken recipe and thought it might be interesting.  Lee Ann was glad she did, and reading it, I can see why. 

Lee Ann said in addition to the cookbook, her "Mamaw" wrote a letter to go with it, which she pasted inside, and that some of the recipes come from her great-grandmother's sister.

Lee Ann has touched on my own fascination with cookbooks.  Each one seems to come with a story.  The torn-up copy of Joy of Cooking that my mother wrote a message in when she gave it to me one Christmas a few years before she died.  The Good Housekeeping Cookbook I bought at a rare bookstore on my fiftieth birthday, because it had been my mother's favorite, and she had mourned its loss after a move.  Although she's been gone for more than thirty years I feel closer to her having both with me now.

And what about all those cookbooks we've picked up at charitable functions or fundraisers (like Lee Ann's great-grandmother did?)  Cookbooks we've picked up on our travels?  I have a Hungarian cookbook I'm determined to pull out soon.  I used it once, but it deserves better.

I love having the cookbooks, and now I love making time to use them.  I hope you will, too.  Pictured above is September's silly kitchen gadget prize, the Yolky egg separator from Joie,  You simply clip Yolky to the side of your bowl and break your egg into the little cup, and the white runs through.  And of course, there'll be an autographed novel to go with Yolky boy. 

I hope you'll pull out that unused cookbook you've never quite been able to throw away, make a recipe and tell us about it by commenting on any CHU post.  Then you'll be entered in this month's giveaway.  And don't forget, you have one chance for EVERY recipe you try, so increase your chances of winning and get busy in the kitchen.  Be sure to tell us about your connection to the cookbook you've used.

Thank you, Lee Ann, for this recipe and the story that went with it.  This sounds yummy.

Herbed Oven Crisp Chicken
1/2 pt. sour cream
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
2 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. celery salt
1 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. garlic salt
1/2 tsp. salt
dash of pepper
2 1/2 to 3 lb. frying chicken, cut apart
1 pkg. prepared herb seasoned stuffing, rolled with rolling pin to fine crumbs
melted butter
 
Mix together sour cream, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, celery salt, paprika, garlic salt, salt and pepper.  Dip chicken pieces in this mixture; roll in stuffing.  Arrange chicken in a shallow greased baking dish.  Brush with melted butter and place uncovered, in a 350 degree oven for 1 hour, until chicken is tender and a crusty brown.  Serves four.

Sunday Poetry: As It Is Remembered

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

Today is September 11th, and the poem, Heaven by Patrick Phillips, is in honor of all who live on only in memories.  Phillips gives us a poignant image of the afterlife to ponder.  What is your own vision of heaven?  Does Phillips's give you a strange lump in the throat as it did me?  Do you want to relive the past you "remember," eternally, and not the one that may actually have occurred?

I loved the simplicity of this poem, but also its power and the images it created.  And you?

Remember there are no quizzes here, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share.  No dissecting allowed.  Just come along for the "read," and enjoy the experience.    What line or word or thought will you carry along with you this week?  And if you'd like to tell us where the poem took you?  We'll listen.

Button Holed: An Interview With Author Kylie Logan

Welcome, Kylie. Before we go too much further I ought to point out you've been here before under an alias. Now you've taken on an entirely new identity? Exactly what are you running from and who's after you? Are we going to get into trouble for harboring you on this blog and for giving away a copy of the evidence?

Ah, if only my life was that exciting! Actually, I do have two different names I'm writing under right now, but for way more boring reasons. As Kylie Logan, I'm writing the new Button Box mystery series. As Casey Daniels I write the Pepper Martin mysteries. Why the name change? Because there is a paranormal element in the Pepper Martin mysteries (she works in a cemetery and investigates for the ghosts there). The Button Box mysteries, on the other hand, are "straight" cozies. Nothing woo-woo or paranormal, just cozy mysteries.

Years ago you and I went antiquing and saw Mason jars filled with wonderful old buttons. I bought one and still have it in my sewing room–although with fewer buttons since they now adorn a quilt. Did you file away the idea for a button shop then? Or when did the idea occur to you and how did you mold it into a brand new series?

I wish I would have bought a jar of buttons that day, too. Since I've started writing the series and have been looking for old buttons, I haven't found any jars of them anywhere! As for how I got started with the Button Box mysteries .

I've always liked old buttons. As Josie Giancola, the heroine of my series says, they're little bits of history, tiny pieces of art. Like all writers, I look at things like buttons and imagine who owned them and what kind of lives those people had. And buttons really can tell us a lot about the people who owned them: what styles they likes, what their social class was, how they took care of their clothes. There are lots of interesting customs associated with buttons, too. For instance, in the nineteenth century, girls would have photographs of their boyfriends put on their buttons and would wear those buttons on their coats.

That's a long way of saying that I think buttons are fascinating!

So all that has always been in the back of my mind. Then, a couple years ago, I was up in Ann Arbor, Michigan, having lunch by myself on the front porch of a charming coffee shop. Two people came out to the porch and sat at the table next to me and decided to use that exact moment to break up with each other! They went on and on, and I kept expecting them to apologize. It was obvious I could hear every word they were saying! Well, I finally had enough, and I gathered up my things and headed to the first place I could find, an antique shop nearby. When I opened the door, I saw buttons. Thousands and thousands of buttons! Visiting that antique button shop gave me the idea for the Button Box, the shop my heroine owns. Hers is not in Ann Arbor, but in Chicago, in a converted brownstone.

Tell us about any interesting research you did along the way. Is button collecting really a thriving hobby? Do you have your own collection?

You know, I met a newbie writer recently, and she said something about how easy it must be to write contemporary books because they don't require any research. Wrong! Every book demands research, and I've had fun doing it for the Button Box books. I visited a historic museum in Milan, Ohio that houses a great button collection and the nice folks there let me play with the buttons to my heart's content. I've also assisted on a judging panel at a contest at a button show. Yes, there are button shows. All over the country. And knowledgeable, interesting experts who know everything there is to know about historic buttons. There is a National Button Society for those interested in collecting and according to what I've read, button collecting is the third most popular hobby in the country, right after coin and stamp collecting. 

As for a collection of my own, I do have a few buttons, but hardly what I'd call a collection. I'm still at the point of learning which buttons I like the most. There are so many possibilities! Right now, I'm particularly attracted to realistics (buttons that look like real things, i.e, dogs, houses, birds, etc.). I also like black glass buttons, mother of pearl buttons, Bakelite buttons, art glass buttons . . .

In the fabulous review from Blogcritics, the reviewer was particularly pleased that you didn't let the hobby overtake the mystery. How do you balance the two? Buttons are fascinating, but clearly your mystery and characters are equally so.

That's the trick, isn't it? For any writer. We've got to take whatever element we think is particularly interesting (like buttons) and put it in a book without it overshadowing the book. I think the trick there is to integrate the two. Buttons are interesting in Button Holed, but they're only interesting as they relate to the story and because the buttons are vital to the solution to the mystery. If all that button info was just thrown in there for window dressing, it would be an instant invitation to boredom for the reader. A writer's job is to mix and blend and make sure that the info that is there is important. That's what gets a reader involved and lets that reader learn a thing or two about buttons along the way.

There's a rumor making the rounds that Kylie Logan/Casey Daniels/Miranda Bliss/Connie Laux may have come up with yet another fabulous idea. You're a woman of many talents. Can you give us a sneak peek and tell us when we might see that one on shelves, too?

It's true, though since I haven't officially signed the contract yet, I'm not going to reveal too many details. I'll have a new series starting, probably in 2013. I can tell you the series takes place on an island, and that it involves four women who really (really!) don't like each other. Ah yes, they will be thrown together and will have to solve mysteries, too. It's going to be a whole lot of fun to write, but before I can begin book #1, I've got Pepper Martin mystery #9 to finish (should be published fall, 2012) and the third book in the Button Box series. The second in the series (title looks like it's going to change so I won't tell you the working title) will be out summer, 2012. As for that new series, I'm not sure what name I'll be using for that one! 

I've just bought Button Holed for my eReader and can't wait to dive in. And one lucky reader who comments on this blog in the next week will be entered in a giveaway for a signed copy of Button Holed, so don't be shy.  Add your comments or ask your questions here for a chance to win.  As always, random.org will make the selection.

Thanks for being here, Kylie, to tell us about your latest.

CHUsday: Some Experiments are Not Worth Repeating.

When I arrived at our summer cottage in early August I found enough onions in residence to do some serious planning.  Since I was on a mission to use the cookbooks (old and new) that I'd brought with me, none of which had ever been used at all, I immediately looked up onions for something new, thereby killing nine onions with one recipe.

Oddly enough, I had just finished writing a chapter of One Mountain Away in which one of my characters orders a pissadeliere.  There in The Healthy Hedonist, by Myra Kornfeld, was a recipe for the real thing, a French onion tart, and yes indeed, it called for twelve cups of sliced onions.  I was in business.

Weeks went by.  I was busy, and the steps looked complicated.  Twelve cups of onions?  That's a lot of slicing.  Roasting a red pepper to remove the skin?  I hemmed and hawed but with summer waning, I invited neighbors for a pizza night on our porch and set out to make my pissaladiere along with a more standard tomato, mozzarella and basil version, just in case.

My first instincts were correct.  Even though I used a food processor to make the dough, and to slice about nine onions, caramelizing them took about an hour and a half, with frequent stirring.  It was fun, though, to watch 12 cups cook down to perhaps 1/2 cup of finished product.  And I'd brought thyme from my Virginia herb garden which was still fresh and a nice addition.  The red pepper roasting went well under my broiler, but I kept thinking fondly of the jar of roasted red peppers at home in my pantry.  SO much easier to open a jar.

I made a couple of changes in the recipe.  I elected to use my favorite pizza dough recipe from Giada deLaurentiis instead of the one in the book.  I did, though, use half whole wheat flour, which approximated the one in The Healthy Hedonist.  I don't have a pizza stone here, and the baking method in the book sounded like a lot of work, so I just used my usual large sheet pan in a 500 degree oven.   I also used half the anchovies, just in case.

That final instinct was correct.  As my neighbors arrived I asked them how they felt about anchovies (note to self: next time ask BEFORE using anchovies ) and found only one taker.  Anchovies were religiously picked off and discarded.  Oh well.

The final product was good, and attractive–see photo above.  But would I make it again?  Well, the bottom was soggy, but I can't blame this on the cookbook, since I deviated in the way I baked it.  And though I enjoy anchovies and olives, I found this a bit salty for my taste, even with the contrast of the sweet caramelized onions.  I also learned a lesson about anchovies and other people's appetites.  Add all that to the time it took and next time, I think I'll wait until I get to France and eat my fill of pissaladiere at a lovely little sidewalk cafe with a glass of good wine. 

On the plus side?  Our pantry is now empty of onions.  My neighbors enjoyed the pissaladiere, although not nearly as much as the simpler pizza I threw together in ten minutes, and they hung out on my porch for hours afterwards.  I used a new cookbook and look forward to using it again, since the instructions were easy and the recipes healthy and varied.

Best of all, I had the chance to tell you about it here.  Now you try a new recipe from an old cookbook and tell us about the experience.  Lucky Lee Ann Lively won last month's giveaway, but there's another this month. 

Meantime, if your mouth is watering and pissaladiere sounds like something YOU can't resist–or if you, too, have been gifted with a bag of lovely onions, here's a highly-rated recipe from Epicurious which is very similar to the one I used.  Or maybe you'll find a recipe in a French cookbook your great-aunt bought you on a trip to Paris that you haven't opened in years.  Make it and let us know, so you, too will be a member of Cookbook Hoarders United.

Sunday Poetry: God's Own Angels

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

Tomorrow is Labor Day, first celebrated in the United States on September 5, 1882.  It became a federal holiday two years later at the urging of President Grover Cleveland, in an attempt to find common ground with organized labor after the Pullman Strike in which thirteen workers were killed as they protested low wages and sixteen hour work days.  The bill was passed unanimously (something hard to imagine these days) and signed into law just six days after the end of the strike. 

Although today most of us think of Labor Day as the official end of summer, it was clearly meant to be more.  This is our day to remember  and honor all the people who work and have worked to make our lives better.  And Good Workers, by Gary Johnson, is a wonderful tribute. 

Who will you honor tomorrow?  Who worked hard to help you achieve your own goals in life?  Who do you work to help?  I love Johnson's image of the minimum wage home care worker who helps a man desperately in need of love and attention, and gives it without flinching.  That vision made me grateful for everyone in my life who does more than they're asked, often without recognition. 

Remember there are no quizzes here, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share.  No dissecting allowed.  Just come along for the "read," and enjoy the experience.    What line or word or thought will you carry along with you this week?  And if you'd like to tell us where the poem took you?  We'll listen.

What's In a Title? Hooking the Reader Through Collaboration.

Okay, I'll admit it.  There are parts of the writing process I do not love.  One of them is collaboration.  No, I don't write with a partner, and couldn't if my life depended on it.  But I am part of a team, the team that publishes my novels, and they have a say in lots of things.   

For instance?  Covers.  I am sometimes asked why "I" put something on the front cover of my book.  We should straighten that out immediately.  "I" am not an artist.  If "I" did my covers, they would be poorly photographed landscapes or hand-drawn stick figures.  That's as good as it would get. Even if I don't always love the covers my publishers come up with, I am never not relieved that professionals are doing the creative work and, for the most part, not listening to me.

So sometimes collaboration is a good thing.

I also have an editor, Leslie Wainger, editor extraordinaire, who has been putting up with me–whoops, putting my books in print–for years.  She understands the way my mind works and works around it.  You can't ask for more.  She's insightful and patient.  She deserves a medal.

So sometimes collaboration is a good thing indeed.

Then there are titles.  I am an unequivocal title maniac.  I've blogged about titles and the way a title will sometimes be the beginning of an idea, the catalyst for a book.  Those titles are sacred to me.  If my publisher doesn't agree to use my title, I've been known to scratch the idea or save it for another time or place.  Not all titles matter that much, however.   If I don't start with a title, then it's a question of just finding one I like and one my editor, the editorial staff of publisher, and marketing agree will work for the book.  That's a lot of people.

Collaboration!

I will admit to looking back at titles I wanted to use years ago and couldn't, and screwing up my face in wonder.  I still believe that Iron Lace should have been called The Secrets of a Woman.  But while I adored Change of Life and Change of Habit for, respectively, Once More With Feeling and Twice Upon A Time, no one I've ever told has agreed with me. 

So, okay, I have history with titles and a couple of cautionary tales to guide me.  When my editor informed me that Mira Books was quite happy about the title of my new series, Goddesses Anonymous, but did not want to call the first novel Goddess Anonymous, I was fine, because I really didn't want to, either. 

Time to begin a new title search.  And that's where the fun began.  I liked Almost Home, until I discovered it had been mighty popular with other authors, too.  I gave them three I liked.  No dice.  My favorite, A Path Across Mountains, sounded too inspirational.  Another, The ___(fill in that blank) of Charlotte Hale was popular with everybody for about a minute, until they heard the title of my second book, liked it a lot and decided the first title didn't go with it.  Scotch that train of thought.

The novels take place in Asheville, North Carolina, in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  I wanted mountain in the title, and something hinting at my major character's struggle.  I fell in love with One Mountain From Home, a title that made my editor scratch her head.  "Huh?" she said, never a good sign. Would we need a subtitle? One Mountain From Home or A Woman's Struggle to Right the Wrongs She's Afflicted. 

"You know," I explained, "like one mountain away from home."

"I like that better," she said. One Mountain Away From Home.  Hmmm. . . I didn't.  Too wordy and besides, did they really believe my beloved readers were so clueless they wouldn't get it the first way?  I tried it on my husband.  "One Mountain From Home," I said.  "Huh?' he replied.

Oh well.

The team suggested a title I didn't like at all.  "No problem," they said, "you just keep coming up with new ones we can reject."  By this time I'd suggested at least twenty.  I was frothing at the mouth.  Then, beloved editor called again.  "Emilie, I just realized that one of the team's other possibilities is One Mountain Away.  Can you live with it?"

Okay, it's not EXACTLY my title.  But it's close.  I told her I was afraid people might think this is a book about mountaintop removal, and she laughed.  Still, it's clear everyone was trying to find some germ they could live with in the many titles I'd suggested.

Could I live with it?  Yes.  Almost happily.

Since that moment One Mountain Away has grown on me.  Nowadays when I sit down to write the novel, I think of it that way.  One Mountain Away from so many things Charlotte wants and needs, and wants to give back. 

Sometimes collaboration is a good thing, even if I don't always see it at first. 

Okay, team, you can take down the dart board with my photo dead center.  We have a winner.