Emilie Richards's Blog, page 78

The Writing Process 2015: Multitasking for Novelists

If you’re new to The Writing Process 2015, these posts are a chance to share my journey through my latest novel, starting right at ground zero.

What do you get when you cross promotion and creativity? Nothing simple, that’s for sure. Truthfully sometimes you get a cranky novelist who loses the thread when she’s writing her new book because she’s still thinking about last year’s book that just hit stores.

Multitasking for novelists isn’t a modern hazard, but these days we’re asked to do so many different things, and do them immediately, that more often than not we find ourselves switching from one to the other at the speed of light. I don’t think Dickens ever had to figure out the mysteries of Facebook algorithms, or, bless him, think of a website as anything other than a place for spiders to hang out and spin.

This week that cranky novelist would be me. The Color of Light came out on the 28th of July, and with it a need to let my readers know it was for sale. After all, what’s the point of all the work of writing a novel if nobody knows it’s now at bookstores for them to enjoy?

So the past two weeks have looked something like this:

Write the next chapters of When We Were Sisters.
Conduct a page count of what I’ve written and decide which plot threads to sever, which to tie off, which to add.
Answer truly excellent questions about The Color of Light for bookreporter.com.
Find the perfect giveaway for one of my faithful newsletter readers that captures the book.
Blog about The Color of Light here and elsewhere.
Create and send a newsletter featuring The Color of Light and announce the giveaway.
Rewrite the back cover copy for When We Were Sisters because I don’t like what I was given.
Rewrite the back cover copy for When We Were Sisters because my editor didn’t like my alternative.
Rejoice that now editor and I are on the same page–no pun intended–at last.
Add new pages for The Color of Light to my website.
Learn to use website management program to add those pages.
Ask for new website program for pages I can’t change.
Research foster care and documentary film making specifics for When We Were Sisters.
Post on my Facebook Page, answer mail, and tweet about both books.

Get the idea? Two books, two different skill sets needed.

Right now The Color of Light is holding its own at bookstores and with reviewers, and I “think” I’m in the final third of When We Were Sisters. This means I’ve gotten through the dreaded middle, and I’m heading for the home stretch. I haven’t yet read everything I have. I’m debating when to do that. Will it help or hinder, because I’m incapable of reading without making changes as I go. Biologically incapable. Sometimes I stop at this point to read and reassess, and sometimes I don’t. I’m still weighing the possibilities.

Blend into this all the activities of the summer season at Chautauqua Institution, my informal job editing a book my husband has written, and time in Cleveland with family.

Multitasking for novelists is a fact of life. The good news? This job is never boring. And going back and forth between these two books is like chatting with an old friend while learning tolove a new one.

I may get cranky from time to time, but two books? Don’t worry. I know how lucky I am.

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Sunday Inspiration: Sometimes Our Light Goes Out

 

This month I’m using the image of light in my Sunday Inspirations to introduce my new novel The Color of Light.

These words by Albert Schweitzer have long been a favorite of mine. Sometimes our light does goes out, and no one could give a greater gift than to blow it back into flame.

In The Color of Light a family fallen on hard times is given a helping hand by a woman of deep compassion. But the Reverend Analiese Wagner finds many obstacles in the way, and the light she offers — as well as the light within her — is almost extinguished. Unexpectedly an old acquaintance returns to help her find her way through the darkness.

Has someone helped rekindle your flame when your light has gone out? Have you helped someone else do the same? I’m grateful for the times I’ve been helped and the times I’ve been privileged to do the same. You, too?

 

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Have We Forgotten We Belong to Each Other?

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. Mother Teresa

I’m a particular admirer of Mother Teresa of Calcutta because my beloved daughter joined our family from the Missionaries of Charity orphanage in Calcutta. At first Jessie didn’t speak English, but she did know a few words. One of them was Mother. Of course at the time she meant Mother Teresa, not me. Not yet. It was always so special when she glimpsed Mother Teresa on television. Clearly she’d seen her in person, too, and loved her unconditionally.

I love this quote, don’t you? We’ve forgotten we belong to each other. And so often we do.

The Color of Light, fourth book in the Goddesses Anonymous series, came out yesterday. The reviews are good, which delights me. But the theme of The Color of Light can be summed up by Mother Teresa’s quote. Among other things, this is the story of a church that has to learn this particular truth, as we all do. We belong to each other. And with that intimate kinship, comes responsibilities.

I’m often asked why I choose a particular issue for my Goddesses novels. I never choose an issue, then think of a story to go with it. In fact I never choose an issue. Issues choose me. They present themselves as I write and insinuate themselves into my plot. Always.

This time, though, the issue of homelessness is personal.

When I was in seventh grade we lost our home. My father may have been good at what he did, but he was a bad businessman. The bills finally caught up with him. The IRS caught up with him. The house went in payment for a copious amount of debt.

Like the Fowlers, in The Color of Light, we went to live with relatives. Mine was my grandmother, who lived just blocks away. Unlike Shiloh I didn’t have to change schools or help my parents search for work in other states. My father’s business didn’t fail. He continued working. The money he earned continued to go other mysterious places. But we  never again owned our own home. I shared a small room with my grandmother who visited other family as often as she could to give us privacy.

My family was never counted as homeless. We had a roof over our heads and food on our table. I graduated from the same high school I would have graduated from had things been different. But I remember clearly how it felt to be dispossessed. My grandmother was generous and loving. She did everything she could to make us feel like her home was ours. But the furniture, the utensils, the blankets on the beds? They belonged to her. The house was tiny, her retirement cottage, and we were interlopers for the five years we lived there.

I ask myself now what would have happened if she hadn’t been there. So many suffer so much more than I did. But I remember well that desolate feeling of belonging nowhere, of mourning the good life we’d lost, of counting the moments until I could go out into the world on my own and make a real home.

You see? I understood Shiloh Fowler from the inside out.

We do belong to each other. Homelessness is not a problem easily solved, but it is easy to become homeless. Statistically many people are only a paycheck or two away. Can’t pay your rent or mortgage this month because you have other bills? Try that a few times and let’s hope you have a relative or friend to take you in. A child develops an illness that your insurance doesn’t quite cover? The wage earner in your family loses a job through no fault of his or her own?

My grandmother reached out to us. We belonged to her and she to us. We were lucky.

Who belongs to you? Who belongs to me?

Worried this book is dark and joyless? Let me give away the ending, so you won’t worry needlessly. The truth is really so simple. If we extend our hands to others who needs us? Suddenly we belong to each other.

And what a joy that can be.

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Sunday Inspiration: People Are Like Stained Glass

Since my new book is coming out this week, I thought you might appreciate quotes about light for my next few Sunday Inspirations.

If you read The Color of Light you’ll see that a rose window plays a large part in the story. This quote spoke to me since some of my characters struggle to let light shine from within during dark periods in their lives.

At times all of us live in darkness. Depression, grief, loneliness, or fear.  If we can’t find the light to guide us, the future can seem bleak.

In The Color of Light, Analiese, Isaiah and Shiloh search for the light within, but it isn’t easy for any of them. The obstacles are many, and the search requires courage and faith. Like stained-glass, people can also shatter into many pieces.

Writing this novel made me examine my own search for light and enlightenment. I hope you’ll find both in this novel or in others you choose to read this summer.

 

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Inspiration for The Color of Light

With one week left until The Color of Light appears on bookstore shelves, I’ve been busy.

Not only am I hard at work on When We Were Sisters, but this week I completed a guest blog and an interview about the novel. Yesterday I asked to rewrite the back cover copy for Sisters, and I began work on my newsletter with a unique giveaway this month.  (You can sign up on almost any page of my website.) So it’s been busy around here.

I thought instead of something completely new this week I’d post the inspiration page I wrote for The Color of Light, in case you haven’t had time to see it. If you’re intrigued and follow that link or click books on my website, you’ll also find an overview, reviews, a reader’s guide and an excerpt. I’ve also included a recipe from the novel here. One of my readers tried it the day it went up and says it’s a keeper.

But since I wanted to share something original here, I’m including photos of my characters. Meet Analiese and Shiloh, or at least close to the way I envision them. When you read the book tell me if these fit with the way you saw the characters in your mind.

And now, enjoy my “inspiration” page.

I’ll admit that writing about churches is tough. So many of us have preconceived notions about what it’s like to be a clergy person in any denomination or religion. We forget to view ministers/priests/rabbis and all other people serving religious communities as human beings, flawed and struggling. I think that’s why when clergy falls from the pedestal, as we see far too often and publicly, we are shocked and disheartened. So exposing that basic humanity can be tricky for an author.

As the wife of a minister for many years I’ve seen the best and worst of my husband’s colleagues and friends. I know them for the people they are.  I had fun with this in my Ministry is Murder novels. And I’ve tackled ministers as “heroes” in two novels, one, Dragonslayer, which won the Romance Writers of America RITA, and another, Endless Chain, the second novel of my Shenandoah Album series, which received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. While critically acclaimed and meaningful to many of my readers, neither novel was among my bestsellers.

Knowing this, I still chose to write about Analiese Wagner, the minister of the Church of the Covenant in Asheville, North Carolina and home of the Goddesses Anonymous. That series began four years ago, and this is the fourth novel. Many readers have asked for Analiese’s story because she’s been a consistent character and wise woman in each of the preceding books.

But Analiese, like every real minister, must have her challenges. I considered all the possibilities. Battles between churches and their clergy are all too common. Personal struggles are, too.  1700 ministers leave ministry each month citing, among other problems, exhaustion, depression and negative impact on family.  This is never an easy job, and I didn’t believe it would be easy for Analiese, either.

In the end I knew that Analiese must struggle here with both her congregation and herself. And she does.

I’ve never been as happy with a title as I am with this one, which was suggested by one of my readers. I think you’ll see why it fit so perfectly.

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Sunday Inspiration: The 9 Nanas

Want a true life Goddesses Anonymous story? Very, very anonymous?

From MarloThomas.com. Thirty years ago nine women decided to do their own laundry and use the money they saved from sending it out to help people in need. They paid utility bills for those who couldn’t afford it, they dropped off food for people who were having a hard time, they gave gifts to pick up the spirits of those who were grieving.

And everything they did was anonymous. No one ever knew who had done these unexpected acts of kindness — not even their husbands. Yes, for thirty years these nine nanas cooked and delivered meals, drove through low income communities looking for people in need, reached out to friends, neighbors, and strangers, and their husbands had no idea what they were doing. I know, either their husbands were idiots or these nine nanas should be working for the CIA.

When the husbands finally did discover their secret, they pitched in as well. And their children became consultants, advising them on how to start a successful bakery business to make money for their ever expanding projects (here’s their website if you want some delicious pound cake).

The next time you’re in a conversation with someone who loudly laments the terrible acts of violence and prejudice in our world, I hope you’ll inspire them with the story of the 9 Nanas. Then discuss ways both of you can build on their kindness and generosity.

Do you know anyone who might be a 10th Nana?

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Introducing The Color of Light

What a busy week. Family arrived for the Fourth of July, and some of them stayed the whole week, including three year old Liam. We cooked and cleaned, went to concerts and splashed in the lake, drew pictures on the sidewalk and read books out loud that I’d saved from my own children’s childhood. Magical.

In the midst of this my editor reminded me that I have a book coming out in two weeks. Well, yes, now that you mention it. The Color of Light will be on bookshelves on July 28th, and if you’re ordered it online, it should be arriving on your doorstep at the same time.

The reminder came with requests, of course. Would I blog for Booktrib? Would I please get the book cover on my website?

The blog was easy. I talked about why I chose to write about a minister when so many people have odd ideas about what ministers do and how human they really are. The blog is part of a promotion that begins July 21, and includes ads and a giveaway of five copies of the book. So watch for it. I’ll remind you.

Putting the cover on my website? Well, that was an experience. The website is designed to allow me to update at will. But not only did I need to add the cover, I needed to add five book pages and a recipe to go with them.  That’s a tall order, and I’ll confess I was worried. I had never done this, and my training took place a year ago.

I’m delighted to say all the pages are up and working now, and even though I had a few problems, I figured out solutions. All this is thanks to the great folks at Author Bytes who did my design.

Want a preview of the book? You’ll find an overview, praise, the inspiration for the book, a reader’s guide for book clubs, and an excerpt. Plus, since I was on a roll, I also added a recipe, as I do for every book I write. This one is for Stuffed Grilled Avocado, based on an appetizer Analiese, my main character, orders at a real Asheville restaurant, Cantina at Biltmore Village. I can’t tell you how scrumptious their version is. I hope my version of it is a good substitute.

You’ll also find links to bookstores where you can buy The Color of Light. If you’re planning to read it, buying a copy during the first week of publication helps me immeasurably. Publishers love numbers. And numbers at the beginning of publication are their very favorites.

Oh, and did I mention that the book is also available in hardcover?

Did I pique your interest? What didn’t I tell you?

Let me know what you think. I am always interested.

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Sunday Inspiration: “Don’t Postpone Joy!”

[image error]I see this quote etched in stone in front of a beautiful cottage at least once a day as I walk down the red brick path to the amphitheater for a program or to Bestor Plaza where I can find the library, post office, shops, and dining here at Chautauqua.

Only a block from our cottage, these words always inspire me to grasp hold of happiness and joy whenever I have the opportunity, and this past week has been a wonderful opportunity with the visit of our son, his wife, and their cutest-in-the-world three year old son.

How often do we postpone joy in our lives, waiting until we graduate or find a job or get married or retire? How often do we take the time to fully appreciate the blessings that surround us? How often do we let joy slip through our fingers as we focus instead on the obstacles and problems?

“Carpe Diem” is a popular phrase, the Latin for “Seize the day!” “Don’t Postpone Joy!” is another way to remind us to spread our arms wide to the wonder, beauty, and happiness that are only an arms length away.

I’m glad I have these words along my path every day I’m here, but maybe we should write them on paper or paint them on canvass or type them into our computers, so we never forget to seize the joy in every moment of life.

What has brought you joy lately?

 

 

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Same Time Next Week

We’ve had a wonderful time with family over the holiday, and some are still with us for the rest of the week. So no blog today. Grandchildren time instead.

Hope you have family time scheduled over the summer, too, and if you’re reading this from the U.S., hope your Fourth of July was a good one.

I’ll see you next week when it’s back to the computer both here and on my book. But I’ll be refreshed and ready.

See you then.

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Sunday Inspiration: Cranky Old Man

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?

What are you thinking .. . when you’re looking at me?

A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,

Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food .. . … . . and makes no reply.

When you say in a loud voice . .’I do wish you’d try!’

Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.

And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . … lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?

Is that what you’re thinking?. .Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse .you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.

I’m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another

A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet

Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he’ll meet.

A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.

A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,

But my woman is beside me . . to see I don’t mourn.

At Fifty, once more, .. …Babies play ’round my knee,

Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.

I look at the future … . . . . I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.

And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.

It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.

There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,

And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells

I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.

And I’m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.

And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.

Not a cranky old man .

Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. …. . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person and look for the young soul within. We will all one day, with luck, be there, too!

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