Emilie Richards's Blog, page 98

A Novelist at Sea with a Pile of Good Books

Sometimes it’s nice to get away, isn’t it? I just returned from a cruise, and while Internet was available (at an extravagant fee) I chose not to use it. Part of it was a natural aversion to rates of $.75 a minute. Another was the hassle of getting connected and the fear I would somehow forget to disconnect (quite a lengthy process) and pay $.75 a minute for the entire cruise. Ouch.

A larger part of it, though, was a realization of how much time I spend doing email, Facebook, Twitter, etc. and how I needed a vacation from that, as well. I love the internet, but I also loved the chance to regroup, put my feet up, and enjoy the ocean, the food and most of all the company of my husband.

I also enjoyed something new. I read for pleasure! Yes, I did. With small exceptions nothing I was “supposed” to read. Nothing I “needed” to read. Just books that sounded as if I might enjoy them.

What does a novelist read when she wants to get away? I’m asked about my favorite books and authors in every interview, and I always find the question hard to answer. Today I have examples.

My first book was actually a requirement for my online book club, a technical book, filled with good advice. The author was quite positive that we authors no longer need to blog, by the way, because it won’t help our careers. Since I blog because I enjoy it, I’ll ignore that piece of advice.

Next was a book my book club will soon discuss. Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker came on the trip with me, and while I “needed” to read it for our next discussion, I really wanted to. It’s a coming of age story set during a natural disaster (hopefully a fictitious one) and was skillfully wrought, although at times I couldn’t quite suspend disbelief, a hazard of the genre. This is Walker’s first book, and what an accomplishment it is. I was reminded of another novel I talked about on this blog, The Things That Keep Us Here by Carla Buckley. I recommend them both.

After that the fun began with a novel I had downloaded for the trip. Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple was recommended to me by my book club members, and since I didn’t “have” to read it, I decided to. What a romp. I loved the voice, the story, the characters. The storytelling is particularly clever. Another read I highly recommend.

Next I took a long look at other books I’d downloaded and decided to visit the ship’s library instead. I’d been interested in Walter Mosley’s Easy Rawlins mysteries for some time but I never read one. When White Butterfly turned up on a shelf, I grabbed it. This is an old-fashioned noir mystery, dark and filled with atmosphere. It takes place in Watts in the 1950s and it’s filled with racial references and atmosphere that felt completely accurate, whether it is or isn’t. White Butterfly wasn’t an easy book to read, but I was glad I had the chance. Mosley reminded me a bit of James Lee Burke, one of my favorite mystery authors, creator of, among others, the Dave Robicheaux mysteries set in South Louisiana.

I visited the library a second time and A Discovery of  Witches by Deborah Harkness jumped off the shelf and into my hands. I’d wanted to read it for a long time, had even suggested it to my book club at one point, but none of us had the time to delve into such a long, complex work. Witches is a cross between Ann Rice, J.K. Rowling, and an academic history of science–and wine. I was enthralled. What a joy to have the time to just sink into a novel that grabbed me from the first page. The fact that I’ve twice been lucky enough to spend brief periods visiting Oxford didn’t hurt either, since the book begins there.

Altogether I read four and a half books in ten days. Recently I told friends I had forgotten what it felt like to read for pleasure. Now I remember. Doing so was a highlight of getting away, and a reminder of what a great job I have. After all if one of my books takes you to the same places these books took me, I’m delighted.

It’s nice to be home again, and I confess it’s nice to be online again.

Now, tell me what did YOU read in the past two weeks while I was away? 

Sunday Inspiration: Sow Much Good

Robin Emmons is a really cool and very inspirational young woman.

When she discovered that her schizophrenic brother’s health was deteriorating due to a lack of fresh fruit and vegetables, she decided to plant her own garden — not only for her brother but for her community.

Now she has 200 volunteers tending nine acres of gardens providing fresh food for low income folks in and around Charlotte, North Carolina.

Read more about this amazing person and her Sow Much Good project here…

What’s growing in your garden?

Photo by thebittenword.com on Flickr.com

Fiction Friday: The Unmasking Redux

Welcome to Fiction Friday, my opportunity each week to post an excerpt from one of my own books or those of my friends, present-day or long-departed colleagues.

Last Friday I introduced you to The Unmasking, one of my first novels and soon to be a brand-new ebook. Here’s another installment to enjoy and to enhance your own Carnival spirit in these weeks before Mardi Gras.

Enjoy!

********

Banners of green, gold and purple, the official New Orleans Mardi Gras colors, hung from balconies and doorways, and shop windows were decorated with balloons and clowns, beads and doubloons. There were masks displayed, too—rubber masks from Taiwan, ceramic masks of clowns and masks on sticks to be held up as temporary disguises. Occasionally there were handmade masks, and Bethany proudly showed Justin a display window with masks she had made and sold the year before.

“I love this time of year,” she said, her happiness reflected in her voice. “The rest of the world has no idea what it is missing.”

“You almost convince me that I could learn to like carnival,” Justin answered, settling her in the crook of his arm on a bench overlooking the Mississippi River. They had drifted to the Moonwalk across from Jackson Square and were sitting peacefully watching the lights glimmering across from them on the west bank of the river.

“I can’t believe it. Don’t tell me you’re one of those native New Orleanians who would fly to Timbuktu every year on Twelfth Night and return on Ash Wednesday if they could.”

“I moved to Chicago, didn’t I?”

“Mmm— You need carnival, Justin. It’s just what the doctor ordered.” She was only half joking. The freedom to let go and celebrate with few inhibitions was foreign to Justin’s nature, even though it was an integral part of the culture he had grown up in. Somehow she knew that if he could learn to be less careful, his life would be happier.

“Analysis from the beautiful, mask maker?”

“Before I can make the masks, I have to understand what goes on underneath them. I’m just presenting you with valuable insight.” She turned her head toward him, to discover that he was looking at her. Their faces were inches apart, then Justin’s kiss was hungry. Her hands tangled in his black hair, and she fingered the silky strands as the kiss deepened.

Finally he pulled away just far enough to ask, “And what do you need?”

********

Bethany may create masks, but she and Justin, the man she loves, also wear them. The title says it all.  The story is about removing masks to reveal the real people underneath. I had great fun all those years playing with the theme. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it. The Unmasking, an ebook with a brand-new cover, will most likely be at online bookstores in February.  Stay tuned for an announcement.

I Really Want To Know–The Books You Love

I’m on vacation right now, celebrating a special wedding anniversary with my husband. We decided to do a cruise since this year has been very busy and neither of us wanted a busy vacation, too. The idea of sailing almost anywhere and letting somebody else take care of basics for a while quickly grew on us. I see a lot of naps and sun in my immediate future, and once I’m finally packed, I’ll be all set to enjoy it.

While I’m gone, I won’t be working, but I thought I might ask you to do a little. I love getting to know you better. So with a new year upon us and career decisions to make for me, I thought it might be fun to ask you a few questions. I hope you’ll find the time to answer one or all of them. Just click on comment at the top right of this post, and follow directions to let us know what you think.

Your comment might not appear immediately since I must approve each one–to be sure robots aren’t spamming the site–and I’m not sure whether I’ll have much Internet on the voyage. We’ll see  But it will appear eventually, so just be patient and if nothing else, I can approve when I return.

Here are the questions:

Who are your favorite authors? We know you like mine or you wouldn’t be reading this blog, so please feel free to list lots of different people.
What do you most like to read about in the books you choose? For instance: family life; friendships; people falling in love; police solving crimes. There are no wrong answers.
What will make you put down a book faster than anything else? (Examples: A specific subject you don’t want to read about? A style of writing? A boring opening?)
How likely are you to read a novel by an author whose view on life is obviously different from yours? Are differences barriers or assets?
What are your favorite settings for novels? (Examples: Small towns?  Cruise ships? Big cities? Europe?)
What makes you enjoy an author’s work so much that you want to pick up his/her’s next book? Can you single out something that’s most important to you?

I’ll be looking forward to reading your answers.  One of the changes we’re seeing in the publishing business is the ability of readers to make comments in places where authors and publishers can see them and take them into consideration.  I thought that YOU should be among them.

I may be out of town but don’t forget to come back this Friday and next for excerpts from one of my very first novels, soon to be an ebook, and again on Sunday for a wonderful inspirational story.

Sunday Inspiration: An American Hero

There are so many inspiring people all around us.

Dale Beatty was serving in the National Guard in Northern Iraq when his vehicle hit a roadside mine.  He returned to the US after both of his legs were amputated, and yet he kept a positive attitude about his life.

Following his recovery his church and community built a handicapped-accessible home for him to live in. Dale was so moved by their generosity that he decided to “pay it forward” by building 30 homes for disabled veterans.

Read Dale’s whole story here for more inspiration.

And don’t forget to give thanks for and celebrate the heroes in your life.

The photo is by Purple Heart Homes at Flickr.

Fiction Friday: The Unmasking

Welcome to Fiction Friday, my opportunity each week to post an excerpt from one of my own books or those of my friends, present-day or long-departed colleagues.

Today you’re in for a treat, or at least I hope you’ll think so. In New Orleans, where I lived for seven years, this is Carnival season, the prelude to Mardi Gras day, which this year falls on March 4th.  For those who don’t celebrate Carnival, winter doldrums may have set in, but in Louisiana and other places that do, the fun is just beginning. Purple, green and gold wreaths hang from doors. Mardi Gras beads are strung from trees. King cakes arrive at every party and parties are an everyday occurrence soon to be followed by parades.

In 1985 my novel The Unmasking made an appearance as a Harlequin Superromance, one of my very first. While it was the third novel I penned, The Unmasking came out simultaneously with the first, Brendan’s Song, by another publisher, Silhouette Books. Later the two merged, but for a while the two publishing houses warred for authors and I gleefully wrote for both.

I adored this cover right from the start. Isn’t it a beauty?

Bethany, the main character, is a mask maker in New Orleans. I still remember how much fun I had taking a French Quarter mask maker to lunch to learn some of the secrets of his trade. Bethany is single and a little bit lonely, as you’ll see.

I now have the digital rights to The Unmasking and in I plan to put it up in February for you to enjoy as an ebook for your own taste of Carnival. I’ll edit first; we’ll create a new cover–I don’t own the rights to the paperback cover–then it will be all ready to go. What I’ve had a chance to read so far pleases me.  I probably won’t be able to say that about everything I’ve written.

So in this cold month of January, as Mardi Gras day beckons, this week and next enjoy an excerpt from The Unmasking.  You’ll be the first to know once the book goes on sale.

********

The crowds in the flea market had picked up considerably since early morning, and Bethany found that she was busy enough for two people as the day wore on. Tangles of people wove in and out of the walkway, chatting, asking questions, tentatively trying on masks. In a few weeks, if her experience was reliable, the trying-on stage would almost always be followed by a sale. But Mardi Gras was five weeks away, and the crowds who were just browsing today knew they still had time to make up their minds.

The dark clouds continued to hover overhead, threatening but still withholding rain. A young couple approached her stall, admiring the colorful display. As Bethany watched them choose matching masks made from a simple form covered with sequins and silk flowers, she felt a small tremor pass through her body. She remembered a time in her own life when she, like the young girl in front of her, had used every opportunity she could find to touch the man she adored. Watching the young lovers, she stood rigid with longing, wishing incoherently that her own fingers were tracing the lines of the delicate mask, dipping to linger on the cheeks and the earlobes below the mask’s boundaries.

Their absorption in each other was not uncommon. New Orleans was nothing if not a city for lovers. The sultry days and nights seemed to hold passion suspended like tiny droplets of water in the heavy air. It was a difficult city to be alone in, to be unloved in. In her four years of living there, Bethany usually kept herself too busy to be bothered by her own enforced isolation. Today even hard work could not make her forget, and watching the young couple, loneliness weighed on her with the smothering pressure of the very air she breathed.

A clap of thunder brought her back to reality, and she silently wrapped the masks in tissue paper, made change and presented the man and woman with their new acquisitions. “Happy Mardi Gras,” she whispered, her voice trailing off as they walked away, oblivious to anything except each other.

********

Well, it is a romantic city.  Next week, another excerpt from The Unmasking.  Enjoy.

Brrr. . . . The Poet’s Response to Winter

I know many of you are in the midst of terrible weather right now.  Even Florida is shivering in this winter storm.  Too much snow, too many icicles, too many things undone.

I thought this was a perfect day to share this poem with you.  Snow-Bound was written in 1866, and the version here was edited and condensed by the website poets.org.

The entire poem can be viewed here.  I love the imagery, if not the creeping cold that accompanies it.

Please stay snug and warm, and exchange your own family stories today.  This, too, shall pass.

Snow-Bound by John Greenleaf Whittier.

The sun that brief December day

Rose cheerless over hills of gray,

And, darkly circled, gave at noon

A sadder light than waning moon.

Slow tracing down the thickening sky

Its mute and ominous prophecy,

A portent seeming less than threat,

It sank from sight before it set.

A chill no coat, however stout,

Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,

A hard, dull bitterness of cold,

That checked, mid-vein, the circling race

Of life-blood in the sharpened face,

The coming of the snow-storm told.

The wind blew east: we heard the roar

Of Ocean on his wintry shore,

And felt the strong pulse throbbing there

Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Meanwhile we did your nightly chores,-

Brought in the wood from out of doors,

Littered the stalls, and from the mows

Raked down the herd’s-grass for the cows;

Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;

And, sharply clashing horn on horn,

Impatient down the stanchion rows

The cattle shake their walnut bows;

While, peering from his early perch

Upon the scaffold’s pole of birch,

The cock his crested helmet bent

And down his querulous challenge sent.

Unwarmed by any sunset light

The gray day darkened into night,

A night made hoary with the swarm

And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,

As zigzag, wavering to and fro

Crossed and recrossed the wingèd snow:

And ere the early bed-time came

The white drift piled the window-frame,

And through the glass the clothes-line posts

Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

*

As night drew on, and, from the crest

Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,

The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank

From sight beneath the smothering bank,

We piled, with care, our nightly stack

Of wood against the chimney-back,–

The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,

And on its top the stout back-stick;

The knotty forestick laid apart,

And filled between with curious art

The ragged brush; then, hovering near,

We watched the first red blaze appear,

Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam

On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,

Until the old, rude-furnished room

Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;

While radiant with a mimic flame

Outside the sparkling drift became,

And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree

Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.

The crane and pendent trammels showed,

The Turks’ heads on the andirons glowed;

While childish fancy, prompt to tell

The meaning of the miracle,

Whispered the old rhyme: “Under the tree,

When fire outdoors burns merrily,

There the witches are making tea.”

The moon above the eastern wood

Shone at its full; the hill-range stood

Transfigured in the silver flood,

Its blown snows flashing cold and keen,

Dead white, save where some sharp ravine

Took shadow, or the somber green

Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black

Against the whiteness at their back.

For such a world and such a night

Most fitting that unwarming light,

Which only seemed where’er it fell

To make the coldness visible.

 

Sunday Inspiration: Eight Inspiring Images

In this new year I want to expand Sunday Inspiration to include stories of people who are courageous, compassionate, and generous. In the spirit of Goddesses Anonymous, I want to raise up and celebrate others as a way of raising up and celebrating that heroic part of ourselves.

Here are Eight Inspiring Images from the website, Greater Good, the Science of Meaningful Life — be sure to check out Batkid. Hopefully they will inspire all of us to live exceptional lives in this coming year and beyond.

This is a wonderful website and very much worth your time and exploration.  Today inspiration is only one click away.    

Fiction Friday: Author Neil Gaiman Shares his Talent

Welcome to Fiction Friday, my opportunity each week to post an excerpt from one of my own books or those of my friends, present-day or long-departed colleagues. There’s so much talent out there. Enjoy these samples.

Today’s blog was supposed to feature author P.B. Ryan, but we had a snafu somewhere along the line. So instead, I invite you to enjoy several wonderful stories courtesy of author Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman is one of my own favorites, and this week we featured a quote from him at Sunday Inspiration. What better time to introduce you to his work? He has generously shared five widely varying stories with his readers, short reads in their entirety on his website and completely free.

The first link will take you to The Case of Four and Twenty Blackbirds, a noir nursery rhyme spoof that was first published in KNAVE in 1984.   This was Gaiman’s third published story, so it’s early Gaiman, for sure.

The next link will take you to  I Cthulhu (or What’s a Tentacle-Faced Thing Like Me Doing in a Sunken City Like This (Latitude 47° 9′ S, Longitude 126° 43′ W)?

The third link goes to A Study in Emerald, an obvious and delightful ode to the great Sherlock Holmes, he of Study in Scarlet fame–and last week’s visitor at Fiction Friday.  You’ll need a program that reads PDFs, like Adobe, and a little time to enjoy this one.

Cinnamon, an illustrated fairy tale is next, and a story you might want to share with your children, followed by How To Talk To Girls At Parties which was a Hugo nominee in 2007.  Hugo awards are given for the best science fiction and/or fantasy works, so that gives you an important clue about the delightful How To Talk To Girls.

I hope you enjoy this taste of Neil Gaiman’s work.  Explore his website for excerpts of novels and other amazing enticements.  I particularly love his children’s novel, The Graveyard Book, which is why the cover’s featured here.  I still smile whenever I think about it.

The Good Times Jar

I love holidays.  I love having an excuse to hang out and do nothing, or do silly things I don’t normally have time to do, or be merry with friends. The celebration of New Year is a bit different. There’s no religious connection to speak of, nothing to decorate, no eggs to color, no tree to trim.

New Year’s Eve is a time to celebrate change and hope that the next twelve months will be better or at least as good as the preceding ones. It’s also a time to remember resolutions for changes that need to be made and move forward with them.

Recently this photo appeared on my Facebook from a page titled It’s A Lovely Life.  I loved it immediately.  Not a resolution to change something about myself. Not a resolution to change the world.  Nothing ponderous or heavy.  Just a way to note the good things that happen as they happen, deposit them in the jar, then enjoy reliving  them next year on this date.

And what could be more transforming than that?

Surprise gifts. Accomplished goals. The beauty of nature. LOL moments. Memories worth saving. Daily blessings. What a perfect way to remember a year.

Let’s not allow the good moments to be lost in 2014.  Anybody else out there going to start a Good Times jar? I’m off to make mine now. But before I go. . .

Happy New Year! May your 2014 be filled with good news, good friends and good books.