Catherine Astolfo's Blog, page 10
December 1, 2013
Celebrate! Celebrate! Dance to the music!
This Christmas season, Canadian publishing house Imajin Books decided to do things a bit differently. Instead of only 25 days of contests and discounts as in past years, they're holding various events from December 1st to January 3rd. Okay, so they can't count, but they believe readers deserve to be rewarded. And we authors agree! From December 1-25, Imajin Books will be awarding random prizes to those who leave comments on their Facebook page. So drop by, check out their posts and leave a comment or question.
Want to win even more? Check out their "Share the Imajin Books Buzz" contest. You could win a Kindle Fire HD or Kobo equivalent, or one of two $50 Amazon gift cards. This contest also runs December 1-25. To enter, visit http://www.imajinbooks.com/contests-events. You can enter multiple times a day.
November 28, 2013
Award Winning Author Lesley Thomson all the way from the UK!
My guest blogger today comes all the way from the UK! She's published by Sainsbury's Ebooks. You ought to look up both Lesley and Sainsbury's - they both offer some very interesting reading.
http://www.sainsburysebooks.co.uk
http://www.lesleythomson.co.uk
The 2010 People’s Book Prize winner (A Kind of Vanishing), Lesley Thomson, returns with her next crime/mystery novel, The Detective’s Daughter. The gripping and elusive style of the prize winning A Kind of Vanishing, is present again and makes for an intense, page-turning read. Ian Rankin has given his endorsement to this little known British author and from The Detective’s Daughter, you can see why.
The Detective’s Daughter is the story of Stella Darnell, whose father was a detective assigned to an unsolved murder case when Stella was a child. Her father’s obsession with the case left her neglected and resentful of the deceased victim, Kate Rokesmith, for stealing the attention of her father.
Years later, following the untimely death of her father, Stella is thrust into the mystery of his unsolved case after opening the veritable Pandora’s Box of the Rokesmith case files. Stella forges a strong relationship with an employee at her company, Jack, and invites him into the folds of the case. Then, when an all too coincidental murder occurs in Stella’s own life, her resolve to solve the mystery is enforced.
This is a crime novel which bucks genre trends. It has a deep engagement with the emotions of the protagonist, Stella, and her fractured relationship with her father; feelings of loneliness and isolation are confronted and portrayed with a haunting realism. Also explored is the relationship between childhood experience and our nature as an adult, both positive and negative. Mystery fans, do not despair, though, as it does retain the classic tropes of a crime/mystery/thriller such as dramatic twists and gripping, page turning plot developments. Thomson also avoids the pitfalls of the genre; there are no loose ends, unlike so many crime novels - you do not spend time lamenting any unfinished business and plot holes.
Overall this is a very enjoyable read and one which keeps the pages turning. It has all the suspense and plot twists we would expect but also has heart. As a reader, your relationship with Stella’s character develops well alongside the storyline and you sympathise and become endeared to her nature. The exploration of parent child relationships and the complex emotions that come with the loss of a parent are dealt with very well and this makes the read all the more engaging. The characters have a great deal to offer and, coupled with the gripping storyline, make for a real page-turner.
The Detective’s Daughter is currently available from Sainsbury's eBooks. Just click on the title!
http://www.sainsburysebooks.co.uk
http://www.lesleythomson.co.uk
The 2010 People’s Book Prize winner (A Kind of Vanishing), Lesley Thomson, returns with her next crime/mystery novel, The Detective’s Daughter. The gripping and elusive style of the prize winning A Kind of Vanishing, is present again and makes for an intense, page-turning read. Ian Rankin has given his endorsement to this little known British author and from The Detective’s Daughter, you can see why.
The Detective’s Daughter is the story of Stella Darnell, whose father was a detective assigned to an unsolved murder case when Stella was a child. Her father’s obsession with the case left her neglected and resentful of the deceased victim, Kate Rokesmith, for stealing the attention of her father.
Years later, following the untimely death of her father, Stella is thrust into the mystery of his unsolved case after opening the veritable Pandora’s Box of the Rokesmith case files. Stella forges a strong relationship with an employee at her company, Jack, and invites him into the folds of the case. Then, when an all too coincidental murder occurs in Stella’s own life, her resolve to solve the mystery is enforced.
This is a crime novel which bucks genre trends. It has a deep engagement with the emotions of the protagonist, Stella, and her fractured relationship with her father; feelings of loneliness and isolation are confronted and portrayed with a haunting realism. Also explored is the relationship between childhood experience and our nature as an adult, both positive and negative. Mystery fans, do not despair, though, as it does retain the classic tropes of a crime/mystery/thriller such as dramatic twists and gripping, page turning plot developments. Thomson also avoids the pitfalls of the genre; there are no loose ends, unlike so many crime novels - you do not spend time lamenting any unfinished business and plot holes.
Overall this is a very enjoyable read and one which keeps the pages turning. It has all the suspense and plot twists we would expect but also has heart. As a reader, your relationship with Stella’s character develops well alongside the storyline and you sympathise and become endeared to her nature. The exploration of parent child relationships and the complex emotions that come with the loss of a parent are dealt with very well and this makes the read all the more engaging. The characters have a great deal to offer and, coupled with the gripping storyline, make for a real page-turner.
The Detective’s Daughter is currently available from Sainsbury's eBooks. Just click on the title!
November 11, 2013
Sweet Baby James
A year ago, I told you about our own family mystery, where my Mom’s first husband was killed in WWII. Well, my father, her second husband James, had a role in that war, too.
When I was a little girl, my Dad told me that he signed up for the navy and went through a rigorous training to become a fearsome pilot. As soon as Dad received his wings and the word went out that he was flying “over the pond”, Hitler gave up. Naturally, since my father was a hero of gigantic proportions, I believed him.
I’ve still got my Dad’s story to tell one day. It’s one of those novels that will probably take forever to write, a multi-generational story, mixed with my mother and mother-in-law’s tales. After the comedic mystery, that is, and the two YA novels…gotta get the short story obsession out of the way first…anyhow, I digresss.
My Dad always looked far younger than he was, which certainly pissed off my mother. But when he was a kid, the baby face was useful for begging groceries from the corner storeowner. My grandfather was an alcoholic who squandered his initial wealth, lost jobs on a regular basis, and drank up any welfare cheques he received. As a result of the Depression and my grandfather’s own depression, my father and his six siblings were often hungry. His mother sent Sweet Baby James out regularly to blink his huge blue eyes, probably shed a few tears, and garner a can of soup or two.
It’s a testimony, then, to how desperate the military was for new recruits that they took my father’s application at face value. Surely they could tell he was no more than seventeen, since he looked about twelve. However, his older brothers were signing up, as were all his friends. When I asked my gentle, pacifist Dad (later, after I stopped believing the Hitler thing), “Why did you sign up?”, he answered, “It was a way to get regular meals, plus I had a pay cheque to send back to my mother.”
Probably the best reason anyone could have to put their life on the line, to pledge to the greatest evil a human being can commit: killing another human being. Although my Dad didn’t see it that way at first, he certainly felt blessed that, in the end, he wasn’t deployed. By then he’d seen enough of the destruction, the death, the soul damage, the maiming, that Dad was thankful. He got the respect for signing up, but didn’t have to pay the price. A complicated bunch of emotions must have gripped him at the time, though he never shared that.
In the Toronto Star this morning, I read an article on a new book called The Angels of Our Better Nature, in which author Steven Pinker claims the world is getting more peaceful. Also read an article through the Internet that the average age of our military is nineteen. I can’t verify either of these statements, but I hope for one and shake my head at the other.
When I was a little girl, my Dad told me that he signed up for the navy and went through a rigorous training to become a fearsome pilot. As soon as Dad received his wings and the word went out that he was flying “over the pond”, Hitler gave up. Naturally, since my father was a hero of gigantic proportions, I believed him. I’ve still got my Dad’s story to tell one day. It’s one of those novels that will probably take forever to write, a multi-generational story, mixed with my mother and mother-in-law’s tales. After the comedic mystery, that is, and the two YA novels…gotta get the short story obsession out of the way first…anyhow, I digresss.
My Dad always looked far younger than he was, which certainly pissed off my mother. But when he was a kid, the baby face was useful for begging groceries from the corner storeowner. My grandfather was an alcoholic who squandered his initial wealth, lost jobs on a regular basis, and drank up any welfare cheques he received. As a result of the Depression and my grandfather’s own depression, my father and his six siblings were often hungry. His mother sent Sweet Baby James out regularly to blink his huge blue eyes, probably shed a few tears, and garner a can of soup or two. It’s a testimony, then, to how desperate the military was for new recruits that they took my father’s application at face value. Surely they could tell he was no more than seventeen, since he looked about twelve. However, his older brothers were signing up, as were all his friends. When I asked my gentle, pacifist Dad (later, after I stopped believing the Hitler thing), “Why did you sign up?”, he answered, “It was a way to get regular meals, plus I had a pay cheque to send back to my mother.”
Probably the best reason anyone could have to put their life on the line, to pledge to the greatest evil a human being can commit: killing another human being. Although my Dad didn’t see it that way at first, he certainly felt blessed that, in the end, he wasn’t deployed. By then he’d seen enough of the destruction, the death, the soul damage, the maiming, that Dad was thankful. He got the respect for signing up, but didn’t have to pay the price. A complicated bunch of emotions must have gripped him at the time, though he never shared that.
In the Toronto Star this morning, I read an article on a new book called The Angels of Our Better Nature, in which author Steven Pinker claims the world is getting more peaceful. Also read an article through the Internet that the average age of our military is nineteen. I can’t verify either of these statements, but I hope for one and shake my head at the other.
October 20, 2013
The Fussy Librarian
Hey everyone!
There's a new website for readers that's like a matchmaking service for ebook lovers.
You type in your email, tell them what kind of books you like to read - but wait, there's more. Not only that, you can add how you feel about profanity, violence and sex in novels.
Then a daily email comes with your personalized ebook recommendations.
All books have to have a good Amazon rating and be inexpensive, since we all know ebooks should be cheaper.
They're featuring my books soon (Sweet Karoline on October 23!) and they're very supportive of authors like me, so I hope you'll support them and sign up!
www.thefussylibrarian.com
There's a new website for readers that's like a matchmaking service for ebook lovers.
You type in your email, tell them what kind of books you like to read - but wait, there's more. Not only that, you can add how you feel about profanity, violence and sex in novels.
Then a daily email comes with your personalized ebook recommendations.
All books have to have a good Amazon rating and be inexpensive, since we all know ebooks should be cheaper.
They're featuring my books soon (Sweet Karoline on October 23!) and they're very supportive of authors like me, so I hope you'll support them and sign up!
www.thefussylibrarian.com
October 2, 2013
Shiver Me Timbers...Look who's in the house!
Jesse is a member of our Imajin Books family and I loved his book, Pelican Bay. I think you should snap it up, now.
Here's part of my Amazon review: "Pelican Bay is written in a rich, descriptive voice that is a love letter to the Carolina coast and the people who reside there. I think of this book as ethereal: the poetic imagination, the power to make the reader leave the often mundane roots of reality and travel with the author on a flight of fancy. A ghost, a small ocean-kissed town, a collection of endearing but exotic characters, the search for a truth that may be damaging to unearth...written in beautiful prose."
And now I'm honoured to have Jesse as my guest blogger today!
I've had several people ask me what inspired my novel, PELICAN BAY. I wish I could tell you that there is some ingenious idea behind the book.
The truth is that about three years ago, sleeping restlessly during those delicate hours when dawn is just beginning to shoo away the night with her long white fingers, I dreamed I was standing on a South Carolina beach with a faceless woman by my side. But hardly faceless in my heart. To my right were grass-bearded dunes, orange-black humps in the predawn light. To my left was the groaning shadow of a dock reaching out to sea.
When we stared out in front of us, only dozens of feet beyond the surf, dark stones littered the sea's floor. I remember asking the faceless woman in the dream if she saw the bizarre stones as well. She was voiceless as well as faceless.
I wanted to walk closer to the sea to investigate, but awoke in a cold sweat to the reality of my old house instead. That peaceful useless house that sits in the foyer of Alabama, its hoarsely whispering backyard pines throwing stars at Birmingham. That house that no longer belongs to me. No longer speaks to me. In the night.
As I sat up in bed, all that I could think about was the Carolina Sea, the dunes, and most of all, the dark rocks under the ocean. They haunted me all day long, until I finally flipped open my notebook computer and gently pounded away, my fingers seeming to think for themselves.
From here is where it all began. The faceless woman became someone very real from my past, someone you may hate and love and hate. And everything else, including Captain Shelby, came from that dream. That eerie dream that started a fictional avalanche that eventually got me published.
So sorry if the impetus behind PELICAN BAY isn't sexy enough for you. But I have come to believe that the lines between dreams and reality are not as bold as we would like them to be. I feel that one of my missions as an author is to blur those lines in my work, for in my mind, heart, and soul, I believe that the truth lies, not in just one.
But in both.
Happy dreaming.
Yours in literature,
J.G.C.
Watch the trailer here: http://ow.ly/n8EWn
Order the book here: PELICAN BAY
Connect with Jesse! Web Site: www.jessegileschristiansen.com
Blog: www.jgchristiansen.wordpress.com
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/JesseGilesChris
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jesse.gileschristiansen.7
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5261095.Jesse_Giles_Christiansen
September 25, 2013
Sub-Sub-Sub Genre
When I walk into a bookstore (you know, those buildings that used to be on every corner?), I almost always head to the Mystery section.
I am well aware, however, that I will be stepping into territory that does not necessarily start and end with Agatha Christie-style novels. Instead, I will be investigating a huge list of sub-genres, and maybe sub-sub-sub genres, as well as crossovers and mixed breeds.I began to think about this obsession with classification and genre-labelling. Yes, the system certainly helps us find a book in the store or the library. But have we gone too far?
Wikipedia says, “Literary genres are determined by literary technique, tone, content and by critics' definitions of the genres.” I think the latter is important. We should probably add to “critics” the author, the publisher and/or the agent. Has this resulted in too many classifications? Should we go back to simply “Fiction” and “Non-Fiction”?
Wikipedia also says: “Genre works are written with the intent of fitting into a specific literary genre in order to appeal to readers and fans already familiar with that genre.” Hmmm - I'm not so sure I did that.
But what if your book crosses lots of genres? For instance, Sweet Karoline could probably fit into romance and history as well as mystery, literary mystery and psychological suspense. Would it be better for my book if she could simply be classified under “Fiction”? Would readers find that too difficult?
So now I'm asking (as I write my next novel) -Do you look for books in certain categories? Do you care about the genre/sub-sub-sub genres? I’d love to know!!
Send me a message and I will gift you a free ebook copy of Sweet Karoline on October 9.
(Of course, on October 9, 10 and 11 you can get your own free copy; I’ll just be saving you the trouble of remembering LOL.)
September 17, 2013
Be My Guest! Alison Bruce!
My friend Alison has a wonderful new book out, called Hazardous Unions. She wrote it with a writer colleague, Kat Flannery, whom you've met here before. I was intrigued by the co-authoring process and I think you will be too. Not to mention, their novel is about two sisters in the American Civil War - what a great concept!Making a New Friend, by Alison Bruce
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mso-style-parent:""; font-variant:small-caps; letter-spacing:.25pt; font-style:italic;} p.TOCHeading, li.TOCHeading, div.TOCHeading {mso-style-name:"TOC Heading"; mso-style-parent:"Heading 1"; mso-style-next:Normal; margin-top:24.0pt; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:14.0pt; font-family:Cambria; mso-ansi-language:EN-CA; font-weight:bold;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:.5in .5in .5in .5in; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA">When Cathy asked me to talk about the collaboration process, I thought, oh no, not again. I thought I’d covered all of the angles on that topic in other posts and interviews. I was wrong. There is one side to the story that, not only have I not talked about yet, but is particularly appropriate for Cathy’s blog.</span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA">I’ve read elsewhere that creative collaborations, or business partnership, between friends can be disastrous. If you go into the partnership because you’re friends, without considering personalities, logistics, the ability to suppress one’s ego, it can lead to motive for murder. On the flip side, if you choose your partner based on common goals and complementary skills, that collaboration can turn into a friendship.</span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA">That’s what happened with Kat Flannery and I. We both have books published by Imajin Books. Because we both write western romance, we’ve done cross-promotions in the past. But with Kat being in Edmonton, Alberta, and I being in Guelph, Ontario, we didn’t have a chance to meet and be social. </span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA">We still haven’t met in person, even though we’ve been working together now for almost a year. Regardless, I consider Kat my friend as well as writing partner. We’ve discovered the things we have in common. We both love history–obviously. We are research addicts. Our kids come first but we have a professional attitude towards our craft. The big deadlines are met, but we’re forgiving of each other when the little ones slide because of family matters. Having common values is one of the most important ingredients to a successful partnership. </span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA">Kat and I have very different styles of writing. That’s okay because HAZARDOUS UNIONS is actually two novellas connected by twin sisters. We each tell a separate story coming from a common background. </span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-CA">Why is this apropos for Cathy’s blog? Because Cathy and I met and worked together for close to a year before we got to meet too. We were both on the board of Crime Writers of Canada. We also both had a book called Legacy and that acted as an opening for conversation beyond meetings. We’ve been through a lot together since then, but it all started with email and Skype calls–just like with Kat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><h2><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bestselling western romance authors, Kat Flannery and Alison Bruce take you on an exciting journey with the release of HAZARDOUS UNIONS, Two Tales of a Civil War Christmas.</span></h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R-iloUmYGvI..." style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="207" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hazardous-Union..." target="_blank">Only $1.00 Introductory Price!</a></b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></div><br /><h2><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Twin sisters separated by war, bound by love…</span></h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">After the death of their father, twin sisters Maggie and Matty Becker are forced to take positions with officers’ families at a nearby fort. When the southern states secede, the twins are separated, and they find themselves on opposite sides of America’s bloodiest war.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In the south, Maggie travels with the Hamiltons to Bellevue, a plantation in west Tennessee. When Major Hamilton is captured, it is up to Maggie to hold things together and deal with the Union cavalry troop that winters at Bellevue. Racism, politics and a matchmaking stepmother test Maggie’s resourcefulness as she fights for Bellevue, a wounded Confederate officer and the affections of the Union commander.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In the north, Matty discovers an incriminating letter in General Worthington’s office, and soon she is on the run. With no one to turn to for help, she drugs the wealthy Colonel Cole Black and marries him, in hopes of getting the letter to his father, the governor of Michigan. But Cole is not happy about being married, and Matty’s life becomes all about survival.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><h2><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Two unforgettable stories of courage, strength and honor</span></h2><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><h3><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Reviews:</span></h3><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA">“You’ll sigh with pleasure as you finish each story” ~ Caroline Clemmons, author of Bluebonnet Bride</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Stories that play on your senses like a sonata. A must read!” ~ Jacquie Rogers, award-winning author of Much Ado About Madams</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Wonderfully entertaining and well-written, with engaging characters…delightful!” ~ Charlene Raddon, author of To Have and To Hold</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b>HAZARDOUS UNIONS</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b>Only $1.00 for a short time, so get it NOW, right HERE: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hazardous-Union..." target="_blank">HAZARDOUS UNIONS</a></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b>By Alison Bruce (<a href="http://www.alisonbruce.ca/">w...) & Kat Flannery (</b></span><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><b><a href="http://www.katflannery-author.com/&qu... lang="EN-CA"><b>)</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b>Imajin Books (<a href="http://www.imajinbooks.com/">... class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Alison Bruce has had many careers and writing has always been one of them. Copywriter, editor and graphic designer since 1992, Alison has also been a comic book store manager, small press publisher, webmaster and arithmetically challenged bookkeeper. She is the author of mystery, suspense and historical romance novels.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Website: <a href="http://www.alisonbruce.ca/">h... </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Blog: <a href="http://alisonebruce.blogspot.ca/"... class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/alisonebruce"... </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/alisonbruce.... class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>
September 14, 2013
Vermont Visit: Serendipity Comes Along
As we pull into the little town, a wall of heat and sun falls like a weighty blanket on our heads. We’re in Middlebury, Vermont, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the town green. Vince and I sit in a band shell and wait, gulping the breeze gratefully, though it’s pretty capricious.
We’ve just spent a lovely, interesting evening at our friends’ country home, along with a scrumptious meal, and now we’re on a research adventure together. Usually it’s only Vince and I, but we’re thrilled to add the other four. Our conversations are always challenging, invigorating and original. Thus having them on a research jaunt is a real bonus.
At lunch, Frances and Marty mention that they’ve seen a few covered bridges in Vermont and want to go back to a couple they found especially interesting. I’d never thought of covered bridges as part of my research, but I begin to realize that they are part of the landscape. They might not be part of the story, but any good description of Vermont will likely have to mention them, so we decide to join the hunt.
When we arrive in Brandon, only a few miles south of Middlebury, I am thrilled. I knew it would be the right size (thanks, Google Earth), but I’d only hoped it would have the look and feel that I wanted.
To qualify: the new novel doesn’t take place in Brandon, but in a little community to the west of it, closer to Lake Champlain. However, this village doesn’t really exist. It’s called Salmon Creek. As the days of research march ahead, SC takes shape. The Lilac Inn gets enlarged and moved. Parts of Orwell stand in for my village, as does an empty field overlooking the lake. Brandon can be herself. She’s the closest (and largest) town to Salmon Creek. As for the Lilac Inn, it turns out that this place was once a private retirement residence. I am shocked by the serendipity of it all! With its arched porch, gardens, banquet rooms, grand staircase, old-fashioned lift, and bar, it’s utterly perfect.
We hunt through the Brandon Cemetery, stroll through two covered bridges. One is a railroad bridge. The train tracks are now ripped up and replaced with gravel and wood, but the covered bridge still looks magnificently ineffectual.
Nearby, I find my sunflower garden, a critical part of the novel’s opening. Just as I’d hoped, the sunflowers are enormous, with fat green leaves and huge brown faces and yellow bonnets. We spend an afternoon under the arches while rain pours onto the fat leaves and clatters on the roof. Thunder echoes in the distance. This is exactly what I came here to do: experience life in Salmon Creek. Later, as I synthesize everything, I begin to hear Rosie’s voice. To understand her better. To be able to write her story.
They really do have salmon in Vermont, along with moose and maple syrup. We traverse the rolling hills in sunshine, gaze into small town life, spend hours talking on the Lilac porch. I have only enough time to make short notes, but I am content and happy.
Both evenings, we have sumptuous meals at the Café Provence, somehow appropriate that Mary Jo and Ken, who went to the south of France with us years ago, are here too. We listen and talk to the locals, with their very indistinct accent – almost Southern Ontarian, we joke.
I drink in the scents, ask Vince to photograph plants, trees, flowers and rooms.
And then I find the book on a shelf in the common room. The Mystery at Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene. A Nancy Drew Mystery. Serendipity flies again!
We’ve just spent a lovely, interesting evening at our friends’ country home, along with a scrumptious meal, and now we’re on a research adventure together. Usually it’s only Vince and I, but we’re thrilled to add the other four. Our conversations are always challenging, invigorating and original. Thus having them on a research jaunt is a real bonus.At lunch, Frances and Marty mention that they’ve seen a few covered bridges in Vermont and want to go back to a couple they found especially interesting. I’d never thought of covered bridges as part of my research, but I begin to realize that they are part of the landscape. They might not be part of the story, but any good description of Vermont will likely have to mention them, so we decide to join the hunt.
When we arrive in Brandon, only a few miles south of Middlebury, I am thrilled. I knew it would be the right size (thanks, Google Earth), but I’d only hoped it would have the look and feel that I wanted.To qualify: the new novel doesn’t take place in Brandon, but in a little community to the west of it, closer to Lake Champlain. However, this village doesn’t really exist. It’s called Salmon Creek. As the days of research march ahead, SC takes shape. The Lilac Inn gets enlarged and moved. Parts of Orwell stand in for my village, as does an empty field overlooking the lake. Brandon can be herself. She’s the closest (and largest) town to Salmon Creek. As for the Lilac Inn, it turns out that this place was once a private retirement residence. I am shocked by the serendipity of it all! With its arched porch, gardens, banquet rooms, grand staircase, old-fashioned lift, and bar, it’s utterly perfect.
We hunt through the Brandon Cemetery, stroll through two covered bridges. One is a railroad bridge. The train tracks are now ripped up and replaced with gravel and wood, but the covered bridge still looks magnificently ineffectual. Nearby, I find my sunflower garden, a critical part of the novel’s opening. Just as I’d hoped, the sunflowers are enormous, with fat green leaves and huge brown faces and yellow bonnets. We spend an afternoon under the arches while rain pours onto the fat leaves and clatters on the roof. Thunder echoes in the distance. This is exactly what I came here to do: experience life in Salmon Creek. Later, as I synthesize everything, I begin to hear Rosie’s voice. To understand her better. To be able to write her story.
They really do have salmon in Vermont, along with moose and maple syrup. We traverse the rolling hills in sunshine, gaze into small town life, spend hours talking on the Lilac porch. I have only enough time to make short notes, but I am content and happy.Both evenings, we have sumptuous meals at the Café Provence, somehow appropriate that Mary Jo and Ken, who went to the south of France with us years ago, are here too. We listen and talk to the locals, with their very indistinct accent – almost Southern Ontarian, we joke.
I drink in the scents, ask Vince to photograph plants, trees, flowers and rooms.
And then I find the book on a shelf in the common room. The Mystery at Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene. A Nancy Drew Mystery. Serendipity flies again!
September 5, 2013
On Marketing
Last night, I had one of those epiphanies that seem to be self-evident, but sometimes are not. I went out for dinner with a group of lively, amazing female friends.
That was excitement enough, but most of them had recently read my new book, SweetKaroline, and they actually wanted to talk about it! They didn’t have to. We could’ve mentioned the book, perhaps, and moved on. They were genuinely excited about Sweet Karoline. I believe they honestly liked it and think it’s my best work.
Our discussions ranged from “who wrote the diary?” to debates about race and bigotry and child abuse to questions about how a book or its author becomes well known.
As to the latter, I have often slipped into pity mode on this score. I tweet, do paid advertising, plaster myself all over the free sites, and generally try every trick I can think of to promote my books. My novels aren’t easy reads, I have to admit. But I know there are people out there (like me) who love to read challenging books. So I keep slogging and trust me, sometimes I am quite dispirited.
Then along comes that group of intelligent, spirited, interested women (whom I call the Bosco Bunch). They are genuinely excited for me. They get the messages in the book. One of them told me she identified with a huge number of passages. Another said she had garnered a new interest in the life of black and native Canadians. Those moments made every single second of cyber-selling worthwhile. Every doubt that I had about being an author was instantly dispelled. It didn’t matter that most of the world is sailing along without knowing my name or Sweet Karoline or the Emily Taylor mysteries. The readers who have ventured into my novels and are happy that they got their money’s worth are the reasons for publishing.
Meeting with my readers face-to-face is the best possible scenario. Unfortunately, I can’t always do that. Thus I reach out to them through cyberspace.
As for the marketing grind, which I usually despise, thanks to http://bookmarketingbuzzblog.blogspot... I at last have a mantra. Here’s what they say about book marketing: “…accept your uniqueness. You are a writer and a publicist, with your own voice, style, ideas, and experiences. Be who you are meant to be.”
So I will pursue more face-to-face marketing opportunities, because, although they may be fewer and won’t bring me fame and fortune, they are the kind I love. They are “me”.
At the same time, I vow to embrace the tweeting and good-reading and shelfari-ing and facebooking and googling and well, you know the drill. As a writer I don’t love them, but as a publicist I shall!
Go here for my books: www.catherineastolfo.com
The Sweet Karoline launch dinner washeld at our favourite restaurant, Fanzorelli's.
If you live near Brampton, ON, go get some great food!
www.fanzorellis.ca
That was excitement enough, but most of them had recently read my new book, SweetKaroline, and they actually wanted to talk about it! They didn’t have to. We could’ve mentioned the book, perhaps, and moved on. They were genuinely excited about Sweet Karoline. I believe they honestly liked it and think it’s my best work.
Our discussions ranged from “who wrote the diary?” to debates about race and bigotry and child abuse to questions about how a book or its author becomes well known.
As to the latter, I have often slipped into pity mode on this score. I tweet, do paid advertising, plaster myself all over the free sites, and generally try every trick I can think of to promote my books. My novels aren’t easy reads, I have to admit. But I know there are people out there (like me) who love to read challenging books. So I keep slogging and trust me, sometimes I am quite dispirited.
Then along comes that group of intelligent, spirited, interested women (whom I call the Bosco Bunch). They are genuinely excited for me. They get the messages in the book. One of them told me she identified with a huge number of passages. Another said she had garnered a new interest in the life of black and native Canadians. Those moments made every single second of cyber-selling worthwhile. Every doubt that I had about being an author was instantly dispelled. It didn’t matter that most of the world is sailing along without knowing my name or Sweet Karoline or the Emily Taylor mysteries. The readers who have ventured into my novels and are happy that they got their money’s worth are the reasons for publishing. Meeting with my readers face-to-face is the best possible scenario. Unfortunately, I can’t always do that. Thus I reach out to them through cyberspace.
As for the marketing grind, which I usually despise, thanks to http://bookmarketingbuzzblog.blogspot... I at last have a mantra. Here’s what they say about book marketing: “…accept your uniqueness. You are a writer and a publicist, with your own voice, style, ideas, and experiences. Be who you are meant to be.”
So I will pursue more face-to-face marketing opportunities, because, although they may be fewer and won’t bring me fame and fortune, they are the kind I love. They are “me”.
At the same time, I vow to embrace the tweeting and good-reading and shelfari-ing and facebooking and googling and well, you know the drill. As a writer I don’t love them, but as a publicist I shall!
Go here for my books: www.catherineastolfo.com
The Sweet Karoline launch dinner washeld at our favourite restaurant, Fanzorelli's.If you live near Brampton, ON, go get some great food!
www.fanzorellis.ca
August 23, 2013
Face in the Mirror
When I was younger, so much younger than today, I went to Detroit with my boyfriend to see his aunt. Rheba was the kind of woman about whom you would say, "she had a magnetic personality". Added to the curves of her shapely figure, she had a wide, luscious mouth that was always turned up in a smile. Her huge brown eyes alight with the fullest appreciation of life, she had the ability to make a whole room of people think she was talking to each one individually. Her nephew and I loved to visit her.
Besides, Rheba owned a bar.
In my memory, it was a long, narrow room with dim lighting and lots of chairs that could be pushed back if dancing broke out. Which, on the few times I was there, it often did.
The crowd would be so enormous that we would be packed face-to-face or back-to-back and dancing was the alternative to standing so close to a stranger, with no purpose. Conversation had to be avoided for the most part, because there was always a trio playing loud music in the corner, or the blast of a sound system.
Since it was the early 70's, the music was, of course, Motown. Loud, rhythmic, heart pounding, sweaty music to jump and fly with. I knew the words, felt the cadence, sang and danced and lost myself in the sound of hoots of laughter and raucous calls.
On one particular turn around the bar, I happened to look sideways into the mirror that framed the room. There I was. Young, slim, blond, blue-eyed. Starkly white. The only white face in the room.
Black and brown bobbed and whooped it up around me. I stood stock still, stunned by the paleness of my skin. Aware for the first time that I looked so much different from my party companions.
Suddenly I thought about how my boyfriend must feel in our very white city. Years later I was to contemplate our children: when they look in the mirror, they see a combo color; a light brown that's not quite one or the other. They very often have no comparisons, no one whose color matches theirs, no crowd in which to get lost.
My daughter and son with their Grampa.Does this matter? Not usually. The question did lead me to include racial perspectives in my book, Sweet Karoline. I did write about my children's heritage (fictionalized) of an exotic mix of white, black and native. We're fortunate because my children grew up in middle class Canada, where their racial mix was interesting, not offensive. We did have some negative reactions, which I'll tell you about another time.
For the most part, their faces in the mirror are not startlingly different, not pasty white, not dark berry. They have a part of several heritages all in one (in my humble opinion) gorgeous countenance.
Get Sweet Karoline here.
Besides, Rheba owned a bar.
In my memory, it was a long, narrow room with dim lighting and lots of chairs that could be pushed back if dancing broke out. Which, on the few times I was there, it often did. The crowd would be so enormous that we would be packed face-to-face or back-to-back and dancing was the alternative to standing so close to a stranger, with no purpose. Conversation had to be avoided for the most part, because there was always a trio playing loud music in the corner, or the blast of a sound system.
Since it was the early 70's, the music was, of course, Motown. Loud, rhythmic, heart pounding, sweaty music to jump and fly with. I knew the words, felt the cadence, sang and danced and lost myself in the sound of hoots of laughter and raucous calls.
On one particular turn around the bar, I happened to look sideways into the mirror that framed the room. There I was. Young, slim, blond, blue-eyed. Starkly white. The only white face in the room.
Black and brown bobbed and whooped it up around me. I stood stock still, stunned by the paleness of my skin. Aware for the first time that I looked so much different from my party companions. Suddenly I thought about how my boyfriend must feel in our very white city. Years later I was to contemplate our children: when they look in the mirror, they see a combo color; a light brown that's not quite one or the other. They very often have no comparisons, no one whose color matches theirs, no crowd in which to get lost.
My daughter and son with their Grampa.Does this matter? Not usually. The question did lead me to include racial perspectives in my book, Sweet Karoline. I did write about my children's heritage (fictionalized) of an exotic mix of white, black and native. We're fortunate because my children grew up in middle class Canada, where their racial mix was interesting, not offensive. We did have some negative reactions, which I'll tell you about another time.For the most part, their faces in the mirror are not startlingly different, not pasty white, not dark berry. They have a part of several heritages all in one (in my humble opinion) gorgeous countenance.
Get Sweet Karoline here.
