I don’t usually re=post things of this nature. I prefer to talk about what I love, writing, But this is worth sharing with anyone who will listen, Who knows, maybe it will save a life.
via I raised an addict – what could I have done differently?.
Tag: children
High Cotton Country by Leta McCurry
It is a pleasure to have Leta McCurry with us today for an Author Interview. Leta and I have become friends through WFWA, Women’s Fiction Writers Association. I am still amazed at how technology can bring people together from opposites sides of the country, or even the world.
Leta, when did you first know you wanted to be a writer and was there a particular inspiration to get started?
I think I’ve always known I wanted to be a writer but I actually started writing at about twelve – from a twelve year old’s perspective obviously. The adventure, companionship, comfort and inspiration I received from being an avid reader is what first inspired me to put on paper the stories that were bouncing around in my head.
Do you have a background in writing or have you taken any special writing courses that helped you along the way?
No. The biggest help to me has been honest and forthright critique readers. Feedback from readers always gives me clarity about y writing and is a big help in my on-going endeavor to become a better writer.
What other work have you done, and how has it impacted your writing career?
Sales. I think sales taught me to take risks and put myself out there. And not to take rejection personally. And, while not work in the strictest sense, I think raising five children.
How long did it take you to publish your first manuscript?
About a year and a half from writing the first chapter through to publication.
Do you always write in the same genre?
My interest is in general/women’s fiction. I never intended to write non-fiction but at one point Prentice-Hall, New York offered me a contract to write a college textbook which I did and they published. That was just an unexpected side trip. I refer to my genre as women’s fiction but I have been told it is more general fiction. High Cotton Country has actually been read by several men and I’ve had really good geed back from them so I guess it is a cross-over between general and women’s fiction.
Many of us cross over genres and it is difficult to pinpoint one to fit our books. For the book we are promoting today, what shelf would we find it on if it were in a bricks and mortar bookstore?
Women’s fiction.
Do you have any special time or place you like to write?
I have a little cubby hole office hardly big enough to “cuss a cat” as my grandpa would say, but it works for me. Nice big windows with a view out at the green Oregon trees and foliage and blue sky (when it isn’t raining).
Are you published through a traditional publishing house? If yes, how did you find your agent and publisher?
Yes. Non Fiction. College Text Book. Publisher Prentice Hall sought me out based on a recommendation from a college professor.
Why did you choose to go the self-publishing Indie route in lieu of traditional publication on this project? What were the deciding factors to choosing your publisher? Would you recommend that same Indi publisher to a colleague?
I went the self-publishing route almost entirely because of the time factor involved in getting a book on the market via traditional sources. It just seemed that two years was a long time.
Do you always write in the same POV or narrative or do you switch it up in different stories?
I like to switch it up because everybody has their own perspective on events and situations. The same incident can and does have a different impact on different people. I have read books written from a one person perspective and they worked for me as a reader. I don’t know that I could make it work that successfully. To me, the difference is one perspective is like mashed potatoes and multiple perspective is like a baked potato with butter, sour cream, chives and chopped bacon. Having said that, I’ll probably end up writing a one point of view narrative someday.
Authors and publishers are always talking about finding your “Voice”. Exactly what does that mean to you and how did you find yours?
I think an author’s voice is that life and world point of view that is particular to each of us. That voice is the culmination of our circumstances of birth, the “imprinting” we received as we grew to adulthood, and the experiences that are unique to each one. And, the voice is always changing, growing, expanding, because as long as we are alive we are continually influenced by the world and people around us and our responses to those circumstances.
Do you follow a structure pattern such as staying in chronological order, or alternating points in time or different POV’s
I don’t follow an exact chronological order but I do follow a loose time framework. I do write in order though, each chapter in sequence. I have writer friends who may write chapter 20 then come back to 5 then write chapter 18 then 35 and come back to 6. That would drive me crazy.
What was the hardest part for you in the writing process; the outline, synopsis, query or building the story itself?
Query and synopsis. Lot harder that writing a novel. Now that I am in the midst of the process, writing is the easy part.
It is not enough to write a book and wait for the money to start rolling in. What marketing techniques do you implement to increase your sales?
Right now, personal networking. Exploring possibilities. Marketing has turned out to be a sharp learning curve for me and I’m still finding my way through the jungle. As I said, writing Cazzie’s story was the easy part.
Are you a pantser or a planner?
About 50/50 I think.
What advice would you give to new writers just getting started with their first manuscript?
Sit down and write. Edit later.
Who are some of the authors whose work you admire the most, and why?
Elin Hildebrand – she entertains me. Susan Crandall and Robert Morgan because I love their “voice”. They are from my neighborhood. And Ayn Rand – she makes me think. James Clavell and Lincoln and Childs– they transport me to other worlds.
Complete this sentence….. My first ever published piece of writing was….. “A poem.”
Please share a brief synopsis of High Cotton Country.
Secrets. Hidden they can destroy her from within. Revealed they can explode her world.
Come hell or high water, Cazzie Randle is determined to leave the past behind along with the hardscrabble life of a small hill country town but finds she can’t elude the secret trauma that haunts her – an act of unspeakable horror by her mother and abandonment by her father.
A message that her father is dying sends a reluctant Cazzie to his bedside but not to reconcile a lifelong estrangement. She must make him finally reveal the secrets of the memories that haunt her. He must answer questions of “Why?”
An explosion of truth in a dusty Texas hill country town reveals old secrets and demands choices. But will she be able to choose or will she be paralyzed by all the old hurts, cruelty and betrayals that have driven her all her life? To find the answer, Cazzie must confront the very essence of who she has become and question whether the price was too high.
High Cotton Country is the story of one woman’s journey to self-discovery. It is about the inherent dignity of the human being, of the burning desire to be in command of one’s own destiny, of the will, not only to survive, but to achieve, and to face adversity with courage and honor. This is not only the story of one woman’s fighting spirit, but also of the people who influence her self-esteem, shape her self-image and participate in her destiny.
Where can readers buy High Cotton Country?
Readers can read the first chapter of High Cotton Country at http://www.letamccurry.com/free-read/ and check out my blog at http://www.letamccurry.com/blog
Copies are available https://www.createspace.com/5060373 or
Thanks for having me, Joanne. It’s been fun. Leta
Is Etiquette dead?
Emily Post
Oct 27, 1872 – Sept. 25, 1960
This post has nothing to do with writing, it has to do with living. With the holidays over, I have been thinking about etiquette. What faux pas did I commit by either not following etiquette or by using out-dated protocol that showed my age worse than the wrinkles on my hand?
Without Emily Post to direct me, how do I know what is still current and what is passé?
Below is a list of etiquette I was raised with. I’m not saying I remember to use them all. What do you think is still proper and what ones should be thrown out with the bath water. (I realize that statement will only make sense to certain people – oops dating myself already.)
- Men (and I include boys whenever I say “men”) should open doors (including car doors) for a lady. (i.e. girls)
- Men should give up their seat on public transportation to women and the elderly. Note: I think women should also give up their seat for the elderly if they are younger)
- Men should walk on the outside (curb side) when walking down the street with a lady. Note: Did you know that before indoor plumbing, the rule was the opposite, so if someone threw dirty water out the window of their apartment, the water would hit the man, not the woman?
- Men should either place the hand on the small of her back or gently hold her elbow when walking. (Note: I’d settle for holding hands if appropriate.)
- Men never let a lady lift something heavy when they are around.
- Men stand up when a lady enters or leaves a room.
- Always RSVP to an invitation, even if it does not require one.
- Shoes and shirts at the table (No shoes, no shirt, no service applies in peoples’ homes too)
- Bring a thank-you gift when invited to dinner.
- If given a dish to take home, always return it full, never empty.
- Women should sit with their feet crossed at their ankles, not at the knee.
- When not eating at the table, hands should be in your lap.
- Napkins always placed on the lap.
- No elbows on the table.
- No slurping your soup.
- Children should never interrupt an adult. (Arguing with an adult is never appropriate)
- Respect your elders, even if you think they are wrong.
- Guests to wait to pick up their utensils to eat until the hostess is seated. She picks up hers first. (this applies to dessert served as well)
- Never leave the table, even if you are done eating, until the hostess says you are excused.
- Never say “I don’t like that.” Always, “No thank you. I don’t care for any.”
- Thank-you notes for gifts. Hand written was protocol, but I would assume an email would work today.
- Crude or inappropriate language does not belong at the dinner table.
- This is a new one I made up – No electronics at the table.
This isn’t everything I learned. Mom, I swear there are more. But, this is what came off the top of my head. I’d love to hear what you think of these and if there is any etiquette that I grossly forgot, or perhaps a new etiquette that arose in the last century.
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A Christmas Gift by Kerryn Reid
My friend,Kerryn Reed, wrote this beautiful Christmas story and she is allowing me to share it with you. I know you will love it.
A CHRISTMAS GIFT
by Kerryn Reid
©2014
“Is it tonight, Mama? Please say it is!” Sadie jumped up and down, flapping her arms like a robin fledging in mid-winter.
Marian Barnett smiled for her daughter’s sake. Since she had married John and moved to Yorkshire, wassail nights had been gay occasions. They would collect in shifting little knots of friends and family on Christmas Eve and sometimes again for New Year’s Eve and Twelfth Night, laughing at the cold and each other’s antics. They ran to keep warm and sang very badly, yet the rich folk in their snug houses smiled, and provided hot punch for them all, and maybe some cakes, and often pressed pennies or ha’pennies into the children’s hands to be spent on toys or candy. Then the wassailers would run along to the next house to try their luck. And somewhere along the way she would fall into the snow with John, pressed close through all the layers of wool, kissing each other’s numbed lips before hurrying home to strip those layers off and fulfill the craving they’d begun outside, drunk on wassail and Christmas and the long life they would share.
John was gone close to a year now, saving their daughter from the icy swirling river. Sadie was no substitute for him, but she was all Marian had, and her little heart was set on her first time wassailing. It would be Marian’s only gift to her – any coins they received must be hoarded for bread and milk.
“When do we go, Mama? Why can’t we go now?” All morning long the questions came. Where Marian found the patience to answer calmly, she didn’t know. Finally, in the afternoon, she set aside the shirts she was sewing for Mrs. Wallace and lay down with the child. Once Sadie was asleep, she would get back to the work that brought in those few all-important shillings.
She woke up when Sadie clambered over her, humming a tune with some words thrown in. “And all the little children hmm hmmm go, love and joy hmm…” It had been a bright day, but a glance out the window showed the dusk already lowering its veil over the town. Marian sighed. She’d wasted the afternoon. Already it was time to get them both fed and dressed; John’s brother would be stopping for them soon enough.
Sadie jumped from the bench for the dozenth time and ran to the door. “It must be Uncle Peter, Mama!” But it wasn’t, it was no one at all, and the cold rushed in again to mock their little wood fire. Not that Marian could blame the child. Hungry though she must be, hard brown bread soaked in lukewarm broth could not be expected to keep her at table when there was such excitement in the offing.
Marian gave up the battle. Small meals meant small work to clean them up – in a few minutes it was done. As soon as she stepped from the kitchen corner, Sadie flew to her side. “Oh, Mama, can we go now? Is it time?”
“Not yet, my robin.” Marian scooped her up, nibbling at her neck until she wriggled with giggles. “But it’s time to put on all our warmest clothing so we’ll be ready when Uncle comes.” She sat the child on top of the shelves John had built so they were almost eye-to-eye.
Sadie stuck her feet out straight while Marian pushed on an extra pair of socks, and then another. “Will we go to the big house?”
“Lord Ryndale’s? I’m sure we will.” Who more likely to give away money, after all? And oh, how disgusting to think that way.
A miniature pair of trousers, borrowed from Peter’s little boy, went under Sadie’s skirts, the hems rolled up so she wouldn’t trip on them.
“How about the pastor?”
“Definitely.”
A second gown went on over the first, and Sadie crowed with laughter at the idea of wearing twodresses. “An’ the new fam’ly down the lane, with the baby?”
That was easy enough to guess. Aubrey was their name. Marian had seen them at church. She remembered one Sunday in particular when the pastor had prayed for John’s soul. “And for his widow, Marian. She came to us a stranger, yet she was his, and now she is ours.” And all those eyes turned her way and she tried not to cry, because most of them didn’t look very friendly at all. But Mrs. Aubrey stopped her after the service, took her hand and said how sorry she was. A nice lady, gentle and soft-spoken.
“Yes, I expect so. Now it’s time for your boots.” These were also borrowed. Marian squeezed them on over all the socks.
“Mama, they’re too tight!”
Afraid they would split apart, Marian took them off again and removed one sock from each little foot. “Better?”
“Mm hmm.” A borrowed jacket and a knitted cap, and Sadie was ready for the finishing touches when Peter arrived.
Marian lifted her down and started on her own layers. An extra pair of socks, and then her own boots; a skirt underneath her old gown; and then Peter was at the door with Jane and Tommy and some of the neighbors, stomping snow on her clean floor.
Peter swung his niece into the air. “Well, Sadie, are you ready for your grand adventure?”
Her shrieks filled the room with happiness. Marian ran over to them with Sadie’s cloak and mittens, and once they were donned, the group headed out into the near-darkness. She tore her own cloak down from its peg and followed, leaving behind her own hat and the tattered old pelisse she’d intended to wear under the cloak. Peter did not like to wait.
Seven-year-old Tommy swung a lantern, and one of the men had a torch. They were hardly necessary along the main street, with all the light shining from the windows. But the richest homes in town lay farther apart on the side roads, darker and less-traveled.
“Put me down, Uncle,” Sadie squealed again after the third house they visited, and this time he did. Tommy called her a plum pudding and everyone laughed, the description was so apt as she waddled down the street in all her layers. Sadie just grinned. Peter and Jane took one hand apiece and swung her between them until they reached the next house. After that she tottered along between Marian and Jane, then Marian carried her for a while.
By the time they arrived in the square they were sixpence richer. A bonfire had been laid for the evening festivities. The bells would ring and the children would parade around the square with drums or makeshift instruments, making “music” to welcome the Christ child. But that was not ‘til eight o’clock.
The group headed out toward Lord Ryndale’s estate beyond the edge of town, paying their luck-visits at the houses along the way. Marian’s arms and shoulders ached. Who would think a half-starved four-year-old could weigh so much? The effort helped keep her warm, though already she couldn’t feel her feet.
She made Sadie walk and the two of them fell behind, reaching “the big house” as the rest of the group left it. Peter looked surprised when they passed on the big gravel drive. “You just getting here, then? They have good cakes inside. Best hurry, Sadie, before they’re gone.”
“You go on ahead,” Marian said. “We’ll catch up.”
“No, no. We’ll wait.” He did not sound happy about it. The others had not noticed her at all, and he watched after them as they passed on through the grand gate to the lane, talking and laughing. His feet remained rooted to the gravel, but the rest of him seemed to stretch out to follow.
Marian pressed her lips tight. “Go on. We’re fine.” Peter seemed to blame her, somehow, for John’s death. But even before that, he had never liked her much.
He didn’t even look at her. “If you’re sure,” he said, and was gone, may he rot. John had been worth a dozen Peters.
Sadie got a penny and a little Yule cake. “Mmm. It’s good, Mama.” But most of it crumbled into the snow as she ate it. Marian rejected the wassail bowl so they could catch up with the rest, but took her own cake for Sadie to eat later, carefully wrapped in a cloth.
They did not catch up. Marian carried Sadie, but it wasn’t long before she felt her arms would fall off. Thank God, the lights of the town shone clearer now, individual windows pricking out of the darkness ahead. Focused on those, she tripped in a rut and fell to her knees in the frozen lane.
If only she could warm herself, she could manage the walk home. But Sadie, plopping down on her mama’s thighs like a sack of potatoes, made it impossible even to stand up. Hard to believe this night had ever been fun.
“Sadie, love, you must get off.”
“I want to go home, Mama.” She did not cry, but her voice wavered with the threat of tears.
Oh God, so did she! “We will, sweetling, we will. But first I must get up.” She had never felt less graceful, her bottom in the air as she shoved off the ground with her hands. But she managed. “And next, we must visit this house.” It stood just steps away, all lit up, the gate standing open in welcome. Light meant warmth, and some hot liquor in her belly would work wonders.
They were halfway up the walk before she realized it was the Aubreys’ house. Not that it mattered; she would ask only a few extra minutes by the fire beyond the usual wassail offerings, and she would expect that much compassion from anyone.
A footman opened the door, tall and lean – no, he wore no livery. It was Mr. Aubrey himself. At least, she thought it was. “Merry Christmas,” he said, looking out beyond her shoulder to see how many followed her. Not many went wassailing alone.
“And to you, sir.” Curtsies were difficult, Marian found, on legs frozen stiff. “I fear I’m out of breath, or we would sing for you.” Thank goodness she had some excuse! Singing was beyond her capabilities at that moment.
“I’ll sing, Mama,” Sadie said from knee level. “Wish you a merry Kissmas, wish you a merry Kissmas, an’ a happy new year!” It was not very tuneful, but she ended with a shout and a flourish of her hand, and Mr. Aubrey applauded and laughed.
“Do come in, both of you. We leave shortly to watch the celebration in the square, but you are here in time for some punch.” He led the way into the parlor. It was not as grand as Lord Ryndale’s, yet her whole cottage might fit three times into this room. But she hardly even noticed, because of the fire. She could not afford enough wood to keep such a fire alive for three days!
The contrast in temperature made Marian shudder. Oh, it felt wonderful! Regardless of how it must look, she crossed directly to the fireplace, pulled off her mittens and held her hands out toward the flames.
While Mr. Aubrey gave Sadie a cup and a biscuit, his wife came to her with a glass of punch. Their fingers touched as Marian took her glass, and Mrs. Aubrey exclaimed, “Why, your hands are like ice! Please, sit down here and take as long as you need to warm yourself. And your daughter, too. Come here, little one.” She nestled Sadie beside Marian in the big chair.
“Oh, ma’am, bless you for this. We fell behind the others, and Sadie’s so swaddled she can hardly walk.”
“An’ Mama too,” Sadie said. “She falled down.”
“Oh dear. Yes, I see your skirts are wet.”
Marian looked down, appalled to think she might soil Mrs. Aubrey’s floor. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.” She started to her feet, but her hostess put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her firmly back down before seating herself in an adjacent chair.
“Don’t worry about that, please.” Smoky-blue eyes peered into Marian’s own. “I know you, don’t I? Was it not your husband who…” With a glance at Sadie, Mrs. Aubrey changed what she’d been about to say. “…Who saved your little girl? Such a hero. And a soldier too, was he not? I don’t recall the name, I’m afraid.”
“John Barnett, ma’am. And mine is Marian.” It was a struggle to get her own name out of her mouth. Dear God, she hadn’t cried in months. But with the cold, and the wishing, and the sympathy in Mrs. Aubrey’s pretty face… She choked on her tears, and a fancy embroidered handkerchief appeared in her hand. She hated to use the thing, but it would be worse not to.
“I am Anna Aubrey. I think the pastor said you’re not from these parts? I’m a “foreigner”, too, all the way from Bristol. Isn’t it funny, how Yorkshire folk think of us that way, as if we weren’t all English?”
Marian didn’t find it funny at all, but she supposed a beautiful woman with a wealthy husband and a fine home would always receive a warmer welcome than she had found. “I’m from Exeter, ma’am. My John was stationed there with his regiment.”
Sadie had been leaning heavy against Marian’s side, sleepy with the warmth as Marian was herself. But she pushed away and slipped down to the floor. “Don’t you have a baby, ma’am? Where is it?”
“My husband will bring her downstairs any minute. We’re taking her to the town square for the parade, unless we’re too late.”
Marian scooted forward and stood, still stiff and clumsy. She discovered that her knee hurt. “I’m afraid we’re keeping you, ma’am. I thank you, ever so much…”
Mr. Aubrey returned to the room carrying the prettiest babe Marian had ever seen, plump and healthy-looking, perhaps a year in age. A maid accompanied them carrying outdoor garments for the child. Sadie waddled over for a closer look, cooing and chattering to the wide-eyed infant.
Mrs. Aubrey smiled across the room at them, then turned back to Marian. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Barnett. And if you don’t mind being a little bit crowded, we will be pleased to take you in the carriage back to the square, or to your home if you prefer.”
Did the woman not realize how far beneath her Marian was? “I could not ask you to…”
“But you didn’t, did you,” Mrs. Aubrey said. “So that’s settled.”
Though the drive took less than ten minutes, Sadie was asleep when they reached town. Kind as they were, Marian had no desire to show these gentry-folk where she lived. But still less did she want to walk there carrying Sadie. In fact, she didn’t think she could. Depending on darkness to hide the worst, she let them drive her home. They would never see the interior, at least.
Yet somehow, when they arrived, it happened. Mr. Aubrey took the child from her as they descended from the carriage. That was natural enough.
But when she reached out to take Sadie, he said, “No, let me carry her for you.” And then, in response to her protest, “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am.”
She had no choice but to open the door to the dark room, only a bit warmer than the outdoors. He said something over his shoulder to the footman on the box beside the coachman, and he took a lantern from its hook on the carriage and lit the way in.
Marian closed her eyes against the light and the embarrassment. Then she led the way to the bed and lit the candle beside it.
His manners were excellent. He said nothing about the place. She could not even tell that he inspected it. But for all that, she felt tension coming off him as he lay Sadie gently down and stood to his full height. His head bumped against the naked beam.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He ignored the apology, yet his voice was rough. He sounded angry. “Have you enough wood, ma’am? Where is your extra supply?”
Dazed and shivering, she answered him. He jerked his head toward the footman, who went out the door and turned to go where she had indicated.
“And food; what about food? Tomorrow is Christmas.”
“We sup tomorrow with my husband’s brother. We have enough.” Her voice cracked with the jumble of emotions roiling inside her. Anger of her own, humiliation, grief for John, fear of the long future without him, all played their part.
“I shall be back in a moment,” he said. The footman passed him in the doorway with an armload of wood. He added several small logs to the fire, working it until it blazed with warmth.
“Thank you,” she said, but he was not finished. He went back out for another load, and then another.
It was not Mr. Aubrey who returned, but his wife. She cast a brief glance around the room, then came to stand a foot in front of Marian. They were much the same height.
“I have a proposition, Mrs. Barnett.”
Marian fidgeted with the ties on her cloak.
“Have you ever been in service?”
Marian shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“It doesn’t matter. We need a maid, and I like you. Will you come to us?”
Marian blinked, shook her head again. “I can’t leave my daughter.”
Mrs. Aubrey’s eyes widened in shock. “Of course not! The two of you will share a room.”
Oh, this was foreign territory. “I don’t know how to be a maid, ma’am.”
“You can learn as you go along. We’ll sit down and discuss your duties with the housekeeper. We can begin with small things, and you will grow into the job. Can you come now?”
Marian jumped at that. She had to try twice to get any sound out. “Now, ma’am?” Her voice rose to a squeak.
“I suppose that is rather abrupt. My husband tells me you dine with family tomorrow?”
Marian nodded.
“The day after, then. We’ll send the carriage for you at one o’clock? And perhaps a waggon, in case you have trunks or other large items. Will that suit?”
Marian nodded again. She stared like a stupid oaf, unsure if she should trust her eyes and ears. Could this be happening? Perhaps she had died out there in the cold, and the woman before her was Heaven’s angel come for her? She looked angelic enough. But the sweet, gentle creature she’d talked with earlier had developed a will of iron, and Marian could no more refuse her than she could fly. And why should she?
Fear, that’s why. Not knowing what to do, what to expect. What would be expected of her.
But it was a chance, better than any other she was likely to receive. A Christmas gift, for herself and for Sadie. Food, fire, and clothes that fit. Shoes, too. A place to belong.
Mrs. Aubrey pulled off her glove and put out her hand. “Do we have a deal, Mrs. Barnett?”
Marian gazed at that soft white hand for a moment, then she slipped hers into it, rough and brown. She felt a grin form on her face, though her eyes were wet with tears.
“A deal, Mrs. Aubrey.”
What is your most unique Thanksgiving?
I know everyone has their horror stories of Thanksgivings where family members come to blows with each other. Not my family. We were raised to be civil at all times, to never raise your voice, to “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” However, just because we did not have any screaming matches, does not mean we were immune to the “unusual.”
So, here is mine. I’d love to hear yours.
First – a little background. To understand this story, you need to understand we are lily-white pilgrims. Well, almost anyway. My family first arrived in America in 1786 (I think that is right, but who is going to dispute it?) We settled on our family land where 5 generations of children were born in 1803, in Ohio, the same year it became a state. You didn’t come to dinner in bare feet or T-shirts. You wouldn’t dream of saying “I don’t like that.” You waited to be excused from the table by the hostess. Cardinal rule: always be polite. Still, they (my grand-parents and parents) considered themselves liberal and “tolerant” – their word, not mine, of those people that were different than us. Keep in mind, I never even met a black person until I was in high school, and my first Asian person was probably not until after I was married. So, I was brought up slightly (okay- maybe a little more than slightly) naive.
But shortly after I was married, our family included a Mormon sister-in-law, a Italian Catholic sister-in-law, (I was told “if you don’t don’t date them, you won’t marry them) – I guess that didn’t stop by brother. Note: my sister-in-law, Pat is one of my favorite people in the whole world, an Asian sister-in-law and my cousin married a black man. So the family was pretty happy when I married a white Protestant boy from our home town. (Well, almost happy – but that is another story.)
Okay, I am digressing. Back to Thanksgiving and my most unique one.
I believe it was 1995. We had recently moved to back Ohio from Virginia. For a change, most of my children (if not all) were in the same town. I have always been proud that Thanksgiving at my house meant, “Bring anyone that is alone to share the day.” So I never knew who my children (or I) might bring to Thanksgiving dinner.
My son, Dru (in his 20’s) said he was bringing some guests. Great. The table was all set. Everything was beautiful, good china, lace tablecloth from the early 1900’s, candles lit, my family all around me, turkey on the table. Dru was late (wasn’t he always?) With him was a Lesbian Asian couple that did not speak English. They had never seen a Thanksgiving turkey. They had no idea what to do with mashed potatoes and gravy. Dru had to do a pantomime Charades type demonstration to show them how to put gravy on top of the mashed potatoes. That in itself was hysterical.
After dinner, everyone settled in the living room to watch football. What else would anyone do on Thanksgiving? Our guests snuggled together on the couch, much to the chagrin of my 80 year old father, who tried not to stare, but whose eyes were glued like flies on a fly-strip. They managed to indicate to Dru somehow that they wanted us to change to channel. When he reached for the remote (the only family member NOT a football freak), his sister, Amy said, “What are you doing?”
Dru said, “Changing the channel. The girls don’t want to watch football.”
Jumping to her feet, hand on her hip, Amy glared, voice raised (yes-raised), said, “In THIS house, we watch FOOTBALL on Thanksgiving!”
So much for “tolerance.”
What is your story?
Welcome award winning children’s mystery author Renee Hand
Today we have Renee Hand, a multi-award-winning mystery children’s author with us. Renee has created an interactive mystery series known as the Crypto-Capers Series that encourages children to read by incorporating several topics of interest. The reader participates into the story by solving cryptograms and puzzles to solve the case. She is also the author of the Adventures of Joe-Joe Nut and Biscuit Bill Series, which focuses on animal detectives and science. This series is a great way to teach children about animals in a fun and interesting way that captures the reader’s attention, yet fills them with knowledge about science topics they will be learning about in school. All books are great to use in a classroom setting to supplement various topics or to just enjoy. Not quite sure what a cryptogram is and want to learn more? Visit the author’s website at http://www.reneeahand.com to learn about cryptograms and how to solve the ones that are in the books.
Welcome Renee, why don’t you tell us about yourself?
First, I would like to thank you for having me on your blog. It’s greatly appreciated. I’m a multi award-winning author and requested speaker on the topic of using fun fiction to teach science, geography and history. My books can not only challenge readers and the way they think about problems in real life, but I create high interest topics that suck the reader into my stories encouraging them into wanting to know more about the settings, science, history, culture and people. Skills like reading comprehension, reasoning, deduction and observation come together in a myriad of ways.
In my Crypto-Caper Series children get to solve puzzles and cryptograms that are woven strategically inside of the story for the reader to find and solve inside of the books. Each book provides the reader with what they will need to solve the case, providing them with the knowledge and new skills that will help them succeed.
In my Joe-Joe Nut Series, I combine the love of a good mystery with science using the topics of animal tracks, rocks and minerals, as well as weathering, erosion, and art. These books can supplement a curriculum in any classroom. The books also contain extra information like experiments, terminology of the topic, charts, and much more. All books are interactive and fun.
I have also created a coloring book for children, a zoo picture book which incorporates activities to do at the zoo. I also created a storytelling card game which is getting a lot of my readers excited.
What age group do your books center on?
The Crypto-Caper Series is for 4th grade and up into middle school. The Joe-Joe Nut Series begins at 2nd grade and goes up to 5th. The coloring book and picture book are for younger children and my storytelling game is for all ages including adults.
How long have you been writing?
I have been writing for over 25 years.
What book are we going to talk about today?
We are going to focus on my new release in The Crypto-Caper Series called The Mystery of the Circus for Hire. The book is #6 in the series. I want to make sure I add that this book just won a Preferred Choice Award from Creative Child Magazine
Congratulations! Is this your first award?
No, I’ve won Preferred Choice Awards, National Best Book Awards, Seal of Excellence Awards, Best Book Awards, and won a Beach Best Book Award for all of my books. I’m very proud of my awards.
What is The Circus for Hire about?
The Circus for Hire is a whirlwind of an adventure where the Crypto-Capers travel to Russia to save Max and Mia’s parents, Mitchem and Martha Holmes, from going to prison for a crime they didn’t commit. Finding themselves caught up in a scandal that is beyond their control, they use their skills and talents to try to outsmart the most notorious criminal of all time. Lies become intermixed with truth, yet, with the help of a new ally, the Crypto-Capers find themselves ahead of the game.
I’ve incorporated a different cipher in this book so my readers are going to be thrilled. In all of my books I have added cryptograms, word scrambles, and other challenging puzzles. My readers love them and it makes this series unique.
Where can readers buy your books?
Readers can buy my books at bookstores big and small, Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, my website (www.reneeahand.com) and other places.
Are you on any social networks?
Of course. I’m on twitter and facebook as well as LinkedIN and Goodreads. I also have a blog at http://thecryptocapersseries.blogspot.com I like to help authors by having them on my radio show called Stories From Unknown Authors. My blog and website has more info about that.
Thank you so much for being on my blog. It has tuly been my pleasure.
Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity.
The Ghosted Bridge by Kristy Abbott
Welcome Kristy, When did you first know you wanted to be a writer and was there a particular inspiration to get started?
I’ve always had the desire to write. I composed my first book in the second grade.
Do you have a background in writing or take any special writing courses that helped you along the way?
I have an undergraduate degree from the University of Southern California in Journalism and a Master of Professional Writing Fiction also from USC. I am a working online content writer specializing in Search Engine Optimization (SEO) content (such as blogs, website copy, social media messaging and eBooks) for companies in a wide variety of industries.
How long did it take you to publish your fist manuscript?
From start to finish 4 years.
Do you always write in the same genre?
Ha Ha! No. My first book was a novel – a ghost story set against the backdrop of Minnesota’s I35W Bridge collapse in 2007. My second which has just debuted is a children’s picture book about a homeless cat searching for a name and a forever family – opposite ends of the spectrum!
Many of us cross over genres and it is difficult to pinpoint one to fit our books. For the book we are promoting today, what shelf would we find it on if it were in a bricks and mortar bookstore?
The Ghosted Bridge shows up on a number of shelves. Paranormal, fiction, I’ve even seen it in fantasy. Of course in Minnesota it also appears on local author shelves. You can even find it at the USC bookstore in the Alumni Authors section.
For Finding Home you’ll hopefully find it cover front out on a shelf in the Children’s section surrounded by loads of happy kids sitting on the floor with the book in their laps!”
Are you published through a traditional publishing house? If yes, how did you find your agent and publisher?
Yes, both of my books were published by a small regional press. I did many query letters to agents and publishing houses to no avail. This publisher – North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc. – was looking specifically for Minnesota topics and Minnesota authors. I scored on both fronts for both books.
Do you always write in the same POV or narrative or do you switch it up in different stories?
I did try to change one of my books from 3rd person to 1st person after I read Angela’s Ashes but it didn’t work for my story.
Authors and publishers are always talking about finding your “Voice”. Exactly what does that mean to you and how did you find yours?
I think the topic of Voice is quite interesting. The main thing I know is that my writing voice is sometimes quite different from my out loud voice. For me the writing lets the real Kristy Abbott come out to play without judgment.
Author, Jennie Nash was quoted on Writer Unboxed that she reads other novels to study structure. Do you follow a structure pattern such as staying in chronological order, or alternating points in time or different POV’s?
I actually write the type of structure I like to read and that means shifting back and forth between characters as the story progresses. This includes jumping back and forth in time because I like to explore generational themes – i.e., the ghost in my book is actually the relative of someone living and both story lines happen concurrently.
I purposely used this tactic to build suspense in The Ghosted Bridge and actually sped up the pacing of the character shifts to heighten the reader’s captivation as I got closer to the climax. I think it worked quite well. Nearly every reader I’ve talked with brings that up and says, “You captured me. I couldn’t put it down.” I’m happy to have contributed to some sleepless nights!
What was the hardest part for you in the writing process; the outline, synopsis, query or building the story itself?
A few things were difficult, the query process is very disheartening. You feel like your work doesn’t warrant an agent or publisher’s interest when you send dozens of letters out without feedback. However, I have learned that there are LOTS of small publishing houses that are looking for niche books so I don’t feel discouraged anymore. I’d tell any hopeful writer to acquaint themselves with publishers who might be interested in your theme or subject.
I also found it challenging to make my characters believable. It’s easy to have a strong picture of them when they live in your head but you’ve got to make them solid for readers, too. My main character in The Ghosted Bridge is a psychic and I had to really believe that she had these gifts to make her real. Interestingly, the psychic goes through the book questioning her own abilities and is validated at the end.
It is not enough to write a book and wait for the money to start rolling in. What marketing techniques do you implement to increase your sales?
Well this is the biggest thing I’ve learned about having a book published. It doesn’t matter who you are, when you become an author, the hard work is just beginning. I wrote a post on my blog called, Get out Of Your Longsuffering Writer’s Chair, You Are an Author Now, about the transition from being a writer to being an author. The writer is the artist who creates the work, the author is the marketer who sells it.
Today’s authors have to be committed to a nearly full-time effort toward marketing. You’ve got to have a website, a Facebook page, a Twitter account, a Goodreads and Amazon profile, and a big email list. I am good at some things and not so much at others but I’m doing everything I can think of – including getting television, radio and print interviews to get the word out about my books.
Are you a pantser or a planner?
I think I am a combination. In terms of marketing, I go in stints and try to stay committed for the long haul. In terms of writing, I let the story come out when it wants to.
What advice would you give to new writers just getting started with their first manuscript?
I say allow the story to be born without judgment. I have author friends who write a few pages, maybe a chapter and then they go back and edit it before moving forward. I feel like this completely stalls my process. I don’t allow the editing policeman in the room until I’m pretty sure the characters are done telling their tale.
What is the biggest thing you didn’t know about being an author?
I never realized how terrifying it can be to do a book signing with the prospect of no one showing up. We’ve all had to do events at independent book stores or Barnes & Nobles never knowing if the advanced preparation of getting the word out worked. On those days it didn’t it can be discouraging but as an author you can’t let that derail you.
What is the premise of your novel we are promoting today?
I’m encouraging people to check out both of my books. My novel, The Ghosted Bridge, is a fun paranormal mystery for adults. The children’s book, Finding Home, is the heartwarming tale of second chances for lucky creatures for kids of all ages.
Can you share a few paragraphs from your book to wet our appetite?
Attached chapter from The Ghosted Bridge. In these paragraphs, Sedona psychic Madison Morgan is visited by a mysterious ghost for the first time, setting off a search to determine who the ghost is and what she’s trying to communicate.
Madison didn’t notice it at first. The psychic was having so many readings a day that her tablet pages covered with numbers were filling up fast. She made a note to go to the office supply store and get another. She looked at her watch and then contemplated the rest of the day, one more reading, and then off to yoga at 5:30. The phone rang.
“Yup, I’m coming.” She told the perpetually crabby Miriam. As she trotted down the stairs she realized that the heaviness that had been hanging around her had lifted a bit. Mercury was leaving retrograde, she guessed.
Fifteen minutes later she was just warming up her new client (an eight of diamonds – business expertise extraordinaire) in a session on opportunities coming down the pike, when a peculiar vibration filled the room. Immediately, Madison’s hands went cold and her hair stood on end, but she was so intent on the young woman in front of her that for a minute, she didn’t even see the older woman standing in the corner. With the ghost’s entrance, she got a stronger shiver that told her someone from the other side was about and she lifted her eyes to meet the measured grey stare from the woman by the door.
“Holy shit,” Madison squeaked.
“What?” The young woman sat up straight in her chair.
“Nothing, just, just…shut up for a minute.”
The girl sat back quickly with a look of shock.
Madison turned her attention to the woman in the corner. She looked older and was dressed in a plain pastel dress. The woman’s skin shimmered as her visible molecules filled the space where she stood. Madison sat fascinated. She knew from experience that these people didn’t typically speak in words. In fact, they rarely made themselves seen. They used pictures instead. This woman’s ability to crystallize impressed her.
The ghost stood in the corner silently. Madison realized that this amount of energy was a huge effort. She whispered softly to the woman.
“You have a word for this girl?” Madison pointed at the silent girl whose face still registered confusion. The girl looked over her left shoulder. Seeing nothing, she looked back to Madison, eyes wider than before.
The woman gave no trace of response. Madison tried again. “You need something from this girl?” The woman’s quiet presence entranced her.
“Is your mother still alive?” Madison asked the girl quietly.
“Yes.”
“Grandmothers?”
“Yes.” The girl was brimming with prickling curiosity. “Is there somebody here?”
Of course there is somebody here, Madison’s internal dialog snapped. What are you an idiot? Do you think I’m making this up? But the voice that left her lips was soft and gentle. “Yes, we have a visitor here. Do you know an older woman who has passed?”
The girl brought a ragged fingernail to her mouth and began furiously chewing.
Madison breathed deeply and spoke from inside herself. “Who are you here for?” It seemed as though the presence would not respond but then ever so faintly, the woman moved her head slightly toward the door. It was a subtle gesture but one that effectively told Madison this visitor wasn’t attached to the girl in the chair.
“I can’t think of…I don’t really know anybody….”
“That’s ok.” Madison cut her off. “Just remember it. Maybe it will come to you later.”
“Oh, ok.”
Madison looked back at the door. The corner was empty. She felt unbearably tired all of a sudden. This typically happened when spirits spent that much effort to connect with her. It was as if they tapped her energy to create a link. She felt the weariness settle about her shoulders. She passed her hand across her face and turned her attention back to the reading. A familiar tingle rose behind her eyes. The sensation was a sign she’d get when she realized a heightened sensory connection. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. It took nearly all her concentration to finish the reading.
Thank you, Kristy, for being one Writing Under Fire’s Author Interview Friday. Where can readers go to buy your books?
My website: www.KristyAbbott.com where you can read more about me, purchase my books and leave comments. I encourage you to check it out.
Combining childhood innocence with historical verisimilitude and a dash of magical fantasy
Welcome Linda Schell to Author Interview Friday. Tell us a little about yourself.
Combining childhood innocence with historical verisimilitude and a dash of magical fantasy—that was the impulse behind the start of my writing career. A travel log about the city, St. Petersburg, Russia inspired me to write my first fantasy-adventure book, Come Along With Me.
I wanted to bring appreciation to American children and their parents for the magical city known for its culture, architecture, tree-lined parks, and its bridges by the hundreds. This led me to my second book, The Palace Buzz, a wacky romp coated in outrageously true history.
Perhaps one day the series will find its way into Russia, and the people there will learn that there are people here in America who have an appreciation for their history and accomplishments.
Do you remember when you first wanted to be a writer?
When I was five years old I saw a broken typewriter in my aunt’s attic, and I wanted to start writing then. I didn’t have access to a typewriter until I was a junior in high school. By then I had put my writing ideas aside.
My long-range goal is to expand the imaginations of children while simultaneously exposing them to a variety of cultures and histories. For the last twenty-four years I have lived in Venice, Florida with my husband, Tom, of forty-six years. We have one son.
Do you have a background in writing?
My background in writing is business. The Elements of Style helped me in the business world. The book is short, and informative, and easy-to-understand.
I wrote the first rough draft to my debut story in about three weeks. Because I worked full time and sometimes sixty hours in a week, it took me years to tweak it, have it edited, and finally published.
What genre are your books in?
The two books I have written are fantasy/adventure, primarily for the nine to twelve set.
The Gracie Series would be found in the children’s section for fantasy, although the books do claim a little science fiction.
I see you went with self-publishing? Why did you go that route and are you happy with the results?
The hours I worked in my day job didn’t permit me to query main-stream publishers. At the end of the day I was too tired to query. Eventually, I would like to try mainstream. I am pleased with Amazon’s Create Space. Their crew responds immediately to my phone calls. They are patient.
What has been the hardest part of writing for you?
Writing a well-crafted descriptive sentence. In order to overcome my personal obstacle, I read not for enjoyment, but to learn how other author’s craft their sentences.
What are you doing to promote your books?
I’m a novice to writing as I started two years before I retired from work. Right now I am relying on Facebook, book fairs, and my husband’s great selling skills. Eventually, I will have to move to my own blog and website. I’m talking my time and learning as much as I can about marketing before I take definitive steps.
Do you have advice for other writers just starting down this path?
If the writer is as “wet behind the ears” as I was, I hope the newbie can find a friend who doubles as a writing coach. I’m not suggesting a professional, I am suggesting someone who understands what it takes to move a story forward, and someone who understands good sentence structure. I would suggest finding a Writer’s Group to learn about social media and marketing. If new writers finds themselves in a Writer’s Group that delves on negative personal criticism and the leader of the group is weak, move on. There are lots of groups out there. Read good “how to” books. Be mindful that some books are long on form and short on good advice. Read books. Although my target audience is children’s chapter books, I read adult books to improve my writing style. J. D. Salinger is a great author to study. Personally, I don’t care much for what he says, but how he says it was a learning curve for me. When sitting down to write, don’t worry about an outline. How can an author produce an outline if the author doesn’t know what he wants to say in precise detail.? Let your pen take you to the place you want to go. If you have amassed a great deal of research data, a time line will start to emerge in your mind. At that point, write down key events of what comes next and when. Another thing I taught myself to do, I did this with my first book because I had a beginning and no middle or end, I wrote little scenes that I thought would be interesting. The scenes spawned other ideas. Before I knew it I was easily connecting one scene to another, and throwing out other scenes that didn’t fit. That said, if an outline works for the author, use an outline. Use what works. Write in a way that the reader wants to keep turning the page to find out what will happen next.
What is the premise of the book we are promoting today?
My protagonist wants to visit the magical, fairy-tale city of St. Petersburg, Russia. Instead she finds herself marooned on a dairy farm in St. Clair, Pennsylvania where she meets a new friend, Gibson, a Maine Coon Cat who was just dumped off on the farm. Gibson is a dude from the city. The two meet two evil rats who are on a mission to destroy the farm and the farmer. In the end good triumphs over evil. In the meantime the grandparents will have fun reading Come Along With Me, because it takes place in the 50’s, pink kitchen appliances, hoola hoops, and all!
Watch this interview with author Linda Lee Schell:
BUY LINKS :
http://www.amazon.com/Come-Along-Me-Gracie-Book
https://www.createspace.com/4567510
EXCERPT OF BOOK Come Along With Me, Vol. 1 in the Gracie Series: (First page)
Deep inside the thirty-sixth universe, just south of the Never-Ending Rainbow, millions of shimmering spheres drift serenely through a tranquil sky. Gracie, a gentle soul, lives on one of these spheres, located near the heart of not only one of the oldest, but quite possibly the grandest of all the universes.
When the rays of the Everlasting Never-Ending Rainbow find their way to Gracie’s sphere, rose petals in myriad shades of pink and red flutter playfully to the ground. The creatures in Gracie’s world amicably take turns removing the petals from their lawns and winding paths. Here, even the local version of “bad weather” (which is always conveniently forecast well in advance by the Weather, Whether or Not creature), rarely turns out to be anything more severe than a late afternoon breeze, producing much rose-petal clutter, but little else. Undoubtedly, Gracie’s world is perfect in every way–except for one small problem: Gracie is bored.
Cheryl Abney writes Middle-Grade Historical Fiction
Cheryl Abney is a retired educator with over 30 years’ experience as a teacher and counselor at all levels—college, high school, middle, and elementary. She is a current member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Florida Writers’ Association, Gulf Coast Writers’ Association, and the Society of Children’s Writers and Book Illustrators. Cheryl loves to create historical fiction stories and has written two middle-grade readers set in the Florida Lake Okeechobee area, circa 1918—Belle of the Glades, and its sequel, The Bone Field Mystery. She lives in the Florida Glades area of her story’s setting with her husband, two Jack Russell terriers (Zoey & Ditto), and her tortoise (Theo). She loves her current freelance position of creating short historical fiction stories for www.TheFreedomkids.com, and she hopes you’ll like reading them as much as she has enjoyed writing them.
Cheryl Abney weaves a new adventure in the old frontier as a young city girl meets rustic fish camp in her book Belle of the Glades. When recently orphaned Isabelle Lacy, is sent to live with her uncle on the shores of Lake Okeechobee in 1918, a whole new world is opened to her–a world shared with snakes, alligators, outlaws, and a new Indian friend.
The Bone Field Mystery is the sequel to Belle of the Glades, and it takes Belle on an adventure to solve whether there is a Bigfoot at the Bone Field. Both Christian oriented middle-grade readers can be purchased online at www.BelleoftheGladesBooks.com as an e-book or softcover through links to Amazon and Barnes & Noble (iUniverse for Belle of the Glades only).
Cheryl, do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
I think I inherited my note-writing from my father, who would leave these small manila- work-tags scribbled with notes on his desk (the top of the refrigerator). I kept diaries when younger and still journal, was PTA secretary a number of years, and loved English and shorthand classes. My first remembered interest dates back to a fourth grade activity of creating a class poetry book—which I still have. We each had to create three poems for this hard-cover book. I was ecstatic.
What type of writing do you do?
I have written nonfiction articles for magazines, newspapers, websites like The Parenting Network and Kids Faith Garden, but my books and short stories are historical fiction for middle-grade readers. That’s where my heart is.
Why did you choose the self-publishing Indie route? Why did I choose this publisher and would you recommend that same Indie publisher?
I was probably premature to self-publish BOTG, because I’d only submitted it half a dozen times, and was encouraged to hang tough by a writing mentor. I retired in 2011 and I wanted to see it in print…felt I didn’t have the advantage of youth to wait years. I chose iUniverse after speaking with a friend who used them, and I did my homework researching the different Indies. My sequel, TBFM, was published through CreateSpace. It involved more work on my part, but I had more control over the product price…which dictates our profit margin.
I know that feeling of wanting to hold your book in your hands. I don’t think patience is an easy virtue for authors.
Do you always write in the same POV or do you switch it up.
I have always written my books in third person POV. It wasn’t until this year, when hired to write historical-fiction short stories for middle graders in first person, that I attempted this POV. It was definitely a learning curve, but I do feel it more effective in getting your reader into the story—as if they’re experiencing it.
I am also working on my adult historical romance, but keeping it in third person POV; so yes, I’m switching it up. I find I have to edit the short, first-person stories carefully so I don’t slip back into my books’ POV.
Are you a pantser or a planner?
I have done both, but I tend to grab an idea and jot a few notes, then write, write, write. I usually end up stopping at some point and creating a plan. But over all, I’m a pantser. I must admit to trying some excellent planning programs, but don’t follow through with them. However, I think it’s extremely important that you do lengthy character sketches of each main character before starting to write. I clip pictures from magazines for images. I’ve heard it said that you don’t “write what you know, but who you know.” Personalities, I steal from people I know. I heard one author assigned character names starting with the letter of the known person’s name, who she could relate the character’s personality to. Important thing, is to get to know your character well, before writing.
What advice would I give to new writers just started with their first manuscript?
Two notes of advice—join a supportive, productive writers’ group and an editing group; and practice discipline. Set a definite, nonnegotiable time of the day to write, and write most every day. I’m most productive when I treat my writing like the business it is—showing up regularly.
What inspired you to write your first book?
I enjoyed reading Patrick Smith’s A Land Remembered, and Zora Neale Hurston’s There Eyes Were Watching God, both about the everglades; I thought it’d be enjoyable and educational to write about the area I reside in from a young reader’s view.
How did you come up with the title?
When I was a young college student first introducing myself to a class, the professor kiddingly referred to me, that one instance, as “Belle of the Glades.” I’ve never forgotten it, even though I now know the label was referring to Belle Glade (my residence then) by its original name.
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
May sound corny, but I like to think it says “home is where the heart is.” Home has nothing to do with money, possessions, popularity, location—but a lot to do with security found in family, faith, and friendship.
How much of the book is realistic?
The dates and locations of the islands and settlements bordering Lake Okeechobee, the Palm Beach Canal, 1918 flu epidemic, and environment are realistic. I’ve created the Glades Runner, Sam’s store, and Hayes’s Fish Camp—but representative of the real things.
Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?
Pieces of every author creep into their writings. In BOTG, my youth was more like Belle’s after she came to live at her uncle’s fish camp. I loved wading and catching pollywogs, frogs, and turtles in the pond near home. My friends and I climbed the sand hills and wandered paths in the woods.
What book are you reading now?
I enjoy historical books like BOTG. Right now I’m reading the second in a series that started with an historical time-travel plot—Tomorrow & Always by Barbara Bretton. It’s captivating, as I hope Belle of the Glades is.
Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.
I belong to several writing groups, but Gulf Coast Writers Association (Fort Myers) has definitely been the most interactive and rewarding. They meet the third Saturday of every month. I also meet with three other ladies, Critique Critters, to edit each other’s work once a month.
Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?
Francine Rivers is my favorite author. I just finished her current series that starts with Her Mother’s Hope (Marta’s Legacy). It is historical and crosses three generations. This Christian author, whom I’ve heard and met at conference, writes detailed accounts of another time and place, so that the reader is transported to that era.
Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)
No, because I’ve lived in the area of my setting, Lake Okeechobee, for 43 years. I have, however, visited many of the museums within driving distance to research the material in BOTG. Have you learned anything from writing your book?
I’ve learned how difficult it is to publish and market a book for profit. I’ve learned to stress less and enjoy the journey. An author needs to enjoy the accomplishment—the fruition of their efforts. Enjoy the kind comments and support from readers, and keep their eyes on the original goal to share knowledge and pleasure. I would advise young writers to follow their dream now—for it’s true that “tomorrow never comes.”
Writing for profit has a long learning curve, so take advantage of writing clubs, online seminars, workshops—and write. Google “young author publishers,” and check out CreateSpace. Parents can encourage their children’s writing by helping them navigate CreateSpace and publish 5 copies of their book for a minimal fee.
Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?
A link to a short-story sample can be found at www.BelleoftheGladesBooks.com, as well as book purchase links. I hope you enjoy Belle’s adventure and will contact me.
Thank you so much for a wonderful interview. Cheryl’s books are available through:
Create Space: The Bone Field Mystery: http://www.createspace.com/4500669
Her Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/cherylabney
iUniverse : http://bookstore.iuniverse.com/Products/SKU-000603311/Belle-of-the-Glades.aspx
Her website: www.BelleoftheGladesBooks.com.
Writing Under Fire 