EVIDENCE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES

Beautiful books & wine missing smiling faces....

I woke up this morning and could have immediately kicked myself. Not for waking up. That’s a good thing! But for what I didn’t do last night. You see, I have this wonderful critique group, T.J. Bennett, Wanda Dionne, Joni Rodgers and Colleen Thompson. (You should check out their books for some great reads!) We meet, regularly; all of us try to get together twice a month. We read and discuss pages of current writing projects, which is good, but we also talk the writing biz and sometimes that is what is so sorely needed … a place and people to talk to about the vicissitudes of the writing life, the changes in our fortunes as we wend our way, each of us on our journey. We talk over our struggles to fit our writing lives into our other life responsibilities, like the demands of family and other employment. Sometimes it’s difficult for someone outside of your field, whether it’s writing or something else, to understand the particular process that’s involved, how it works, how and under what conditions it’s accomplished. Writing a book is like that, requiring of a certain, highly individual process. There are five of us in my critique group and each of us has a different way of getting a book done, and because we’re doing the same sort of work in the same field, we can commiserate, support and encourage each other in ways that are so meaningful. It’s so relieving when you’re feeling low about your job, to have somebody, or in this case four somebodies, who are familiar with the territory, to help you talk the trouble through.

But it’s also thrilling to have four somebodies to celebrate the highest, most exciting moments, too. I can’t say in words how much it has meant to me to share the joyful launch of  EVIDENCE OF LIFE with my critique sisters. They were there, literally, from page one and saw the novel through more incarnations than I can remember. If my blood, sweat and tears is wrought into every page, so is theirs. They are tireless, generous and loving midwives to my process, which brings me to our meeting last night and the reason I’m upset with myself this morning.

Yesterday boxes filled with the final copies of EVIDENCE OF LIFE came, and the book is beautiful. I held the fruit of all my labor in my hands. I think I may have danced a little happy dance with it. Earlier this week, I had picked up the lovely wine bottled in its honor by Gary Rodgers, the husband of critique partner Joni Rodgers. I knew I was hosting last night’s critique meeting and I had it all planned. I would serve each of my partners a signed book and a glass of wine with a frozen blackberry as a condiment.  (I have Jerusha, Joni’s lovely daughter to thank for the condiment idea!) And I did. And it was lovely! But did I take a picture? Even one photograph to commemorate the occasion? No! Can you believe it? And it was such a lovely moment, and it won’t ever come again. And all I have now is this rather sad “morning after” picture … a box of books, a few bottles of the wine—posed. So sad. So now I’m sending my critique sisters my apologies. They earned their books and bottles of wine, but I should have made a picture. They earned that, too. It was a Kodak moment if ever there was one, only Kodak and I were asleep at the wheel. But before I drag off to sit deeper in my slough of despond, and in case you’re wondering, the wine was wonderful. And the frozen blackberry added this little piquant kiss of the summer sun … it was just lovely! And you didn’t take a picture? No, I didn’t … honestly, what was I thinking….

EVIDENCE OF (Celebration) LIFE

EVIDENCE OF LIFE: in a bottle!

Today, I brought home the wine, a lovely pinot gris, that my critique partner and generous friend, Joni Rodgers and her husband, Gary, made to commemorate the momentous occasion of the debut on March 26th of EVIDENCE OF LIFE. The bottles are small and labeled with the book cover artwork. Gary made the wine. Joni designed the gorgeous label, (She also sampled the wine as it was being bottled. Somebody has to!) and Jerusha, their daughter, helped to sterilize and put in the corks. It was a true family effort, and I can’t say how much it means to me to be given such a wonderful gift in honor of my book and its publication.

Winemakers: Gary & Jerusha

When Joni first proposed the idea of bottling a wine, I was intrigued and thrilled by the idea, but actually seeing the end result is something else! The bottles are so artistic and stylish, such an elegant tribute to the novel. Unique, like Joni, Jerusha and Gary, themselves. Joni says that doing this for me, to honor EVIDENCE OF LIFE, is her and her family’s way to share in the joy. I think joy was poured into each bottle, and I treasure each one and the lovely thought that went into them, along with Joni, Gary and Jerusha too. Thanks so much, you guys!! I’ve been so lucky to have the benefit of so much encouragement, enthusiasm and support from so many people who have helped to bring this dream into being. I’ll be keeping a handful of these little bottles to remember this occasion and to remind me of just how much good is in the world, and how, sometimes, when your dream comes true, it can exceed your wildest expectations. It can knock you right out of your socks. Yep, I’ll be treasuring this and finding a new pair of socks!

Inaugural Signing

On Tuesday, I signed my first book for Lillian Reitz, Community Relations Manager for Barnes & Noble's Champion's Village location in Houston. Joni Rodgers, a friend and critique partner, and a fabulous NYT bestselling author (and an "auntie" to this venture, for which I thank heaven!) took time from her busy schedule to drive down with me to see Lillian and talk to her about the possibility of doing a book launch event for EVIDENCE OF LIFE there. Champions Village is in a busy shopping center, on a busy north Houston street, and yet when you walk inside, you are instantly impressed with a sense of coziness, of welcome. Of course, there's the wonderful smell of books in the air, dozens and hundreds of books. And coffee. All kinds of coffee and assorted treats. But the best, or one of the best, parts of the store, and one of the reasons why it retains such a cozy, neighborhood feel, is Lillian herself.

Me signing a copy of Evidence of Life for Lillian - so fun!

Remember those little bookstores, the ones in the neighborhood where you could walk in and while away an hour or two or more, browsing and reading and talking books with the owner? Remember that lovely experience? That's what meeting with Lillian was like. I am more pleased than she can know that she agreed to having a book launch event there. It will be in April, and as soon as I have a firm date, I'll post it here on my website, but if you live anywhere near the Barnes and Noble in Champions Village, I highly recommend you stop in there before April.

It proves that even a big chain store can retain an element of something smaller and more intimate, something more personal and warm ... a bit of what used to be the charm of the Mom & Pop book store you loved going into not so long ago.

Buy This Book: The Hurricane Lover

In part The Hurricane Lover is a story about bad, murdering weather. Weather that’s named Katrina in this case, and what happens when people, when entire cities, don’t pay attention. But it’s also about how some people get off on danger. A storm comes and they want to go out and howl. They want to hurl themselves at it and into it. While an entire city is brought to its knees by one of the most dangerous storms ever, there’s someone loose in the streets who’s getting off on it. A crazy, pathological someone who’s using it to make something and take something … like some hapless victim’s identity, even their life. Shay Hoovestahl just wants to report the weather. You know, the pretty details, like how to lash down your patio furniture so the big wind won’t blow it away. Shay’s got no idea as she does the last of her puff pieces before the lights go out what’s ahead of her when the big wind reaches its full terrifying force, the levees break, and the filthy, debris and varmint-choked gulf water rises in the city’s streets. She is as ill prepared as New Orleans and when she finds herself on the trail of this psychotic killer, she’s got to face facts: that puff just won’t cut it.

Gulf Coast climatologist Dr. Corbin Thibodeaux tried to warn her. Prior to Katrina’s landfall, he struggled to get folks to understand the massive threat Katrina posed. But few listened judging from the alarming tone of inanity and ineptitude that’s indicated in the spate of email correspondence that came down from FEMA head Michael Brown. And not even Corbin realizes the unwitting role he’s playing in abetting the killer’s plan as they play hide and seek in the churning walls of one hideous monster of a storm.

The Hurricane Lover is a taut, seductive thriller that reads like the finest in docudrama. The atmosphere is eerily real and the characters are fully and richly drawn. Relationships are poignant and compelling with an undertow of dark humor that comes on like the best of surprises. Joni Rodgers is a masterful storyteller with a gift for writing dialogue that will leave you breathless. I loved this book and highly recommend it. For more about Joni, visit her website.

Life with a side dish of lemons: the remedy

 

So, on Sunday, ten days into my Mac experience, I got the message in fourteen languages to shut down. In IBM speak, it’s like the dreaded blue screen. Had all gone as expected, I would have rebooted and the Mac would have cleared up the issue and zoomed into life, but all did not go as expected. Turns out there’s something haywire with the RAM. I took it for repairs yesterday and on the way home stopped in at the drugstore, came out and the car wouldn’t start. Now it’s in the shop, too. Lemons. Life is handing me lemons. The nerve! I love my Mac; we had bonded, and I love my car; it’s paid for. All that love . . . squeezed now into lemons. Squeezing my dollars! Sitting on the curb, waiting for the mechanic, I wished for a diversion. Something to take my mind off its tendency to worry. I tried calling both sons, but they were each one traveling in separate parts of the country and without cell service. I sat some more and wished for my Kindle.

Reading, it’s the best diversion

No matter what is happening in my life, from a one-lemon tiny trouble to a five-lemon, full-blown disaster, I have always sought refuge in reading. I can read anytime, anyplace, almost anything--the side of a cereal box, a clothing label, a recipe--and, even if it’s only for a moment, I’m transported. My brain and heart rest in the words, the story. Reading is restorative. Words have the power to create imagery, a pseudo-reality that is different from the one you’re standing in and that interlude, however brief, takes you out of yourself, providing a respite. Joan Reeves blogged recently about this, not reading so much, but about Happiness Amidst Life’s Lemons. In fact, I read her post yesterday, after the mechanic jumped my car, followed me to the garage, and then brought me home. (I wish it were just the battery.) But before that, sitting on the curb waiting for rescue, I wished for my Kindle. If I could have read something, it would have stopped my mind from chewing over the lemon rind so to speak, until I had scared myself with every possible scenario up to and including, or nearly, becoming homeless as the result of being served so many lemons. Where will it end? I asked myself. Why me? I said. What next? Can it get worse? (That’s a bad one to ask!)

If only I'd had my Kindle. . . .

I could have been reading, Jane I’m Still Single Jones, by Joan Reeves, say, a recent download (A romantic dream of a high school class reunion story that zipped along like a fun evening spent with a group of wry and entertaining characters, and cleverly spiced with little nuggets of wisdom that gave me pause. I love Joan’s voice!) Had I been reading that, I might have been smiling.   I know I would have been engaged. Or I could have been reading Innocent Deceptions, a historical novel by Gwyneth Atlee aka ColleenThompson, another recent Kindle download. Reading that would have transported me back to the Civil War era and a story of love and betrayal. (Watch for more of her historical and romantic suspense releases in the near future. Her latest release, Phantom of the French Quarter, is an eerie and atmospheric tale of love and murder). Or I could have taken another look, at Crazy For Trying, by Joni Rodgers. I read that on my Kindle not long ago, loved it and reviewed it here. (Look for her latest release: The Hurricane Lover, a stunner of a literary thriller coming to Kindle this month.)



Instead. . . .

I chewed my virtual nails, pondered all sorts of even graver consequences, indulged in brief acts of self pity, and tried calling my kids so I could serve them a few of my lemons, all of which only increased the sour taste. When I could have been reading. I’m not sure what the lesson is, but I think it goes something like this . . .  don’t leave home without your Kindle (or e-reader of choice) and don’t share your lemons. As Joan suggests, make lemonade. Maybe she’ll even share the recipe she mentions in her post. Oh, and I wouldn’t mind at all if, as a diversion, you were to read my books on your Kindle, too. The Volunteer and The Ninth Step aren’t exactly a laugh a minute, but the stories, the suspense just might hook you in. At the least, you’ll be transported to another world where the lemons aren’t your own.

If this post looks wonky, blame it on the old PC.....

 

Buy This Book: Crazy For Trying by Joni Rodgers

In Crazy For Trying, Joni Rodgers, delivers a story that is as big and wide and gorgeous as its Big Sky country setting. It is a punch to the solar plexus, unflinching on so many levels. Troubled and witty, and sometimes irreverent, it is the truly courageous exploration of one young woman’s journey through heartbreaking circumstances of loss and abandonment, of vulnerability and self doubt, to full-blown, joyous self-discovery.

Tulsa Bitters, the daughter of a famous, recently-deceased feminist, arrives in Helena, Montana with a dented heart, twenty bucks and a couple of guitars. She wants to hide and life gives her a plan, a way to do it in plain sight as “VA Lones”, Helena’s first female deejay. It’s the job she was born for, one she loves. Soon she meets Mac, a guy twice her age, and she loves him, too. As Tulsa, or Tuppy-my-guppy, as her famous mother affectionately called her, she might have lacked the confidence to take on such a job and the lover, but as VA, she can be bold--sort of. The relationship between Mac and Tulsa is no typical May-December affair. It’s a coming of age, a coming to terms for them both. It’s tender and tough; it takes side roads that twist off the heart’s ledge. A way is lost and then found only to drop into the dark night. A small town watches, or at times what is a full and colorful cast of players mixes in. As the reader, you become entangled, engrossed.

Rodger’s voice is unique, a wry and beautiful gift, that breathes life into characters and a plot that is as vividly drawn and compelling as it is passionate. The ending is up for grabs. You might be surprised; you just might find yourself laughing through your tears. For more about this wonderful author, visit her website here and her blog, Boxing the Octopus here.