An Author's Reputation

I live in a small town, and most of the people here know I'm an author. The majority of them have probably never read my books, but they know I'm an author because of things I do. In other words, I have a reputation for acting like an author.

Example 1: I have a chiropractor's appointment once a month. It's the only way to keep control of the knots that form in my shoulders from sitting hunched in front of the computer. The chiropractor's office is a mere five minutes from my house. Good thing, because I am almost always late for my appointments. Sometimes as much as 45 minutes late. Same scenario every month -- I rush into the office, apologizing profusely. The doc and his receptionist laugh. "We know you," Doc says. "You were busy writing and totally lost track of time." Well yes, that's exactly what happened.

This has happened enough that my hairdresser now calls me when it's time to leave to show up at her shop to have my hair done.

I give all these people free books, as an apology for my lateness, and so they'll see what I've been creating during this time.

Example 2: I visit my local post office two and three times a week with packages to be weighed -- manuscripts I'm mailing, copies of books and galleys to reviewers, or donations or giveaway books. "You come in here more than almost anybody," the woman behind the counter tells me. "It's all those books and manuscripts," the postmistress says knowingly.

Example 3: Both UPS and DHL make regular stops at my house with boxes of books, galleys and other communications from my publisher. The boxes of books are conveniently stamped on the outside with the title and author. "So you write these, huh?" the UPS man asked one day. "You write for Harlequin?" DHL asked after delivering the umpteenth package from Toronto. "Wow, I never knew a real writer before." You may touch the hem of my sweatshirt, sir.

Example 4: At a local function I am talking with a new neighbor. Another person joins us. "Cindi's a writer, you know," she says. Understanding dawns on the neighbor's face. "I was wondering what you did that allowed you to hang around the house all day."

Ah yes, the glamorous life of a writer. Hanging around the house all day (in between trips to the post office) waiting for DHL and UPS to show up, always late for appointments. Oh, and I somehow find time to write books.

That time of the year...

The dreaded time change happened this weekend in Texas and other states. On Sunday I was rested, but for the rest of this week my internal clock hasn’t been on board. I’m awake before its time to get up and about ten o’clock at night, when I should be writing, my internal clock starts saying “bed time”. It’ll take about a week for my internal clock to reset. I really wish they would leave the time alone. Believe me, I don’t need anything else to confuse or irritate me.

How does everyone else feel about this? Do you look forward to DST? Or are you grumpy like me at having my internal clock reset by people I don’t even know? I’m beginning to really like Arizona.

Since I won’t be posting again until December, I want to wish everyone a HAPPY THANKSGIVING. Now that’s my favorite time of the year – a special day to enjoy family and friends and to give thanks for all the blessings in my life. By then I might even be more congenial about DST.

Wishing you all the best,
Linda Warren
Adopted Son – Sep 2007 Super Romance
Texas Bluff – Feb 2008 Super Romance (Book#5 Texas Hold ‘Em Series)

Living with a 2 year old

Hi guys,
I'm in the middle of a marathon trip to the east coast, and the first leg of this adventure is a stop at my daughter's house in Pittsburgh. That's where the two-year old comes in. My Pburg babies are 6 and 2. So, believe me, I'm getting the full treatment of My Pretty Pony, Carz, dinosaurs, Webkinz and Only Hearts Club dolls. There's nothing like playing a couple of dozen rounds of Candy Land to get your blood flowing.

From here I go to my son's house in the D.C. area (two more grandbabies). Then on to Annapolis where I'm doing a book signing with a couple of my Harlequin Everlasting Love friends - Geri Krotow and Linda Cardillo. If you're in the Annapolis area on Sunday, November 11, please stop by and visit with us at Hard Beans and Books (it's right downtown). We'd love the company.

From there Geri and I go to her hometown of Buffalo for another signing. I'm thinking I didn't bring enough warm clothes. And then on to Toronto to do a tour of the Harlequin offices.
After that I hopscotch back home through Baltimore. My tongue's hanging just thinking about it.

So wish me luck. I'll check in later - after I get home, wash my clothes and hibernate for a couple of days.

Ann

A Perfect Tree - One Magic Christmas - Harlequin American Christmas Anthology - available mid-November
Goin' Down to Georgia - Harlequin American Romance - March 2008

Creative outlets

We all need creative outlets. Mine are fiction writing and cooking. Just as I enjoy creating characters and telling their stories, I also love turning raw ingredients into savory dishes. Because cooking is fun for me, my food usually tastes good. (Yes, I love my own cooking.) If I didn’t enjoy the task, I’m certain I’d produce blah results. The same holds true of writing. If a writer doesn’t like what she’s writing, it shows!

Back to cooking. I especially like to bake. Once a week (and only once a week, except for holidays and special occasions—don’t want to get fat …☺) I bake from-scratch cookies or bread or cake or pie. Or several of each. That’s why God invented freezers. ☺

Now you know my creative outlets. What are yours, and do you have more than one? Please share.

Before I sign off, here are several announcements:
November 7 I’ll be guest blogging at Fresh Fiction (http://freshfiction.com/blog). Please stop by and post a comment.

November 9 I’ll be doing an internet radio interview from 11:30-12:00 est. Find the show at http://blogtalkradio.com/MelissaAlvarez. If you would like to call in, the listener call in number is 347-215-8473.

November 15 I’ll be the guest at Noveltalk. From 9-10 pm est. To join the chat (and maybe win a door prize) , go to http://www.noveltalk.com/chat/default.asp.


Until next time,
Ann
www.annroth.net
Mitch Takes A Wife, August 2007
All I Want for Christmas, November 2007

Who's got the time?

Everyone has the same twenty-four hours in a day, right?

Then why do I always feel as though I've gotten shortchanged?

Okay, there is that single day of the year when many areas of the country "Spring Ahead," move their clocks forward, and lose an hour. But after a lifetime living in an area that changes its clocks, I've relocated to a state that doesn't, so I don't even have that excuse!

(Worse luck, I don't "Fall Back," either, which means that last night I didn't gain an hour I definitely could have used.)

Still, my days seem as though they're getting shorter and shorter, my To Do lists absolutely are getting longer and longer, and I'm trying to find ways to lower my stress level by getting more done in less time.

One friend suggested I try using a timer, setting it for a specific number of minutes, jumping into whatever project or job is next on the list, and working flat-out and focused on only that one task until the buzzer goes off.

Have you had any luck with that technique?

Have you got any other timesaving, work-producing, To-Do-list-managing tips in your toolbox?

If you have, then you've probably got lots of time to share them. (grin) So, please do!


All my best to you,

Barbara

~~~~~~

Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com

Twilight Zone Time

So, I should probably start by admitting that I collect Christmas houses. I’ve bought one every year I’ve been married. (18) And, okay, I’ll admit it…sometimes I’ve bought more than one. Choosing the right house is a mini-big-deal for me. I really look forward to it. I wander around the store, look at past catalogs, pick up one, change my mind. You get the idea.

Yesterday was my day to get a house. Because it takes so long, I put my houses out right after Halloween. Anyway, there I was, happily celebrating an hour of house-hunting, relaxed. Sipping a latte. And…my cell phone rang. It was my daughter. She was at cheer practice. And she had questions.

I’m not one of those people who likes to talk on the phone in public places. So, my answers were clipped. Yes, Yes. Okay. Bye. Five minutes later, the phone rings again. Another question. Ten minutes after that…guess what, the coach let them leave early, if they wanted to. So, could I come pick her up? Now?

These are relatively normal things. After all, she’s 14. She’s a nice girl. She’s used to me being at her beck and call. But I wasn’t happy about it. And, well, I happened to be holding my new house…the North Pole Reindeer Spa. So, what did I do? I knew my husband was working from the house yesterday afternoon…so I told her she could either wait until I got back her way, or call her dad.

This little scenario makes me remember life without cell phones. I was on a drill team all through high school. What did I do when practice got out early? I waited. Now that I’m older and my high school years have that pretty sheen of nostalgia all over them, I recall hanging out with my girlfriends, thankful for thirty minutes or an hour of nothing to do. There was a drug store near our school. We’d pool money and buy ice cream, and sit on the sidewalks near the parking lot and talk. Flirt with all the boys who were waiting to be picked up, too. It was eerily fun. Secret, almost. Twilight Zone Time, where we could do things no one knew about because everyone thought we were occupied.

Sometimes, when it was time to be picked up, we’d all pretend that we just got out of practice…never admitting to eating rocky road. Now, I think I’d have a fit if I found out my daughter was running around town buying ice cream. And well, do teenagers even sneak ice cream any more?

So, maybe it’s good that my daughter doesn’t know about that twilight zone time of secret waiting. Maybe it’s good that she’s impatient, and has a phone to constantly communicate with me. But a part of me feels that she’s missing out.

End of the story? Tom picked her and her girlfriends up for me. I finished my latte, bought my house, and an hour later came home. I showed the Reindeer Spa off to my family-who pretended to think it was oh, so cute. Then I cooked dinner, supervised homework, and cleaned everything up.

And then it occurred to me…maybe I'm still attempting to have some secret time. Only now I’m buying houses instead of ice cream. But that ‘found’ time is as sweet as ever. So, anyone else remember waiting to be picked up when they were in high school? What did you do?

Holidays

Holidays…when we gather with family for fun times and a nice meal. Where we strengthen family ties and catch up on everyone's life--Yeah, right. More on that in a minute.

First, congratulations to Lily--our October HAR blog winner! Lily, please contact the following authors through their websites to claim your prize: Shelley Galloway, Cindi Myers and Marin Thomas.

Keep the comments coming. Authors will be giving away more books to a winner for the month of November.

Okay, back to Holidays--the good, the bad and the ugly….

More likely than not, many of us will attend gatherings with people we have little or nothing in common--Family. You got that right. How is it that siblings can be born to the same parents yet be so different? Sister Susie-homemaker bakes up storm and everyone praises her cooking skills. Sister Margaret is Ms. Career Woman who travels the world and makes more money than your own husband. Then Brother Bob slides through life effortlessly, always finding people to fish him out of trouble or loan him money when he makes bad choices. And then there's you--Ms. Responsibility--the one who goes through life playing by the rules but no one cares or finds you interesting. Sound familiar to anyone???

I thought it might be fun to make up a list of tips on surviving the holidays with family. I'll go first:

1) Lower your expectations (I'm talking way lower). The day is not going to be perfect. It never has been and it won’t be this time. Uncle Joe will still tell off-color jokes and your father-in-law will undoubtedly bring up politics at the dinner table. And don’t forget Aunt Judy, she'll have one too many drinks and spill her red wine all over your white tablecloth. Just think…if no one sets the Christmas tree on fire the gathering will have been a success!

Okay, who's got the next Holiday survival tip?

Marin Thomas

For The Children (Oct 07)

In A Soldier's Arms (Feb 08)

http://www.marinthomas.com/

Beginners' pluck

A writer never stops learning, even when she’s been published for twenty-five years. Take me. I’m always experimenting with voices, fictional techniques and genres.

At first, every bit of knowledge seems confusing and hard to apply. Gradually, however, I integrate these skills into my subconscious, just as I once learned to drive or diaper a baby.

It can be hard to remember how awkward I was at the start. That unfocused style and those messy plotlines, not to mention the shallow characters and clumsy romantic arcs. Maybe some more talented authors didn’t suffer those problems, but I did.

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot of material from beginning writers. A few have won critiques through my local chapter of Romance Writers of America. Others have entered contests I’m judging, and some are students at a distance-learning institute for writers where I’ve begun teaching (you can check me out at www.longridgewritersgroup.com. I’m listed under my full name, Jackie Diamond Hyman).

Seeing their struggles reminds me of how easy veteran writers make the process appear. And a good thing, too. Who wants to read a book that seems labored?

I admire these valiant newbies. It takes courage to start up this steep hill, knowing how many obstacles lie ahead. My hat is off to you guys. I’m just glad that, through critiques and teaching, I sometimes get a chance to help.

Halloween

Happy Halloween to those who celebrate...

Ancient Origins
Halloween's origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in).
The Celts, who lived 2,000 years ago in the area that is now Ireland, the United Kingdom, and northern France, celebrated their new year on November 1. This day marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year that was often associated with human death. Celts believed that on the night before the new year, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred. On the night of October 31, they celebrated Samhain, when it was believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth. In addition to causing trouble and damaging crops, Celts thought that the presence of the otherworldly spirits made it easier for the Druids, or Celtic priests, to make predictions about the future. For a people entirely dependent on the volatile natural world, these prophecies were an important source of comfort and direction during the long, dark winter.
To commemorate the event, Druids built huge sacred bonfires, where the people gathered to burn crops and animals as sacrifices to the Celtic deities.
During the celebration, the Celts wore costumes, typically consisting of animal heads and skins, and attempted to tell each other's fortunes. When the celebration was over, they re-lit their hearth fires, which they had extinguished earlier that evening, from the sacred bonfire to help protect them during the coming winter.

Famous Haunts

Birthplace of Liberty
Philadelphia was the first settlement in the colony of Pennsylvania, which William Penn founded in 1682. The city was the birthplace of the American Revolution, where great statesmen such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin once walked the streets. By the mid-1700s, Philadelphia was the largest city in the American colonies. On July 4, 1776, members from each of the thirteen colonies gathered in the Pennsylvania Statehouse – now known as Independence Hall – to sign a document called the Declaration of Independence. Many say that the ghosts of our nation's Founding fathers are still hanging around Independence Hall . . .

Dancing Ben
Benjamin Franklin was an extraordinary writer, publisher, and inventor, and he helped draft the Declaration of Independence. In later years, his influence and intelligence helped our country establish the Senate and Congress and adopt the Constitution. This remarkable man spent much of his life in Philadelphia,
And he may be there still, long after his death. Eyewitnesses have seen Franklin's restless spirit at various locations throughout the city. His favorite spot, some say, is the Library Hall of the American Philosophical Society, which he helped found in 1743.
Many claim that Franklin's energetic spirit even lives on in the streets of Philadelphia, coming to life out of an old statue. Legend has it that the wise old statesman is sometimes seen dancing through the City of Brotherly Love!

Anyone have a ghost story or something "Creepy" they'd like to share?

Marin Thomas

For The Children (Oct 07)

http://www.marinthomas.com/

Random Musings & A Review

I'm not ready for October to end. Yes, my kids have Halloween costumes which is better than last year when I was trying to find one on this day. But I have a book due Nov. 15. I still have a lot of work to do on it so that my editor doesn't want to beat me with a stick. I have revisions due Thursday, but those will be done today. I'm a crazy person, but we talked about that a while ago.

I'm also still patiently waiting for my box of books. I received the author copies of The Christmas Date weeks ago. I haven't yet seen Hart's Victory.

My daughter needs it for a book report. She's scanning the porch more than me. Well, that and planning the fifty million places I need to drive her this week. (Uh, honey? Book due. Can't get it done with butt in the car. Need butt in chair at computer.)

The other daughter's book report form got eaten--my house makes homework assignments vanish. It's amazing. We don't have a dog, the carpet eats them. I'm serious. I need to contact her teacher. God help me if I forget.

So November's on its way in and I'm realizing that I've cut things close. I can do it. Four deadlines, one already down, and as of today, two to go. Oh, I'll be in Philly for 3 nights, Nov. 7-9, taking those out of the equation. I'm there for a jouralism convention where I'm writing and judging.

BTW, although I haven't yet seen my book, Harriet Klausner has. She wrote a review on her blog. http://genregoroundreviews.blogspot.com/

For fun, I'm posting the review here. It's my first book outside the American line (The Christmas Date is my 15th for American since my debut in Oct. 200o). So here's #16.

Hart's Victory
Michele Dunaway
Harlequin NASCAR,
Dec 2007, $5.99
ISBN: 9780373217823
Single mom Kellie Thompson’s beloved son Charlie is battling for his life against cancer. Charlie is a rabid NASCAR fan; so when a NASCAR camp for terminally ill children is arranged, Kellie insures her child attends.Charlie's hero NASCAR driver Hart Hampton has been in a slump so is relegated to the charity event for the terminally ill.

After meeting mother and son, Hart agrees with Charlie that he and Kellie are perfect for one another. However, she rejects his attention although she is attracted to him; her focus is Charlie. Hart wants both in his life, but though he won the kid over and the mom recognizes he is a caring soul, she still refuses his overtures; Charlie comes in first, second and third.

The romance places second and NASCAR shows up third as the star of this heart-wrenching tale is Charlie as he fights for his life yet wants the best for his mom whom he believes is his hero Hart. The three prime players are fully developed leading to readers feeling deep emotions almost as if they know the ailing child and care for him as much as Hart does. Michele Dunaway provides an angst-laden five tissue box character driven tale.

My sick "child"

Okay, so Da Vinci isn't a real, human child. He's a cockatiel, a little gray bird with a yellow head and orange cheeks. He is 20 years old, which is ancient, and he's never been to a vet because he's been healthy his whole life ... until now.

Recently he started pulling his feathers out. So I tracked down an avian vet (across town) and scheduled an appointment. But getting him there was no easy task because he doesn't willingly come out of his cage. I had to reach into the cage with a towel and grab him, then stuff him into a shoebox for transport. (This was the method recommended to me by the vet.) Let me tell you, you've never heard a shriek until you've heard an angry cockatiel stuffed into a shoebox. When I walked into the vet's waiting room, another client heard the commotion and asked, "My God, what's in there?"

With the help of an assistant who held him (with a towel, like I did, because he bites), the vet checked him out and said he appeared remarkably healthy for an old bird, and his plucking problem was probably nutrition related. Or he might be going senile, but I was hoping for the first option. For twenty years I've been feeding him the wrong things.

So now he gets a healthier diet than I do. I offer him all kinds of fruits and veggies, Cheerios, whole-wheat crackers, corn, beans, meat, cheese, plus a kind of bird chow. He eats the chow. He's afraid of everything else.

But anyway, he's doing better. It's been almost a week since he plucked any feathers. But he's still mad at me for the shoebox incident, and he hisses every time I get near his cage.

Stuff like this is no fun while it's going on. I honestly was afraid the bird was going to have a heart attack and expire in that shoebox. But now that it's over, I'm thinking I have to use this in a book. And that is the wonderful thing about writing. It gives me a constructive use for all the crazy stuff that happens in my life. I mean, you can't make this stuff up!


Kara
ONE STUBBORN TEXAN, September '07
GOOD HUSBAND MATERIAL, January '08
RELUCTANT PARTNERS, June '08

When Words Fail

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I can’t think of the right word for something. I’ll say to my husband, “Would you mind taking a look at the thingamabob? It won’t stay closed.” (As you know, he’s not exactly Mr. FixIt, but he can handle most of the little stuff.)

If I’m lucky, he knows exactly what I mean. If not, I get a blank look. So I try again. “You know, that whatsit under the counter in the laundry room?”

“Oh,” he says. “That thingamabob.”

We writers are particular about our craft. We would never substitute the word thingamabob for the correct word (except when a character might use that word in dialogue). Can you imagine? Editors and readers would have fits!

Writers choose words carefully. When a needed word fails to come to mind it can be terribly frustrating. Luckily, fellow writer friends are there to help. If they don’t know, either, or if I don’t want to bother them, I turn to a reverse dictionary some kind soul once mentioned on one of the writing loops.

At this wonderful website you can actually find the word you want by typing in its meaning. When I needed the name of a particular kind of bench for my March 2008 book, I typed in “bench with upholstered seat.” The word I sought was at the top of a list of possibilities: banquette. Problem solved in mere seconds!

If you’re interested in checking out this little gem of a site, here’s the address: http://www.onelook.com/reverse-dictionary.shtml

Now it’s your turn to share. Are there any useful websites you recommend?


Until next time,
Ann
www.annroth.net
Mitch Takes A Wife, August 2007
All I Want for Christmas, November 2007

All Work and No Play . . .

. . . makes a Jane a dull girl, or so the saying says. It also makes me a stressed-out basket case.

October has been an all-work, no-play kind of month. I’ve had a full-time albeit temporary job and I’m working on my next Harlequin American Romance. For both family and professional reasons, I’ve also had to go out of town for three consecutive weekends.

Of course the great thing about a temporary job is its temporariness. Much as I’ve enjoyed being a fill-in personnel administrator, I’m counting down the days to October 31, when I go back to being a full-time writer. And I won’t be sorry to trade in the pantyhose for a pair of sweat pants either.

When I came across this picture of Winnie the Pooh and friends playing in the autumn leaves, I was inspired to schedule a fun day to help me make that transition. Doesn’t this picture make you want to take a day off and have some fun? So November 1 is officially Lee’s Play Day.

I don’t plan to play in the leaves, but I’m already giving some thought to what I will do, starting with a walk on the beach. I’m lucky to live near the ocean and like to take advantage of it every chance I get. I’ve also booked a massage appointment for mid-morning.

Sometime during the day there’ll be a trip to the bookstore, and maybe an hour or two spent prowling through a couple of my favorite secondhand shops. Not looking for anything in particular. Just looking.

My day will wrap up by going out for dinner with my husband, because a play day does not involve time in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure there’s even a law against it.

I’m not sure what else I’ll do but I love to try new things. What do you like to do for fun and relaxation? I’m open to suggestions . . . as long as I don’t have to wear pantyhose!

Lee
www.leemckenzie.com
thewritersideoflife.blogspot.com

Mars and Venus Never More Apparrent

Men and women are different. Yeah, we all know that. Different in the way we look, feel, and think. That became very apparent to me the other day in a quite humorous situation I just have to share with everyone.

I was invited to speak at a local Christian writers group by one of my good friends. This is a multi-genre writing group and as a result, boasts several male members. One of the men was wearing a ball cap with the saying, "Center for Domestic Preparedness" on it. Now quick, tell me, what do you think that means?

If you're like me, and EVERY SINGLE WOMAN IN THE ROOM you figure it has something to do with marriage. A joke maybe. I was envisioning a place where men go and prepare themselves before entering the noble and honorable state of matrimony.

Wrong.

As the fellow wearing the hat explained to us when one woman made a comment, the center is part of a military base in California and domestic preparedness is a term for the training soldiers go through in order to ready themselves in the event of an attack on the U.S. Could anything be more different than marriage?

When every woman chimed in that she, too, thought the saying was marriage related, the men there looked at us as if we were freaks or alien beings. We, on the other hand, looked at each other and burst out laughing. It really was funny.

So, I guess when it comes to sayings on baseball caps, women truly are from Venus and men from Mars.

Cathy Mc
"His Only Wife" 6/07 Harlequin American
"The Family Plan" 2/08 Harlequin American
www.cathymcdavid

Hot Dog, Anyone?

Friday night was wrestling parent concession night. For those of you who haven’t been blessed with this activity, it means that last Friday was the wrestling parents’ turn to help sell concessions during the Friday night Varsity Football Game. We didn’t actually volunteer for this job. The parent liaison called our home late one night and my husband caved in. You know how it goes-every parent in a high school booster club has to do their part.

There were twelve of us in there, each given stations. Some had ‘nachos’. Others had ‘popcorn’ or ‘Gatorade’. Another was the runner, passing hot dogs and pretzels to the ticket windows. One poor gal had the thankless job of hot chocolate maker (it was cold and windy on Friday night). My husband and I were given Window #2.

The job was pretty easy. Basically, tons of people line up, tell us want they want, we make sure they get it, and take their money and give them change.
That’s how it was supposed to go.

In reality it was like something out of an old Saturday Day Night Live ‘Cheeseburger!’ episode. Things moved at a frantic pace. Tom and I each waited on kids and parents and got pretty good at yelling out orders. Well, enough to do any diner waitress proud. It was noisy. It was windy. I had to be loud. “Two hot chocolates, one popcorn, one walking taco, and a Pepsi!” And then I had to add it all up in my head. And give correct change.

Of course, we had lots of people who changed their minds. Two popcorns. No one hot dog. No, two pieces of pizza. Don’t even get me started on the kiddos with one wadded up dollar in their hands and twenty kinds of candy bars to choose from. The game finished at 9:45. We got out of there about 10:30-anxious to get off our feet and drink some hot tea. I had lost my voice during the last two minutes of the game!

What did I learn? 1) All of us parents, no matter what we do for a living, can come together and make a stand run like clockwork. No egos can be involved in the tricky dance of delivering three plastic containers filled with steaming cheese sauce and over-flowing nacho chips to antsy eight year olds! I got pretty good at telling the president of our local bank to hurry up with the purple Gatorade.

2) Kids, by and large, are polite. They stood in line and didn’t push and shove. They asked for their order politely. They said thank you. Even the kids who wore letter jackets. Even the kids with the earrings through their eyebrows. Even, uh, my kids.

Finally, I learned what I sometimes forget-that there’s a whole lot of volunteers out there who work really hard and deserve my thanks. So, here’s to volunteers!
This week, I’m going to rest for a little bit—finish a book! Because, well, the spirit sale is next weekend and I’m on the list for that, too.

Any one else have a volunteer story?
Shelley

My Cousin's Wedding-2

I added the link in the comments in the post below, but figured it would be easier if I just posted a picture of the plane we flew in to get to Greensburg, IN.

Michele

Michele

My cousin's wedding

I'm in wedding mode. Last September I attended the wedding of Kate McMenamy, who I have known since she was in first grade. I was her afterschool and summer nanny for almost 6 years.

My cousin, who is my age, married for the second time last Sunday. Since our mothers were sisters, we've been close since being in diapers. The wedding occurred Sunday afternoon in Batesville, IN. Many of you may recognize Batesville, for I've set books near there: Legally Tender and my upcoming The Marriage Recipe (April 2008).

Since I'm on deadline and had to work on Monday, there was no way I could do the drive up and back. I left at 6 PM that night, and driving would have gotten back to St. Louis around midnight. Instead, I flew.

Well, not me personally, but for a little bit my daughter got to fly the Diamond Star four-seater we took across the country. The hero of The Marriage Recipe is a pilot. One of my former students is a commercial pilot and he helped out wwth all the research for the book.

While in The Marriage Recipe I used a Cessna, I have to say I liked this plane better. You actually step on the wing to get in and the windows are bigger--you pull the glass down to close the plane. We left Spirit of St. Louis Airport and headed for Greensburg, where my cousin had someone waiting with her van to pick us up and get us back to her house. We arrived on time, the wedding was beautiful, my cousin gorgeous and happy, and we were back on the ground in St. Louis by eight.

I'm a nervous flyer, but we went right over the Arch and I've never been able to see my hometown so well (amazing at 6,000 feet). The skies were kind and one the way home the lights below contrasted with dark patches. I'm spoiled now. No security, pilot I know--great way to travel.

I have feeling you may see more pilots in future books...in The Marriage Recipe Colin takes Rachel to dinner--in Chicago. Ah, the romance.

Michele

I love autumn, but yikes!

Fall is one of my favorite seasons. This year the leaves are especially vivid for the Seattle area. Probably because it’s chilly. more like a typical Midwest October than Seattle’s usual mild weather. About a week ago we turned on the furnace. The thing went on and off and on and off. Neither my husband nor I is mechanically inclined or do-it-yourselfers (you did not want to be at my house the one time he installed a new toilet!), so we called for help. The expert who came out replaced a part and recommended a good cleaning. He also expressed grave doubts that our furnace would live much longer. (It’s really old!) a few days later the cleaning guy showed up, About an hour into vacuuming the vents he noticed what the repair man had not: a huge hole in the exhaust pipe. This cavity was spitting toxic fumes into our house—and we didn’t even know it! Cleaning guy promptly disconnected the burner. He also charged us for his services, which were no longer needed. Ouch!

Next we invited two furnace experts into our home for advice and bids on a replacement furnace. The old one was oil, and we hoped that maybe we could switch without too much expense. Wrong! Oil it is—bio-diesel, which is better for the planet than regular oil. It’ll be another week or so before the furnace is installed. Thank goodness for the fireplace insert in the family room, and for portable heaters.

New furnace or not, from now on were having the thing serviced every year as a preventative.

How does this apply to writing (you so knew it would)? Hint: the clue is the annual servicing.

I’m a goal-setter. (If you don’t set goals, how will you know what to aim for?) I set annual, five-year, and even ten-year goals. But it’s been awhile since I’ve done any long-range planning. So, along with the annual furnace checkup, I have made a pact with myself to update both my short -and long-range goals once a year. In December, when I’m thinking about the new year.

What about you? Do you have goals? Do you update them on a regular basis? I’d love to know.


Until next time,
Ann
www.annroth.net
Mitch Takes A Wife, August 2007
All I Want for Christmas, November 2007

Night and Day

I freely admit that I'm a nightowl and have been for as long as I remember. The story goes that, before I was adopted at the age of 7 weeks, the nuns in the hospital would wait until all the other babies were asleep, then they would get me up and play with me. After I was adopted, my dad worked second shift, so it wasn't unusual that I was kept up late so he could see me at the end of his workday. As a young child, I would "read" books by the light of my nightlight, long after bedtime. I'd still rather stay up long past the time everyone is asleep and have my alone time, when I can get done the things that need doing.

But life doesn't always comply with our internal clocks, so I work around it and try to compromise, going to bed later than I should, getting up when I have to, and struggling with the loss of sleep later in the day. Today was one of those "struggle" days, so I managed to sneak a two hour nap this evening. Which of course meant that I'd be late posting to the blog.

I know a lot of nightowls, many of them writers. Michele Dunnaway mentioned in an earlier blog post that she writes in spurts when she has chunks of time. I have a feeling that many of us do the same. With other priorities, we have to sometimes save the things we love doing the most until later. I hope that means that we do them better because of that.

Are you a nightowl like me, saving your reading or writing until the day has settled into night and you can treat yourself to that quiet time? Or do you jump out of bed early, eager to start the day, with special times you've built in for your treats? Do you read/write during the day, or do you save it for later? By choice or by circumstance?

Trick or Treat!

As a self-confessed chocoholic, I have to admit that when it comes to Halloween, I'm all about the candy.

Growing up, I also liked the fun of dressing up, the scariness of going door to door in the dark, and the anticipation of the goodies I'd get in my candy sack.

Over the years, I'd dressed in a lot of different costumes, from Cinderella to a space-age robot, a ballerina to a bum, a cowboy to Count Dracula, and a bunch of other characters in between.

My most lasting Halloween memory didn't happen on Halloween itself, but the night before. One Mischief Night, my friends and I decided the time had come to investigate the local haunted mansion, an old, decaying house just a couple of blocks away. The house had sat empty for as long as any of us could remember, and year after year, it became more run-down and ratty-looking--perfect for Mischief Night marauders.

We set out with a few kids, a couple of flashlights, and a whole lot of manufactured nerve. Truthfully, I think the closer we got to the house, the more we all wanted to go home. But no one wanted to be first to back out.

One of the boys found an open window at ground level
--lucky for us, huh?--and lowered himself into the cellar. He dragged over an old wooden chair he found inside and, one by one, we followed, until we all stood in a tight circle in a cold, dank, cobweb-draped room that echoed with the scrabbling of rats' toenails and the flapping of bats' wings....

Or so it seemed to us!

The adventure didn't last long. At the first whimpered "I want out," we all rushed back to the window, climbed through it, and ran home.

Give us a break, though--we were only eight years old!

Now it's your turn. What's your scariest, funniest, or favorite memory of Halloween?


All my best to you,

Barbara

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Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com