I miss my characters more than you can imagine!

Hey there happy reader!

I’ve FINALLY shipped the full manuscript for “Question Everything” to my editor, and I’m already missing my protagonists, Mia and Kyle. 

I try to make my characters real. I think that readers want to identify with them, and details about them matter. Hair color, eye color, height… that’s important. But their core values, their beliefs, and their aspirations are equally as important. If I do my job well, these “people” should jump off the page and feel familiar. I would hope you’d want to be friends with them. I would hope that they populate your dreams long after you turn the last page.

I can tell you that they populate mine.

Sometimes when I wake up after a dream about them or am thinking about an event in the novel I’m writing, it takes me a minute to remember that it’s not real life! When I type those very last words and complete the story, I miss them.

For as strange as it may seem, I live with these people for a long time. Once the writing is done, it leaves a true void. I know. I’m more than a little bit crazy…

I’m giving myself a little time off, but I already have reams of research done for my next project, a historical saga about Stonehenge.

It’s not just about the one-thousand-year construction plan that left behind one of the most mysterious and magnificent stone structures on earth. It’s about the people who built it, primarily the women.

I’ve created a utopia where women oversee everything – their culture’s governing body, their families, the placement of the stones and the true purpose of the circle.

It’s the anti “Handmaid’s Tale,” a book that left an indelible impression on me when I first read it years ago. In my story, a council of women make the laws, dole out the punishments, keep order and decide who does which job based on merit. Some women have children, others do not. The overarching narrative describes a world with no war, no true strife – because when women are in charge, everything is better.

I hope you’ll find it interesting, and I will post some excerpts from this novel as soon as I feel they are ready to be shared!

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As I mentioned above, I’m taking a little time off.

One of my favorite leisure time activities has always been going to the movies. This past weekend, after a long drought of post-Covid avoidance of theaters, my husband and I went to see “Twisters.”

It’s a remake of one of my favorite movies, “Twister,” with Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton playing storm chasers who are in love with one another, but don’t get along all that well! (Great set-up!)

The new version can’t claim as strong a screenplay – I thought the plot was weak. But those special effects? OMG! You truly felt as though you were going to be swept into the eye of the storm. I LOVED IT!!! I give it a ten-popcorn bucket rating… treat yourself and go see it!

I also was determined to give audio books another shot as another way to rest my mind (and my eyes.) Up until this point, I’d been unsuccessful in listening to one. I was never able to focus and I’d lose my place in the narrative. I thought that perhaps I was one of the members of the minority of readers who would never find listening to a book more compelling than reading one.

However, I chose to listen to something I’d already read – Joyce Maynard’s “The Bird Hotel.” As you know if you’ve read some of my previous newsletters, I’ll be attending Joyce’s intensive writer’s workshop in Guatemala next March and I knew that the setting for that seminar is a hotel Joyce owns herself. I also knew that she wrote this book during Covid while at her hotel at Lake Atitlan, so I expected that the story would reflect her time there.

Listening to Joyce read this novel herself was magical. I was drawn in and felt as if I was there, meeting the characters, tasting the food, swimming in the lake. It was mesmerizing and now I’m hooked.

Do you listen to audio books?
Send me your suggestion for what I should listen to next!

Hey there happy reader!

If you look at the map of the country, there’s not a spot where the weather is tolerable. Here in the northeast, we’re in the middle of our THIRD heat wave and I’ve conceded. I’m not going back outside until after Labor Day!

So… what will I be doing instead?

Putting the finishing touches on my romantic suspense novel, “Question Everything” with the goal of shipping it off to my editor by July 29th.

This is the hardest part of the process for me. I start to second guess just about every aspect of the story and the characters. UGH! I have author friends who tell me it’s the same for them, too. We’re a shaky bunch, at best!

All in all, I’m lucky that I have the privilege to do what I do… make up stories in my head and then commit them to the page.

If one of my books makes you smile or gives you a few hours of relaxation, then I’ve done my job well! If you’ve enjoyed one of my books, pass it along to a friend. She’ll thank you for it!

In the meantime, here’s one last sneak peek at “Question Everything.”

Mia (our heroine who lost her memory after a car accident) has gone downstairs to put the uncooked dinner rolls she made for Thanksgiving in the refrigerator – they’d been doing their final rise on the counter. Kyle, (the hero police detective who rescued her) Daisy, (her baby daughter), and the rest of his family are asleep…

Mia woke with a start and immediately glanced over to make sure that Kyle was in bed with her. He was there, softly breathing, looking as peaceful as Daisy looked at night. She felt tremendous relief. The clock read 1:59am and she realized that she had exactly one minute before his phone timer went off. She quickly got out of bed and walked around the mattress to his side to turn it off. No need for them both to be awake. She reached for the pair of thick, wooly socks that she’d left on the dresser, put them on and very carefully opened the bedroom door so that he stayed asleep. Knowing that she was the only one awake, she didn’t put on her robe; she’d be quick and back in bed soon enough. Once in the hallway, she made her way to the stairs and stealthily climbed down to the kitchen. There was no need to put on a light; the moon was not quite full but still shone brightly in the sky casting the room with a golden glow. A peek out the window proved that the stars were too numerous to count. With a sigh, Mia pulled the towels off the rolls and was pleased to see that they had risen to be fluffy, buttery pillows. Each would bake nicely before dinner and the basket would be overflowing with yeasty goodness.

Mia didn’t take the time to wonder why she remembered how to make these or any of the other treats she’d tucked away downstairs in the basement freezer. She concentrated instead on not dropping anything on her way to store the prepared rolls and very carefully navigated her way into the bowels of the house. The boiler kicked on as she reached the landing and she jumped at the sound and almost dropped the trays, but luckily, she remained calm enough to accomplish her task. She pried the refrigerator door open with her foot and slipped the trays inside. The light from the appliance glowed and she thought for a moment that she saw a light move across a corner window of the basement. She was disoriented to where she stood in relation to what was outside that window and suddenly her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, and she almost forgot to remove the bags of cinnamon breakfast buns she’d made the week before from the freezer before she turned to go back upstairs. With the refrigerator door closed, the basement was plunged into darkness and while her eyes adjusted rapidly, she still had the odd sense that something wasn’t right. She didn’t want to think about it; she ran up the wooden steps and shut the door behind her. She dropped the cinnamon rolls on the counter knowing that they’d defrost in time for breakfast and could only think about being back in the safety of Kyle’s bed when she saw them.

Headlights. There was a car on the driveway.

She very quietly crept along the walls of the kitchen, staying out of sight of prying eyes and pressed herself against the cool plaster, hoping to remain invisible. She could see out through the panels of glass that sat on either side of the front door. There was a man sitting in the car, but he didn’t step outside. It appeared as if he was on his phone, angrily discussing something with whomever was on the other side of that call. His hand gestures were animated, and he kept shaking his head in disagreement with what he was hearing. She couldn’t make out the details of his features; they were hidden in the shadows of the hooded sweatshirt he wore. Something about his broad shoulders seemed familiar, but she shook away that thought, knowing that there was no chance she knew this person. She watched as he ended the call by throwing his phone onto the empty seat next to him before putting the car in reverse and backing out into the street. Then the car slowly drove away.

Once she was sure that he was gone, Mia felt her knees give way and crumble beneath the weight of her body. She didn’t know what to do next. Part of her wanted to grab Daisy out of her crib, dress her in her warmest clothing and take the keys to Kyle’s truck and drive away. She was putting these good people in danger and that was unfair. They didn’t deserve to potentially get hurt because of her and her problems. A bigger part of her wanted to wake Kyle up and tell him what she saw, but she knew he’d wake his brothers and go looking for this mysterious car and she didn’t want that to happen, either. In the end, once her body stopped shaking, she crawled over to the staircase and slowly pulled herself up the steps, only standing when she was a safe distance down the upstairs hallway at a point when she knew she wouldn’t fall again. Then she walked on shaky feet to Kyle’s room and got back into the bed. She was cold, so cold. It was tempting to press her body against his warm one, but she didn’t want to startle him. Instead, she wrapped the blanket tightly around herself, lay back against the pillows and waited for the sun to rise. She knew that she wasn’t alone, that Kyle’s warmth and strength was lying right there beside her, but she almost wished she were. That way, the collateral damage would be much more limited to a party of one. Just her.

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Whew!

Before you know it, this book will be available on Amazon, and you’ll be able to find out what happens next. It’s got quite the twist at the end…

Hey there happy reader!

I hope you had a lovely July 4th holiday, complete with a barbeque (if that’s your thing), fireworks and family. We had a great day with our younger grandson swimming in the pool, swinging on a swing under a shady tree and sharing a lovely dinner. But ever since that afternoon, the heat index has been climbing here in the northeast, convincing me once more that I’m truly not a summer person! 

Give me fuzzy socks and cozy sweaters, a cold snap and a snowstorm any day!

If you’ve been following my newsletter in the last few weeks, you know that I’m going to a writer’s retreat next March in Guatemala, hosted by the author Joyce Maynard.

She’s currently on a book tour supporting the publication of her new novel, “How the Light Gets In,” which is the sequel to one of my all-time favorite stories, “Count the Ways.”

Joyce is a master writer. I’ve been reading her work since I discovered her New York Times column, “Domestic Affairs: Enduring the Pleasures of Motherhood” in the mid-1980’s.

She has an uncanny way of expressing her views to mirror the thoughts of other women who may be going through some of the same challenges that she faces with both humor and a calm sensibility. 

“Count the Ways” is such a relatable story of a woman, her marriage, her children and the big and small things that make up her life. It’s a top ten novel on my personal list.

When Joyce swung through New York, I knew I had to get to the event closest to me and introduce myself. I was nervous to finally meet this woman; even though we’d corresponded, and I knew that I was booked to attend her intensive workshop, I felt like a teenager at a Taylor Swift concert about to meet the megastar up close. I was thrilled and nervous at the same time.

I shouldn’t have been nervous. Joyce is generous, warm, welcoming, and she remembered that I spelled my first name with an “I” at the end – that meant something to me as I am always correcting that small detail for others.

It made me all the more excited to travel to Central America to spend a week with her and a group of women writers next spring, soaking in any and all advice she has for me!

She spent a lot of time after the reading and Q&A signing books, personalizing each one.

Joyce has lived quite the life – read her memoir “At Home in the World” for the details – but her connection with her readers is truly special. If she’s stopping anywhere near where you live (dates and places for her book tour are on her website, joycemaynard.com) I highly suggest you try to attend. You’ll be hooked on her writing. I know I am.

What or who inspires you?
I have a list, and it keeps growing!