The Girl in the Picture

Some things are keepsakes that can't be gotten rid of even though they have no real value other than sentimental attachment. This picture is one of those things here at my mother's house that my sisters and I would never be able to throw away. When we were children, the picture hung in the corner of our aunt's living room. It was painted by my great aunt, Herve, who had a flair for creativity. She had a rock garden in her backyard that was a wonder, and when she decided she needed new flooring in her house, she simply painted her old linoleum gray and then dotted it with a variety of bright colors.  

I don't know when she painted this picture, but it was my aunt's house. Aunt Herve added plenty of personal touches, including my aunt's cats and dogs. She carefully planted the flowers in her picture the same as they were in the yard, if perhaps coloring them a bit brighter. She added plenty of bright birds too. Then there's the pasted on picture of the girl holding a cat. I always imagined I was the girl in the picture, but it most likely represented my older sister since I can't remember when the picture was painted and given to my aunt. But I wanted to be the cute little girl in the picture and so I imagined I was. 

Maybe that was the beginning of me putting myself in a story. That's a question I often get about my writing. How much of this or that character is me? Since I did use my hometown background in my Hollyhill books, readers ask if Jocie is me. And the answer is no. And yes. She isn't me, but she's the girl I imagine I am in the story. A writer has to get inside the skin of her characters, especially her viewpoint characters. And while I have several viewpoint characters in Scent of Lilacs, Jocie is the beginning character, the one the story rotates around. Things happen to her that never happened to me. She does things I would have never had the nerve to do. She is not me. But in a way, I am the girl in the story the way I was the girl in the picture. How? Imagination. 

Actually most of us are the girl in the story or the guy in the story when we're reading. That's why reading is such fun. We live their stories without getting all the bumps and bruises. We laugh with them and cry with them and share their adventures right in the safety of our favorite reading spots. I'm hoping some of you will imagine you are Jocie in Scent of Lilacs when the book is available again in March. Before that, I hope you'll drop by Jocie's blog to get to know the people of Hollyhill. Jocie or one of her friends will be sharing something every Monday for a while. Just click on the tab up at the top of this post or go to www.hollyhillbookofthestrange.blogspot.com. Remember too, if you leave a comment on either this blog or Jocie's blog before March 1, you'll be entered in a blog only giveaway for an autographed copy of Scent of Lilacs. I'll draw three winners and each time you comment, you'll get a new entry. Then maybe you'll be reading and imagining you're the girl in the story.

Thanks so much for reading my journal too.

Romance with Books

 "Books in a home with growing children is one of the most important things you can put in a house." ~ Thomas D. Clark (Kentucky historian and friend)

I was a guest blogger over on The Romance Dish this week with a post about "The Romance of Writing." Lots of good comments came in about what readers liked in the books they read. Then this afternoon while I was walking, I thought about what a romance I've had with words and books almost all my life. These two books, Black Beauty and Little Women were probably two of the very first "big" books I owned. They were Christmas gifts and treasured ones at that. I got a lot of my books from the library on loan, but these I could put my name on the inside cover. And I did. These words made a horse and a family of sisters come to life in my head. I was officially in love with books. 

Before I go on chattering, what do you notice about these books? Besides the worn spines. I'll tell you what I notice at the end of this post. And since I've been all over giving books away on other blogs, I think it's time I gave away a couple of books here on One Writer's Journal. If you leave a comment before the post next Wednesday, you'll be entered in the drawing. Two winners chosen by random will get an autographed copy of The Gifted. And let's make it fun. Tell me the first book you remember reading and if you can't remember that one, tell me a favorite book or the last book you've read. 

Back to chattering.  Once I discovered reading, I was never far from a book. Books were my friends, my entertainment, my teachers. The words soaked deep into my mind and filled me with the desire to spill my own words out on paper. The beauty of words transported this little farm girl into thousands of different settings to live thousands of different lives. I've fallen in love with countless handsome heroes. I've mourned too many sad deaths to number - even the death of a spider in Charlotte's Web. Who could have ever imagined crying over a dead spider? But oh, the magic of words that can lead us down a fictional path into a make believe world that swallows us up.

So come on and share the first book you remember reading. Any comment will get you into the drawing next Wednesday, but we might as well have fun remembering favorite books. That will be a little bonus fun for those of you like me who rarely win these kind of drawings. 

Thanks again for reading. Oh, and did you figure out what I was noticing on those books in the picture? No author's names on the front covers. The author's names might have been on the spines that fell off the books long ago. Of course, these books were packaged especially for young readers like I was then. Maybe that's why the companies didn't think the author's name mattered. Maybe the author's name still doesn't matter. The story - that's what matters.

Holding the Promise of a Book

Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book.  ~Author Unknown
 

I'm excited today about getting the first copy of my new release, Words Spoken True. I've had my ear tuned for the UPS truck to bounce into my driveway for several days now because I knew it was close to time for that advance copy to make its way to me. It takes so long to turn a story into a real book you can hold in your hand that the day when you do actually hold that book and see your words inside is a day to celebrate. 

So I've been celebrating today by sharing the news with my Facebook friends and family. (And planning a new celebration giveaway. I'll announce details soon.) One of the things I said on my Facebook writer's page was how I loved holding a new book in my hand and thinking about readers picking it up and sharing my story. Such a promise. 

Then one of my friends got me thinking with her comment that as a reader, she loved holding a new book too. I knew what she meant. I've had that same feeling many times when I picked up a new book to read. Perhaps it was by a favorite author that I knew was going to entertain or inspire me. Perhaps it was just the story that held out promise. Perhaps it was simply holding the book and knowing that I was going to be able to live some new adventures or through some historical times with the characters inside. People a writer had captured in words that were going to spring to life in my mind and let me accompany them on their journey through the pages.

That doesn't necessarily mean that whatever book I might be holding when I was feeling that promise was a new release. A book unread is a new book to the reader whatever the publication date. Samuel Butler says it well in this quote. "The oldest books are still only just out to those who have not read them."

Release dates are fun. Holding a book fresh off the press is a definite highpoint in a writer's life. Still, it's what's inside that book, the words that may catch a reader up into the lives of the characters and make the story come to life in his or her imagination, that's the promise I hope I'm giving readers when they hold one of my books. It's the same promise I want to feel when I pick up a new book to read. Movies and t.v. are nice. But books - books are magic.

"Books are a uniquely portable magic."   ~Stephen King 

Thanks for reading. And don't forget my giveaway just for those of you who read One Writer's Journal. Leave a comment between now and the end of the month on a post here and your name will go into a pot for a random drawing to win an autographed copy of Words Spoken True. Each time you comment on a different post, your name goes in the drawing again so you can have multiple chances of winning.

Counting Butterflies and Editing Galleys

The butterfly counts not months, but moments, and has time enough. ... Rabindranath Tagore

We've had a beautiful summer here in Kentucky - the first one in several years where we had enough rain to keep the fields green into August. I took a walk this week through our hayfield before my husband mowed it and counted butterflies. Well, not actually how many butterflies I saw, but how many butterflies of different colors, sizes and markings. The past few dry summers, it has seemed as if butterflies were becoming scarce. But this year they have rebounded. I counted almost twenty different looking butterflies in my mile and a half walk. The one in the picture is not one of them. I didn't have my camera with me this week so this is a butterfly I captured in my lens earlier this summer on a thistle bloom. But on my walk I saw little white and yellow butterflies. I saw Monarchs and lots of black ones with yellow spots. I spotted one black with blue spots. I saw small orange butterflies with big spots and other little orange butterflies that wouldn't stay still long enough for me to see their spots. 

I didn't look up any varieties. You'll have to use your imagination or go out in the fields and see what's flying around your way. I was just having fun as I gave my mind a break from editing my book, Words Spoken True that will be out next February. I like this story. It's different from my Shaker stories and from my family stories too. It's a true historical romance. The 1855 Louisville history is a great backdrop for the romance. Suffice it to say, the setting is not my Harmony Hill Shaker village. There are no rules against romance in this story. The edits so far have been minor - mostly rewording scenes to make them read smoother and to cut out those pet words that I seem to love to overuse. 

But those of you who love that Harmony Hill Shaker Village setting, don't despair. The next thing I edit will be The Gifted, my fifth Shaker book. I saw the cover last week and all it needs is a butterfly. :-) Actually I have my heroine, Jessamine, thinking about caterpillars turning into butterflies in that story. Sometimes all the threads come together. 


Thank you so much for reading, and I do very much appreciate all of you who shared comments about what you like to see in newsletters. My birthday giveaway will be open for entries until the end of September, so if you haven't entered and would like to, either send me an e-mail or leave a comment here saying you'd like to be entered. You can check my website or the archives here to see what you might win. I'll be posting about it again too before I do the drawing for winners. 


If you want an extra chance to win a copy of The Blessed, you can go to Trish Perry's Reading, Writing and the Stuff In-Between and leave a comment in answer to my question there. It's a question my dog and animal loving friends might have fun answering. 



Last but not least, here's a quote I found about butterflies. It sounds like something my character, Jessamine might say.


" How does one become a butterfly?"  she asked. 
" You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar."   (Unknown author)

Happiness is Another Book

"It isn't what you have, or who you are, or where you are, or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think about." (Dale Carnegie) 

Happiness for me today is thinking about another book written. Another story told - difficult though it was to pry out of my head and onto my computer screen. 

A fellow writer in an e-mail posting today said he didn't think there was anything magical about writing a story. Perhaps not for him, but it feels a little magical to me each time I write "the end" and then start to read to see if I got the story told. I did that this week. Read my new Shaker story, The Gifted, with some trepidation since a lot of its story words had been difficult to summon out of the murky depths of my storytelling well. But the story is there. The one I wanted to tell. The one my characters lived for me in my imagination. 

So happiness is a story told. A blessing received. The first reader liked the story. That's always me - that first reader I have to please. Stephen King in his book On Writing says you should write for one reader. For him, that is his wife. But for me, well, it's me. Of course a writer can be deluded and fooled by her own words. Most writers do have critique partners and first readers other than themselves. But as that Frank Sinatra song says, I did it my way. That's the only way I can. And the story has to speak to me first. 

Now I have to finish it up, cut and polish my words in hopes that my next readers will think I've found the right story and told it in the best way I can. I need to trim away some more of those words I had such difficulty coming up with in the first place. But sometimes you just have to spill the whole bucket of words even when you only need half or three quarters of the bucket. Then you have to mop up.

On my Facebook page this week we've been talking about the University of Maryland research that found reading a book made people happier than watching t.v. I don't know if that's true of not. I think surveys can prove just about anything at times and today it could be books making people happy and tomorrow t.v. or Facebook. But reading makes me happy. And reading my book after writing the end and finding the story actually is there the way I doubted through the last hundred pages or so, now that's happiness. 

Does reading make you happy? On FB a lot of readers have shared the books that make them happy. What a gift to me that some of them mentioned my books. Hope you are finding happiness in your thoughts today.

Shopping till I Dropped

Thanksgiving is over and I can no longer pretend Christmas is a long way off. Especially since we're going to celebrate here the weekend before Christmas. AIII!!!

--So I took off on a marathon shopping trip today. First you have to understand that shopping is one of my very least favorite things to do - unless I'm in a bookstore. I'm going to do that shopping next week. That will be fun. I'll get to buy a bunch of books for all my family members. They get a book every year whether they want one of not. ;-) Fortunately they are all book lovers. My daughters-in-law too, but right now with their big families they have a hard time squeezing out reading time. I understand that. As the saying goes, been there, done that, got a t-shirt.

--Well, I didn't have quite as big a family as both of them. I stopped at three. One of the ladies at my church used to tell I should have a whole houseful of kids because she thought my kids were so cute and smart. And they were, of course, says this not so unbiased mom. But guess I decided to let my sons have the whole housefuls of kids and now those grandkids are so cute and smart, of course. Grandmas are notoriously biased.

--And so here I am with three of the little reasons I was out hunting bargains and fun things to wrap and put under my tree. And I found a bunch of cute stuff. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not Santa Claus. I'm just a grandma with a lot of grandkids and so I have to keep my gift buying under control or my new room built so we could have enough room on Christmas might not be big enough. I've got my list and I'm sticking to it. Except for that red shirt I bought me. ;-)

--I hope you are enjoying every little thing about Christmas this year. The lights and decorations and shopping and the sound of the Salvation Army Kettle bells. I haven't seen as many of those yet this year. But I know they are in need of our help with so many families struggling right now. It's a good time to share with others. But then I suppose it's always a good time to share with others. Thank you for sharing a few minutes of your day with me.

Forgetting the Writer and Living the Story

--This was my aunt's typewriter that is now mine and has an honored spot in my office. My aunt took a secretarial course at one time and enjoyed learning to type and do shorthand. She was like a granny to me and my sisters and I especially always had fun going to her house and getting to type on her typewriter. Perhaps that's where the initial seed to someday be a writer got planted in my head. Of course I thought it would be fun to be a secretary and take down dictation with all those little squiggly marks, too. But I didn't just think it would be fun to be a writer. I knew I was going to write. Being read was optional. Something I was definitely going to shoot for, but first came the writing. I'm thankful for readers now. Very! It's great fun to write stories that other people bring to life in their imaginations.

--I got a nice compliment from a reader the other day. Since I have always lived in this rural small town area, I can get some interesting comments on my writing from people who have known me all my life. The local folk don't quite know how to take me as a writer. A lot of them feel like writers should be somebody off somewhere living the good life and not a farm girl out walking her dogs or picking beans or buying groceries or whatever. I understand completely. Writers should be glamorous and mysterious. I always thought that too. That's why it took me years after I had some books published to be able to say right out loud that I am a writer. I'm not glamorous or mysterious. (Oh dear! Now I've blown my cover for all of you who don't live in my hometown and were thinking I might be either glamorous or mysterious. If I have to pick one, I'm going for the mysterious. LOL)

--Anyway, this local lady has known me for a long time. We had kids going to school together back when. But she reads a lot and has been kind enough to read my books. I am so blessed to have reading friends. To get to my point - finally - she told me the other day that when she reads my books she forgets that I'm the writer. She wasn't sure how I was going to take that, but it was definitely a compliment. I don't want any of my readers to think about who's writing the story while they're reading it. I want them to be so caught up in the lives of my characters that they don't even notice the words. I want the story to be going straight through their eyes and playing on the big screen in their imaginations. That is, after all, the magic and fun of reading. Having the story come to life in your head until you start wondering what happens to the characters after you come to the last word on the last page.

--Now if you want to think about me being the writer then as you're closing the book, that's okay. Especially if you're wondering if I've written any other books you might like to read. That's good. But I understood what my reading friend meant. I've read books by writers I've met and sometimes you can't keep from hearing that person's voice all the way through the book. You can't ever quite forget who wrote the book. That's not always bad, but I think it's better when the writer disappears and the story takes over. Don't you?

--I hope all of you have a sunshiny kind of week. We had rain all week, so the sun looked really good when it came out today. And may you enjoy many stories on your imagination's big screen.