My Favorite Years (CopyCat) by Brenda Whiteside

I am shamelessly going to copy one of my fellow roses and talk about my favorite years. When I read Alison's post, I just had to see if I could come up with a list of my own.

Dad and Mom

1947 - The year my parents were married. Maybe that's why I have a general love of the 1940s - so romantic, idealistic and in a sense naive. My mom was told by her father she couldn't marry my dad until she was seventeen years old. She turned seventeen one day and was married the next. Many years later, when she sent for her birth certificate, she discovered her birth date was wrong by one day. She actually turned seventeen the day after she was married.

1967 - The summer of love. Those were the days my friends, we thought they'd never end. One of those years that makes me smile. I had a lot of fun

Those were the days

that year.

Touring a castle in Europe

1969-1971 - The three years we spent in Germany. Frank may have disliked being in the army, but I have to tell you, I had three fantastic years in Europe. Too many good times to list.

1974 - The year my son was born. He was a gift and has grown into an amazing man.

1992- The year we moved to Minnesota for a twenty year stint that is filled with wonderful memories. When my husband flew to the interview, he sat in the thirteenth row of the airplane. They put him up at the Holiday Inn, and he was on the thirteenth floor. He took the job and the temporary apartment we lived in was also on the thirteenth floor in apartment number 1313. My first day at work was January 13, 1993. We always figure our lucky number is thirteen.

2009 - I signed a contract with The Wild Rose Press for my first book, Sleeping with the Lights On. Thrilled to be an author.

Sadi Belle

2013 - The year my granddaughter, Sadi Belle was born. I never thought my only child, my son, would ever get married much less have a child. Or so he said. She's a precious treat for this grandma.

This was also the year I signed a contract for the first book of my first romantic suspense series. I love romantic suspense and am pretty pleased with myself about this series. It's the Love and Murder Series. Book one is The Art of Love and Murder.

Blurb:

Lacy Dahl never questioned her past until the deaths of her adoptive parents and her husband. A husband who wasn't what he seemed. Her research

Link

uncovers secrets about the mother she never knew; secrets that dispute the identity of her father and threaten her life.

Sheriff Chance Meadowlark is still haunted by the murder of his wife and the revenge he unleashed in the name of justice. When he meets Lacy he is determined not to become involved, but their pasts may make that impossible. As they move closer to the truth, saving Lacy may be his only salvation.

Lacy begins to think the present is more important than her past...until Chance's connection to her mother and a murder spin her deeper into danger and further from love. Will the truth destroy Lacy and Chance or will it be the answer that frees them?

Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.

Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9^th and 24^th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about writing and prairie life at http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

My Favorite Year by Margo Hoornstra

My favorite year? That's easy. The one I happen to be in.

Not that other years in my life didn't qualify as favorites. The year I graduated from high school then college, got my first real job, got married, gave birth to four children - including two at one time. The year I retired from my day job to write full time. The year my first book was published. Each year as subsequent books of mine came out. The years each of my grandchildren was born. All those many years have had their moments, good and bad. If I really thought long and hard, all of them could probably have their own events to earn them favorite status.

That still doesn't make those in the past any better than those in my present, and my future.

Recently, I had a minor health scare. Something which turned out to be a non-issue, but had me concerned, no terrified, just having to think about it for a couple of weeks. Frittering some time away on line, trying not to think about it, I came upon a horoscope which seemed to be written just for me. Why does it seem so much easier for you to believe that something bad can happen, but so much more difficult to trust in your good fortune?

That's one of my failings I'm trying desperately to turn around. I tend toward the catastrophic, bad catastrophic in most of my what if thinking. The trait serves me well as an author seeking to put this character and that into situations it seems impossible they'll ever get out of. In real life, thinking the worst all the time isn't the best way to go.

You've heard the saying, You are what you eat. In the thought process, Your beliefs and ideas become your life. If you think positive thoughts, you'll enjoy positive results, right?

My favorite year, right now, is 2014. As the years unfold in my future, each one I'm sure, will have the potential to become my favorite of all as well.

The days I blog here are the 11th and 23rd. For more about me and my writing, please visit me at my WEBSITE

Lessons from Scarlett ~ By Leah St. James

I can’t hear the title “Gone with the Wind” without recalling the first time I saw the movie. It was in a theater, a special showing as part of an anniversary celebration. I was a teenager, and I can’t think of that event without recalling the film’s introduction of Captain Rhett Butler, how the camera panned down from the grand staircase of the grand plantation house to capture that knowing, bad-boy grin. I can still hear the collective gasp that echoed throughout the movie theater—the sounds of the women’s hearts stopping, if just for a second.

Once I get past that memory, I think how the story’s theme—a way of life that flourished but slipped from the grasp of its devotees—was so perfectly titled: Gone with the Wind. The people of the Old South (as depicted in the story) were so caught up in the gaiety of their lives, they never saw the danger steamrolling in their direction.

Despite the aspects of life in the antebellum south that were just so wrong, sometimes I think Scarlett and her friends had some things right. Even when she was staring adversity head on and daring it to better her, she lived every moment to its fullest—whether loving or hating, laughing or pouting.

I can learn a lot from Scarlett.

Sometimes I’m so caught up in (and wrung-out by) the every-day busy-ness of my life, I don’t pay attention to the joys in front of me. Before I know it, what I cherish will have fluttered away in the mindless passage of days, and I’ll be left grasping at wisps of memory that I hadn’t taken time to fully appreciate.

As I write this I’m visiting my older son. He is a doctoral student at a college several states away, and I only see him once or twice a year. My husband and I stopped here as part of a longer trip, just to touch base, to be with him.

When I look at him, my eyes see a man in every respect, but my mind’s eye sees the baby toddling to me on those first ecstatic steps, and the sense of time snowballing beyond my control fills me with disbelief.

So after I shut down my laptop, I’m going to plop myself next to him on his couch and watch some awful movie that he and my husband have chosen. And I’m going to metaphorically bottle these very mundane, but very precious, moments so I can pull them out to savor when I want.

What about you? Do you (like me) find yourself carried along on the tides of your day? Or (like Scarlett) have you figured out how to truly live each moment?

_________________

Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the enduring power of love. Her novels include romantic suspense Surrender to Sanctuary and Adrienne's Ghost, and women's fiction Christmas Dance. Learn more at leahstjames.com.

It should be a movie by Barbara Edwards

My adventure has been so incredible I should make a movie. I could be the heroine. For the last few months my husband and I have taken a road trio to Alaska. I took thousands of pictures and since I’m behind the camera I didn’t get many of me.

Keeno, my dog, in the Pacific Ocean waves

I’d like to share a few highlights.

My first bear

Port Angeles, WA

Smaller than a Sequoia

Mt St Helen

On the Alaska Marine Highway ferry

Anchorage 

Bill at the Viking ship, Petersburg

Mt McKinley at Denali

I hope you enjoyed my photos and have been following my blog www.barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com about my Alaska trip.

Please follow, friend or like me. I love to hear from my readers.

Blog http://barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com/

Website http://barbaraedwards.net

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My Favorite Year(s) by Alicia Dean

A list of some of my faves…

1961 – I was born, without which, none of the rest would be possible. I was born in Seminole, Oklahoma on July 1st, the same day and year as Princess Diana.

1972 – One of the best and worst years of my young life. We were devastated when we left our home neighborhood in Oklahoma City to move to a small town in Missouri. However, in no time, we were ecstatic. It was a beautiful place out in the country and, while we were city kids, we loved it. The school was fantastic; we made tons of new friends; our neighbors down the road had horses we learned to ride; and we were deliriously happy. After three months, our house burned to the ground. We moved back to Oklahoma City, and were more devastated than we’d been when we had to leave it. We ended up in Moore, where I finished growing up, raised my kids, and met my best friend, with whom I’m still friends after 40 plus years. Isn’t it funny how one thing can completely change a person’s destiny? I always wondered how different my life would be if we’d stayed in Missouri.

1975 – I saw Elvis Presley in concert for the first time.

 

1976 – I saw him in concert for the second time.

1977 – I saw him in concert for the third and final time. :(

1983 – My beautiful, smart, daughter, Lana Nicole was born.

 

 

1986 – My cute, precious, funny daughter, Lacey Jewel was born.

 

 

1992 – My adorable, funny, smart son, Presley Wayne was born (Yes, we named him after Elvis and John Wayne)

(Lana is funny, too, but she got ‘beautiful’ so the other two got funny. Of course, they were beautiful too, but…you know…)

 

 

2007 – My first novel was published with Wild Rose Press and I saw a lifetime dream fulfilled.

 

There were tons of good years mixed in amongst these, and some pretty bad ones, but mainly, there were bad things that happened in good years. But all of the experiences, bad and good, brought me to where I am today, which is a pretty great place.

And who knows what else is in store for me? Maybe the best year is yet to come. Although, I’m not sure how anything can top having my children—short of becoming young and gorgeous and hooking up with Ian Somerhalder.

 

(Okay, I guess it wouldn't be better than when I had my children, but that was a long time ago, and just LOOK at him...)

Fortunately, the fulfillment of my writing dream didn’t end with that first book in 2007, and I get (almost) as excited with each new release. I’m so thrilled to share my beautiful cover for my upcoming short story, releasing January 7, 2015 (the day before Elvis’ 80th birthday), from the Wild Rose Press.

 

Blurb:

All Toby Lawson wants is to go to college to become a teacher and to be free of her alcoholic mother and some painful memories. But when her mother nearly burns the house down, Toby must put her dreams on hold and return home to care for her. The only time she isn’t lonely and miserable is when she’s listening to her heartthrob, Elvis Presley. His music takes her away and helps her escape from everything wrong in her life. 

 

Noah Rivers has always loved Toby, but no matter what he says, she can‘t get past the fact that her drunken mother once kissed him. He soon realizes the true problem lies in Toby’s belief she’s not good enough for him and in her fear she will be just like her mother. 

 

What will it take to prove to her that she deserves to be happy, and that he would give anything to be the man to make her dreams come true?

Excerpt: 

“Who kisses better? Me or my mother?”

Noah blinked as if not sure what he’d heard. Then, a hard look came into his eyes, and he set her from him with a not-so-gentle shove. “What the…? I should just leave your ass right here. It would serve you right.”

Toby ran her nail along his cheek. “Ah, come on, Noah. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? How about you and I go somewhere private and finish what we never did at Make Out Point? We’re grownups now. No reason to hold off.”

He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Good God, Toby, what’s gotten into you?”

“What’s the matter?” Unexpectedly, a sob rose to her chest. She suddenly wasn’t happy anymore. She was deeply, thoroughly sad. “I thought men liked tramps.”

His expression softened, and he gave her a tender smile. “You’re not a tramp, Toby. For God’s sake, your mother really did a number on you.” A dark look crossed his face.  “And that bastard, Wes… I wanted to kill him when I found out what he tried to do to you. Don’t let a scumbag like that make you feel bad about yourself. Other people might hold your mother’s reputation against you, but not me. I know the real you.”

 

Easy for him to say, but he didn’t walk in her shoes, didn’t suffer the ridicule, the shame of being Constance Lawson’s daughter.

She sighed and lifted a hand to brush the hair out of her face. His rejection might sting tomorrow, once she sobered up, but for now, she was spent. She just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. Sleep for a week.

“Please take me home,” she whispered.

 

 

 

My Profound Thoughts On Editing by Jannine Gallant

Sorry, folks, I'm ditching the monthly topic. Giving it the boot. It's gone with the wind...

I've been thinking a lot about editing lately and decided to share my profoundness. I've had quite a few editors, most of whom have been a complete joy. I've also been an editor, though not officially working for a publisher. Doesn't make the process any different. These erudite thoughts of mine have revolved around why some editors are a joy to work with and others--not so much. I came up with a few consistent points.

1) Basic Human Kindness: Let's face it, when we ask for an editor, we give someone permission to criticize us. It's for our own good (like medicine), but it's still tough to hear our plots and characters aren't perfect. So, mixed in with all the points about where we went wrong, it's heartening to hear we did something right. A "Great line!" or "This made me laugh." or "I love this conversation." in the comments area goes a long way. Nope, we don't learn from constant praise (that's why we have mothers not editors), but a few words of encouragement does keep us motivated to make all those changes when we realize everything we wrote doesn't completely suck. I know I get into an editing zone, looking for problems, making corrections and suggestions, but it doesn't take much to add a positive comment when I catch myself smiling. I'll try to do more of that in the future.

2) Don't Beat A Dead Horse: When I find a problem with a character or a plot point, I'm tempted to keep pointing it out--over and over and over. STOP! From now on, no more nagging about the problem issue. Authors aren't stupid. We all get the idea. All repeat criticism does is create resentment. There are a few exceptions. Dialogue tags. Sometimes we don't notice them in our own writing. They need to be pointed out. Same with telling words. I miss them all the time--though not as often as I used to. Makes me crazy. When editing, I like to simply highlight the phrase--she watched, he felt, etc.--then put in comments (telling). Same with tags. Easy-peasy. My smart author friends get the picture, and so do I.

3) Don't Try To Change An Author's Voice: This hasn't been a big problem for me, but I know it has given others fits. Constant rewording can make sentences unrecognizable as belonging to the writer. Noting grammar issues is an editor's job--no question about that. But just because you wouldn't say it exactly the same way doesn't mean the author's way is wrong.

4) No Preaching: I don't want to hear the scene is unbelievable because YOU wouldn't do that. Everyone is different. The world would be pretty boring if we all reacted the same to a given situation. I'm 100% fine hearing that my editor doesn't understand my character's motivation. A request to make it clearer or explain the character's actions more thoroughly is A-OK with me. A lecture on why the character is wrong isn't going to make for a positive working environment.

Being an editor is tough. It isn't pleasant to dish out criticism. It isn't pleasant to be on the receiving end of it, either. I can only say thank you so much to the editors who were so kind and considerate in their critiques and made me love them. Ally, Kathy, Stacy, Margo--you guys rock. I appreciate you more than I can say. I hope the authors I've edited for feel the same way about me. If not--I'll try harder.

What about you? What makes you happy to work with an editor--or want to take out a contract on her? Dish the dirt! Did I miss any major points?

You can find all my well-edited books on my Website. I hope you'll check them out.

Blowing Away Certain Overused Words

By Betsy Ashton

I know we are supposed to be writing about movies this month. Gone With The Wind is one. The more I thought about the movie, the more I realized I couldn't add anything original. So, to follow true to form, I'll talk about some words I want to see gone with the wind.

I listen to news broadcasters all the time. I find several practices so annoying I turn off the broadcast. In recent years, certain words are over emphasized, have proliferated and are inappropriately used to the point that they lack credibility.

Take "disaster." Reporters apply this word for everything from a tsunami wiping out a country to a fire in an empty building that causes some traffic disruption on local streets. Certainly a natural event, be it a tsunami, a tornado or a blizzard. is a disaster because so many people are affected. I have no problem with that usage, but when the same breathless intonation and use of the same word for something as minor as a small fire or a traffic accident is called a "disaster," I stop listening. Can't we keep dramatic words for real dramatic events? (Oh heck, I just broke a nail. Now, that's a disaster.)

"Good" used to be good enough. If something was "good," you had an idea of what the speaker or writer meant. Now, you have to use "great," "fantastic," "rad," and any other superlative to express "good." I don't mind exaggeration in common speech, but get really real, broadcasters. Not everything is great or fantastic. Let's get some balance in your reporting. I mean, today I had a really fantastic cup of coffee. Actually, it was rich, a bit bitter, hot and tasty. Was it fantastic? No, it was simply good.

Some words have twins. "I really really had a great time." Really? Two reallys? Are they really really needed? I used to use "I had a nice time" to let a guy know I was bored out of my mind on a date and not to call again. Most of the time, one really is enough.

Do you remember when one "very" was enough? Now, this word has a twin. It should be written very-very or veryvery because one is never enough.

Can we all get together and return speech to a level where words really have meaning? Where we don't deliver every message with hyperbole and gush? Where we back off on twin words? Where we use exaggeration to its fullest effect and only when needed?

Probably not.

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Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max Unintended Consequences available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. She lives for words and writing.