Secrets (Book Review)

Dec13
Reading Time: 2 minutes

secretsIt’s probably appropriate that I publish this review on a Friday the 13th given the dark undertones to Kristin Heitzmann’s novel, Secrets.  Well, that’s if you are in any way superstitious.

Lance Michelli is a young man burdened with a big heart and impulsive, passionate nature that sometimes gets him in trouble, in spite of his best intentions.  In trying to live up to his deceased brother’s memory, he embarks on a quest to discover the secrets his grandmother cannot tell.  What has her so agitated? Will he uncover the answers that will soothe her soul as she recovers from a stroke? Or will he be too late.

His quest takes him from the East Coast to Italy and now to Sonoma where his cooking skills win him a place in the home that might legally belong to his grandmother. The new owner, Rese Barret is fighting her own demons as she remodels this home into a bed and breakfast. Lance agrees to cook, clean and fix up part of the property but never tells this young, tightly wound woman, the real reason he is there. How could he, when he doesn’t even know himself?

Attraction builds as secrets are uncovered for both Lance and Rese. Lance tries to share his faith with Rese but she refuses to believe in a God she can’t see.  Having a mother who had a boyfriend she couldn’t see has made her wary of anything spiritual. Understanding more about schizophrenia though and the truth about her mother, is enough to push her over the edge – to madness- or to faith. Will Lance be there to catch her when she falls?

Complex character with an organic faith line woven in, Kristen slowly peels back the mystery of the secrets in both her main characters lives as they are drawn to each other. A fascinating tale and the subject of mental illness is handled with great care and realism.  This is only the second book of Kristen Heitzmann’s that I’ve read, but I will gladly pick up another by this gifted author.

The REALLY Fat Girl

Dec9
Reading Time: 3 minutes

A few weeks back I had to go to the clinic to have an MRI on my back. I came early per my standard operating procedure. It was a Friday and the Radiology Department was next to the Lab which was having an exceptionally busy morning.

That meant there were few isolated seats available. As in none. Everyone sat with a chair or open space one either side of them. I was going to have to choose a spot to sit that would hone in one someone’s bubble.

I chose a heavy woman. I sat next to her and instead of reading my book, we began to talk. The woman was about 40o lbs, had intense back pain and other serious health issues. Insurance was giving her trouble with the various procedures she needed to have done. It was a catch 22 for her. They couldn’t do surgery on her back until she lost weight, but she couldn’t lose weight because of her various health issues. She said she used to try to swim at the local YMCA but people would make rude comments to her. Out loud. In her presence.

I have to admit if people insulted me every time I was trying to work out . . . I would quit too. Let’s face it, when one is overweight, no matter how much, a swimming suit is never going to be flattering. For her to have gone to do the only exercise she could and then have to stop because of the abuse she suffered? Well, it made me sad. I was ashamed that these were fellow human beings and I expect none of them were Sports Illustrated Swim models either. I wish she had the courage to complain to the staff at the YMCA. Bullying in any form should never be tolerated, even there. Especially there.

I told her that I was glad I came to sit by her, that I had learned a lot and enjoyed her company. She went to get her blood work done and I was called in for my appointment and I didn’t get to see her again. I hope that maybe, somehow, a friendly, affirming, conversation, validated her worth as a human being created in the image of God.

When I hear people make fun of someone who is overweight it grieves me. Partly because of my own weight struggle. Partly because I think we overlook the fact that seeing a person at one static moment in time, does not inform us of their journey or challenges. This woman could have lost 50 pounds before I met her and I would have still seen her as overweight. She was and she knew it. But her weight does not diminish her value in the eyes of  God. Nor should it in mine.

So why do I share this story? Because over the next month many of us will be interacting more and more with strangers as we shop, attend concerts or parties and go about our business. Maybe we can set aside the lenses we often use to judge someone and instead see the heart of the person underneath. Someone who is desperate to be seen, treated with respect and honor and even to be heard.

I listened to this woman’s pain. Her loneliness. Her battles on every side. When someone weighs 400 lbs, losing weight is harder than ever. A loss of a pound, even in a week, which would be considered stellar by most, would be like nothing for her in the balance of all she had yet to lose and I still wouldn’t have known. I’ve been heavier than I am now and I’ve been thinner. I would prefer thinner. The funny thing is those insults given by strangers or even worse, by people close to us, wound deeply.

It is hard to give myself the same courtesy I gave that woman because I’ve suffered similar insults. Yes, there is a disparity in the amount of weight we have to lose, but the struggle and the emotions are the same. Frustration. Exhaustion. Defeat. Despair.

So when you go to the YMCA and see someone working out – be the person who says a good word and encourages them. Make eye contact or smile. And let us strive to be more kind. We all struggle with something after all. How would you want to be treated?

You Don’t Know Me (Book Review)

Dec6
Reading Time: 2 minutes

warren - you don't know meAnother book in her Deep Haven series, You Don’t Know Me by Susan May Warren has an uncharacteristically darker  tone. In some way, this book is better described as a romantic suspense.

Annalise Decker isn’t who everyone thinks she is. A wife and mother who is involved in her community and supporting her husband’s bid for mayor, finds her world unraveling. Twenty years earlier she was Deidre O’Reilly and had fallen into bad company that resulted in her almost dying at the hands of a drug lord. To escape her own prison time she testified against him and he swore he would hunt her down and kill her. She was placed in Witness Protection in Deep Haven and had built a new life here.

But that criminal is out and looking for her. Can she give it all up? Does she leave or take her family with her? Her agent, becomes Uncle Frank, and finds that this gal who he helped really is more than a job to him, she’s family and he cares more than he should, especially for her mother-in-law.

Told in her characteristic style with two romances blooming at once, she add another minor character, Tucker, a boy from the wrong side of the track trying to live life the right way and running up against all kinds of obstacles as he really likes Annalise’s daughter, Colleen. Three love stories woven together make for one satisfying and well wrapped up novel. You’ll have to read it to find out what happens, but just don’t blame me if you lose any sleep over it.

Post-NaNoWriMo Blues

Dec2
Reading Time: 3 minutes

2013-Winner-Facebook-ProfileNovember 30th, at 11:59 pm, marked the end of NaNoWriMo. For those unacquainted, this is National Novel Writing Month. It really should be International, because people from all over the globe participated. 309,173 novels were started in November.

I am unable to get statistics yet for this year, but so you can have an idea of the scope and challenge of this, here are the totals from 2012.  Last year 341,375 people signed up for NaNoWrimo and wrote a whalloping 3,288,976,325 words. That’s three trillion, folks! Now some criticize this event saying that if everyone is a winner than what’s the point? See you win if you pass 50,000 words written and validated on the sight and they have to be words written only in November. So how many actually make it? Last year 38,438 writers crossed the finish line. That is 11% of the total who signed up.

Some quit early on, some hang on to the bitter end, some, like me, soar past the goal and keep writing, because a novel is usually far more than 50,000 words.

If you are of that 11% (or whatever it is this year) – Congratulations.

If you fell short, you are a hero for trying and you hopefully have more words on your novel than when when you started the month. That is not an accomplishment to be despised. Most authors do not write 50,000 in a month. Ever. Just keep writing. Keep learning and try again next year.

But December is upon us and I have a few words of caution, especially for those that finished with 50K and even finished their story. This is a rough draft. It’s the first step in a long, drawn out process to publication. Granted, your story is equal parts genius and stupidity. Genius because you thought it up out of your own head. Stupidity because it is filled with problems that you can’t see right now. So here is my advice to you.

  • Celebrate your hard work! Congratulations!
  • If the novel is not finished, keep writing and finish it.
  • When it’s done, read through it and add or fix whatever you feel needs to be done
  • Set it aside for at least a month (or more) before working on your first revision. You are too close to your story right now to look at it objectively.
  • Let others read your work and consider their feedback and use it in your next revision.
  • Check for consistency in your story.
  • Check your grammar and sentence structure.
  • Run it through a critique group and make more changes and revisions.
  • Revise AGAIN if you need to. Use a site like http://www.prowritingaid.com to help you.
  • After all that is done, work on a synopsis and query letter (sometimes this is even harder than writing the novel itself!)
  • Then look for places to submit it to if you want to seek publication. Be prepared for agents and editors to force you to make even more changes to your work.
  • Most of all, take your time and enjoy the process.

Your NaNo novel is a diamond in the rough and needs more chipping away and polishing to make it sparkle and shine. I don’t write these things to discourage you but to give you a bigger picture, if you want to pursue publication, of the process you need to pursue. And these are only the icing on the cake. There is still so much more.

Congratulations, Wrimos! And if you scoff and think it isn’t such a big deal, well, I dare you to join us next November.

The Shadow of Your Smile (Book Review)

Nov29
Reading Time: 2 minutes

shadow of your smileSusan May Warren’s book, The Shadow of Your Smile is another in the Deep Haven series. These books could be read out of order as characters from other novels are not of paramount importance and only provide more of the local color of the town in which the books are based.

Noelle Hueston has been married to Eli for 25 years. The marriage fell apart after the tragic murder of their 17 year old daughter, Kelsy. Eli blames himself for Kelsy’s death, as well as that of a fellow officer who was killed that day. Kelsy’s friend Emma also carries a weight of guilt from that night too.  This one death destroyed so many dreams and those left behind struggle in their faith.

Noelle has an accident that results in amnesia and she loses 25 years of her life. Could this really be the man she married? Those are her two boys? Why did she give up her dreams of painting? And how did she get fat?

Eli struggles to care for and protect his wife who he had drifted away from. He had begun an emotional affair with the fallen officer’s wife, Lee. Can he mend his broken marriage? Could the amnesia be a gift in that his wife is no longer trapped in her grief?

Emma is struggling as a musician. She had been a partner of Kelsy’s in music and she feels like she lost her one chance to do anything good. Kelsie’s brother, Kyle, who she had always had a crush on, shows up and rescues her from a brawl. Passion ignites but can they overcome the spectre of Kelsy’s death and the damage it has done to their families?

The killer who had inadvertently caused Noelle’s injury is still on the loose and doesn’t know that Noelle lost her memory. Will he strike again? Can her son, Kyle, now a deputy, solve the murder? Can Eli protector her if the murder strikes again? Can Noelle find a new life in spite of her amnesia and fall in love again with the man she married?

Once again, Susan writes a complex tale filled with emotion and depth and the interconnectedness of the two romance plots. Well done!

Anticipating the Holiday Rudeness

Nov25
Reading Time: 3 minutes

I have a friend who has been a cheerleader of my writing from day one. He often says “Don’t forget the little people when you make it big.”

I love his “when.”

Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Then there is someone in my life who has said, “Nice little hobby you have there. You won’t make any money at it.”

Or how about this comment, “Oh, so is that what you’re doing now? How nice for you. When are you going to get a real job?”

The holidays bring out the worst in people. I try to generally be gracious to those who don’t understand that my writing and editing is a real job and that I work very hard at it. I will be forever grateful for those people who have supported, encouraged and believed in me and my writing before I’ve made my mark on the publishing world.

So often authors cite parents or spouse as being those supporters. That’s not the case for me. My grandmother is a grand cheerleader though.

The comment I’ve heard before and expect to hear on Thanksgiving Day though is this: “How much money do you make?”

Stop. Wait. Excuse me? Where in any part of civilization is this an appropriate question? Between authors it might be acceptable in discussing the challenge to actually talk about *gasp* money, but if I went to my family members and asked how much they got paid for the work they do, well, they would be offended.

So what makes any of them think it’s okay to ask me such a question? Stephen King doesn’t make his tax return public knowledge, does he?

Since I write historical fiction I’m going to revert back to a more respectable time when people did not ask such questions. Wait. Even in Regency England a man was known by how much he made a year and it was used as a measuring stick to determine whether he was worthy husband material.

But I’m not looking for a husband.

So my response? “Thank you for your interest in my writing. In response to your question, it’s none of your business.”

Beth Ziarnik and me. She was the "Paul" to my "Timothy" at my first writer's conference (Write to Publish)

Beth Ziarnik and me. She was the “Paul” to my “Timothy” at my first writer’s conference (Write to Publish)

It isn’t. There is nothing that says I have to answer every question posed to me no matter how authentic and real I strive to be in my life.  Some things can be and should be private. The fact is, the amount of money I earn, much like the size of my clothing, does not determine my value in the eyes of God. He is the reason I write and yes, the IRS will know, but unless I start making millions, I doubt I will ever want to share that kind of information, especially with those who have not encouraged and supported me.

Will Smith has said “If you are absent during my struggle, don’t expect to be present during my success.” Well said, Will.

Have a wonderful thanksgiving and for those of you who have prayed, supported and encouraged me on my journey (and you know who you are!), I am thanking God for the gift of you in my life. I may not make much money now, but I’m rich in the relationships my writing has brought into my life.

My Foolish Heart (Book Review)

Nov22
Reading Time: 2 minutes

My-Foolish-Heart-by-Susan-May-Warren-199x300Since falling in love with Susan May Warren’s writing, I was thrilled to find my library had some of her Deep Haven novels. My Foolish Heart, showcases Susan’s talent at pulling off four points of view.

The main character is Isadora (Izzy) Prseley who suffers from panic attacks after watching her mother die in her arms after a terrible car accident three years prior that also left her dad in a care facility with a trach and paralyzed. Izzy has developed agoraphobia, and is terrified to even go to the grocery store, much less drive her car to visit her father. She has managed to maintain a career as a talk show host of a lovelorn program in which she is known as My Faithful Heart.

Caleb Knight had dreams of coaching football, but a stint in Iraq cost him his leg and left him scarred with burns. He snags a teaching and coaching job in Deep Haven and moves next door to the most beautiful girl. Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to like him much. Struggling to figure out what to do he stumbles upon a talk show and asks for advice as Boy Next Door. Little does he know that My Faithful Heart is the woman he is pining after.

A challenge for the role of coaching leads Caleb to hide his prosthesis because he doesn’t want a job out of pity. He wants to earn it. He also wants to help his lovely neighbor overcome her fears, if she will only let him close to her. A mangy mutt bounces between both their homes giving them reasons to connect.

Izzy finds herself attracted to her next door neighbor while at the same time falling in love with The Boy Next Door who is calling her show, having private discussions with her on-line and boosting her ratings all the while highlighting to her the life she had dreamed of but could never have.

This is a complex novel with Seb and Lucy playing a counterpoint to the relationship with Izzy and Caleb. Seb is vying for Caleb’s job but has a history with Lucy who happens to be Izzy’s best friend. As the scrimmage comes closer things heat up in Deep Haven. Will they find love or will all be lost?

This was an enjoyable story that moves along at a good pace and watching the relationships of four people is fascinating. Susan pulls it off with aplomb while challenging each character in their relationship with God. A delightful story. I’m looking forward to the next one!

That’s it, I Quit!

Nov18
Reading Time: 2 minutes

I met with some writing friends recently and we were talking about the crazy life of an author.

The struggle to get a story just write right.

The reality of writing, revising, rewriting and then being told it’s wrong or an editor wants you to do it differently.

The conflicting opinions on certain “rules” (no head-hopping for instance, something that is more acceptable in secular fiction).

The length of time it takes to get any response from an editor or publishing house.

Being accepted and then still finding your work isn’t “good enough” for that particular person.

One gal said, “I’ve quit three times this past week.”

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I hit a spot last week too where I was beset by self-doubts.

Most authors struggle with these thoughts at some point.

If you don’t write, I hope you can understand this. Writers spend hours, days, weeks, months YEARS crafting the book that is held in your hands. Every step along the way feels like a benchmark but is laden with pitfalls.

You get an agent–but they want you to make changes before they try to sell your work.

You get a book contract–and the editor of the publishing house asks you to make changes to the writings of your heart and dreams.

You finally get published and  people condemn it.

That’s an awful lot of criticism for an author to have to deal with. Then, it starts all over again with the next book.

So why did I sign up for this masochistic career?

Because God called me to and His purposes in my writing are bigger than my dream of being published. How often I lose sight of that when life is overwhelming and I just want to cry, curl up in a ball with my puppy and lick my wounds. Well, he’d be licking his butt – probably a good illustration for how distasteful this torture is.

And most of us don’t get paid until after the book is published and people take their shots at us.

So I expect I’ll be serving my resignation many times in the future. God never seems to take it very seriously though and I’m glad he undersands the wounds and struggles in the process.

It is a process–and not always pleasant, but I am learning more about myself as well as how to write better. The reality is that will be a lifelong process. There is no “arrival” in this career. At least not until we get to heaven and see our names published in the Lamb’s book of life. Now that’s worth struggling for.

Brave New Century (Book Review)

Nov15
Reading Time: 2 minutes

Brave new century final coverBrave New Century is a lovely quartet of four novellas. Four women in search of their identity in the new century, 1900. The time is filled challenges, triumphs and responsibilities. Four stories. Four lives. Four loves. (Click here for a link to the print version of the book)

In the first story, Three Rings for Alice, Lisa Lickel highlights Alice Smith’s struggles to be a modern woman. Orphaned, she has to make her own way in the world and in a time when women are just coming into the workforce, it is fraught with uncertainty. Vowing to never marry, time and a secret love changes her mind with a decision to marry for no less than love. Even if the one she loves is only known as a voice on the telephone.

Paula Mowery’s tale, Forgiven, brings us Jessie Lee Capelle who wonders if she will ever have a loving family. When she meets laborer Henry Smith her dreams look like they will come true. When a surprising twist of history is revealed, can their love withstand the truth. Can they forgive?

In The Pocket Watch, Kathleen Rouser weaves a tale of Isabel Jones, an orphan in Detroit Michigan who’s only real desire is to know who her parents were. An accident brings her into the world of Dr. Daniel Harper and a pocket watch brings them together even as a special ring, left by Isobel’s mother, threatens to reveal terrible truths. Can love withstand these obstacles?

Teena Stewart tells the final story, Flames of Hope.  Lily McMinn’s Irish family operates a thriving mercantile n San Francisco. She enjoys visits by Gideon Light, a police officer. When a  violent earthquake destroys much of the city, countless people die. The crippled fire department is helpless to fight multiple fires raging out of control. Can Lily and her family survive the tragedy with the help of Gideon?

Love, romance, history. Four different stories but with these uniting themes. Step back in time and enjoy the journey these four women make. You’ll be glad you did.

Second Chance (Short Story)

Nov11
Reading Time: 5 minutes

I stumbled off the treadmill feeling weak and dizzy. I managed to wipe it down without passing out before I weaved my way to a spot on the floor by the exercise mats. I slid down and leaned against the wall. I tilted my head back and let my heart slow to a more normal rhythm. I never managed to make my cool-down. I sniffed. Ewww! I couldn’t even stand the way I smelled. Instead of finishing my workout today, I would go home to shower, collapse in back into my bed and hibernate until I was ninety. What else were Saturday’s for anyway?

“Hey, Julie. You okay?” I heard a mat plop down close by and a body descend. The deep rich timber of the voice tickled my memory. I opened my eyes and was grateful the world had stopped spinning. Daniel lay on the mat next to me and started doing crunches. Great, I’m stinky, sweaty and now the handsomest guy I know wanted to talk.

“Hi, Dan,” I sighed. “No. I’m not well.” It was hard to not watch his abs contract into that nice quasi-six pack that most men aspire to. Dan was looking way too good to me right now. I swallowed hard. Maybe I should close my eyes again?

“I didn’t know you came here.” He watched me with a crooked smile as he switched to cross crawls.

“I started a few weeks ago. I figured it was about time I tried something healthy.” I looked away to the people working out in the fitness center. I fought a tickle behind my eyelids.

Dan stopped his workout and rested on the mat, with his hands by his head, biceps bulging. His piercing gaze was on me. “I heard about Paul. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He dared to go there. Well, why not? Divorces were listed in the paper. It wasn’t a secret. His parents had probably written to him with the news. “Yeah,” I let out a ragged breath, “well, those are the breaks. Why wouldn’t he want some younger, thinner, blonder woman if he could get her?” I’m a brunette.

Dan rolled to his side, still facing me, and began to do side crunches. I tried not to look, but it was hard not to. He looked good. “Don’t sell yourself short, Julie. You were a beautiful woman when we were dating and you’ve grown only more so over these past few years.”

I glanced at him. His eyes connected with mine and my heart skipped a beat. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his sandy brown hair was damp. Maybe he was in need of glasses now? I was a wreck, not beautiful. I sighed. Why couldn’t I have married him? Oh, yeah. He had asked if I would wait until he had finished his three year stint in the Army. I said no. Three years and all I had to show for it was a divorce and a few extra pounds. And Dan? Well, he had some scars too.

“I’m sorry you were injured in that last engagement. Are you doing better now?” I could see some healed skin, but I knew some wounds went deeper than the surface. I was proof of that.

He stopped his crunches and leaned on his elbow with a furrow in between his brows. He looked around and then back to me. “I’m not twenty-one anymore, Jules. I feel like I aged far more than the three years I’ve been gone.” His voice cracked. I could hear the unspoken grief.

I gulped. “Every time you went overseas I prayed for you.” I glanced at my hands that were clasped together on my knees with the water bottle in between, getting crunched. “My one regret was that I didn’t say yes to you before you left.”

“It was probably better that you didn’t. I’m not the same guy you knew back then.” He grabbed his towel and wiped off his face.”Some days it was only the dream of you that kept me going.”

I took a sip from my distorted water bottle. “Well, apparently the shine wore off of me after only eight months.” The divorce had been quick and I had been alone now for just shy of two years.

“He was an idiot, Julie. His actions are no reflection on your worth.”

“Thanks.” I rose to my feet and the lightheaded feeling returned. I steadied myself by holding on to the wall until the world righted itself. “I had better go. It was nice seeing you again, Daniel.”

He jumped to his feet and touched my arm. Three years apart and I still got a thrill from being close to him, being the focus of his undivided attention. “Let me walk you to your car. You don’t look too steady. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore.” I started to move away and he fell into step beside me. I tossed my water bottle into the recycling on the way out.

“I can relate. The world isn’t as simple as it was when we graduated college.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not. Being an adult is not all we thought it would be.” We exited the building into the warm summer air and came to my car. I unlocked the door and turned to lean against it. I still felt dizzy but I wasn’t sure if it was from my workout, low blood-sugar or being close to Daniel again. He made me want . .  I tried to shut away those thoughts. I closed that door years ago and had hurt him when I did.

“Julie.” He leaned against the car with his hip. “Do you think . . . would it be possible to . . .?”

“What, Daniel? Just ask.” I felt a faint hope rise within me.

“I know a lot has happened in three years, but I never stopped wondering if God would ever give us a do over. Could we try?”

“You want to date me?” It’s everything I would have dreamed of but seemed too far-fetched. I was damaged goods: the discarded, defective bride. “Why?”

“I’m no prize. The bigger question is why you would even consider seeing me again.” He sighed as he folded his arms across his broad chest and sweat soaked t-shirt. He turned with his back leaning against the car by my side. “You, however, still take my breath away. I never stopped loving you. Never stopped wishing things had ended differently between us.”

“Yes.”

He stood up, turned towards me and dropped his hands. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never played games with you, Daniel, and I’m not going to start now. Yes. I would love to go out with you.”

Daniel grinned and let out a “Whoop!” He clasped my arms and kissed me. On the lips.

I don’t remember his kisses ever affecting me like this one did. Heat spread though my body, all the way to my melting cross-trainers. When he pulled away I felt like a limp noodle, ready to collapse to the blacktop. My hand came up to touch my lips as I looked into his eyes. Deep mossy green. I tried to slow my breathing down. His breathing was ragged and his eyes intent up on me. He looked almost as surprised by that kiss as I was.

Neither of us spoke for several seconds.

“I should go home.”

“How about dinner? Tonight. We could meet somewhere. Or a movie?”  His eyes were wide and he grinned. He looked as eager as a puppy dog waiting for a treat.

“Sure. That would be lovely.”

“I’ll make reservations at Giuseppe’s for six.”

I nodded and smiled at him. That had been our favorite restaurant when we were together. I never once went there with any other man but him. “Giuseppe’s it is then.” I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I’m thankful God brought you home.” I smiled as I turned to get in my car. He closed my door and went to stand at the curb as I pulled away. I could see him standing there as I drove out of the lot. Tall, handsome and a fantasy come to life. Tonight we would get our second chance at love.