I'm very happy to welcome my friend Donnell Ann Bell to the Fuzzies today. I was fortunate enough to read portions of Donnell's new release when she was writing it, and I'm thrilled that I'll soon be reading the whole story. Without further ado, take it away, Donnell!

Follow your Dreams, but while you’re at it, follow your heart.

Hello, Pink Fuzzy Slipper Writers.  I’m honored to be here with you, particularly because this is the last stop on my debut promotional tour of THE PAST CAME HUNTING with a subject that is very near and dear to me.  

A few years ago, when the publishing industry was stuck knee-deep in gatekeeper mire, authors were wracking their brains as to how they could claw through those tight-fitting publishing doors.  It was an interesting and frustrating time as writers were lodged in a Catch 22.  Write something fresh, the experts would tell us.  Then they would turn around and say, “Too out of the box.  Have you read So & So?  Give us something like this.”

During that same time period when I still believed in that model and thought it actually worked, I became Overall Daphne Coordinator for the Kiss of Death Chapter.  That was when my gray matter started to change—because in the Daphne Contest, I read some phenomenal entries that in my subjective opinion were excellent and deserved to be out there.  

During that same time period, something else happened.  I attended a workshop where the editors told us exactly what they were looking for.  And as everyone in the room scrambled for their notebooks, I sat there, one of the few, who didn’t whip out my own.  Why?  Because I didn’t write what they were suggesting.  

Also, I must add a crucial point here:  NOR DID I WANT TO.

I’ve written eight books to date, eight novels that when I get them out and re-read, I connect with the characters and fall in love all over again.  They are part of me, and because I’m passionate about the genre and the subject of the stories, I believe that passion shows through.

Back to that Catch 22 again.  I’ve heard editors and agents say, “Don’t write to the market.”  But I submit, Pink Fuzzies, wasn’t that workshop I attended where the editors told us exactly what they were looking for just the opposite of that advice?

 

As a debut author, I’m watching the industry with great interest, and I wouldn’t presume to give my fellow authors advice, save one.  Whatever road you take in this topsy turvy world of publishing (traditional, small press, indy publishing), be true to yourself as an author.  If an editor suggests a topic for you to write about and your muse goes crazy and says, let’s do it, by all means, make that story your own.  But if you’re doing it to gain the title of published author, you might want to rethink it. I believe it’ll reflect negatively in your writing. 

There’s not a thing wrong with following your dreams, just as long as while you do it, you follow your heart.  

And now, ta da! Here's an excerpt from The Past Came Hunting:

One of the so-called rules in romantic suspense is not to make your children too old. You’ll note here that my heroine has a teenaged son. If I didn’t follow my heart, this book would never have seen publication.  Scenes like these were why I just had to follow through and write THE PAST CAME HUNTING. 

His neighbor stood on the doorstep, looking tired, beautiful and as vulnerable as he’d found her last night. She’d swept her auburn hair into a ponytail. Dressed in skin-tight jeans and a turtleneck, Melanie Norris looked more like a college student than the mother of a fifteen year old.

        The November wind picked up and she rubbed her arms. “I’m sorry to bother you, Lieutenant.”

Joe opened the screen door. “Come in.”

“No. I’m only here―”

“You’re freezing. Come in.”

        Rolling her eyes, she stepped into the entryway. “I want it clear I’m trying to respect your wishes―”

“I have a fire going. Let’s talk in here.” He turned, hoping she’d follow.

The ploy worked.

Her expression wary, Melanie accompanied him into the den. She took one look at his clock collection and blinked. For most, they were conversation starters. Joe had no doubt he was the last person she wanted to make idle chat with, and, therefore, must have had a reason for coming. “Last night you said you wanted to keep the boys apart, but now Matt’s over at my house. I don’t want him getting into trouble on my account.”

“I gave him permission. I’m not completely heartless, Mrs. Norris. Matt wanted to check on Luke.”

        Joe’s tone must’ve not set well. She arched an eyebrow and looked toward the door like he carried a disease, and she wasn’t about to stand there and catch it. “Fine. That’s all I came to say.”

“How is he?” Joe didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. Melanie Norris intrigued him.

She shoved her hands in her back pockets, pulling tight the ribbed sweater. “Luke?”

Immediately Joe’s gaze fell from her face to her breasts. He jerked his head upward. With the fire reflecting in eyes the color of the bourbon on his shelf, he issued a silent Damn.

“He’s okay, I guess. Disappointed. He thinks his life’s over because he’ll be on crutches for a week. But Coach Hood will have Luke riding a stationary bike and working with the trainers. . .” Evidently remembering that Joe was the enemy, Melanie’s lips formed a straight line. “Anyway, thanks for letting Matt come over. It means a lot to Luke.” She turned to leave.

“Mrs. Norris.”

She faced him. “Yes?”

“Why did you stay in Cañon City?”

“What?”

“I’m curious. Why not leave after you were paroled? Why stay in a place that, no doubt, must’ve held bad memories?”

Two red stains appeared on her cheeks and she lowered her lashes.

The damn file, Joe thought. It’s true. For some crazy reason, he’d hoped she’d explain it away.

“I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to that, Lieutenant.”

“I’ve heard one side. I want your version.”

Her hip brushed a ruler resting on the edge of the desk. She managed to catch it before it fell. Her eyes flashed as she smacked it against her palm. “I don’t owe you an explanation, so I’m only going to say this once. Luke is a good kid. No matter what you think of me, he doesn’t deserve your wrath. And why I stayed is none of your business.”

Donnell Ann Bell is a proud debut author with Bell Bridge Books.  She is also an award-winning author for her fiction.  To learn more about how she follows her heart, check out her web page, www.donnellannbell.com

One lucky commenter will win a copy of The Past Came Hunting! 

Thank you so much for visiting us today, Donnell!

Good morning, my fuzzy pals.

We have company. Let's gather around the fireplace since it's a cool day in Georgia. When I learned my friend Annie Rayburn was doing a blog tour, I waved my hand and asked her to visit with us. Well, she came and brought company, my friend from GRW, Carol Burnside and one of the hottest guys I have seen up close and personal. Welcome,Turk. Yum!

This post is Day 4 of my Georgia Romance Indie’s Blog Tour. Thanks for joining me!

Mary whispers to Carol, "Introduce me to that hottie you brought with you, please! "Later," she says.

For those who’ve not met Turk, the picture on the right is of Ingo Rademacher who is my ‘inspiration’ for the character. In this picture, he’s looking rather pensive, the way Turk appeared during our interview.

I brought Turk to my office, thinking we’d have a nice little chat. Obviously, I’d forgotten the depths of the man. My bad. In the end, I think his essence came through better than the version I had in mind. Mindful not to reveal story spoilers, here’s how the scene unfolded...

Annie: Hey, Turk. Good to see you. It’s been awhile.

Turk: Yeah, hi. (looks around) Where’s Zeenie?

Annie: It’s just me and you. An interview.

Turk: (shakes head) Authors. Always asking questions. Gotta know why.

Annie: Well, sure. If we don’t get the why, we don’t portray you correctly. Then you get all persnickety.

Turk: I’m from Texas. We don’t do persnickety.

Annie: (Thinking he’s kinda touchy today.)Whatever. Let’s get this interview done. I’ve got some prepared questions for a blog tour I’m doing to promote Phantoms & Fantasies between now and Halloween. All you have to do is give me honest answers.

Turk: (Gives me a long, measured look.)

Annie: What’s up with you?

Turk: (sighs loud and long) Zeenie and I agreed to watch Coop and Di’s kids so they can get away for awhile. Over Halloween.

Annie: I see. And you’re worried about Zee handling the Trick-or-Treating thing.

Turk: Mostly, she’s great, y’know? And we’re happy. But this one time of year... She gets tense and quiet. You can’t blame her. Not after what she went through, but I can’t make it go away. It drives me crazy. Why’d you have to give her that particular obstacle to overcome?

Annie: It’s not like I chose it. The story chose me. I saw the attack in a dream. A Spook House at Halloween, Zeenie in the dark—.

Turk: Stop. Just...stop.

Annie: Sorry. I know you want to fix it but you can’t. She’ll be okay, you know. Zeenie is strong. Look what she did to make things right with you. (This brings a wistful half-smile to his face.)

Turk: Yeah, that was beyond awesome. Pretty damn hot too.

(There’s a bit of melancholy in his tone that encourages me to press harder.)

Annie: I get the feeling there’s more to this mood of yours than Zee’s feelings and memories being stirred up by Halloween. What’s going on?

(Because I know him so well, I feel his struggle, feel the temptation to resort to sexual innuendo and make this about the erotic side of his story.)

Turk: Didn’t you have some prepared questions?

Annie: Never mind that. Tell me.

Turk: (Springs to his feet. Paces.) Zee’s been... She wants a baby.

Annie: (claps hands together with glee) That’s wonderful! So y’all are trying to get pregnant?

Turk: How can I agree to a kid, knowing there’ll be years of Halloween costumes and Trick or Treating for her to suffer through?

Annie: Maybe we should do some of those prepared questions after all. Here’s one for you. What is the quality you most admire in Zeenie?

Turk: (Takes a deep breath, visibly switching gears and sits again. His shoulders ease, then his gaze zeroes in on mine.) Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Big all-knowing author-creator.

Annie: (Oh, if he only knew how little we sometimes know about our characters! I decide to brave through.) Out with it.

Turk: (Finally, he nods.) Courage. Which she has by the truckload.

Annie: What other quality ranked high on your admiration meter?

Turk: Her resilience. Her sense of fairness. I could have dealt with the gossip about our awkward first meet and her snubbing me. You know it. I know it. But Zee couldn’t live with the injustice of it.

Annie: In case you’ve forgotten, she’s got a stubborn streak and asserts her independence too. If she’s decided she can deal with participating in Halloween, then you need to let her try.

(Zeenie appears at my doorway, her eyes soft and liquid.)

Zeenie: She’s right, Turk. I can do this because I know you’ll be what I need when I need it. When we first felt the stir of mating pheromones, I needed to be apart from you and you gave me space. I needed to heal and you did what you had to in order to survive until I was ready for us.

Turk: I hate it when you’re hurting, Zee.

Zeenie: (She arches her brows, giving him a sexy once-over.) Three hundred sixty-four days of joy and one that bumps against a big ol’ bruise? We can handle it, love. Come on. I think you and I need some quiet time.

Annie: (No goodbyes necessary. We’ll meet again. But on her way out, Zee turns and gives me a big wink.) Gawd, I love those two!

Fab cover, Annie!

A 1st chapter excerpt of P&F can be found here . Buy links and info on my other books, on my website. We kicked off the week with Pamela V. Mason’s review of Phantoms & Fantasies on WriterMason.blogspot.com.

Tuesday, Tami Brothers interviewed me on her blog about the hunks in my books and the males inhabiting my home. I also blogged on Petit Fours And Hot Tamales about embracing the unexpected.

Wednesday’s installment included a steamy excerpt from Phantoms & Fantasies on Sandra McGregor’s new blog. Life, Love, and a Good Book

Tomorrow the blog tour continues on Linsey Lanier’s blog. She will host a fun game of Spin the Bottle: Which Crainy would YOU kiss?

=================

Saturday, October 22nd, I will choose a grand prize winner from all the comments throughout the week on my blog.

Because my books all revolve around matters of the heart, the grand prize will be a beautiful collection of semi-precious heart pendants and necklaces encased in their own wooden jewelry box! I received one of these collections from a Secret Santa one year and just love it! (Sorry, USA shipping only.)

Today, a free copy of Phantoms & Fantasies goes to one lucky commenter. No worries. I don’t mine e-mails for future mailings. This promotion is strictly to introduce new readers to Turk and Zeenie. Please feel free to comment. I’d love to hear what you think of these characters.

"Thanks for stopping by, Turk." Mary smiles up at him. She remembers the others. "Oh you, too, Annie, Carol and Zeenie.

Good morning everyone,
After Liz's blog yesterday, this will be a hard act to follow. Wasn't that interesting about her own experience going shopping by herself in Belize? Scary.
Anyway, I'm going to talk about more mundane things. Like publishing on Kindle. I took the leap this summer as I was moving house and needed a break from writing. In my twenty years of writing, I have had little success. Two books with small press, that didn't earn me a dime. I spent more on promotional tools then I ever made on royalties. I have an agent and she has been unable to sell me to New York. Frustration was setting in. I was no longer enjoying the journey. I had worked too long and too hard for too little. Anyone out there know what I mean?
Yes, I heard the success stories of authors who made fame and fortune by self-publishing on Kindle, and I thought--good for them. Well, right of the bat, I want to warn you, that I'm not one of them.
But my romantic comedy, Replacing Barnie, is now making me a very nice monthly check. It has somehow skyrocketed to the top 700 out of 750,000 kindle books. And please don't ask me how I did this-what fantastic promotional campaign did I brilliantly create? I didn't. I didn't promote or do anything because the entire summer it was all about packing, and moving, and unpacking, and remodeling, etc. When I finally found out how to learn about my sales number, I was elated to see that each week the numbers grew. Last month I sold 940 books, this month 860 so far in two weeks. I have two more books that I put up as fast as I could, and they are doing well, but so far the .99cent book is the real money maker. Perhaps it's all in the price. Perhaps, people, other than editors, like romantic comedy. Perhaps it was a cute cover. It's all a crap shoot, I say, and sometimes we just get lucky.
As an experiment, I have bought books in the same genre and same price range as my own books, and have seen the number of sales go up that day. That is the only genius plan I have.
My good friend, Traci Hall, has dubbed me the Queen of Kindle, and if it last's for a day, or a week, or as long as it does, I'm enjoying the small success and find I'm eager to start writing again.
Hope this blog inspires you, and gives you hope, faith, and the courage to keep following your dream.
Good luck, everyone.

Happy Friday, Liz, I could not let this great story go unshared. I am so glad you found time to return and share with us.

First off, thanks to Mary for inviting me back again to this great blog to hang out today. I’m talking about something we see in a lot of movies and books.

Most romance writers know that TSTL means a hero/heroine that is “Too Stupid To Live.” (Think about the stupid people in the Scream movies who go outside at midnight or down to the basement when they hear a noise, knowing there is a killer on the loose. I was surprised to find out it is not a common acronym with other genre writers, especially those who don’t belong to RWA (Romance Writers of America).

I decided that would make a great topic, so I’ll start with a story TCTH (too close to home). A few years ago, I was on a Caribbean cruise with my hubby, son and daughter-in-law. We had signed up for the excursions at the beginning of the week for each of the ports, and I was looking forward to them, especially the cave-exploring one in Belize. That was before clumsy me broke her baby toe and couldn’t go since it involved a lot of walking over rough terrain. So, I sent them on their way that day and decided to go ashore and check out the shopping.

The ship anchored out at sea, and we had to be shuttled to shore in smaller boats. There were two, long, storage-shed-looking units surrounded by a chain-link fence. In a matter of a few minutes, I had walked through both of them and was unimpressed. Being the shopper that I am, I wanted more. So, I walked to the edge of the fence where a policeman sat at the gate and many Belizean vendors (??) called out to me. I almost paid a guy $20 for a tour of the city in his limo, by myself, I might add. And then I decided I should stay close and shop since my toe had started to hurt.

I stepped outside the security of the gate and asked where I could find a souvenir shop. One young man appeared by my side and pointed to a little store about two hundred yards away. I headed that way with him right behind me, joined by a second young man. For some reason, I didn’t hear the Jaws music in my head (Da dump! Da dump!) I was hell bent on spending money since I had missed out on the excursion.

The little shop was a bust, and as I walked out the door, one of the boys said there was a really great shop in the alley. By now, I could hear the little voices in my head shouting “Get out of the water. Can’t you hear the music??” Suddenly frightened, I turned toward the cop and the safety of the fence and headed that way. One of the young men grabbed my arm and tried to persuade me to go to the alley with him. When I refused, he said he would be my bodyguard and not let bad things happen to me. Yeah, right! By this time, my smarter self had taken over my brain, and all I wanted to do was get back inside that fence. So, I handed each one ten dollars and made my way as fast as I could to the gate.

Back on the ship I was still shaking To this day, there is no doubt in my mind I would have been robbed or murdered or both. It was really a very stupid thing to do since we had been warned by the cruise staff to be careful.

So, for a few minutes, I became that heroine TSTL. Playing devil’s advocate here, I once heard Donald Maass say to think about what your character would absolutely not do and make him do it. But I don’t think he had stupidity in mind. I can’t tell you how many contest entries I’ve judged where I’ve had to take points off because of this. If you wouldn’t do it, why make your characters do it?

Oh wait, I forgot. I did do it! Does that make me stupid? Absolutely. For those brief minutes when I put myself in harm’s way, I was stupid. Fortunately, it only cost me twenty bucks. In today’s world we have to be on guard constantly for people who have no regard for our safety, especially in foreign countries.

But hold the phone. In those steps to the basement, or in my heroine’s case her walk under the bleachers, think about this. What if your heroine knew her child was down there and needed her? All of a sudden, not only is she not stupid, she’s a hero, igniting every maternal instinct in our bodies. Think about those TV shows where a man straps a bomb on his back because some terrorist has his family or where a bank manager robs his own bank, knowing his child will be killed if he doesn’t. Matter of fact, my sequel to my ghost story has a similar plot.

Moral of the story - it isn’t always black and white with the stupid thing. And you know what? I think that’s just what “The Donald” had in mind.

So, now I’m anxious to hear any stories you have about TV shows, your own writing, or your personal experiences where for a brief time, you transformed into someone TSTL. Two lucky commenters will receive a free download of MORTAL DECEPTION. Here’s the trailer from MD. Check out my website www.lizlipperman.com for information on how to download it. For the entire month of October, it will be offered at $.99 as a promo tool for LIVER LET DIE, my cozy that released last week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q530quKsSqQ&noredirect=1

MORTAL DECEPTION

A mix of deceit and lies rocks the world of a dying child, an ex-cop on a mission to clear her dead husband's name and an anesthesiologist who desperately wants out of a loveless marriage. To save her nephew's life, the young widow seduces the doctor accused of murdering his wife. But even as she collects evidence that proves he's the killer, she can't stop her heart from falling for him. Until the game turns DEADLY...

Excerpt;

(I promise this was properly formatted. Blogger doesn't like me tonight.)

Before the night ended, she would be in bed with a total stranger.

Oh, God.

Taking a deep breath Dani Perez walked toward the hotel bar, her red stilettos clattering like a Riverdance audition on the black marble floor.

What the hell are you looking at? she wanted to scream when the desk clerk glanced up with a knowing smile. But she knew exactly why he was looking. The stupid dress damn-near showed the cheeks of her ass.

Dani smiled, thinking when she got home, she’d have to make a big deposit in Abby’s pickle jar decorated with commodes. Her daughter called her creation the “potty-mouth jar”. Since Christmas, Dani had to pay up every time she cursed. She and Abby were saving for their dream vacation, and at the rate she was going, Hawaii wasn’t an unrealistic destination. Hell, the F word alone was worth a whopping twenty bucks.

Dani wasn’t proud of the way she talked, but old habits die hard. Five years on the Cimarron Police Force riding with Jerry Spigoretti had added a variety of colorful words to her vocabulary. She’d thought when she left the job last year, she’d clean up her language, but working with Harry Fielding, another hard-nosed, ex-cop-turned-PI, hadn’t helped. On a good day, she was able to keep it under control.

Today wasn’t a good day.

She stopped in front of the door, a sudden rush of apprehension overwhelming her as she struggled to keep a falling ringlet of hair out of her eyes. Silently, she cursed her twin. Her usual ponytail would have been so much easier, but Nikki had insisted on pulling her unmanageable hair up and curling it around her face--said it was sexy. How freakin’ sexy would it be if she landed on her barely-covered tush because she couldn’t see?

The huge purse they’d picked out felt like it was full of rocks, but she needed one this size to hold the equipment she would use. She jerked it higher on her shoulder, glancing back to see if the clerk was still watching.

He was. She fought the urge to flip him off.

Breathe, chica. A lot is riding on tonight.

The minute she opened the door, her eyes widened, a reaction to the darkened room, lit only by the neon signs behind the bar and the candles on the ten or so tables strategically placed around the room. Even in this light, she could see the entire bar area, praying he’d be there, petrified he was. She’d counted on him being a creature of habit and doing the exact same thing he’d done every Thursday for the five weeks she’d tailed him.

Dr. Nathan Randall didn’t disappoint her. He was alone as usual, at the far end of the bar, mindlessly twirling a glass on the counter. The lump in her throat threatened to cut off her breathing while she watched him put down the drink and rub his forehead, probably unaware he did that often. She didn’t have to see his searing blue eyes to know they were squinted in deep thought, an image she’d captured on film many times.

She hated what she had to do to him.

Eyes finally adjusted to the dark, Dani chose a table far enough to be out of sight from where he sat but close enough for observation. She attempted to sit down gracefully without compromising her dignity in the skin tight dress, but it was a losing battle. She reached behind and tugged at the hem of the red jersey number as it rode up her thighs.

Oh, hell!

She was sure she had given everyone a peek all the way up her legs to the thong panties she was dying to pull out of her butt. She didn’t get the whole thong panties thing. Number one, they’d cost eight dollars on sale. Who pays eight dollars for panties that barely had enough material to qualify as a G-string?

And damn! Who wants to walk around with a constant wedgie?

She plopped the heavy purse on the floor and glanced up to see if anyone had seen her flash. Her eyes connected with a middle-aged man sitting at the corner of the bar, facing her. He lifted his glass and smiled.

Christ!

She lowered her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was call any more attention to herself before she was ready. And she needed a whole lot of courage to be ready.

Liquid courage.

Dani waited until the waitress approached before she looked up again, afraid the guy in the suit might consider any further eye contact an invitation. She’d prided herself on reading people, had actually avoided danger on the job because of that particular skill. Her radar said this guy definitely had the married-but-trolling-for-stray-action look all over his Midwestern face.

“What can I get you?” The flat tone in the waitress’s voice conveyed her disapproval.

Dani didn’t blame her. Hell, she’d disapprove of herself, too, in this outfit that screamed I come with a price.

“What’s the latest drinking rage these days?” she asked, knowing the Corona she craved wouldn’t go with her on-the-prowl persona.

Marcia, according to the nametag on her blouse, looked surprised by the question. “Depends on what you like.”

What does someone whose ass is hanging out of a dress usually drink?

Well, ladies, ask questions and make comments. Liz wants to give away free books!

There is nothing we romance writers love more than, well romance.

When reading historical romances, I dreamed of one day traveling to Scotland and seeing firsthand the magical places where the wonderful stories took place.  I wanted to walk where they walked, stand where battles were fought and receive the gaze of a lover when standing and beholding the wonder of the Highlands. Maybe even catch a glimpse of a Highlander in a Kilt! Me and thousands of others right?

When I planned a trip to Scotland, I also planned to fall in love with the country.  Never did I suspect that I’d fall totally head over heels in love with Scotland and it's people, the soul, of Scotland.  My eyes mist just at remembering the many warm moments, while my girlfriends and I spent ten days discovering the wonderful city of Edinburgh, traveling from the lowlands to the highlands wishing each moment would stretch indefinitely.   

As days passed, each of us crossed an item off our bucket list. Yet I can bet that we would have a terrible time choosing our favorite moment. Was it when stepping up to the anvil where young lovers married in Gretna Green?  Or was it strolling through the beautiful lands of St. Andrews Cathedral or standing in the small chapel at Falkland castle where Mary Queen of Scots worshipped?  Or perhaps it can be measured by our gasps of awe at catching our first glimpses of Eilean Donan Castle, as it stood proud with the misty highland mountains as backdrop. 

The Scots are an amazing warm, caring people. Our driver sang to us, “Over the Bridge to Skye,” as he took us to the Isle of Skye. His tenor voice was as engaging as the scenery outside. The young man who carried one of our heavy bags at the train station, without expecting to be thanked was a charmer. We met a twenty-one year old, who sat with us at a pub and entertained us with stories of his youth.  In the Highland village of Plockton, a small pub band played an American tune for us when we entered the room, the entire room clapping in time with the beat.  Our B&B host took us on a private ride on his boat, and gave us an upclose look at Duncraig castle. The way his wife and he made us feel, like family for the duration of our stay.  And the piece de’ resistance, the same host taking his boat out on the loch and waving a huge red banner so that when our departing train went by we’d know he wished us farewell.

So dear readers, regain romance, go to Scotland, and come back so in love, your face will lighten when asked.  “How did you like Scotland?”  Of course my answer is.

“I can’t wait to return!”

My First book Desperate Betrayal is now available at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble!

Because Sometimes Betrayal is the Only Way to Save the One You Love!
Visit my blog at:  HildieMcQueen.com

Discovering who we are and what makes us tick is a lifelong journey. In today’s culture this is usually the province of psychology, but I ask you to remember another way--literature.

Consider The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I remember reading it in high school and dissecting it for plot, climax, metaphor, symbolism, foreshadowing, and themes such as man vs. man, man vs. society, man vs. nature. Most of you will remember the story about Hester Payne, a woman who had an affair with the town minister, became pregnant, and was shunned by her community (man vs. society). I’m sure Hawthorne (a master at his craft) was aware of all the techniques of writing, but I think he wrote the story to help us understand ourselves and our place in the world better.  

Hawthorne used words to express his thoughts and opinions. His story evoked discussions that are still relevant today. For example, adultery, sin, guilt, love, lust, lies, and faithfulness. The plot and structure is not what makes The Scarlet Letter timeless, it’s the exploration of the human condition that does.

Anne Frank’s The Diary of Anne Frank is another example of how literature can help us understand ourselves better. It’s the story of a twelve year old girl who evaded the Nazis by hiding for two years with her family in an attic. Eventually they were discovered in 1944 and sent to Bergen-Belsen, a concentrating camp.

My daughter is fascinated with World War II. She collects books, essays, movies and anything else she can find about the war. I consider Christina an expert on the topic and remember discussing Anne Frank’s story with her. We talked about our ability to adapt to and survive hardship, what darkness in our hearts makes us capable of committing such evil acts against each other, and even more importantly, how the story is a warning of atrocities that should never be repeated.

There are lots of more modern examples of literature and commercial fiction to read and draw your own conclusions about what motivates our thoughts and actions. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, Nora Roberts Carolina Moon, and three of  Eli Wiesel’s books: Dawn, Day, and Night  are but a few.

While the mechanics of writing is important and is present in every great story, I’ve challenged myself to move beyond techniques and write from my heart, the inner me. This allows me to question the motivation of my characters--their struggles, strengths, weaknesses, passions, and the meaning of it all. My goal is to write complex characters that are as timeless as Hester Payne.

Can you think of other examples of how literature helps us on our journey toward self-actualization?

Hi Everyone,
There's some great deals again today:

First, head on over to thinagain for your free sample. I don't know if I've ever been thin, but maybe I can be thing again. :)
http://www.thinagainworks.com/try.php

Staples.com has the Logitech illuminated keyboard on sale today for $34.99 with free shipping. This keyboard normally sells for $79.99.
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Williams-Sonoma, Pottery Barn, PB Kids, and PB Teen all have free shipping today with coupon code FREESHIP.

Sign up and "like" mypublisher.com on Facebook for your free mini-photo book.
http://www.mypublisher.com/products/mini?si=sBZxpUGLiCM-.F88KZkNY2BclpKovAIcUA

Favorite quote: "I can't afford to save any more money."

Sunday, October 9th, and free is best, so head on over to Facebook and “like” Dailysteals.com to get your free Colgate Wisp.

JCPenney has an additional 20% off their clearance with coupon code BESTCROP Choose pick-up in store for free shipping.

Kleenex is offering a free box when you send a box to a friend. That works for me. :)

The cold weather is looming, and this DeLonghi-Vento heater is a great buy at Best Buy for $40.00. Choose free instore pickup.

Enjoy!

I have written blogs on the Andalusian horse (featured in Bianca Swan's novella about a hot Spanish bullfighter and a Virginia socialite Hot Spanish Nights) but I wanted to introduce another of my favorite equines – The Magnificent Lusitano, a Portugese breed, with a high percentage of Andalusian blood.

So enjoy meeting a truly spectacular breed:

Lusitanos can be any solid color but are most often gray, bay or chestnut. They also come in the luscious colors of black, dun and palimono. (I am particularly fond of the palominos—they are dynamic!) The typical Lusitano is 15.2 to 15.3 hands but many breeders are producing larger horses for the demand of the market.

Lusitanos have well-proportioned heads with slighly convex profiles. Their majestic necks are thick and arched. Long luxurious manes and tails make them look like fairy tale horses. Put a horn on a Lusitano and you would have a unicorn! They have short, strok backs, rounded muscles croups. Their legs are sturdy and muscled. These powerful horses are known for intelligence and willingness, are agile, their gaits elevated and comfortable to ride.

These horses are considered a Baroque breed, known for classical dressage, driving and bullfighting on horseback. Their ancestors were warhorses. The Airs Above the Ground (Capriole, Courbette and the Levade) performend to strike fear in the enemies’ heart or to maime and kill. The Capriole begins with the Piaffe (a slow trot advancing one step at the time or in place) then the horse (usually a stallion) leaps into the air and fires both back feet in a poweful elevated kick. In the Courbette, the horse rears to his full height and jumps forward.

The Levade is a crouched rear to protect his rider and terrify the other soldier. All of these movements, now rarely practiced except in the classical dressage schools like the Spanish Riding School in Vienna and the Cadre Noir in France, are diffcult but breathtakingly beautiful.

Today, Lusitanos can be found in the Olympic disciplines and high-level combined driving events. In 1995, a four-in-hand team driven by Belgian Felix Brasseur won the FEI Driving World Cup and took the World Championships a year later. In 2002, a Lusitano on the World Equestrian Games bronze-winning dressage team collected a silver medal at the 2004 Summer Olympics. In 2006, the entire Portuguese dressage team rode Lusitanos at the World Equestrian Games.

You can still see this breed in the bullring in bloodless bullfights. The bull is not killed, and it is a disgrace to the rejoneador if the horse is injured.

If you are interested in checking out Hot Spanish Nights, visit Bianca Swan’s blog for a blurb, excerpt and book trailer. Take a look around the blog while you’re there. The Celestial Sin page contains a blurb, excerpt and trailer as well. And there is a free read.

Nothing to do with horses—fallen angels in fact—my latest release Night Before Doomsday is now available.

INTRODUCING LIZ LIPPERMAN AND THE CLUELESS COOK MYSTERY SERIES

Welcome Liz Lipperman, newly published author. I met Liz on a writing loop and considered her my friend before we met face to face. Help me celebrate her first published book.

Liz is feeling generous today. Read to the bottom to find out how generous.

Liz Lipperman started writing many years ago, even before she retired from the medical field. Wasting many years thinking she was a romance writer but always having to deal with the pesky villains who kept popping up in all her stories, she finally gave up and decided since she read mysteries and obviously wrote them, why fight it? Two years ago, she signed her first contract with Berkley to write a cozy series called "The Clueless Cook Mysteries". Book One, titled LIVER LET DIE, comes out on October 4th and is about a wannabe sports reporter stuck in a po-dunk town writing personal ads who gets the chance to write the weekly culinary column. The problem is, her expertise in the kitchen is limited to frying bologna and microwaving TV dinners. When a dead body is found under her apartment stairwell with her name and number in the victim's pocket, she becomes the prime suspect, as well as the main course on the murder menu.

Raised in a small town in Ohio, number eight of nine children, she graduated from nursing school and worked as a registered nurse for many years. When she could no longer ignore the characters talking in her head (No, she’s not on medication), she went back to school and got a professional arts degree. Then she started her first novel.

She lives north of Dallas with her HS sweetheart hubby. When she’s not writing she spends her time doting on her four wonderful grandchildren. The first book of her Clueless Cook Mystery Series, LIVER LET DIE, debuted last week.

Liver Let Die, Berkley Prime Crime October 2011

Excerpt.

Jordan dropped her review on Dwayne Egan’s desk and stepped back to await her fate. She’d spent the entire morning researching foie gras on the Internet and had come away outraged and ready to make a stand on the issue.

That was before Egan grabbed the report and lowered his eyes to read, and all her bravado dissipated. Shifting nervously and second-guessing herself, she tapped out the melody of a rock song along the side of her slacks with her fingers.

Too late to change her mind as Egan motioned for her to sit.

She eased into the chair behind her, eyes fixed on the editor while he finished the first page and flipped to the second. Her nerves were like aliens ready to burst through her skin.

“You actually ate this?” he asked, finally glancing at her over the top of his silver-rimmed reading glasses.

“Yes and no,” she replied. “Mostly, no.”

Egan had already turned back to the report, re-reading the first page. “And this is how they get the duck liver?”

Her eyes lit up. Maybe he wouldn’t scream at her after all. “Yes sir. They force-feed the animals to fatten them up.” She paused, remembering how the pictures had sickened her, how seeing the tubes shoved down their throats had nearly made her gag. “The ducks are kept in tight cages so they can’t exercise or even move around.”

“Geez! And they’re serving this right here in Ranchero?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “At a price that would water your eyes.” She stopped, not sure she wanted to remind him how much she’d charged on the company card.

Egan dropped the report on his desk and leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, making his ears protrude even more. “This is going to ruffle a few feathers at Longhorn Prime Rib.” He grinned, obviously pleased with his play on words.

Jordan shifted in the chair. “I was totally complimentary about the restaurant in general.” She thought about the Chocolate Decadence Cake that had doubled as breakfast that morning. “The desserts were phenomenal and the service – fantastic.”

Egan studied her face, his head tilted as if in deep thought. “I had you pegged for a simple meat and potatoes girl. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’d order this when you’re obviously so outraged at how they get it.”

Here it is! This was where she’d have to admit she was clueless when it came to fancy food. This was where he’d realize what a big mistake he’d made giving her the job. “The waiter recommended it. Said it was imported from Canada. Since I knew it was too expensive to ever try on my own, I went with it.”

“I still find it hard to believe you’d even order the dish, knowing how you feel about it.”

“I thought it was chicken,” she blurted, looking away for a moment, imagining the pink slip falling from this week’s pay envelope.

Egan threw back his head and laughed. And continued to laugh until Jordan finally gave in and smiled.

“So, let’s see,” he began when he was finally able to speak. “I have a culinary expert who has no idea what she orders at restaurants.” He slapped the desk. “That’s rich. Loretta would never see the humor in that, of course, nor would she be caught dead ordering anything but a thick, juicy steak.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And just between you and me, she wouldn’t know foie gras from chicken piccata, either, even if it bit her on her overpaid butt.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Maybe you should give this job to someone else.”

His eyes bored into her. “Are you joking? This is going to grab the attention of every animal lover in Ranchero who probably has never even looked at Loretta’s column before.” He slid the papers across the desk. “Take this down to the copy room ASAP. I want it in tonight’s edition.”

Stunned, Jordan grabbed the report and headed for the door.

“Oh, and McAllister?”

She whirled around, expecting her little bubble of excitement to burst like a piñata at a birthday party with eight year old boys on a sugar high.

“From now on, you’ll do a bi-weekly column with recipes and food information. Fancy food like this. A couple of exposés would be great.” He rubbed his hands together. “If my gut is right, with the exception of the restaurant owner, the good citizens of this fine town are going to love you.”

“What about the Personals?”

He smiled. “Look at this as a freelance opportunity,” he said. “And the Personals as your day job. Now go.”

Jordan wondered how he could say that with a straight face, but she was too excited to care. She hurried out the door, surprised to see Jackie Frazier smiling. She’d obviously been eavesdropping. She imagined her, as Roseanne Roseannadanna saying, “It’s always something,” and she smiled back.

Who knew fatty duck liver could wipe the sarcasm off the secretary’s face and maybe even jump-start her career?

Readers, if you want a chance to win a coy of Liver Let Die or Mortal Deception you must comment.

www.lizlipperman.com
http://mysteriesandmargaritasblogspot.com

Recently I did a book-signing in a small town near my home, Jim Thorpe, Pa. The town has been dubbed Little Switzerland of America because of the way it is nestled in between three mountains. Its original name, before being renamed after the great Olympic athlete, Jim Thorpe, was Mauch Chuck which means sleeping bear.

Many of you might recall the 1970 movie ‘The Molly Mcguires’, starring Richard Harris and Sean Connery. It was based on the stories of the Irish coal miners of this town and filming did occur in Mauch Chuck.

Now, I’ve been to Jim Thorpe many times. I’ve driven through it on my way north. I’ve even did lunch and some shopping there ( And believe me they have a lot of great shops and yummy places to eat), but I’ve never visited its most famous landmark until yesterday when my DH and I went back, celebrating our anniversary. The landmark, The Asa Packer Mansion.



Isn’t it beautiful? I wish I had a picture from the top of the mountain looking down on the charismatic town, showing casing this stately manor.

This beautiful Victorian landmark was built in 1861 by Asa Packer who was born in Mystic, Connecticut, and after working as a farmer in CT and as a carpenter in New York came to Mauch Chuck in 1833. Here he became the owner of a canal boat which carried coal to Philadelphia. Later, Packer established the firm of A. & R. W. Packer, which built canal-boats and locks for the Lehigh Coal & Navigation Company. In 1851 he gained the majority of stock for the Delaware, Lehigh, Schuylkill & Susquehanna Railroad Companies and formed the Lehigh Valley Railroad Company.

Packer was also active in politics. In 1841 and 1842 he was a member of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives. In 1843-1848, he was county judge of Carbon County under Governor David R. Porter. He served two terms as a Democratic member of the U.S. House of Representatives beginning in 1853. In 1868, he made an unsuccessful bid for the Democratic Party's Presidential nomination. He got the party's nod for the 1869 Pennsylvania Governor's race, but lost the campaign to John W. Geary by 4,596 votes, one of the closest statewide races in Pennsylvania history.

In 1865 he gave $500,000 and 115 acres in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, for a technical school. Lehigh University was chartered in 1866, and its main building, Packer Hall, was completed in 1869. For the first 26 years of Lehigh's existence, the university was tuition free. Way To Go ASA!



(View of mountains from the huge front porch)

Asa and Sarah Packer’s home is beyond amazingly beautiful. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside. But if you go here http://www.asapackermansion.com you can peek at the dining room and sitting. Believe me, the pictures do not do justice to the splendor of the house.

What is really amazing about this home is Asa and Sarah’s daughter, Mary, upon her death had willed the estate to the town of Mauch Chuck as a memorial for her father. The town didn’t know what to do with it and boarded it up. For 44 years, the house remained sealed with all of its valuables inside and not once was it vandalized.


Next to the Asa Packer Mason, stands the Harry Packer house. Asa and Sarah had built the house as a place for his engineers and other guests to stay. It house was later given to their son Harry and his wife Gussie as a wedding present. It too, stood in disrepair for many years before being brought in the 1980’s and turned into a beautiful B&B. If the Harry Packer house looks familiar and you’ve been to Disney World, you’ll know why. Disney used the house as the design for their haunted house.


All this was in my backyard and I never knew the whole story. You can bet I’m going back to Mauch Chuck to learn more about the little town and its past. I hear they have ghost walks. Perfect for October.

For more pictures of my trips to Jim Thorpe visit Autumn Jordon's Fan Page on FaceBook and remember to like it. WINK Thanks.

Good morning, Lisa. I'm so glad you agreed to join us today. I LOVE your covers.
Would you believe the temps in Georgia are downright chilly? Seems like a good idea to start the day with day for the fireplace , hot tea, and warm slippers.

Glamorous Writer’s Life by Lisa Mondello

Hello, everyone and a big thank you to the Pink Fuzzy Slippers Writers for hosting me here today. My name is Lisa Mondello and I am really excited about meeting all of you.

To get the conversation going, I want to encourage you to comment and one lucky person will receive ALL THREE books in my Fate with a Helping Hand Series which includes:

All I Want for Christmas is You http://amzn.com/B005KDG236

The Marriage Contract http://amzn.com/B005LSCKD6

and The Knight and Maggie's Baby http://amzn.com/B005K0ECFY

Today I’m going to talk about the glamorous life of a writer. You know how it is. We all have housekeepers who make our houses spotless while we sit in our huge beautifully decorated offices (boa wrapped around our neck) drinking Manhattans and eating chocolate as the words just flow from our fingers right on the computer screen.

Get real. THAT only happens in the movies. If you’re lucky enough to have a housekeeper, my hat is off to you. I wish. If the kids drop dishes in the sink, (or the counter…or the kitchen table…they’re staying there until my scene is written, which may or may not happen before Project Runway is on, depending on how busy the day is. (Thank God for the DVR!)

I don’t own a boa and would hate one wrapped around my neck as I type. In truth my writing day looks more like this…

6:00AM Get up with the kids, put on coffee, make sure every has what they need before they head out the door.

6:30AM Kids are on the school bus. I’m searching the house for “hairball presents” the cat left me during the night. Then check the front porch for any “other” cat presents. (Oh, joy, the dead rodent is the reason why my daughter screamed on her way to the bus.)

7:00AM I’m cleaning breakfast dishes (which means the kitchen will be clean until 2:30 when the kids get home), picking up the pile of clothes my daughters decided not to wear after 10 wardrobe changes and straightening the bathroom sink of makeup, hair products and electrical hair appliances. (Yes, that’s plural!)

8:00AM Sitting at my computer and drinking my first cup of coffee which is already getting cold and bitter because I made the pot at 6:00AM.

9:30AM Done with emails, Twitter, Facebook, and putting out any fires that need to be put out. Make a second pot of coffee.

10:00AM Deep into my WIP.

11:00AM Letting the dog outside because he’s whining at the door.

11:15AM Letting the dog back in because he’s whining outside the door.

11:30AM Yelling at the cat because I can hear him scratching the couch.

12:00PM Making my bed because the dog AND the cat want to sleep on it while I write. (Did I mention my “office” is in my bedroom? No glam office for me.)

12:30PM Having a fight with the cat because he insists on jumping on my desk and sleeping in front of the monitor. I lose, so I take a break for lunch.

1:00PM Cat is snoozing under my desk and dog is snoozing by my feet. I am writing.

2:05PM I jump in the shower. (Unless I’m on a deadline. Then all bets are off. Can’t waste precious time before kids get home.)

2:30PM Kids get off the school bus and start asking me to take them (Fill in the Blank).

The rest of the afternoon is usually a mix of driving kids to work or boyfriend’s houses and then picking people up. I make dinner, that is if I wasn’t smart enough to put something in the crock pot that morning. Have dinner with whichever member of the family happens to be home at the time. Clean up and then sit back down at the computer to get whatever writing time I can squeeze in before tackling laundry.

I can almost guarantee your life is more glamorous than mine. No? Make me feel better and tell me what your glamorous day, writing or otherwise, is like!

I love hearing from readers so you can email me at LisaMondello@aol.com, visit me at http://www.lisamondello.blogspot.com and find me on Twitter at @LisaMondello.

Thank you again to the Pink Fuzzy Slipper Writers for having me here today!

Don't forget to comment!