It's almost Thanksgiving and already my mind is shot. I have been editing for clients and thinking about opportunities.  Yes, other writers trust me enough to pay me to edit their Indie books. Any idea why?

I think it's because I don't like to mess with a writer's voice or style or rhythm.  So what do I do?
1. I suggest corrections for grammatical errors. Yes, I know dialogue and introspection aren't always grammatically correct. However, I'd like to give my writers the chance to make both clear and sharp and effective. Do I leave fragments in scenes? Of course I do, just not a lot of them.  I have even added a few fragments.
2. I correct punctuation. Yes, there are rules, and a misplaced comma can make a BIG difference in meaning.
3. I add emotion and impact to scenes to engage readers without changing the tone the writer has set.  
4. I let my writers know when I get lost in their scenes or moving from scene to scene and suggest ways to transition or fill in blanks.
5. I use each writer's words as much as I can and delete extra words that dilute the effect of a sentence. 
6. I do let my writers know if actions, dialogue, or emotions don't make sense and I make suggestions.
7. I do try to read each manuscript at least twice so I can find typos and spelling errors.

As long as I work for my writers and for myself I have options and control of what I say and do.  Now about those folks who wonder how an editor can miss a spelling error or three.

What would you want an editor to do for you?  The secret is still a secret for this week.

Haunting Refrain is still free on Amazon for Wednesday. Go get it!
Happy Thanksgiving!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0057033GG.	http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0057033GG

I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but it’s not too late to pop into Goodreads and enter the giveaway for a signed copy of my new historical romance novel, Kira, Daughter of the Moon. I am giving away three copies at: Goodreads.

(Contest runs through Nov. 21st)

Blurb: Logan McCutcheon returns to colonial Virginia after seven years in the hands of Shawnee Indians. But was he really a captive, as everybody thinks? He looks and fights like a warrior, and seems eager to return to those he calls friends and family.

Kira McClure has waited for Logan all those years, passing herself off as odd to keep suitors at bay–and anyone else from getting too close. Now that he’s back, he seems to be the only person capable of protecting her from the advances of Josiah Campbell and accusations of witchcraft. And to defend the settlers against a well-organized band of murderous thieves.~

***Kira, Daughter of the Moon is available in print and various ebook formats from The Wild Rose Press,  Amazon, Barnes & Noble in Nookbook, All Romance eBooks, and other online booksellers.

Although written to stand alone, ‘Kira’ is the sequel to my award-winning historical romance novel Through the Fire. 

A Very Virginia Christmas: Stories and Traditions by Wilford Kale enjoyed its official book launch at the Barnes & Noble in Colonial Williamsburg last Friday, Nov. 9th, and I was among the authors taking part in the signing. Why, you may ask?

Because I’m delighted to have an  account from my nonfiction book, Shenandoah Watercolors, about celebrating Christmas in the old Family home place in the Shenandoah Valley included in this wonderful collection. I’m honored to be among the illustrious authors who span centuries of life in my beloved Virginia, and proud to represent my beautiful valley.

The publisher of this lovely Christmas Collection, Parke Press, has this to say about A Very Virginia Christmas: 

“For the past 400 years, Virginians have created traditions of their own, borrowing from a variety of Christmas celebrations in other countries. This year, Wilford Kale has compiled the work of 16 contributors telling how Virginians observe the Christian wintertime holiday: from the Shenandoah Valley to the Eastern Shore, from colonial days up to the 21st century, in times of need to times of feasting and merriment. Read about eggnog, Robert E. Lee‘s Christmas, Parke Rouse‘s Christmas on the Southside, Richmond’s Nativity pageant, and Earl Hamner’s childhood Christmas in the Virginia mountains. You will also find stories including the Christmas Truce, the origin of “Jingle Bells” and “Rudolph,” along with other Christmas favorites. Your storytelling time at Christmas will be warmer and cozier than ever with these tales that remind all ages of the real meaning of  “the most wonderful time of the year.”

An article in the Virginia Gazette gives even more insights to this vintage Christmas collection and the special man behind it, Wilford Kale.  Entitled A Jolly Collection of Virginia Christmases, the article goes on to say:

“Who better to compile a book about Christmas in Virginia than a man who could pass for Santa Claus.

Wilford Kale, a long-time journalist, short-term politician and part-time Kris Kringle, has edited “A Very Virginia Christmas – Stories and Traditions,” a new collection of stories, anecdotes and traditions about Christmas. He’s included the work of some heavy hitters, including Earl Hamner of “The Waltons” fame, Booker T. Washington, Park Rouse and Francis Church. Oh, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Alfred Tennyson are included too.

The collection includes four centuries of Christmas memories and anecdotes, ranging from Capt. John Smith to the generations of children who visited perhaps the state’s best-known Santa at Miller & Rhoads in Richmond.”

To that I add, and me! For the complete article, I recommend you visit the link. And God Bless us Everyone!

***Images of Chapel Hill, the old family home place, a wreath in Williamsburg, and a Victorian Santa Claus (royalty free)

***A Very Virginia Christmas is available in hardcover at Amazon and from many other booksellers.

Welcome, Connie. I'll grab a cup of hot tea for you. Back up to the fireplace and get warm.

 

I’d like to dedicate this blog to my mother, Elnora Burks, who would’ve been 84 years old on November 12^th. Rest in peace

                The Power of Believing

My mother was a gentle soul, an unsophisticated country girl, who held two things close to her heart: her love for her children and her belief in God. She married and raised her children during the fifties and sixties when the racial climate in this country was very bleak. Through days when she wasn’t sure how she’d feed us or where we’d live, she held on to her belief that there would be better days that we -her children- would have a better life. She never spoke of her own personal goals or dreams. I’m not even sure she allowed herself the luxury.  Her goal was very basic - survival.  

Because of my mother’s hard work and support, my life is quite different from hers. I’m educated. I can feed my family.  We live in a comfortable home and have stable jobs. But at times I find my belief in my dream wavering. I’m going to share something very personal with you, something that only my husband knows. My dream is to leave a mark in the world. Yes, my mark could be my children, but I want to be the Harper Lee or the Alice Walker of the twenty-first century. I want to write a book that will remain in the world’s consciousness seventy years after I’m gone.

As the years pass, my dream seems to move further and further out of reach, but I haven’t given up. My mother’s unwavering support and belief stays with me, and I’ll keep trying. 

 I believe as writers, we all have that same desire to touch the world in some way. Is this the desire to be immortal? I don’t know. That’s a subject for another blog.

Constance (Connie) Gillam writes adult suspense and young adult paranormal and contemporary fiction. Visit her at www.constancegillam.com or http://tinyurl.com/78x60hg

Her current work, The 5^th Realm, a young adult paranormal is available through Amazon http://amzn.to/KqkmNn and Barnes and Noble http://tinyurl.com/7u8sglg

 
Lisette Beaulieu's world is raveling out of control. The kids at school know more about her family than she does. Tied of being bullied and teased, she makes a Voodoo charm for an obnoxious classmate. When it works and she raises the dead, her life goes from bad to worse.

Excerpt:

“Lisette.” The last syllable of my name is drawn out in Michele’s Southern drawl. Her voice-like ice tea with too much sugar- is loud enough to be heard over the clamor in the cafeteria. All heads turn in my direction.

Why is today turning into such a nightmare? That’s usually reserved for my nights.

           “Come join us,” she calls out.

The room is so quiet I can hear “I Kissed a Girl” playing on someone’s iPod. They’re waiting to see if I’m going to diss her. This is their entertainment for the day.

Why does she want me to eat with her? So she can torture me some more? I continue walking toward the table in the back.

A pair of tan loafers appears in my path. My gaze travels up the khaki pants to the Polo shirt to Eric Gabriel’s thick lashed brown eyes. “Join us.” He gestures back toward Michele’s table. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice. It sounds rusty, like he doesn’t use it often.

“Why?” I’m not going to be made fun of by a bunch of spoiled rich kids.

Whispering, he says, “Because I’d like you to.” My stomach does a nose dive.

I glance over my shoulder in Michele’s direction.  Does she want me at their table that badly, or is this all Eric? Is he following her directions, or does he think on his own?

He touches my elbow and turns me around.

I don’t know why, but I allow him to lead me toward their table. I’m so stupid. I said I’d never be swayed by a pretty face. Now look at me.
 

What are you doing to keep your dream alive? 
One commenter will win a free download of The 5th Realm.

At this moment, a wreath is being put on the tomb of the unknown solider in Washington, D.C. It was the moment the peace treaty was signed for WWI.

Seize the opportunity today to both remember our fallen and thank those who've served our country, and those who still do. Without our brave men and women, we wouldn't be the proud, free Americans we are.

My son, Simon Nightingale, is updating my web site.  On the Home page, I'll include a welcome, News of my current releases and this poem.  I'd like your input on the poem.  Is it good enough to be put on a web site?  I'm not much of a poet but since most everything I write has a paranormal element, this sort of came to me.

Do not trust what your ears hear

Or what your eyes may see
The taste on your lips may lie.
Here things are not what they seem.
So you may speak your mind clearly
But must be warned that
We may not understand or
Yet choose to reply….The Others

Thanks!

Hi Everyone, I'm beginning today's deals with a free Kindle book, by author Alice Buchanan called Home for the Holidays. Enjoy a free Redbox movie on Mondays by texting 727272. They should send you 2 codes a month. Fabulous deal on long sleeve crisp poplin shirts for women from Landsend, Item # 40706-6A77. Originally $5.00, use coupon code LOVEWINTER1, and pin 1012, for $1.50 off the shirt, plus free shipping. Also, check out Newegg for a non-woot deal--a cast iron Lodge skillet for $17.99 with free shipping. Happy Monday! Favorite quote: "I can't afford to save any more money."

Hi Everyone, It's that time of the month, time for Deals of the Day. My first deal is a free Kindle book offered on Amazon.com, One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix) by J. Gordon Smith. In honor of Veteran's Day, the Wounded Warrior project is offering free coupons. Check out the site. There is also a place to send a donation. Trying to write without distractions? Pick up Altec noise reducing headphones for $9.99, plus $4.99 shipping from One Sale a Day. Favorite quote: "I can't afford to save any more money." I'm also thrilled to offer my first release, SEEKING CATHERINE, a tudor novella, available on Amazon.com.

My fascination with the supernatural, whether real or imagined, played an important role in my new historical romance novel, Kira, Daughter of the Moon. Murmurings against the unusual, young Scots-Irishwoman, Kira McClure, grow into accusations of witchcraft. Never a good thing, but especially not in the colonial Virginia frontier. Acceptance in a close-knit community could mean the difference between life and death. The highly superstitious Scots settled in the rugged Alleghenies on the heels of The French and Indian War were already wary. The dangers these dark woods held heightened their fear of the supernatural. Sick livestock, children struck down with illness, and other misfortunes might be blamed on witchcraft. Settlers were alert to anyone in their midst they could point to as the culprit. The farther people ventured from more civilized society, the deeper their superstitions ran. And taking the law, such as it was, into their own hands was often how they dealt with miscreants in the frontier.

Late Shenandoah Valley historian, John Heatwole, much respected and a family friend, put together a wonderful collection of accounts from valley and mountain people regarding their experiences with and feelings toward so-called witches. His book deals with beliefs lingering into the 20^th century, but they’re still present among some rural Virginians today. Fear best sums up their sentiments. In his book, Shenandoah Voices, Mr. Heatwole says, “Witches have not been tried, jailed or executed in America since the early 18^th century, but tales of their activities persist. During that period in our history, superstitious practices invoked for self-protection were considered prudent dabbling in the occult and virtually harmless. Powers or practices called upon for mean-spirited or evil purposes were attributed to malevolent people in the community who wielded demonic powers. Despite the perception of evil, people suspected of being witches, who were mostly women, were often tolerated in society because of their family ties or from fear of retribution—no one wanted to get on the wrong side of a witch.”

True. However, ‘often tolerated,’ doesn’t mean those perceived as witches were popular. He shares accounts and I’ve read others, of outspoken or in some way unique females, perhaps even deformed, thought to be in league with the devil who were ostracized. Not being accepted and possibly even tormented by your neighbors was harsh, particularly for the poor and elderly. On the one hand, a woman might gain power over others, even men, in a historically male dominated society, through the fear she intentionally or unintentionally provoked, but the danger that people would shun her was always present–unless she was well-to-do. The rich were always better tolerated.

Spells and hexes were countered by witch doctors, usually men, although ‘Granny women’ were also known for battling the dark arts with magical incantations. I have friends who grew up ‘back in the holler’ and remember bringing in the Granny woman when home remedies failed. One common protection prudent mothers undertook for children was to sew little ‘acifidity’ bags filled with pungent herbs, garlic and asafetida,  to hang around their necks. “Oh my, did these kids stink,’ one friend told me. The stench was to drive away illness and evil. These stinky bags may be out of favor now, but the fear that lay behind them is still quite real among some folk.

You may ask if any of the women, and occasionally men, thought to be witches actually were? Yes. And some of them sound pretty darn scary.

For my recent post on that visit: 

One of the Scariest Ghost/Witch Stories Ever

***Royalty free images

***Kira, Daughter of the Moon is available in print and various ebook formats from The Wild Rose Press, from Amazon, Barnes & Nobles Nookbook, and will soon make its way to other online booksellers.

Now, more about my new romance and very unique heroine. 

A beautiful Scots-Irish healer in the rugged Alleghenies finds herself accused of witchcraft. With the terror of the French and Indian War fresh in her mind, can Kira love a white warrior?

1765––The recent Indian wars are over (for now) and an uneasy truce in place. Free-spirited Kira is at odds with the superstitious Scots-Irish in the settlement and rumor spreads that she may be a witch. Her imagination runs to fairy rings, the little people, and haints (something that’s there but ain’t). She's happiest out among the trees where she can hide from her painful past and any warriors who might again appear. A gifted healer with a menagerie of wild creatures, she's in the forest releasing a tame crow when her little beagle sounds the alarm. She peers warily from the leaves at the handsome young stranger. His buckskin breechclout and moccasins are more in keeping with a warrior's than any frontiersmen she knows and there's a stealth in his manner that reminds her of the way Indians pass through the trees. Yet he's not a warrior. Unless, he’s a renegade. This is the set up for the story, but there’s a great deal more behind it, and especially, Kira, the most unique heroine I’ve ever written.

Not only does Kira have a tame crow she’s nursed back to health, but a number of wild animals under her care in what she calls her nursery, a protected nook in the woods close to the homestead where she lives with the Houston family who took her in after her parent’s death (relatives of the hero, Logan McCutcheon). Some of her Kira’s babies ride in pockets she’s sewn inside her cloak for that purpose. Her guardian, particularly his wife, aren’t happy about hosting her creatures and banish the talkative crow, the reason she’s in the woods releasing him when she spots the potential threat.

Besides my love of animals, two books influenced this aspect of Kira’s character, one was a children’s book my youngest daughter brought home from the school library in fifth grade. I wish I could recall the title and maybe a helpful reader will because I’d love to locate a copy. I only remember it’s a true story about a family who took in injured and orphaned animals and I was much impressed by their talking crows. The second book, The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow, The Mystical Nature Diary of Opal Whiteley, is a remarkable journal first written in crayon by an amazing girl, and later laboriously pierced back together after her sister shredded the pages. Sadly, Opal suffered from schizophrenia in an era when little was known about treatment, but her relationship with nature is the most outstanding I’ve ever come across.

When I first wrote Kira, Daughter of the Moon, I simply entitled the novel Kira, because she’s very much her own person. But she evolves into a much stronger young woman as a result of Logan’s return to her life, and that aspect of Kira is influenced by the Native Americans he counts as friends who give her the name, Daughter of the Moon.

***Kira, Daughter of the Moon is available in print and various ebook formats from The Wild Rose Press, from Amazon, Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook, All Romance eBooks, and other online booksellers. Although written to stand alone, Kira, Daughter of the Moon is the sequel to my award-winning historical romance novel Through the Fire. 

      I SWEAR I SAW ONE HONEST!

    It was a bright, moon filled,  night. My younger sister followed me through the cherry trees in South Hero, Vermont, on Keeler's Bay. She followed me everywhere, luckily she knew enough to not tattle on little every thing I did. "You talk, you walk, home." I'd told her several times. But this night was different.
     The shadows  were dark as we passed the empty camps. Nearly the end of a summer on Lake , we never expected any thing to scare us, let alone stun the entire length of Grand Isle.
Nested between the shores of New York and Vermont, lay the place we spent most of our childhoods in summer.  
     "Hurry up, JoAnn, mom and dad, are gonna kill me because you stayed out so late." I urged her to run.
    "No they  won't," she grinned. "I'll pretend I fell down and you had to take care of me until I felt well enough to walk." She gestured to her leg, where she'd scraped herself on a pricker bush of some kind. "All it takes is a little blood. They'll believe me, you know how Dad can't stand the sight of it, he'll pass right out."
     "Stop that you little twerp. You'll get an infection and it will be all my fault!" I smacked her hand as she tried to make the small cut bleed again, as we finally left the orchard.
     Suddenly, she stopped. Her hand in front of her, she pointed in the direction of the camp we'd rented for three months. Her mouth dropped and she stuttered. "Lu, lu, look at that!" She said.
     I glanced where she pointed. I couldn't believe my eyes. Over half of Keeler's Bay was covered by a strange sight. Owners and renters on the shore were outside and looking up at the sky.
Many of my relatives stood and stared among them.
     "Holy shit," I yelled. "What the heck is that?" I couldn't believe my eyes, up above the Bay and hovering over the camps was a ship. It was huge. Lights blinked all around the outside of it. "Hurry up, everyone's outside and staring up at it. It's a space ship." We ran as fast as we could.
     For some reason we weren't scared, not at all. Instead we raced to the steps of our rental cabin and hollered for our parents. My sister screeched. "Mom, Dad, everybody come out, there's a UFO hovering over us."
     "Yeah right, " our older brother used his, your stupid voice.
     "No look, I swear the whole Isle is almost covered by it. Everyone is out here, listen." I insisted.
     "There's a lot of voices out there Joe, I think we should see what's happening." My mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed out the door. My father right behind her.
     "Oh my God, it is a space ship." My mom, Ruth, had been looking for Aliens to abduct her ever since I can remember. She'd stand on the lawn and speak to the heavens. "Come and get me." She pleaded. I still don't get her logic, to this day. But, so far no one had taken her.

• 

     The lights flashed in brighter and the sound of something revving up filled the air. Dozens of Aunts, Uncles, cousins, relatives of my mother, and neighbors all talked at once. "I can't believe it." Reverberated among the dozens of people who now stared at the huge structure.
     I could see what looked like metal pieces crossing under the air ship. It must have been the size of a football field. Gigantic! Everyone ooh-ed and aah-ed over the sight. All of a sudden the sound of it's engines grew to a frightening pitch. We couldn't hear each other talking. The lights lit with a renewed speed until they circled the outside of the craft in a continuous flash of light. Then before I knew it, the vessel shot across the shy like a gun shot. So fast one couldn't follow it with your eyes, so bright and loud, you didn't want to. But, couldn't stop. It hung in the sky at a distance for a moment, then shot off into a cloud gone from sight.

     The sudden silence and return of the night was even more pronounced, now that the glowing thing had disappeared in the distance.
     We read about it in the local paper the next day. There were tons of sightings all over the area, from New York, to Vermont, people talked about it. For years to come we all remembered that night, and talked about the ship from the stars that no one could explain. Of course, the event was referred to as a mass hysteria thing. The official word was there was no space ship sighted. None of the explanations the authorities gave ever convinced any of us who were there that night.
     And though she has since stood out on the front lawn and begged the Aliens to come and get her, no one ever took my mother on their space ship. But, if you ask her to this day, she'd be the first to tell you she's still waiting.

  

  
 

Here are a few pictures from my vacation in Italy this summer. We spent a week in Treviso, a small city near Venice. They had the best cappuccinos ever! Here is a view along a section of the old city walls.

Below is the Porta San Tomaso, one of the gateways through the walls of Treviso. There’s a funny story about this gate, which was built in the 16th Century. It is named after St. Thomas Becket and should have a statue of him, but the designer’s name was Paolo, so he put a statue of St. Paul on the gate instead!

We also visited the cathedral in Treviso. It was spooky in the crypt! They have a museum with artifacts going back to Roman times. I love old buildings and ancient history, so I was in heaven there.

We took the train into Venice for a day. I wish I had taken better notes, but I think this is on the Grand Canal:

And so is this:

 Here is one of the many bridges over the smaller canals connecting the islands that make up the city:

And this is the Doge’s Palace. I would have liked to visit it, but the lines were way too long! I wonder if a winter visit would mean shorter lines…? (I’m the one in the red shirt with my back to the camera.)

 

 What an amazing place Venice is!! I hope to return some day.

None of this has anything to do with my new novella, A Lady's Lesson in Seduction, but I'm giving away a free download for either Nook or Kindle to someone who comments on this blog.

Once a notorious rake, Camden Folk, Marquis of Warbury, is now consumed by desire for only one woman: beautiful young widow Frances Burdett. And the Yuletide festivities at his country estate present the perfect opportunity for seduction…

 

 After her brief and unsatisfying marriage, Frances Burdett swore never to become tied to another man.  Then a passionate kiss under the mistletoe reawakens longings she thought buried forever. But can she give in to the pleasures of the body with a rogue like Cam—without losing her heart?