Moving the Blog

Well folks the time has come. I'm moving the blog over to my regular website.  In the end it makes more sense to have most everything in one place and not maintain the blog separately.

Pop over to the new place. I'm planning on pontificating about Drew Barrymore, writing and the vicissitudes of life over there now!

Hope to see you there.

Kate

It's a Good Day

I'm in an especially good mood today. I was kind of wondering what that was about and then I remembered - Moonlighting in Vermont got a really good review last night. There is something about the validation that comes with a good review that makes me giddy.

I'm sharing it with you so you can feel giddy too.

I'm just jumping in here to say this review is from Brenda Scott at the Manchester Examiner. Just the kind of detail you might like to know.

Moonlighting in Vermont is a superbly written, romantic mystery with just a hint of comedy, by Kate George. Winner of the Daphne du Maurier award for excellence in the Mystery/Suspense category, Kate George shows us what truly incredible writing can achieve. The storyline was so absorbing; it was hard to put this one down! Bella Bree MacGowan, paste-up artist by day, housekeeper by night, describes herself as a Rachel Ray look-a-like “without the benefit of a hair and makeup stylist.” George’s heroine is a fictional treasure that is strong-willed, self sufficient, and not easily derailed!

The backwoods town of South Royalston, Vermont is typically a quiet venue where not much happens; a place where the rich and famous have been known to frequent to get away from it all, certainly not a place for murder? When Bree is assigned to clean one of the cottages at Whispering Birches, a super-luxury hotel, she finds her boss dead on the floor. Bree quickly becomes the prime and only suspect as Detective Miles Brooks does everything in his power to point all clues toward Bree. In the weeks that follow the murder, Bree manages to lose her boyfriend and her daytime job at the Royalston Star. She becomes the subject of much gossip in town and is even accosted at Vera’s funeral! With nowhere else to turn, Bree scrambles to dig up clues, and carries out her own investigation in order to clear her name and avoid the fate that awaits her.  

George’s characters are both interesting and compelling because each struggles with difficult conflict. Bree is conflicted by her feelings for Beau; on the one hand she is attracted to him but feels that if the relationship doesn’t work out, she risks losing her closest friends, Meg and Tom Maverick. Bree loves and needs her job at the paper but resigns anyway because she feels she’s putting the integrity of the paper and Tom’s job on the police force at risk. Meg grapples with her deep feelings for her husband and the attraction she feels for Scott. Even Jim Fisk, Bree’s ex-boyfriend who deserted her when she became the prime suspect in order to protect his career, has second thoughts and tries to win her back.

And then there’s detective Miles Brooks who continually treats Bree as if she were already guilty! Does he truly believe she’s a murderer or is his brooding, all-to-serious personality just an act to cover up his true feelings?

Very happy in Vermont.

Don't Postpone Joy

I was at a high school graduation in June where one of the speakers was an ex-teacher from the school. He'd been battling brain cancer and was thankfully in remission. He wasn't going to be coming back to work at the school. He had other things he wanted to attend to.

One thing this teacher said during his speech was this: He had been in Florida, and while there he went to walk into a shop or restaurant only to discover it was closed. On the door was a hand lettered sign.


Don't Postpone Joy


Of course hearing a cancer survivor say those words was especially moving. Who better to remind us that we have limited time here on earth?

Don't Postpone Joy

I mention this because I've been postponing joy probably since I was in my late twenties. And lately it's worse because I'm working on the adage that Life Rewards Action. So I'm acting. I'm taking care of my kids and my day job and trying hard to become a novelist who can live off her writing. Not many writers can actually live off their work so that's a tall order. I think I can make it there, but I know for most writers it takes a while. I'm not worried about it. But while living by

Life Rewards Action

I've been postponing joy. I was pleased when my first novel was published, but did I really celebrate it in my heart? No, I was busy moving on to the next steps, marketing and writing the next novel. As I sit here I have four incredible children who should bring me great joy, but what am I focused on? the finances and how in the world am I going to get my name out there so people will buy my books.

That is so wrong.  Don't postpone joy. See the beauty. Feel the miracles that surround you. Breathe.

Don't Postpone Joy

So Nobody's Interested in Book Reviews

I can see that book reviews from a person with questionable taste in literature might be suspect. Especially as I basically just say I like this book in a general sort of way and don't go into specifics. So how about a movie review? Would you find that interesting?

I watched two movies worth reviewing this week. Memento and 500 Days of Summer. Two very different movies with one thing in common - a kind of quirky oddness. Of course both movies leave you completely different so don't read too much into the oddness, but it's there all the same.

For me, Memento is about how people will use other people's weaknesses to their own ends. Of course sometimes that backfires. But the blatant self interest is appalling and the manipulation of situations left me cold. This is not a feel good movie. It's supremely well acted, written and directed and definitely worth seeing, But if you are at all squeamish, don't watch it at night.

500 Days of Summer is not your typical love story. I place it with the more modern and alternative Juno and Nick and Nora's Infinite Play List. It's off balance in a fun sort of way. But the mood is not traditional, well heck the story is not traditional. It appears to be written for the disillusioned twenty-somethings. I watched with my sixteen-year-old daughter. She liked it. I liked it. So I guess it works as a chick flick. But honestly I think it would work for the guys too. It's not a shoot 'em, car wreck of a movie, but it's shot from the male point of view and plays to guys sensibilities. It's not easy on the girl, which honestly works in this movie.

So there you go - two short and probably unhelpful movie reviews, but maybe you like them more than the book reviews?

A Review of Sorts - Family Honor by Robert B. Parker

I just finished Family Honor by Robert B. Parker, and I got to wondering what it is I like about his books. I like them well enough to read until I literally can't keep my eyes open anymore. I had to re-read the last few pages from last night because I couldn't remember any of it.

It's not just the female protagonist, I like Parker's Spenser almost as well as I like Sunny Randall. But it is part of it. I like that Sunny is independent. That she's not afraid to try things. She's not afraid of mistakes. She moves along, not knowing the answers, just doing what seems best and trying to figure things out. She takes risks.

Parker created Randall. I know this to be a fact. (Well I suppose it to be a fact. Semantics you know.) And yet, I feel as though she is real. It's as though I could know her, I wouldn't be surprised to meet her. I'd say "Oh sure, you're Sunny Randall. You took in that fifteen year old girl. How's that going?"

It takes a certain amount of skill to develop characters who seem real. Human beings are complex creatures. Motivations are rarely straight forward. It's hard to create characters that are complex and likable without bogging your story down with detail. The trick is to deliver a story that seems light, that doesn't drag, but still supports complexity of character and plot.

It's something to strive for.

Name that Book - Bree MacGowan number Three

Here we go again. It seems like I was just here trying to name Mermaid Girls – now Glimmer Girls. And once again I’m looking for your help. I’m starting the third in my Bree MacGowan mysteries and I need a title.

The first two books have titles that are twists on song titles. Moonlighting in Vermont, song Moonlight in Vermont. California Schemin’, song California Dreaming. The third book is to take place back in Vermont. I think. I suppose it could be set partially in Canada, New Hampshire, or Mass.

So the thing is I need a song with a place in the title. Preferably a State.

Okay here’s the challenge: come up with some songs and tweak the titles so they’re appropriate for the title of a humorous mystery.

Ready?

Set.

Go…

Choose your favorite Book Cover:

In anticipation of my Bree MacGowan Sequel that comes out next march I mocked up three covers to give my editor an idea of what I like. I didn't have a favorite, and neither did she so I'm opening it up for Discussion.

If you're confused about what makes a good cover you could read Jennifer Crusie's criteria for a good cover. That might help you make a decision if you don't know which cover you like best. Basically we're looking for a cover that calls to you across the room, and when you get closer makes you want to pick it up.

By the way - these are covers I mocked up myself last evening. The real ones will be much more professional looking.

So here you go:
Option A: The Bridge Cover

Option B: The Green Cover

Option C: The Running down the Stairs cover

So tell me, what do you think?

Grave Digging: Burying the Dog Fence

First let me say that I realize that most graves are dug by back hoes and not people with shovels. I know this and it’s beside the point. I’m thinking of people who are digging graves for nefarious purposes. Not cemetery employees.


But let me start at the beginning - I have three dogs who I keep from pestering my neighbors by enclosing several acres, close to eight I think, with an electric radio dog fence. The dog fence allows me to have good relationships with my neighbors. Without the fence I would be continually apologizing and paying for the damage my dogs would do. How do I know my dogs would do damage? Because they are dogs. And because they dig holes big enough to lose UPS trucks in at my house. Craters. They dig craters.

I also let one of my neighbor’s run his horses on our pasture. I know. It’s very kind of me. It’s also an easy way to keep the grass from taking over. The horses keep the pastures from looking like my garden. Really. Recently, another neighbor, we’ll call him Good Neighbor, offered a piece of land that adjoins ours to the Horse Neighbor. Horse Neighbor moved his physical fence which exposed my dog fence.

That is why, had you driven past my house early this morning, you would have seen me out in the field burying a new wire. Why do I have to bury the wire? Because now that the Good Neighbor has offered the adjoining field for Horse Neighbor to use there is no horse fence separating the two fields. The horse fence used to protect the dog fence from destruction. Think draft horse feet with lovely metal shoes. A ton of weight (yes, literally) with a sharp metal edge coming down on a tiny wire. The only way for me to keep the fence intact (and thus contain my dogs) is to bury it. Don’t you wish you could have the kind of fun I have?

This is what I discovered while digging the shallow trench to lay the wire in. Digging is not easy. It’s hard on your body, specifically the right elbow and the left leg. And face it I was just digging up the first six inches of dirt. What if I’d been trying to conceal a body? How hard would that have been?

This is what I was thinking about this as I was jumping up and down on my shovel, trying to get the blade to cut through long grass and the roots of some sort of bush. I was thinking that if I was going to ever write a mystery where someone tries to bury a body I’d better to it right. Either said villain had better have a really tough time digging this hole or they’d better borrow a back hoe. Either one would be telling. It’s hard to hide freshly dug dirt.

So what do you think? Given that digging is such hard work how would you go about hiding a body? Or would you be like my villians and just let it lie?

Life Crazy

I put Eleanor Rigby on my play list for Glimmer Girls. I thought at first it was a version of Life Crazy. But I'm listening now and I see the connection. Clara, in the midst of so much attention is lonely. Dilly, sequestered away and kept from the world - lonely. Johnny, who can't commit to a relationship because all his energy goes to keeping his sister safe and happy. Molly, working her but off to keep the hotel running, but she really loves to paint.

Clara comes into their lives and changes everything. For the better in the end. I hope. But before she comes it's Eleanor Rigby.

Emotion is so important to the story, it drives my characters actions. The need to feel better. So it's good I can feel those things.

The problem is that when life crazy floods ME with emotions I can't write. The feelings sit in the pit of my stomach, making me feel sick. When I feel sick I want to go to bed and pull the covers over my head.

Isn't it interesting that the very feelings I need to feel in order to write characters that readers relate to cause me to shut down, keep me from writing. I've always had too much emotion for my brain to process. I retreat, pull in on myself, hide. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I don't have the time or opportunity to spend days holed up in bed hiding from the current version of Life Crazy.

I've committed myself to writing through the crazy - at least for this week.

On another note, I discovered yesterday that I can write a five hundred word essay in twenty minutes, even though it takes me all day to write fifteen hundred words of a novel. So along with committing myself to writing through the crazy I'm also going to write for an hour straight out every morning before doing anything else. I hope this is not doomed to failure. To get an hour of quiet in the morning means the getting up at five am routine. I'm not good at that.

To tell the truth I think the reason it takes me all day to reach my word quota is that I'm writing in a room full of teenage kids. Five in the morning is starting to look much saner than when I first mentioned it.

It's all in the Title - Freeforall!

I don't feel I'm particularly good at titles. I've called my current WIP Mermaid Girls, but it's sort of misleading and doesn't let on that the book is full of witty dialog and the possiblity of magic, so I'm opening it up.  Got an idea? Feel free to post!


I’m currently working on a romance set in a world where the possibility for the paranormal exists. It’s not everyday, but still stuff happens. In fact, it’s possible that my protagonist’s father is a mermaid. So far it hasn’t been said, but I think maybe there’s a merman out there with a taste for legs.


Clara was born with scales. Here’s a description from the WIP:

“As a defect, it wasn’t so awfully bad. I have all my limbs. It was the mantra she’d used since she could remember, staving off the loathing a despair that she felt whenever she was paraded around, the local freak show. And I have a pretty face. I’m not fat or stupid. It’s rather pretty, really, like a neon necklace. But the undeniable reality was that she’d been born with fish scales covering parts of her body.

The scales shimmered. A lacy pattern of blue and green, like peacock feathers, or multicolored tetra fish. A delicate necklace of scales circled her neck falling across the tops of her shoulders into a V between her breasts. Intricate overlapping patterns cascaded down her back ending with elaborate curly cues along her waist.”

Clara’s mother, Daisy, has taken advantage of Clara’s ‘deformity’ by parading her around to TV talk shows, gossip rags, medical magazines – using any media source to get attention, not for Clara’s sake, but to satisfy her own need for attention.

At the start of the story Clara has finally developed a back bone. She will shill for her mother no more. Clara packs up and moves north a hundred miles to the quaint and faintly magical town of Mabble. In Mabble Clara meets Johnny, a restorer of antique carousel animals. (my apologies to Jennifer Crusie, who I believe has something similar in a current release. I didn’t do it on purpose and if people object I’ll try and figure out a new occupation for him. I hope not though, because I’ve written a lot about Johnny!)

Clara and Johnny become a team, searching for her vocation in life. Or rather her avocation – a prudent judge required Daisy to set aside money for Clara until she turned 25. They grow to know and like each other while exposing Clara to new experiences.

Johnny doesn’t know Clara has scales. Clara doesn’t know Johnny has a little sister, Dilly, who could be her double, including scales. Dilly’s mother has isolated her from the rest of the world, and lives in fear of the physical defect ever being exposed.

Johnny is not without his faults; he has avoided relationships with women because of his sister, but tends to be a bit of a hit-and-run artist with the women.

Clara has some trouble with men who are attracted to her because she has money. She also has trouble developing any kind of intimacy because she’d rather not show off her scales ever again.

I’ll leave it there. There’s a lot of witty dialog. Hopefully some fun. Happy ending of course, but I don’t want to give too much away.

** I forgot, I tend to write light, kinda funny, kinda sexy stuff. I'm not Jenny by any means, but I titles like hers would be fine!**

Internetily Challenged

For some reason I can't get my ticker to post anywhere. I created the ticker as a fun way to track my progress (by way of word counts) on my current work in progress. I did it at the The Ticker Factory and it should be as simple as cut and paste. But not for me.

I got it to post on my facebook profile. But not my facebook fan page. Not in the status. Not on this blog. And it's so cute. A pretty little dragonfly is speeding along a purple bar, tracking my progress. I wanted to share it with you.

Unfortunately, if you want to see it, you have to go look at my facebook profile. It should really be on my fan page. So sad, it won't show there.

The Power of the Internet

As some of you know I had some bad news last week. (See the notes section of my facebook page.) My editor regretfully passed on my second book because sales on my first book were so slow. I posted on facebook and basically spilled my guts on another author's blog - a bestseller who I happen to really like, and she was kind enough not to take down my off topic rant.

I was very sad and upset, and this author said kind things. It's one of the things I like about this author, even though she must be incredibly busy, she always has time for her followers/friends. And here comes the miracle: The people who follow her blog, stepped up and bought my book. And then they said nice things about it. I had the biggest sale month I've ever had, and we aren't even half way through. WOW.
I didn't even know this until I contacted my publisher. Now that I've gotten over the rejection I felt I needed to write and say I understood, and thank you for the opportunity, etc. My editor wrote back to tell me about the sales, and to give me another chance. If I can sell another 40 books by May 1st she'll take a look at the next Bree mystery.
I'm back in the game. At least temporarily. I get another chance to figure out how to sell books!
 
That's the power of the Internet. If I hadn't spilled my guts, I wouldn't have gotten a second chance. And the nice thing is, I didn't have to do any self promotion. I simply was looking for support from people I don't know, but consider my friends anyway. I got it in spades.

It's the Flu,Damn it!

It's four in the afternoon, I have the flu, and I'm on the porch in my jammas in the driving wind and rain so I can take a picture of the Huge and Horrible Willow tree that I love, and that is likely to take out my house. I don't see anything wrong with this picture. I'm tired of being in bed with the flu. I've been there for days. I'm not getting any better lying in bed, NOT eating anything, and although I love teasing my friends on facebook, I really should be working. And although it's not warm out, its not freezing either. So what the heck, might as well let you see the tree from the center of Hades.

The beauty of this is while those of you who know me well will know the truth, those of you who don't know me all that well can say, "It was the flu, you know. She was a little out of her head with the flu."

If you look closely you will see a cable holding this monster's two trunks together. If the plan doesn't fail, that cable will keep the taller of it's dual personalities from landing on my house. I've got my fingers crossed. It really is a beautiful tree in the summer time.

So here you go, a picture of impending doom, in the middle of a Janurary thaw and a storm that is threatening to blow us all away.

It's Party Time! The first draft is done

Soooo, the first, and very rough, draft of California Schemin' is done. I've danced, I've hollered, I've bragged. I'm feeling pretty good about my second novel being finished less than a year after my first was contracted. Yeah me!

I figure I can now have a two week vacation from writing. I've earned it, and God knows my house looks as though seven Tasmanian devils live there. There is PLENTY to do. If I remember correctly I finished late Sunday night or early Monday morning. Really early Monday morning. Today is Wednesday. And what am I thinking about? The half finished third novel that's waiting for me. AM I NUTS?

It is not time to start writing again. My Brain needs a rest. Right?

Apparently not. Tank and Maggie are calling to me. Wild plot twists have been popping into my head. So maybe what I need a rest from is CA Schemin' not writing. Maybe I can let myself write a little bit of T&M while waiting to edit CS. I'm actually feeling a little excited about getting back to The double murder at a rest stop!

The Evil of Editor Envy

One day I'm going to find out that people have actually been reading my blog, and boy am I going to be embarrassed! As long as I pretty much think that I'm talking to myself I can say anything I want. After all, cyberspace isn't judgmental. Heck cyberspace doesn't have time to be judgmental. It's too busy directing traffic.

I've been thinking lately about the evils of wanting to be someone else. Or even wanting to be like someone else. It's no secret that I want to be like certain other writers who work with a certain editor who I'm completely in awe of. That editor is a star maker, and damn if I don't want to be a star.

But I have an editor. In fact, considering the number of writers who are never published, I'm dang lucky to have an editor. She took a chance on me when no one else would, including the star maker. So here I sit, wishing I were someone other than who I am. At the very least someone who has the time to both write and market effectively. And somewhere else someone else is wishing they were me. Wishing that at the very least someone would take a chance on them.

The truth is that we are all in the cycle somewhere. And although logic tells me we can't all be stars, I can't help but think that my time will come. My star will rise. Wishful thinking? Maybe. But it's the belief that it's possible to obtain our goals that keeps me trying. Keeps me juggling the writing with the marketing with the kids with the husband with the dogs. Because I want it all, and no one has been able to convince me that I can't have it.

KOD BIAW (or Book in a Week with the Kiss of Death Chapter of the RWA)

Here's the deal. I signed up to write 1500 words a day this week. Not exactly a book in a week, but progress. It helps to have other writers paying attention to the progress I'm making. It keeps me honest, and honestly, it keeps me writing when I otherwise would be distracting myself.

To tell the truth, I don't find it easy to write every day. If I did, I'd be producing a lot more than I do. I'd have a stockpile of manuscripts. On the days like today every word on my wip (work in progress) is extracted painfully from my brain. Nothings flowing. I don't know what the heck is supposed to happen next. It's excruciating.

Conversely, (like the big words?) Conversely, I can write fifteen hundred words of a blog in a heart beat. Easy peasy. It’s because blogging is talking on paper. And it can be pretty hard to shut me up. I like the sound of my own voice. Telling you about my thoughts, feelings, observations can be a lot easier than telling a story, especially when I don’t have any idea where the story is going. I do know how it ends, but how in the world is Bree going to get there from here?

I don’t know where I'm going, but I’m committed to putting words on the page. Dreadful words perhaps. But words. And, as Joni B. Cole once told me, my readers won't be able to tell the words than sprang flowing from my mind from the words dug from mug with a toothpick. That piece of wisdom surprised me, but apparently it's true.

I’ll get back to the mud flats now.

Hair and Jealousy - it's not pretty

Have you seen Jennifer Crusie's new (well newish, it's been up less than a year, I think) web site and blog? I go there quite often as I am a big fan of her writing. It struck me today how beautiful her site is. Why today. Don't really know.

Maybe it 's because I laughed until I cried over a boy in my classroom with pigtails sticking up from his head and appreciation for art crept in while the tears were leaking out. The funny thing is that after the hair incident I opened Jenny's blog - and it's about hair! Strange hair. Which was worth another chuckle if not tears.

So why am I jealous of Jenny Crusie's site instead of just being appreciative of having a great place to go and read stuff? I'm not sure. My kids say I don't smile or laugh enough since I've started working again. That knowledge distresses me, and makes me crankier. I think the secret thought process is something like: Not only is Jenny Crusie and bestseller - and I'm not, but she also has a fantastically designed Internet presence and I don't. Sour grapes. Lack of appreciation for what I do have.

I notice I'm also jealous of the yet unnamed author who will be co-writing a novel with Janet Evanovich. Jeez, what ever happened to being happy for another person's good fortune? I do truly believe that there is enough success in the world for everyone, so why am I so impatient for mine to appear? It's my mom's fault. She claimed I was going to marry a prince when I grew up. Not figuratively. A real prince. As in Charles or Andrew. It didn't happen.

I think this disappointment has colored my entire life. And while I normally have a fabulous sense of humour, occasionally it slips away and other, less valuable, emotions show their ugly heads. Like envy, jealousy and the irrational belief that my husband was supposed to be a prince, damn it!

What makes YOU read a book? What's your reading style?

It's the obvious question for a writer to ask: What influences your decision to read a book? The cover, the first page, the writer's reputation, your level of boredom? What is it? Perhaps the recommendation of a friend, or a book reviewer that you trust? Do you feel obligated to read a book if you know the writer personally?

The questions go on and on.

Here's an easier question: What do you like to have on hand when you sit down to read a book? A cup of tea? Cocoa? Coffee? A cookie? Fudge? Spaghetti?

Do you like to read outside or in? Do you avoid reading on sunny days in order to spend time outside? Do your dogs sit on your feet or in your lap when you read? How do you keep your kids from interrupting you, after all in their eyes you aren't doing anything at all!

Do you like to savor books slowly, or read them straight through, all at once? I'm a straight through reader, when left to my own devices I'll read straight through the night.

I want to hear from you. Write me a note. Tell me about your reading habits. Ask your friends to write me. With your permission I'll post your reading habits on my blog, website and facebook page. Reading is one of my favorite things to do, so why not write about it!

Oh the pressure.

Why is it that given the opportunity to get some publicity and spread my name around by guest blogging, I can't think of a darn thing to say? I started writing about voice, and what it is about other author's that makes me keep picking up their books. Boring! Boring, boring, boring.

Not even I want to read that post. Heck, I didn't even want to write it. It put me right into doze mode.

This is how bad it is - I had to stop in the middle of this blog and get myself a cup of tea.

Surely there is something interesting to be said about writing. Something that hasn't been said a million and one times before? If you know what it is tell me, because obviously I can't figure out what it is.

On a more humorous note, some of you may know that I'm impersonating an educator at a high school this year, overseeing the study hall. This position has it's ups and downs. One really big up is that when everyone is on task it's permissible for me to work on my writing. Such as now. The down side is there are a couple of hours during the day when the immaturity of the students makes it insufferable in here. - Why is it that certain teenage boys think it's acceptable to fashion shivs out of paper clips and use stick pins to impale people? - But onto the fun part...

A little while ago a group of the nicer seniors came to see me. I don't know, seven or eight of them. (Realize that we have a tiny school the entire graduation class is only maybe 40 kids.) Each of these seniors came to me with an add/drop slip. On this slip they each requested to add my 2nd period class and drop the advanced math class they were enrolled in. These eight kids comprise maybe ninety percent of that math class. The reason for the switch: Can't understand the teacher.

It might be helpful for you to know that the math teacher is well liked and has played a practical joke or two of his own. I've yet to hear what he has to say about the matter. Actually, I can't wait, I'm sure he'll rise to the occasion. But what makes me smile the most is the fact that the seniors included me.

It's not just students that want to fit in. I'm in the unique position of being neither a teacher or a typical aid. I don't really have a peer group here, and my schedule is such - booked solid except for a twenty minute lunch break each day - that I have very little contact with adults. Being included by a group of students was a break from the isolation, and that it was for a joke makes it even better.

Shameless Self Promotion

I won! I won! I won! I won! I won! (tee hee). I found out today that Moonlighting in Vermont, my first publishable novel, won first place in it's category in the 2009 Daphne du Maurier Award For Excellence in Mystery/Suspense - unpublished. The category being mainstream. I've entered a fair number of contests and never even finaled (except the synopsis contest in which I got third place), and here I am the top of my category. It's given me a rather large head.

Well not really. It's a humbling experience in some ways. And a testament to believing in your own voice, and your own better judgement. The big thing though, is getting with other writers through critic groups and workshops and listening to what others have to say. Sometimes others people can be off base, but by listening and noticing when more than one person is saying the same thing, you can weed the good from the bad and improve your writing tremendously.

So thank you to Joni B. Cole, who leads an awesome workshop and whose books I really enjoy, and to Alison, Meg, Jen, Terri and Anne the original inky 500 who kept me afloat through the whole process. There are a bunch of other writers I owe thanks to, folks from Joni's workshops and those famous names that I love to read. I hope you know who you are, if not watch for your name in the future I hope I can get to you all someday.