My Grocery Job

  -->

A friend of mine recently labeled my job with the greeting card company my “grocery” job, since every time I mention it, I say it’s what I must do to keep groceries in the house. And, of course, Christmas is the busiest of our busy seasons, so I’ve been trekking out through fields of snow these last few days. Not going to Grandma’s house, but rather to the big-box store that demands daily attention leading up to the big day.

One would think the greeting card industry would take a well-deserved break after Christmas. After all, thousands of cards were placed in the racks, the shelves were overflowing with wrapping paper and holiday-themed tissue paper, gift bags by the score were hung with care. A few days rest after the hustle and bustle would seem to be warranted, no?

Absolutely not! For on December 26, in every store across this country, it’s Valentine’s Day! There are only 45 days to capture the attention of someone who is on a quest for the perfect card to express their feelings towards their loved ones. Never mind that Valentine’s Day is known industry-wide as the Last Minute Holiday, with most sales being made two days before the actual event. Never mind that we in the card business need a break from red. On December 26, I’ll not be saying Happy New Year, but rather, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Hey, it keeps the groceries in the house

Goodreads Giveaway

Congratulations to Shelly C of Newborn GA and Alyssa G of Vacaville, CA! You're the big winners for the autographed copies of The Reluctant Debutante. The books are on the way. Thanks to everyone who participated.

Sacajawea Envy

I’ve been hard at work for the past few weeks, determined to finish my opus work—the time travel story about the early American west and the mountain men/fur trappers who inhabited the area in the early 1800s. This is the story I’ve been researching and writing for five years. It’s the one where, when I read it, I really want to be the heroine.

 

No, that’s not exactly correct. My heroine, Mary, is a pampered former wife of a rock star. Her life has been one of privilege, private jets and non-stop parties. When she gets dropped into 1823 in the midst of an Indian camp, she knows nothing about how to survive in the wild. She is forced to rely on the mountain men who rescue her from the frightening Indians, but who are every bit as frightening themselves. Not exactly an ideal situation.

While doing the research for this story, and for my other stories about the expansion of the American west, I read the diaries of many women who crossed the country by covered wagon. These great, strong women were responsible for taming and civilizing the west. So why do we not know their names? Most of these women were placed in secondary roles, birthing and caring for children, and keeping the home fires burning, but not warranting a place in our history books.

Only one woman bucked the trend. Sacajawea. If not for this Indian woman, the expedition of Lewis and Clark would have been a failure. Quite possibly not one person would have survived. She guided this company of men across vast wildernesses, spoke to the Indians they encountered and acted as interpreter for the company, maintained the peace, and, oh yes—she had a child while they were traveling and carried the baby with her the rest of the trip.

So now, while I’ll eventually write a story about a pony express rider, being on a wagon train or  marrying a fur trapper, the story of my heart is about this amazing woman. I’ll write her story someday. But in the meantime, I’m suffering Sacajawea envy.

Anticipation

Ohio’s been locked in a cycle of rain for the past week. I love rain, and fog is an all-time favorite. You know, the whole creeping in on little cat’s feet and all that. Carl Sandburg created a lasting image for me with that poem.

But Ohio’s precipitation in December is supposed to be in the form of snow, not rain. As I enter my fourth winter in Ohio after boomeranging back here, I am pleased to discover that I don’t hate snow as much as I did when I was a kid. Of course, back then, when we got a heavy snow, Mom would send us kids out with a thermos of coffee and we’d share it with any stranded motorists. Every time I tell that story, people say, “That was awfully nice of your mother.” True enough, but she wasn’t the one trekking through hip-deep snow.

Nowadays, I eagerly await the first snow of the year. I love the silence of falling snow. It’s not the hard, driving sound of rain on the roof, but rather like brushing a pussy willow with your thumb. I equate it to finishing a novel. The first snow is when you type the words “The End.” The world is quiet and blanketed in a soft white glow as you take a deep breath and raise your eyes from the computer screen. Then comes the endless revisions of January and February, where you’re forced to shovel the drive countless times in order to get yourself out there.

By the end of February, you’ve about had it with snow, and pray that the work you’ve produced over the winter will catch someone’s eye. Then you can begin planting seeds on various blog sites about your work and pray that you can attract some butterflies to the flowers that are your books.

So, for now, as I try to get to “The End” on one of my novels, I am eagerly awaiting the first snow of the year in Ohio. It may happen next week. Or the week after. Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas this year. And speaking of that, it’s time for me to watch “White Christmas” again—my family’s favorite Christmas show. I can finish that novel next week. Or the week after.

For those of you who have snow in winter, please share with me your favorite, or not so favorite (remember the thermos of coffee), memories of years gone by. And remember, there's only one week left to enter my contest to win an autographed copy of my debut novel, The Reluctant Debutante.

Meet Author Robyn Corum!

I'm pleased to have as a guest today, my fellow Crimson historical author, Robyn Corum. She writes westerns, mostly, but judging from her book blurbs, getting to the west is part of the challenge for her feisty heroines. Let's find out more about Robyn, as well as the ladies in her books.


 What is your current project about?

“Ama” is the story of a young girl raised in a gritty tenement in Lower East Side New York in the late 1800’s.  It’s a horrible life, and Ama leaves it behind to become a mail-order bride to a man in the west. 

What’s next for your readers?

I've just published a book of short poetry with seventeen other women-poets.  It's called Pieces of Her Mind.  And I’m excited to say a friend and I are working on illustrating a large group of my children’s poems in order to publish them.

 What’s your favorite part about writing? Least favorite?

I love words and finding unique new ways to put them together!  My least favorite thing…would have to be when you get into a writing rhythm and the words are coming – and something interrupts you!

Have you ever written a character based on someone you know?

It’s funny, but there’s a lot of my husband in the character of Boone in Melinda Heads West.  My hubby has the most wonderfully interesting sayings and as I created Boone’s character I tried to use several of them. 

Where did you grow up, and did anything from your childhood influence your decision to become a writer? 

I grew up on a farm, in the middle of a large family, way out in the country. Many of the members of my family were storytellers. The habit came naturally.

Where do you rank in the family hierarchy? First child? Only child? Baby? Somewhere in between?

I am the first child of two.  (But I was pretty much raised by my grandmother, who had eleven kids!)

If you have an entire day to devote to your writing career, how do you divvy up the hours?

I start early in the morning – about 5:30.  First, I answer mail and other correspondence.  Then I start work on my running manuscript.  I work on it as long as I can, until I get at least 1,000-2,000 words done. Then I work on marketing for a while. 

What haven’t you done as a writer that you’d like to attempt?

I want to publish a collection of flash fiction, mine and other authors'.

What advice can you give writers who are getting started?

Work at improving your craft daily.  Spend time with other writers who know what they’re doing and listen to what they say.  Be willing to take advice.  Let other people read what you’ve written and offer criticism. Most importantly, learn to separate yourself from your writing, so that you can take in advice and make corrections without getting your back up.

Who would you like to cast as yourself in the movie about your life? 

           

 Oh, how about Sandra Bullock?  My hubs would love that!  *smile*

Buy Links (For Melinda) :

Amazon-Purchase Page

http://www.amazon.com/Melinda-Heads-West-ebook/dp/B009979330

Kobo  - Purchase Page

http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Melinda-Heads-West/book-znQLz3AT6kKircSS52STIQ/page1.html?s=XUsczfCgxUaGkyjqtzP1VA&r=1

Nook – Purchase Page

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/melinda-heads-west-robyn-corum/1113004669?ean=9781440558559

Book Blurb:

"What happens when a feisty young woman travels west in 1880 to pick up a family deed? If it's small-town Melinda McCorkle, you can count on luck to take a hike. Mindy is travelling with six strange men in a hard-riding stagecoach. When the coach breaks down, they're forced to walk the thirty-five miles remaining to her destination. That would be enough to try anyone's patience, but then the company is set upon by thieves and murderers in the form of the evil Byler brothers, and the stakes are raised.

Fortunately, Mindy makes the close acquaintance of two “gentlemen,” Luke Wilhite and Gary Boone, who try to help her through these dangers.

Luke is tall and fair, while Boone is taller and dark. Mindy feels an immediate attraction to Boone, but he's married! Or is he? Who will finally win Mindy's affection?"

  You can contact Robyn here:

Robyn’s Blog:

http://robynsrules.blogspot.com

Pinterest

https://pinterest.com/robyncorum/

Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6479373.Robyn_Corum

LinkedIn

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/robyn-corum/27/127/8b4

Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/MelindaHeadsWest

http://www.facebook.com/PiecesofHerMind

Twitter:

@robyncorum

Email:

robyncorum@aol.com

Abandoning The Baby

My second novel, The Abolitionist's Secret, is due to be released December 3, and I've been spending the last several weeks creating blog posts all over the internet about it. I'm proud of it, and thankful to my wonderful publisher, Crimson Romance, for believing in the Cotillion Ball series. Plus, a portion of the proceeds is going to the Oberlin Underground Railroad Center Project, which makes me happy.

So why do I feel like I'm abandoning The Reluctant Debutante, my debut novel?

I didn't realize what was happening until I began to list my books on the right side of this blog. I put my most recent book first on the page, and it nearly broke my heart to have The Reluctant Debutante relegated to second place. I know I must get over this feeling, since I hope for a long and successful career with many more books to come.

So, I'll continue to promote The Abolitionist's Secret at every opportunity and turn my attention away, reluctantly, from The Reluctant Debutante.

But it will always have a special place in my heart. Ginger and Joseph are my heroes.

Black Friday Blog Hop

Are You A Black Friday Person Or Not?

  -->

The air crackles with excitement and anticipation as we count down the minutes until the doors open this morning. You either love this day, or avoid the crowds like a lobster avoids a pot of boiling water. It’s one of Anne’s favorite days. She’s one of the sisters in my upcoming baby-boomer contemporary, Blame It On The Brontes. She has a debilitating designer shoe fetish. Think Carrie Bradshaw with red curls. Her work as the buyer for her family’s fledgling  jewelry and gift shop ease some of the pangs of not having a designer shoe store at the nearest corner. It’s like Black Friday every day in the store, since she only pays wholesale prices for the merchandise.

Here’s a sampling of Anne’s story, as she puts her acting career on hold to move back to her hometown for a year. That’s the only way to get her claws into her mother’s considerable estate. And designer stilettos cost a fortune.

Anne Bronson pressed her foot to the gas pedal, trying to ignore the little red light on the dashboard—the one highlighting the E on her gas gauge. She willed the rental moving truck to make it up the next hill, hunching over the steering wheel to help with the climb. The truck leaned into the steepest part of the incline, its headlights illuminating the crest just as the engine began coughing and sputtering in earnest. No good gas-guzzling piece of crap. Anne pulled the truck to the side of the road and set the brake so it wouldn’t drift down the incline. There should have been plenty of fuel to get to the house.

If she hadn’t already maxxed out her credit card, she would have gladly paid a professional moving company to get her from New York to Maine. But here she was, driving her own belongings north, and out of gas. Her stomach became even tighter. Is this the way a NASCAR driver feels when he runs out of gas on the final lap? Anne’s race was even bigger. She had an inheritance at stake. Eighteen minutes till midnight. Damn.

Hauling out her purse and overnight bag, she climbed down from the truck. She kicked a tire and let out a small scream at the damage her instinctive motion caused her black leather Manolo Blahniks. Tapping her fingernails against her teeth, she peered up and down the dark road. No headlights. No life. No sound. She fished into her purse for her cell phone and stared at it. No signal either here in Backwater Maine, of course. With a deep sigh, she wrestled her old suitcase with its wonky wheel and strapped her oversized purse across her body as she began to climb the rest of the way up the incline. Two miles to the house. She had eighteen minutes to get there. In six-inch heels. Looking skyward, she muttered, “Hey, Mom, you up there? If you are, I need a little help right about now.”

Headlights crested over a hill in front of her. Anne blew a kiss skyward. “Thanks, Mom. Always could count on you.”

She put down her purse and bag at the side of the road and moved to the middle, waving her hands, hoping the driver spotted her before the car either mowed her down or went whizzing on by. This was a million dollar hitchhike.

The white car slowed, and then came to a stop about fifty feet away from her. Anne blew out the breath she was holding and moved forward, out of the harsh glare of the headlights. As she stepped closer, she noticed for the first time the light bar mounted on top of the car. Relief flooded her as she realized she had flagged down a police cruiser. A glimpse of the dark-haired officer sitting behind the wheel made her lips turn up into what she knew was her flirtiest smile. She couldn’t see him well in the dark with just the glow from the dashboard lights across his face, but it didn’t matter. She knew how to work any man.

"Hello, handsome," she purred as she rested her hands on the car door’s windowsill and leaned down to see him better. "You've saved my life." She tapped his nametag. "Officer Willoughby. Can I hitch a ride into town?" Not bad looking. She waited for his reply. Wavy, dark hair cut a bit long, a fit body, at least what she could see.

"Are you Anne Bronson?"

Anne put her hand to her chest. "You recognize me? Well, how special is that?"

"Get in the car," the dark-haired man growled.

Anne straightened up a bit and backed away a step. She threw a saucy look his way, to show him she wasn’t intimidated by his gruff manner. "I usually wait for the gentleman to open the door, but I am in a bit of a hurry tonight." She grabbed her bags from the side of the road and then scurried around to the passenger side, throwing her suitcase into the back seat and then hopping in before grumpy Officer Willoughby changed his mind and drove off without her.

As she settled her purse on the seat between them, Anne said, "I live up the road here, only a couple miles away..."

Officer Willoughby spoke into his police radio. "I found her, and I’m bringing her in now."

Anne swiveled her head toward him. "Hey, are you talking about me on your radio? You're bringing me in? For what?”

“For being late.”

“That’s now a crime?” Anne squirmed in her seat. ‘Listen Officer, I’m enjoying our time together, but I really, really need to get home before midnight."

"Yeah, Cinderella, relax. I'm taking you to your sisters."

So it's your turn. Leave a comment here, telling me what kind of Black Friday person you are, and you'll be eligible to win a prize. We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

Now what are those prizes?

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet
2nd Grand Prize: A $75 Amazon or B&N Gift Card
3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

And don't forget to enter here to win an autographed copy of my historical novel, The Reluctant Debutante.