Musings from a Writer’s Brain–Confessions of a Multi-genre Writer by Linda Wood Rondeau

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branding, contemporary fiction, essay, humor, Inspirational fiction, LInda Wood Rondeau, Musings from a Writer's Brain, Second Helpings, writing tips

Perhaps it’s just another symptom of my indecisive nature. I’m the kind of person who stands in the grocery aisle for ten minutes trying to decide what kind of pasta to buy.

An agent told me, “You write so far out of the box, you’re in a different room.”

Maybe this is why it took me eleven years before I received my first book contract. I needed to learn not just to be unique, but to be identifiable enough that editors didn’t have to put a coat on to find me.

At every conference I attended, the harpies screeched “Branding! Branding! Branding!” How does an author who writes speculative, paranormal, romance/historical/contemporary women’s fiction brand herself?

As I watched American Idol, I was intrigued by what the judges would repeatedly advise: know who you are as an artist.

Is this branding? I wondered.

I realized some singers can effectively sing across charts. Elvis, for example. Yet, there is an identifiable trait in their delivery.

Understanding this intuitively is a lot different from applying the truth to my writing.

I wanted to be the next Asimov, Tolkien or at the least Gene Roddenberry … George Lucas would be taking the comparison too far. I’d never come close to his genius. But why not write a space trilogy that changed the world?

I dashed back and forth from speculative, science fiction, romance, contemporary, historical and wondering all the time, “What kind of writer am I? What is my brand? Why can’t I settle on something and write only that?”

At every writing conference, I am asked, “What is your genre?”

How can I answer that?

I find in my writing, that I crave variety. I don’t want to write just one kind of story.

When I presented my dilemma, I was told, “Write what you like to read.” That doesn’t define me either. I like to read anything from a prairie romance to a spine-tingling horror book. I love a good story regardless of its trappings.

I was told, I’d never get published until I settled on what I wanted to write and focused solely on that until I “made it.” Then I might stand a chance to veer from that mode.

To determine what kind of writer I should be, I looked to my acting experiences. I pursued Community Theatre for over twenty years while living in Northern New York. I played such diverse roles as a transgender news reporter, an elderly murder-mystery writer, a ghost, a 19^th century estate owner, a yodeling country singer disguised as a German baroness, a detective, a backwoods philosopher, and a country-gospel singing nun as well as sundry other characters.

Biiggest Ain’t the Best

Making God skit at UMC in Norfolk August 2010

Those in our theater group said my strength as an actress was the ability to identify in some way shape or form with these outlandish characters, and making them come to life.

What I learned from acting is the truth that I don’t need to be them in order to understand them.

Is this then my brand? From the bizarre to the ridiculous?

As door after door slammed shut on a speculative writing career, I truly began to examine my brand, as it were. I found the stories I write, whether speculative, historical, or romance invoke a style that has come to be uniquely me: a blending of story-telling that encompasses the human spirit, healing from brokenness, and hope for lives damaged by wrong turns. I tell my stories from a deep point of view, sometimes first-person, and always infuse the inane in the telling.

I get it now. Branding is not the same as genre. It is voice and style and what makes you uniquely you. You cannot be unique if you copy. To quote another writer whose genius far exceeds the imagination of all writers, “This above all, to thine own self be true.”

What is your brand? How is it uniquely you?

 

Check out Linda’s special brand of writing in her book

 

Second Helpings

By Linda Wood Rondeau

 

Today is Jocelyn Johnson’s 45^th birthday. Unhappy with her marriage of 22 years, the parenting talk show host has planned a noonday tryst with her cohost. A phone call from her college daughter, a peek into her teenaged son’s journal, a sick preschooler, a Goth daughter’s identity crisis, a middle-school son’s prank, and her husband’s inflamed suspicions, not only interfere with her hopeful birthday plans but throw her family into more chaos than a circus on steroids.

In desperate need of counsel, Jocelyn invites a Christian to dinner, her guest from her morning talk show segment. However, the evening holds little promise of calm. In the midst of bedlam, a forgotten faith rekindles causing Jocelyn to rethink her life and her marriage.

You will laugh and you will cry from the first page to the last as you journey through the day’s events and Jocelyn’s search for Second Helpings.

 

Buy Link  Ebook : Print book

 

 

About the Author:

A veteran social worker, Linda Wood Rondeau is also a wife, mother, and grandmother. She is no stranger to family bedlam. Her stories of encouragement and hope come from the heart. She resides in Hagerstown, Maryland with her husband of over forty-years. When not writing, the author enjoys the occasional round of golf. She also enjoys theater and is actively involved with her local church. Find more encouraging words in her blog, Snark and Sensibility, found on her website, www.lindarondeau.com. Visit her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday Writers–Saundra Staats McLemore and Christmas Hotel Reunion

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Alzheimer's, book about Alzheimers, book excerpt from Christmas Hotel Reunion, Catherine Castle Wednesday Writers series, Christmas fiction, Christmas Hotel Reunion, Christmas Hotel series, Inspirational fiction, Saundra Staats McLemore

 

Today Wednesday Writers is welcoming back Saundra Staats McLemore, author of the Christian Inspirational series Christmas Hotel. I fell in love with this fictional hotel in Saundra’s first book, which you can read about on an earlier blog, and have been following the progress of the Wright family throughout the remainder of the books.

Welcome, Saundra. Please tell us about the latest book in the series, Christmas Hotel Reunion.

 

Thanks, Catherine,

Christmas Hotel Reunion is the sixth and final book in the Christmas Hotel series. Although each book can standalone, the Wright family thread weaves through the series. Each book has a theme and Christmas Hotel Reunion’s theme is the horrific disease of Alzheimer’s.

I dedicated Christmas Hotel Reunion in memory of my father William Warren Staats who developed complications from Alzheimer’s, and he died July 21, 1997. I watched this man, who stood 6’1″ and weighed around 210 pounds, become a shell of the man he once was. It’s so hard to watch a man who was a leader in his profession, and once revered by so many people, regress to infancy. While he was in the throes of Alzheimer’s, I discovered one in four will have the disease by age 65 and one in two by age 85. My sister and I suspect at least seven of our dad’s nine siblings had Alzheimer’s. Knowing the disease runs in families, these are chilling results for our Staats family members.

 

Thanks, Saundra for sharing this with us. Alzheimer’s has touched the lives of almost everyone in some way. My father had this dreaded disease, too. So, I understand how it affects families.

Saundra sent me several excerpts to choose from and, I’m going to be honest here, every single one made me cry. I chose the one I know from experience is what every person who has a family member with this dreaded disease wants—one more moment of clarity with your loved one. If you’ve ever experienced this blessing, after all you’ve been to a loved one is a stranger, you’ll know how much this gift is coveted.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Christmas Hotel Reunion

By Saundra Staats McLemore

Alzheimer’s: a horrific disease. Jerilyn has Alzheimer’s. Christopher and Jerilyn are now elderly, and Christopher has ongoing fears. If his beloved wife outlives him, will she be properly cared for? How can two people who have adored each other for fifty-seven years be separated?

On vacation, Jerilyn becomes violent and doesn’t know Christopher. When they return home, Jerilyn leaves in the middle of a cold night in her nightgown. Other friends have family members with Alzheimer’s. Some have turned their loved one over to the care of a nursing home.

With the Alzheimer’s spinning out of control, withdrawing from family, having to be watched every minute, Christopher’s grieving heart is in turmoil. Jerilyn’s children and grandchildren lament over Jerilyn not knowing them. Christopher needs to make the nursing home decision soon. Christopher prays for one last cognizant moment with Jerilyn. He places his trust and hope in the Lord Jesus.

♥ ♥ ♥

The family members headed to their homes, and, Jerilyn asked Christopher to walk her into the square and sit on their bench facing Christmas Hotel. They put on overcoats, hats, gloves, and scarves. Once they were seated, she shivered, and he wrapped his arm around her. “Are you too cold, dear, to sit outside?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just happy to be here with you. God is good, Christopher.”

Hot tears filled his eyes, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d prayed in earnest for this special time with his beloved Jerilyn. With his other hand, he took hers. “Yes, He is, my love.”

They stopped speaking for a few minutes, cuddled together, and reveled in the moment. Christopher took a deep breath. “The air is so clean and crisp. I do love the Christmas season.” Townspeople walked by and smiled. Some greeted with “Merry Christmas!”

“You know, Jerilyn, sitting here brings back memories of fifty-seven years ago. You were only twenty, but I knew without a doubt we were meant to marry and raise a family. I was nervous the night I proposed.”

Jerilyn turned to him. “You were?” Her soft voice warmed his heart. “I thought I was the nervous one. You’ve never told me this.”

I can’t believe I’m sitting here and carrying on a normal conversation with Jerilyn.

“I was twenty-eight-years-old. I suppose I wanted you to have confidence in my decisions. You were so mentally wounded when you arrived at Christmas Hotel. I wanted to be your knight in shining armor.”

She took her free hand and placed it on his cheek. “You have been my knight in shining armor. I’m so happy the Lord sent me here all those years ago. I never thought being penniless would be a good thing but it brought us together. Our Lord brought us together. I’m so thankful, Christopher.”

“So am I, my darling, so am I.”

She placed her head on Christopher’s shoulder, and they took a moment to gaze up at the sky. “It’s so clear tonight, Christopher. The stars are putting on a light show for us.”

Christopher pointed up. “I know that one’s the North Star, but tonight, for us, it’s the star of hope.”

“I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you, too, Jerilyn. I want you to remember our love, at least for tonight. I’ve never in all our years together tired of telling you I love you.” He kissed her.

“I want to pray together in the Christmas Hotel chapel, Christopher. Let’s go in. Maybe we’ll be alone.”

  Want to read more? You’ll find this book at Amazon

 

About the Author:

 Saundra Staats McLemore is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and the Ohio chapter of the ACFW. After thirty-three years, Saundra is recently retired as President/CEO of McLemore & Associates, Inc., a nationwide sales and marketing business she built in 1984. In her spare time, she loves to garden, and she can be seen throughout the summer working in her flower beds. Saundra has written two novels so far in the Staats Family Chronicles Series: Abraham and Anna and its sequel: Joy out of Ashes. Saundra had the good fortune of having Abraham and Anna endorsed by two best-selling authors: Richard Paul Evans and Janette Oke. There are six novels in the Christmas Hotel Series: Christmas Hotel, Christmas for Lucy, Christmas Redemption, Christmas Pact, Christmas Love and Mercy, and Christmas Hotel Reunion.

Born and raised in the state of Ohio, Saundra is married to Robert, and Anthony is their only child. The other two members of the family are the cat Charley, and the Cocker Spaniel Daisy. Check her website regarding new novels.

Website: http://www.saundrastaatsmclemore.com/

 

 

Wednesday Writers Welcomes D.D. White author of Journey of Redemption

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Catherine Castle Wednesday Writers series, D.D. White, Inspirational fiction, Journey of Redemption, orphan train

 

 

Today I’m welcoming D.D. White to Wednesday Writers. Diane will be talking about her inspirational novel Journey of Redemption, which has its plot based on the Orphan Train. Welcome, Diane. Can you tell us how you came to write Journey of Redemption?

Hi, Catherine.

My publisher was doing a bundle of orphan train stories. I had never heard of the orphan train before and began my research. I contacted a man in Missoula, Montana who kept track of the orphan trains from years past and could actually tell a family member who inquired the time and date their loved one took a train and where they went. My story is fiction, but I learned a lot about the founder and the Children’s Aid Society who started this work from the mid 1850’s until 1930. I chose 1923; it was my dad’s birth year, plus I knew they’d have cars, phones and other conveniences. I write contemporary so that went back far enough.

I’ve never been to Montana, so I chose a train that was going there. My main character is a young girl, Grace, who is from Misery Row. She gets lost in New York City trying to find her mother, and is fortunate that a young school teacher grabs her before she steps into the street in front of a truck. Sadly, Grace’s mother is gone when they return to her rat infested apartment, and she clings to her new friend and elementary school teacher Anna. At seven Grace has had no education and tries to learn the words and ways of her loving Anna. When Anna learns about the orphan trains going to all the 48 states as well as Canada and New Mexico, she makes plans for Gracie to have a better life. Anna is 20, not married and finds a new life, too.

 

Journey of Redemption

By D. D. White

Blurb:

 

“Watch out, dear.” Anna Morris was quick to pull the young girl back from the loud crunch of the passing pickup rounding the corner. “Where are your parents? You aren’t alone on this busy street, are you?” She stooped down eye level with the young miss.

“Mama left and don’t know where she is…but she always comes back, she does.” A single tear made its way down the girl’s cheek. “I guess today she forgot, so I started to look for her and lost myself.”

What will Anna and young Grace find when they return to locate her mother at Misery Row? What awaits her and can she adapt to a new life? Follow Grace and Anna as life changing plans and decisions are made. Will she leave New York or continue to roam the streets she has always known?

About the Author:

Diane started her writing at an early age, but it wasn’t until her husband’s work took them to a small southern town she wrote her first column, “Yankee Viewpoint’s” for a local newspaper. Returning to her home-state of Michigan, she did stringer work over the years, ancestral history, and donor appeal letters for non-profit organizations. Diane became a columnist for a weekly magazine, for four years. She is the author of over three-hundred short stories. Her books to date are: Carolina in the Morning, On a Summer Night, Texting Mr. Right, Winter Wonderland , This Side of Heaven, and Stories from a Porch Swing, Lilacs in May, Journey of Redemption, and soon to be released, Beyond the May River. She and hubby, Stephen, have been married for forty-five years, and they are the parents of three grown children and three grand-gals, and live in the Sunshine state.

 

Contact Diane at:

http://www.dianedeanwhite.com/

https://www.facebook.com/diane.d.white.75

https://www.facebook.com/Dianes-Author-Page-547038885384768/

twitter: @writerddw

 

Catherine Castle’s Christmas Reads–The Swaddling Clothes by Amber Schamel

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Amber Schamel, Biblical fiction, book excerpt from The Swaddling Clothes, Catherine Castle's Christmas Reads blog sereis, Christmas fiction, free book offer, Inspirational fiction, The Swaddling Clothes

Today’s guest on Catherine Castle’s Christmas Reads is Amber Schamel, a fellow author from the Stitches Thru Time Blog that I contribute to. Amber will be offering her Christmas Book The Swaddling Clothes free December 15-18 at http://www.amazon.come/dp/B018BBQVCA

To whet your appetite, here’s an excerpt from The Swaddling Clothes by Amber Schamel.

Part One

Chapter One

Circa 980 B.C.

King David drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. The merchant’s monotone voice had been echoing off the cedar walls of the judgment hall for more than an hour. If he whined the words unfair taxes one more time…

“So you see, your highness, these taxes are relatively unfair when considering—”

“Enough!” David’s irritation boiled over.

The merchant stumbled backward. His scalded pride evidenced by the scarlet flushing of his round face.

Something squeezed in David’s chest. The merchant wasn’t the sole reason for his foul mood, and didn’t deserve to bear the worst of it. “I’m sorry.”

He wiped his forehead. Being the king of Israel was not what he’d hoped. He should be leading his army against the Philistines. Instead here he was, in his luxurious palace, listening to the endless and petty complaints. [1]

Ahithophel clapped his hands. “The king has heard enough of your whining for today. Come back later.”

David stood and ran his hand through his hair. Loose curls twisted around his fingers. He paced for a few moments before looking up. Amnon, his oldest son, glared over his shoulder as the aide shooed him out of the hall.

“Ahithophel, it’s all right. I can…”

“My lord, their prattle is irritating me as well. It can wait until the morrow.”

David ducked out the side exit, into the corridor to the private part of the palace. He stopped, inhaling the comforting scent of cedar, and waited for his aide.

Ahithophel slipped through the door and closed it quietly. His expression was tentative when he faced David.

“I am sorry, Ahithophel, but I am not cut of this pattern. I am the type of king who leads armies into battle, who destroys enemies, a king with a sword constantly by my side.” He motioned to the warrior’s blade hanging from his belt. “I love my people, but I cannot bear sitting here listening to their petty arguments while my army marches.”

“My king, you know we can no longer risk you getting killed in some skirmish. Your sons are still young, and you have not yet determined a successor for your throne. If you were to fall in battle, Israel would be left in disarray.”

David stepped closer to him and whispered through clenched teeth. “I can’t do this. It’s hard enough to stay here cooped up like a child, but listening to their trivial prattle day after day is more than I can stand.”

Ahithophel gave him a sympathetic smile and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Take the remainder of the day to rest. Walk the gardens with your new wife, eat a good meal, refresh yourself. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” He smiled again and disappeared down the hall.

Taking a deep breath, David wandered into the garden and wove through the trees and flowerbeds until he neared the fountain surrounded by pomegranate trees. The rich red fruit contrasted with the soft green of the olive leaves. The trickle of the water fountain and the sweet sound of turtledoves cooing soothed his soul. He should have brought his harp, for a psalm was bubbling up within him.

Standing in the midst of all this beauty was one not to be compared to it. With her emerald eyes set in a complexion of pearl, and ringlets of ruby cascading down her back. Bathsheba. He had loved her since the moment he saw her. His heart had sinned for her, bringing the wrath of his righteous God upon them. But although God had taken their baby, He had not denied him Bathsheba. [2]

Stepping beside her, David slid his hand into hers and gave it a tight squeeze.

“A rough day for my king?”

David groaned. “I am tired of being king. Can’t I be something else for today?”

Bathsheba turned around. Her green eyes met his, and a smile curved her lips. She lifted his hands and placed them on her belly. “Then be Abba today.”

The breath caught in his throat. “You’re…”

Her giggle and nod assured him it was so. Wrapping her in a tight embrace, he lifted her off her feet and whirled around in a circle. Finally setting her down, he placed his hands on either side of her face. “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel who has chosen in His great mercy to bless us. The child will be a son, and he will inherit my throne and reign over the house of Israel in peace and prosperity. There will be no one like him in all the world.”

His wife’s eyes sparkled in the light streaming through the trees. “Yes, our son will be a special child.”

“When he is born, I will hold a feast a month long. The armies will rest from fighting to celebrate the birth of the prince of the house of David.”

A frown contorted his wife’s face. “But, if we announce at his birth that he will be your successor, won’t it put him in danger?”

David’s hands fell to his sides. He hadn’t considered that. “You may be right. There must be another way.” How could they appoint this child as the successor without endangering him? He could wait to announce it until later, but what if something happened to him in the meantime? No, wouldn’t do. They had to come up with some sort of symbol. Something that wouldn’t reveal the secret until the proper time. Something almost prophetic.

An idea ignited in his mind. Grasping Bathsheba’s hand, he tugged her toward the palace. “Come. We have lots of work to do.”

“David, what are you talking about?”

“My son will not be wrapped in ordinary swaddling cloth. No, this prince is unlike any other child and must be treated as such. We will have cloth woven for him on the looms of Egypt, Sheba, Assyria, and every nation on the earth. At his birth, we will wrap him in swaddling clothes so magnificent no one will be able to deny his royalty. At my death, I shall decree that the son who possesses that certain cloth will be my heir. It will evade the danger, yet make it clear who I desire my heir to be. Quickly. We must find Ahithophel and have him gather merchants from every corner of the city.”

*****

Maacah pressed her back against an olive trunk. Had she really heard right? All expected this new, young wife of David’s would soon be with child, but how could the child of a commoner—a wife acquired through murder and iniquity—possibly be named the successor to the throne above her own son? Absalom was a beautiful child, beloved of all who knew him, third born, and of royal blood. What disgrace and insolence for David to consider this woman’s son over Absalom. No, this could never be.

She peeked out from behind the tree as David led Bathsheba toward the palace. “Something must be done. That woman’s son will never reign over Absalom.”

Her thoughts raced like wild stallions as she darted toward her son’s chambers. She didn’t know how, but she would blight this plan to usurp Absalom’s throne. Starting with the swaddling clothes.

 

 

About the Author:

Author of over half a dozen books, Amber Schamel writes riveting stories that bring HIStory to life. She has a passion for travel, history, books and her Savior. This combination results in what her readers call “historical fiction at its finest”. She lives in Colorado and spends half her time volunteering in the Ozarks. Visit her online at www.AmberSchamel.com/ and download a FREE story by subscribing to her Newsletter!

Newsletter & updates: http://www.amberschamel.com/newsletter-signup.html Blogs – http://stitchesthrutime.blogspot.com/            http://www.hhhistory.com/            http://amberschamel.blogspot.com/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAmberSchamel

Twitter – @AmberSchamel https://twitter.com/AmberSchamel

Pinterest – http://pinterest.com/AmberDSchamel/

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7073165.Amber_Schamel

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Amber-Schamel/e/B00CIXK91M

 

 

[1] 2 Sam 11:1

[2] 2 Sam 11-12

Christmas Reads from Rose Allen McCauley–Christmastide at Bald Head Island

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book excerpt from Christmastide at Bald Eagle Island, Catherine Castle's Holiday Reads blog series, Christmas fiction, Christmastide at Bald Eagle Island, Inspirational fiction, Rose Allen McCauley, sweet Christmas stories

Hello, and welcome to this year’s Christmas Reads blog series where you will find new, and older, Christmas Reads for your holiday season. I hope you’ll enjoy this year’s offerings which will run through the end of the year. If you like Christmas stories, be sure and check out my previous years’ Holiday  and Christmas Reads for more fantastic Christmas stories from a range of sweet genres.

To open the 2016  series, here’s Rose Allen McCauley’s newest Christmas Read:

Christmas Tide on Bald Eagle Island!

Christmastide at Bald Head Island

By Rose Allen McCauley

 

Literature weaves its way through the hearts of the Jordan family women. Matriarch, Grace Jordan, has a particular affinity for William Shakespeare. Just as his play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, spins a tale of the planning of one wedding but ends with three ceremonies, Grace and her two daughters, Rosalind and Miranda, discover rekindled love while planning Rosalind’s daughter, Jane Anne’s Christmas wedding. In a twist of fate, ceremony plans change. However, just like Elizabeth Bennett and Anne Shirley from Jane Austen and Lucy Montgomery’s respective classic tales, all four Jordan women discover what—and who—will make them truly happy.

Excerpt

 

Alex wiped the mustard off his face then asked her, “Do you want some Italian Ice now or later?”

Her eyes twinkled. “I want to spend as much time as possible inside so let’s wait until later when the Conservancy closes.”

She stopped to read everything in every exhibit. Better to think about the information in front of her rather than all that was running through her head.

“Is this the teacher coming out in you?”

“Must be. Do you mind?”

“Of course, not. It gives me more time to watch my favorite exhibit.”

“Which exhibit is that?”

He made Groucho Marx eyes at her. “You.”

She shook her head and went back to reading.

After a couple hours, Alex wished they’d chosen to walk on the beach this afternoon, even in the heat. He couldn’t stand being this close to her without the opportunity to talk about more than the turtles and other wildlife. “It’s almost five. Ready for that Italian Ice now?”

She looked up from an exhibit about the bioluminescent plankton. “I hope sometime we can see these tiny fish that light up underwater. Jane Anne has told me about them.”

“I hope so, too. Maybe we could all three go together one night.”

They walked outside, and he bought them each an Italian Ice.

He handed hers over and said, “I’d like to ask you one final question.”

She took a bite. “What’s that?”

“What was the hardest part of me not being there for you?”

Her heart thudded against her chest. How could she list them all—the shame of being an unwed mother, her parents’ disappointment, the lonely, long nights of little sleep whenever Jane Anne was ill, taking ten years to get her teaching degree, having to work two jobs?

She didn’t know which reason to pick and couldn’t speak with the growing anger clogging her throat. Especially when she remembered that even if his parents had kept him from receiving her calls, he’d had her number. He could have called her. He should have called her. But no, he’d turned his back on her for a college education.

Two words slipped from her lips. “Your betrayal.”

Want to read more? Check out the book  at Amazon

 

About the Author:

Rose has been writing for over a decade and has five books published. A retired schoolteacher who has been happily married to her college sweetheart for over forty years, they enjoy their growing family of three children and their spouses and five lovely, lively grandkids! She loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her through her website www.rosemccauley.com or twitter @RoseAMcCauley and Facebook http://on.fb.me/1LrXNoS

 

 

Wednesday Writers Welcomes Sarah Kohnle

Tags

Astraea Press, author interview, book excerpt, Inspirational fiction, Sarah Kohnle, Shifting Gears

Today Wednesday Writers welcomes Sarah Kohnle, author of Shifting Gears. Sarah, please tell the readers about the book that is being showcased today and how you came up with the concept for this book.

It all started with a deathbed challenge in Minnesota. And when the summer is over, a middle-aged, sedentary housewife realizes those words no longer define her. Join Meg and her son n a ride filled with adventure, tears and laughter. If she can do, can you?

Shifting Gears is a novel that evolved over many years and many miles. I started writing it when I recalled a true character I met as a reporter. Strangely enough, that person plays a prominent role toward the end of the book. I never could have guessed that would have been the germ of an idea. It seems a lot of true life stuff makes it into my novels. I am very thankful for the experiences I had as a reporter across the Midwest. Lots of good stories in my bank!

But back to SG – the idea popped in my head and all of a sudden became a bicycling/road trip story. That meant I had to get back on my bike for some research. I had done a lot of long-distance cycling before our sons were born and the book brought me back to a former love on two wheels! I strive for authenticity, so I knew I had to log miles along with Meg, my lead character.

What are you working on now? Do you have a release date for this book?

I have several other manuscripts around, in various stages. Last month, I took another stab at NaNoWriMo, and although I didn’t finish this time, it made me realize I can complete a novel on my lunch hour. I don’t need to give up my day job.

Your various stages manuscripts leads me to another question. Are you a procrastinator or do-it-now person?

Procrastinator? Ha, if only your readers could hear me laughing! As a former journalist, I like to call it “deadline-driven.” Sometimes that may look like procrastination. I like to work under pressure and feel I do my best work at the last minute.

You mentioned the biking research for your book and the authenticity you created. What about setting. Do you do anything special to create yours, like visiting the area, googling satellite maps, looking at books or pictures?

Great question! Ideally, I visit the sites I write about because I love adding the little details that make it real and make readers say, “I know that spot!” If I am unable to see it for myself, I rely heavily on research and interviews.

What’s the first book you ever remember reading as a child?

I have loved books for as long as I can remember! There was a great little book called “Are You My Mother?” I recall reading that to my class when I was in first-grade because I loved it so much! Of course, I had to raise my children on that same book. One of my favorite drawings in it is a little bird, in clear distress with his little beak wide open. The page still has the slobber marks from the pacifier when one of my sons (now in his 20s) tried to comfort the bird.

Aw. How sweet is that. Do you have any favorite writing craft books?

In my bookcase, I have a whole shelf dedicated to books by Brett Lott and James Scott Bell and many others, to enhance my fiction. One of my go-to books is Self-Editing for Fiction Writers.

Are you a full-time writer or do you have a day job? If so, what is it?

I devour books and I am quite fortunate that I receive boxes of books almost daily as part of my job. As the managing editor for an association for educators in the state, I oversee a review committee. The committee reviews thousands of titles each year and we compile a booklet of annotations. It’s a tradition that goes back to the 1920s, and I am very proud to be a part of it.

In addition to managing publications, I recently returned to teaching at the college level. I am wrapping up the semester this week and getting ready to grade tons of final papers for my journalism students. I have really enjoyed it! I can say with assurance there is hope for the world of journalism — these students have been a lot of fun, and they can write!

I now get to host an annual weekend retreat for writers and photographers, via my day job. The spot is on a scenic river in the Ozarks and is a great time to create in the beauty and quiet of nature. Past faculty includes award-winner YA author Antony John and well-known author Deborah Raney. As the event continues to grow, I have been able to add to the faculty and now have a small-press publisher. This past fall, three participants were offered book contracts. All very exciting!

It’s been a pleasure having you here today. As you say goodbye, can you leave the readers with an encapsulation of your life’s philosophy.

It’s been so fun chatting with you! Before we say good-bye, I want to share my most-recent favorite verse. Genesis 4:7, NLT: You will be accepted if you do what is right. But if you refuse to do what is right, then watch out! Sin is crouching at the door, eager to control you.  But you must subdue it now and be its master.

Have a wonderful Christmas!

 

Shifting Gears

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Step One: light a candle.

Meg Albertson smoothed out the folds in the hospice center’s typed instructions and reread the sheet, faded and fuzzy from a trip through the washing machine.

Light a candle. Say a prayer.

A box of matches sat on the mantle next to a ceramic jar, the size of her palm. Meg reached for the jar and matches then carried them over to the coffee table next to the candle. She sank down on the couch, her fingers curled around the matchbox. With her other hand, she caressed the smooth sides of the jar.

Light a candle. Say a prayer.

She struck a wooden matchstick. Wind rattling down the chimney snaked out the open flue and snuffed the flame. Another draft shivered across her neck. Meg didn’t budge. She sat and stared at the burnt match while the memory candle mocked her from the mantle. Perhaps she should get up and close the flue and light the candle.

Behind her house, pine trees dotted the edge of the frozen lake, a lake as silent as a dead man. The sky was like the gray film of dust that clung to the family room baseboards. Inside, yellowed newspapers, tightly bound with rubber bands, covered the coffee table. Fast-food wrappers stained with grease and splotches of catsup littered the floor.

Maybe a real fire in the fireplace would take the edge off the mess, make it seem festive. If she waited long enough, maybe someone would build one for her.

Loud pounding on the front door saved her from having to endure the obligatory candle ceremony and the rest of the steps.

“Meg Albertson, you home?”

Meg darted behind the draperies. The doorbell rang in three quick bursts. Nothing good ever came from an early morning visitor.

Pound, pound, pound. The visitor reverted to the original technique.

Meg peeked down the hall to the front door window. With relief she saw a friendly face, someone to light a fire for her. She swept a comforter from the back of the couch and draped it around herself. She pulled the door open and a gust of wind swirled in.

“Did I wake you?” Her husband’s old friend, Chip, stood on the front porch, stomping snow off his massive boots. The two men had been buddies since second grade in Lake Devine, tucked in the northern woods of Minnesota.

“Heavens no, up for hours. Since the sun rose.” Meg, bundled in the comforter, leaned against the doorframe.

“It sure is a cold one.” Chip rubbed his gloves together.

Then he stomped his boots again. “Um, can I come in?”

Meg flushed. “Excuse my brain lapse. Of course.” She waved him into the hallway.

“Before I forget Meg, Merry Christmas. Well, tomorrow I guess.” Chip hesitated and then reached out to hug her. The warmth of his embrace seemed to seep through his down parka straight through the comforter and into Meg’s thin robe. She needed his touch, anyone’s touch. Two bright patches of scarlet flashed across the frosty pink and white on Chip’s cheeks and he pulled away. He inched closer to the front door before he tugged off his wool cap and reached to scratch his head.

“Gee, sorry we haven’t stopped in to see you lately. It’s been busy down at the hardware store. Jean’s been busy too, all the holiday stuff.” Chip looked down at his feet.

“But here.” Chip thrust a small package into her hands. “Robert made me promise I’d deliver this for Christmas.”

“Robert?” Meg tossed the package back, like a game of hot potato.

Chip leaned over and forced the package back in her grasp. Meg stared at the object and began to sway ever so slightly to the cadence of the clock on the wall. The ticking grew louder. Meg squeezed her eyes shut to stop the noise.

Chip cleared his throat. “Meg? Meg?”

She opened one eye. Chip still stood there and she still held the package.

“But, Chip?” Her palm moved up to cradle her jaw as she stumbled over a response. “What’s this all about?”

“Beats me. I’m just the delivery boy, but call Jean if you need anything. Okay then, I’m off.” Chip scooted out the door. Meg watched him leap over a snow bank and jog to his truck. Dual plumes of exhaust puffed behind it as he tore out of the driveway.

When the truck was no longer visible, Meg turned away. Robert, what this time? Meg pulled the paper off as she walked back to the family room, leaving a trail of gold foil. With an index finger, she stroked the white label on the gift, a DVD. “For Meg, Merry Christmas.” It was Robert’s scrawl. She cradled the DVD in her hands and drew it to her chest. Maybe he transferred a copy of their wedding video. After a few minutes, she popped it into the player, unable to wait. Whatever was recorded, she had to see it.

Meg grabbed the remote and teetered inches away from the screen.

Robert looked at her, his face drawn and gray.

“Hi honey, I guess if you’re watching this, I must be dead.”

 

The book is available at Astraea Press – http://www.astraeapress.com/#!/Shifting-Gears-by-Sarah-Kohnle/p/34020382

And all the regular online outlets –

Amazon, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IID45OI/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb

 

About the Author:

As an award-winning journalist, Sarah Kohnle covered stories across the Midwest. She’s been a reporter/editor for several years and has multiple publishing credits to her name in newspapers, trade magazines, and corporate newsletters. Currently, she is managing editor for a state association for teachers. One of her passions is serving in Honduras as a short-term missionary with World Gospel Outreach in Tegucigalpa providing medical, dental and optical services.

Her roots were planted in North Dakota and she and her husband currently reside in Missouri.