Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #Poem #writing

Meander 1 - Poem

You called today
And filled a need
I know I'm not forgotten
With friends going
In rapid haste
From where I am.
I was blue.
Thanks for hearing
My silent call.
I feel better now.

Meander 3 - Reading - I'm re-reading a collection of books by a single author. Bujold creates a wonderful world with characters who are interesting and a world that though foreign draws me in. Atevi and their world and I feel as if I'm learning so much.

Meander 3 - Writing - I have really slowed down but the rough draft is finished and if I could get rid of this neck pain I could move forward rapidly. There are six more of those chapters to type in but typing makes the neck ache. This too will pass.

Sunday's Book - Temple of Fyre #MFRWauthor #fantasy

Sold by her family to the priestesses of the Temple of Fyre, Ria soon masters using each of the four fyrestones, white, yellow, orange and scarlet. Her curiosity leads her to the archives and there, she learns things that disturb her. There are no men serving as priests but in the past there were. Men are kept in the harras where the priestesses visit. On the day of her testing she is ordered to perform a task she dislikes and refuses to destroy a town. Many of the priestesses fall into unconsciousness. Melera, the chief priestess, beats and banishes Ria for the carrion crows to consume.

Ari was abandoned as a child and found by two elderly firestone miners. He has pursued this and is the best of the finders. He goes to the temple to sell the stones he has gleaned. On leaving, Ria attempts to steal the fyrestone he has worn since the day he was found. He thinks she is a boy and a thief and he takes her to his room at the inn. On discovering her identity, he refuses to turn her over to the priestesses and they leave town. They are searching for the fabled blue fyrestones. They also learn to use them they must be bonded physically, emotionally and spiritually. Can they learn to master the blue stones and defeat Malera so they can rule the temple with love and understanding?

Saturday's Blurbs feature Books by Karla Stover #mfrwauthor #mystery #history

From Tacoma Curiosities: Geoduck Derbies, The Whistling Well of the North End, Alligators in Snake Lake and More: When the Northern Pacific Railroad laid its final tracks within the fledgling hamlet of Tacoma, it brought opportunity and wild characters by the car full. Seemingly overnight, the Puget sound village transformed into a booming metropolis and eccentric playground with its fair share of growing pains. On one unlucky evening, residents awoke to the cries of a man who fell into the sewers after a road collapsed. Tacoma’s first school avoided demolition for a time thanks to a band of enterprising tramps who converted the place of learning into the Hotel de Gink, complete with unique minstrel shows. . . . these and many more stories [are part] of the quixotic and curious history of the City of Destiny.

From: Murder: When One Isn’t Enough: When Mercedes Mackaill has a month off work in which to house and dog sit at a waterfront home, she soon finds that too much of her own company palls. Then the body of an old woman is pulled from the water in front of where she is staying and Mercedes discovers she’d talked to the woman just days before the drowning. An unexpected meeting with Dorsey Finch, the victim’s tenant, leads to [their investigating] the woman’s strange past—a story reaching back to 1940-s Hollywood and a well-known house on Nob Hill in San Francisco.

From A Feather for a Fan: In the late 1870s, twelve-year old Hildy Bacom and her family leave Pennsylvania and head west to New Tacoma in Washington Territory, a community that is barely four years old [and] with a population of approximately one hundred and fifty. New Tacoma is very different from Pennsylvania, but gradually Hildy adjusts to her new life and makes friends with some unusual people: Mrs. Money, who runs her store with a parrot on her head; Miss Rose, a lady of questionable reputation; and especially Nell Tanquist. With Nell or alone, Hildy has adventures—with a bear, a skunk, and a lost Chinese baby, among others. Then Hildy’s life is complicated by two unexpected events: her growing feelings for the French-Indian boy Samuel, and her cousin, Elsie, who arrives unexpectedly with a problem no one will talk about. The challenges of hew new life force Hildy to draw upon inner resources she didn’t know she had.

Friday's Guest - featuring Karla Stover - Heroes, Heroines and Villains #MFRWauthor #Villains #Heroes

  To kill a conversation, tell people you’re a history nut. Generally, their eyes glaze over. I don’t know why I am so attracted to ye olde days. I certainly wouldn’t want to live without modern medicines and conveniences, but history it is in my writing—both fiction and non-fiction.

     When I wrote my two murder mysteries, I set them back a mere twenty-five years to avoid what I call “the cop-out” of using computers and cell phones to ferret out clues. I’ve noticed a lot of writers are doing that now. My first historical fiction book, A Feather for a Fan, took me to Tacoma in the 1870s, and I had the fun of reading local newspapers from the period, striving for accuracy. I’ve read so many old newspapers, magazines, and memoirs, I’m really critical when reading today’s historical fiction. That being said, if it is well-written, I will read anything and try to pick up helpful tidbits. The one exception is Sci-fi. I don’t like it and have never seen Star Wars. How’s that for being a total Luddite? The closest I come to the genre is a good ghost story, and even they “harken back” to another time. Sadly, that genre seems to be out of favor.

     I’ve been asked if I’m a fount of ideas, do my fingers flow over the keys ( I wish ), and which characters I prefer to write? Heroes are the hardest for me; I find it difficult to create a sensitive but manly man. To do so, I try and give him as little dialogue as possible because I can’t think like a man in order to come up with realistic dialogue. I have been known to eavesdrop on men talking at coffee shops, but mostly for my heroes, actions speak louder than words. For descriptions, I think of my favorite actors. That’s not as easy as it sounds. Take Brad Pitt’s features, one by one: eyebrows and narrow eyes that slant down at the corners, a nose that flares out at the nostrils, and a thin upper lip and full lower lip. The description doesn’t sound that great, but, oh, the package

     Villains are fun but it is important to give them some good traits; even serial killer Ted Bundy worked on a suicide hotline. Mrs. Danvers in the book and movie, Rebecca was wonderful. I love, when she’s talking to the second wife: “You're overwrought, madam. I've opened a window for you. A little air will do you good.” Yikes! It’s a second story window.


     My heroines are mostly me, which doesn’t always work out well.  Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes was one of my heroes because he was plain talking. Unfortunately, I’ve been known to make my women sound like him—a bit cynical. Like author Gil McNeil, I put most of my sarcasm in inner dialogue, but it’s something of which I’m always aware.

     In one of the Anne of Green Gables book, Anne is writing a story to enter in a competition. She tells her neighbor, Mr. Harrison, about the story, saying her heroine isn’t very unmanageable. The Mr. Harrison doesn’t understand and probably most non-writers don’t know that our characters quickly take on their own personalities, and manipulating them isn’t always easy. A friend of mine who is a Tarot card reader read the cards for the protagonist, Mercedes, in my first murder mystery, Murder on the Line, and nailed the way Mercedes was emerging, but the description wasn’t how I had envisioned her.

     A Feather for a Fan came out just before Christmas. The heroine is a young girl, the hero is a teenage boy who is part French and part Native American, and the villains are distances and time. I’m working on the sequel and the villain is a smuggler—much more traditional.

     I have a blog on Blogspot, a website on weebly, and a Twitter account but no time to keep them up. I’m always available on Facebook under my name, Karla Stover (that’s pretty easy). The disadvantage to writing is that it is a lonely occupation, so I’m always glad to hear from someone.

Thursday's First and Second Scenes - Murder and Herbal Tea #MFRWauthor #cozy mystery #herbal tea

A Bridal Bouquet Planned

During the second week of June, Lars arrived in the Hudson River village where I live and where he had a home. The houses in Santa Fe had sold quicker than he expected but he’d kept the ski lodge for his family and mine to use.

The time had come for our plans to marry to reach fruition. Though I suggested we elope, Lars wanted a wedding. I gave in to his desire. We set the date for a Wednesday in mid-August. While discussing where to live, a house I’d admired located just two blocks from my “Painted Lady” came on the market. Lars and I purchased the house jointly using my attorney for the deal. That’s when the problems began.

Lars called me on a warm June morning. “Katherine, are you free tomorrow?”

“I’ve nothing planned.”

He released a long breath. “Call Richard and have him meet us at Barnes and Jones.

“Why?”

“George is upset. He thinks we need some kind of prenuptial agreement.”

I sighed. While I’m no romantic, the thoughts of legal squabbling made me uneasy. “Must we?”

Lars laughed. “Wouldn’t want George to appear in the middle of the ceremony and protest.”

“I’ll call Richard. What time?”

“One o’clock.”

* * * * *

By two thirty on Wednesday, a scream rumbled through me, one I couldn’t let loose. Lars’ attorney droned on in a voice void of expression. Why had I agreed to this meeting? I looked across the wide, highly polished table at the man who would be my husband six weeks from today. Tall, tanned with a craggy face and hair now more gray than blond. His blue eyes twinkled and he pressed his lips together to hide a smile.

I clenched my teeth. I wouldn’t scream. This meeting was my punishment for marrying a man of wealth. Oh, I’m comfortable enough but my fortune runs to hundreds of thousands, not millions.

Just give me the papers and I’ll sign. Those words hovered close to my lips. My foot tapped against the thick carpet in an impatient rhythm.

Then the attorney mentioned the house. A sprawling ranch with a magnificent view of the Hudson River Lars and I had jointly purchased. I’d admired this house for years but never thought to own the place where I could sit in the living room, dining room or master bedroom and watch the river’s changing moods.

“Why wasn’t I informed about this purchase,” George Jones asked. “Lars, you must protect your assets.”

My patience evaporated like dew beneath the summer sun. “Excuse me. Lars and I are adults and able to make decisions. I don’t see why our joint ownership is a bad idea. We contributed equal amounts for the purchase.”

The pompous man huffed. “You must think of your heirs.”

“Why?” The question erupted like a shot from a gun. “Neither Lars or I will be around to worry about them when that time comes. Let them fight over the dregs.”

Lars burst into the laughter he’d contained earlier. “She’s right. Just split the house down the middle. Half to her heirs and half to mine.”

For a moment George sputtered. He ran his hand over his balding head. “But what if one of you outlives the other?”

“The same rule will apply.” I leaned across the table and snagged the large pile of papers.

Beside me Richard Broadhurst, attorney and fiancé of my first floor tenant, nodded. “Mrs. Miller is right. Let them sign and we’ll be done.”

The next half-hour was filled with signatures, witnesses and the thud of the notary seal. I signed the last paper and turned to Lars. “Next time I’ll marry a pauper.”

He walked around the table and kissed my cheek. “We should have eloped.”

“I wanted to years ago but we didn’t. We still could. Blame our families for the delay.” I smiled.

He shook his head. “We’ve waited too long for this.” A moment of sadness slid through his blue eyes. I clasped his hand to show I understood. He’d thought about his only daughter’s betrayal and death. Though Bonnie’s tantrums had prevented our marriage fifteen years ago, he had loved her. “Let’s go.”

Lars nodded to George. “Golf next week.”

“What about Saturday?”

“Have a date.” Lars clasped my hand.

Richard gathered his papers and followed us outside. “Call you later.”

A warm breeze carried the scent of roses and raised my spirits. I walked with Lars to the parking lot where our cars were parked.

“That’s done.” He chuckled. “Never realized how boring George was. You’re the first person to force him into agreeing to stop pushing. I’m sure he had more points to negotiate. Where are you going?”

“Home to cook. Drink a gallon of iced mint tea.”

“I thought we could go for coffee. We have other decisions to make like where to honeymoon.”

My stomach churned. “Not today. I’m going home. Come to dinner. We’ll talk then.”

He shook his head. “Can’t. My oldest boys and their wives are joining Don and me to choose which pieces of furniture and knickknacks they want from the house. Come and select any of the furnishings you want.”

Though I knew he wanted my company, his house held his memories, not mine. I clasped his hands. “No need. We made a list, remember? I chose the things from my apartment and you choose from yours.”

“What if I select something you hate?”

“Why would I? This is a partnership.” I opened the car door. “Spend time with your family tonight.” I kissed his lightly. “Come tomorrow. I’ll make beef Wellington and there’s part of a chocolate cake in the freezer.”

“Could you make one for the groom’s cake?”

“I can do that. Until tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.” He pulled me close for a warm kiss. “Until tomorrow. I’ll come around five.”

“I’ll have drinks waiting.”

By the time I reached the house, the desire for a mug of mint tea possessed me. I parked in the driveway and strode up the steps to the porch.

My tenant, Jenna, curled on the white wicker swing with a book. She waved. “Afternoon.”

I continued past. “Talk to you later. I need a drink.”

“Mint tea, of course.” She waved a cell phone. “Richard called. Said the session dragged on forever.”

"How right he is.” I fished my mail from the box and headed upstairs.

The moment I entered the apartment, Robespierre, my Maine Coon cat, butted my ankle. “Hello to you.” I bent and rubbed his head before opening the refrigerator. The level of tea in the glass container showed enough for a quick fix.

After draining the glass and pouring the remainder over the ice, I spilled some dried food in the cat’s dish. Moments later, a kettle sat on the fire and I filled a ball with one of my favorite blends taken from a jar on the pantry shelf. I blend my own teas and grow my own mints. I’d already planted several varieties in the garden at the new house.

By the time a fresh container sat in the fridge, the phone had rung twice. My daughter-in-law wanted to schedule a shopping day for wedding clothes. Ruth laughed. “Andrea wants you to wear a white gown.”

“No way.” Andrea is my granddaughter. She’s into ballet and thinks of every event as a show.

Next, Sarah called to set a date for the shower I didn’t want or need. She rattled on until I stopped her. “I’ll agree if we make the gifts items for the local food pantry.”

“Great.”

“I knew you would approve.” Sarah has a large social conscience and is mother to three and foster mother to two children.

I filled a tall mug with more ice and poured in the fresh brew. The ice crackled. The phone rang for a third time.

Maria, my next-door-neighbor, spoke. “Mrs. Katherine, I would show you the rings I have make for you and Mr. Lars.”

“I’ll come tomorrow. I’m bushed.”

She laughed. “What kind are you?”

Maria’s from Spain and often has confusion with idioms. “No bush, I’m tired.”

“Come for tea in the morning. I will ask Mrs. Sarah.”

I pressed the cool glass to my forehead. Too many cooks wanting to stir the broth of my life. What I needed was an escape, just for a day or two. An idea tickled my thoughts but the fourth call in twenty minutes firmed my resolve. Escape was on the menu. Edward, pastor of St. Stephens; called to finalize the ceremony and the use of Fellowship Hall for the reception, the first of two.

“Katherine, you know how delighted I am to perform this ceremony. Simply delighted. So delighted I have an idea.”

A smile teased. Delighted must be his word of the day. “And that is?”

“St. Stephens’ needs another Elder. I would be delighted to name Lars to help guard our affairs.”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“I will. We’d be delighted to have the two of you for bridge Friday evening.”

“I’m not sure what we have planned.” Jolted by the desperate need to run away from these many managers of my time I sighed. “I’ll let you know.”

“Delighted. We can discuss the wedding arrangements while we play.”

The dial tone sounded before I reminded him I hadn’t accepted. I called Lars to warn him. This done I continued. “I’m leaving on Friday to visit Joyce.”

“Wish I could join you.”

“Why not?”

“Golf weekend with the boys.”

“Enjoy. Edward will call you.”

“I’ll make our excuses. See you tomorrow evening.”

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Feelings #MFRWauthor #writing #feelings

Another quote from Dwight V. Swain's Techniques of the Selling Author. "A story is a succession of motivations and reactions."

Emotions or feelings are what you need in your stories to pull the reader from page one to the end. There is a need to build this from the first word you write. What you need to know is how to build these feelings to make a story. Some writers have this ability as a natural thing but others have to learn the steps.

The first step is about events that happen in the story and how to see if they are good or bad. Take a car accident. Generally thought of as bad but if this brings people together this can be considered good.

You need to look at all aspects of this event and tailor it to the story you are taking. This must be done in a specific way, not in a general way. This must mean something to the characters in your story. How they react is valuable.

The decision is yours so carefully examine every facet of the event.

Tuesday - Looking at Heroes - The Alpha Male #MFRWauthor #Heroes #Am writing

 Some people may completely disagree with me but I don't find thoughts of an alpha male as the hero to be wonderful. Looking at the animal kingdom where alpha males abound makes me wonder how heroic they are.

In the wild, the alpha male takes what he wants when he wants it. He has no weaknesses for if he does another male will take over quickly. The alpha male is spoiled, has no flaws, rules with a heavy hand - teeth and claws preferred. He totally dominates the female and often she is the one doing the kills and providing this male with food. He might decide to help here but he makes sure he receives the best parts of the kill and the others aren't invited to eat until he's done.

While a strong male makes a good heroes but he really needs some faults and some weaknesses. He's sort of alpha but not completely. He will allow the female to have views of her own and he wants to be the provider rather than the man who sits back and allows the female to cater to his every wish.

So how about you? Do you think the total alpha male is a great hero or can he lose some of that alphaness?

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #poetry #writing

Meander 1 Poem

Munchkins
Little people
Tiny tots. Munch kin
And they do
Munch and Munch
The whole day through


Meander 2 - A Pain In The Neck - Literally, I have a pain in my neck. Turning my head from right to left or left to right hurts. So does looking up or down. Hopefully this will go away soon. Taking muscle relaxants helps a bit but blurs the mind. Writing is very, very slow.

Meander 3 - Writing _ I'm nearly finished with the rough draft of Sweet Tea and there's a lot more to be done. I will persevere. There are also three books to make corrections so they will be ready for July when I can send them to my editor. This will happen even though I'm moving slowly.

Sunday's Book - Murder and Herbal Tea #MFRWauthor #cozymystery, #herbal tea

Katherine’s wedding day has arrived and she and Lars make their vows. When she notices one of her best friends hasn’t arrived, she begins to worry. Her friend owns a shop where tea and accompaniments are sold. Her friend’s partner is a micromanager. Katherine’s friend has wanted to dissolve the partnership. A call to the New England town brings the dreadful news of a murder. Kate’s protectiveness factor takes hold and she leaves a note for Lars and heads to rescue her friend. Though she has promised to leave murders alone, she feels she has no choice. Lars follows to help her solve another murder.

Saturday's Blurbs - Books by Mikki Sadil #MFRWauthor #YA #historical

Blurb for THE FREEDOM THIEF

The year is 1859. The place: a hemp plantation in Kentucky. The era: pre-Civil War. Thirteen year old Ben McKenna is fighting a war of his own, with his parents and brothers. He hates slavery. His family own slaves, one of which is a young crippled boy, Josiah, Ben’s best friend. Ben’s father is going to sell Josiah, and the only way to stop this is for the boy and his slave parents to escape. Ben arranges that escape, and leads the four of them into a world of danger, deceit, and desperation. Slave hunters are on their trail, spurred to travel faster and faster because of the huge reward Ben’s father has put up for their return. A dangerous swamp almost kills Josiah; an Abolitionist family pretends to hide them, but in reality, are only waiting for the right moment to sell them back to slave hunters. For months, they are on the run, fighting treacherous virgin forests who have never had a human try to get through; hiding from the hunters and their dogs; fearing for their lives but having to put their trust into people they do not know. Freedom lies on the other side of the Ohio River, but will they live to get there?

Blurb for CHEERS, CHOCOLATE, AND OTHER DISASTERS

Thirteen year old Alyson Joanne Devlin ( better known as AJ ) is quite content with the life she has. After all, she has two BFFs, Jamie and Julie, a Champion Quarter Horse mare, and a pretty neat family, all living in a small, horsey western town in Colorado. What could be better? Then the new girl comes to town, seemingly with nothing more on her mind than to ruin AJ’s life. She intrudes into the close friendship between AJ, Jamie, and Julie, and suddenly, has the J’s, as AJ refers to them, completely on her side, and AJ is shut out. This new girl, Celine Carroll, manages to wrangle the partnership with Julie and Jamie in cheerleading, leaving AJ to partner with the two most unliked girls in school, Lisa and Amberley. The disasters just seem to keep coming: the very unexpected divorce plans of her parents; a near disastrous fall in cheerleading, orchestrated by Celine; her mare come down with colic, the number one horse killer; and finally, Amberley’s death, after she and AJ have become best friends. And all the while, Celine stands by with the same sneer on her face she had when she and AJ first met. Will AJ be able to deal with the psychological bullying by Celine, and the destruction of so many deeply important relationships?

Blurb for LILY LETICIA LANGFORD AND THE BOOK OF PRACTICAL MAGIC

An eleven year old girl in high school. An IQ of 160. An ancient book of practical magic. What could possibly go wrong?

Lily Leticia Langford is eleven years old, has an IQ of 160, and is a freshman in high school. Lily Leticia has long believed that because she is so much smarter than most people…including adults, of course…she can solve most everyone’s problems. IF they would just listen to her. She is an outcast in school, because of her IQ and her age. She is an outcast with kids of her own age, because of her IQ. Lily Leticia’s three best friends in school are also outcasts: Joseph Spotted Elk, because he is an Indian; Kyle, because he is Jewish in an all Christian high school; and Heather, because…well, just because. When Lily Leticia finds an ancient book in the attic of the old Victorian house her family is renting, her friend Joseph warns her not to take it out of the box it is in. He believes the book was written by Indian witches, and is all about “practical magic,” which meant for the Indians, where to find buffalo for food and hides, how to divert winds that would damage their teepees, and so on. Telling Lily Leticia not to do something is pretty much a waste of time. Besides, with her IQ and a book of Practical Magic, just think of all the problems she can solve! Trouble seems to follow Lily Leticia like a puppy dog, but if you think the past was troublesome, just wait for the future!

Blurb for NIGHT CRIES, BENEATH the POSSUM BELLY: Book One

Cries in the night. Whispers against her cheek. Sixteen year old psychic, Gabriela Gaudet, is awakened night after night by these sounds. The traveling carnival/circus that Gabriela’s French-Creole parents own has come to the small town of Dead Man’s Crossing, Iowa, and the cries and whispers have become loud and pleading .Three small girls. A brutal murder. An entire town that has closed ranks and glossed over this terrible crime as though it never happened. Now it’s up to Gabriela to find the killer, and put the souls of these children to rest. A handsome young man, Remi Duvernay, who seems to come out of thin air, and disappears just as fast, wants to help Gabriela in her search for justice. But there are strange forces in this town that work against Gabriela…to say nothing of six gargoyles who apparently come to life at dark, and, while not wanting to hurt the humans, don’t want Gabriela interfering where she doesn’t belong. And then there are the six women in the high school attendance office, who look perfectly normal…except for the tall, cone-shaped hats that each one wears. Accidents begin to happen at the carnival, and suddenly, the trucks and train cars that bring the carnival trappings are disabled, and nothing can be found in the town to fix them. Danger stalks Gabriela in the high school, in the town café, and on the carnival’s carousel. A web of evil surrounds this town, and threatens to envelop her in its sticky strands. Are her psychic powers and her magic great enough to withstand all that work against her? The Possum Belly waits.