You Can Come Home Again by Sandy Semerad

     Thomas Wolfe haunted me on my way to Geneva, Alabama. Wolfe wrote You Can’t Go Home Again, which was published after his death. The main character is an author, who discovers he’s not welcome in his hometown. He’d written about his town and its people, and they are angry enough to kill him.

     

     Thinking about this, my imagination went wild. As many writers, I’ve used creative license and the backdrop of my hometown Geneva, for scenes in Sex, Love and Murder and Hurricane House.

     

     In my latest book, A Message in the Roses, I wrote about a murder trial I covered as a reporter. That book is set in Atlanta, but many of its characters share traits and backstories of people I’ve known.

     Before I arrived in town, the Geneva Reaper ran an article on me and my books. The newspaper also stated that authors, craftsmen and artists would descend on Robert Fowler Memorial Park to celebrate Total Recall, Oct. 10. Anyone who had ever attended school in Geneva had been invited back. Tents and tables would be set up, where a variety of vendors and alumni were expected to gather.

     Like other southern towns, Geneva has fascinating personalities. Some of my dearest friends live there or nearby. This town (population about 4,300) is  renowned for the Constitution Oak, the oldest and largest live oak tree in the United States. Possibly the largest in the world. This oak has lived at least 500 years. It is 75 feet tall. The tree’s branches spread approximately 175 feet.

  

     Homecoming day in Geneva was hot and humid. No breeze rustled the stalwart branches of the Constitution Oak.

     Breeze or no breeze, I eagerly anticipated visiting with old friends, even though one friend had asked,“Remember the lady you mentioned in your first book, the one who hated your mother’s piano playing, the one who slept with the preacher?”

     I froze, unable to respond.

     “I knew that woman,” she added.

     In light of what happened in Thomas Wolfe’s book, I felt the need to explain myself. “I made up that story. I’m always making up stories in my head. As a child, I entertained myself by making up stories.”

     As my friend quietly studied me, I expounded on my entire writing process. I wanted her to know, I didn’t intentionally defame real life people in my books.

      I went on to explain how I write a back story for the main characters and give detailed descriptions. “I outline on note cards. Outlining keeps me on track,” I told her.

“When I begin the process of writing and typing the story, I’m in a zone,” I said. “I think I know my characters, but they’re always surprising me.”

“How long does it take you to write a book?” she asked.

“It depends. Once I’ve completed a rough draft, I read through the story again and fill in gaps. If I find common themes, I try to accentuate and weave those themes throughout. I’m always trying to create more conflict. And I ask my husband to read it and give suggestions. I also ask my writer friends to be brutally honest with their critiques. I’ve learned I can’t shove my baby out in the world before she’s ready. It’s helpful to let the manuscript sit for a week or two and come back to it with fresh eyes. Then I rewrite and rewrite and pray for perfection.”

            After I finished explaining my writing process, my friend said, “Hurry up and finish the sequel to A Message in the Roses. I want to know what happens to Carrie Sue and Marcus.”

            I hugged her and thanked her for reading my books. “It was great seeing you again,” I said. “Wonderful being back home in Geneva.” 

And indeed it was.

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A Book Signing to Remember By Sandy Semerad

     As husband Larry and I drove from Santa Rosa Beach to my book signing at the BAM store in Destin, Florida, I had a flashback. 

     I remembered a story Robert Crais told years ago. Crais is an award winning novelist of detective fiction. At one time, he wrote television scripts for shows like Hill Street Blues, Cagney & Lacey, Quincy, Miami Vice and L.A. Law.

     

     Many readers would be honored to buy his books and have him autograph them, I thought. But apparently that wasn’t the case at a Walmart store, according to what Crais told a group at Sleuthfest, where he was the keynote speaker.

     

     He aggressively hawked his books and tried to engage customers, he said. He’s say stuff like, “Do you like detective fiction. Do you like mysteries?”

     

     One man replied, “No,” and then asked Crais to help him find the fishing gear, he said.

     I pushed that memory out of my head and told myself, my book signing would be successful. I was determined. I believed in my book, my baby, and I wanted everyone to read A Message in the Roses.

     Larry and I arrived about 30 minutes early. I placed six blue pens on the table beside a stack of my books. I was determined not to run out of ink.

     We put the bookmarks and an address book on the table and placed my poster on an easel. Luckily, the store positioned me near the front door. Before long, a potential customer walked in.

      Larry went into action. He sounded like a carnival barker, “This is your lucky day,” he shouted. “Author Sandy Semerad is autographing her critically acclaimed book, A Message in the Roses.”

     As he led this unsuspecting and somewhat stunned woman toward me, I asked her, “Do you like romantic thrillers?”

     “I prefer nonfiction,” she said.

      “Well, then, you might enjoy A Message in the Roses,” I said, motioning, in Vanna White fashion, toward the stack of books. “It’s loosely based on a murder trial I covered as a newspaper reporter in Atlanta.”

     I handed her a bookmark. She glanced at it and then picked up one of my books.

     We began a conversation. I asked her to sign my address book and said, “I’d be happy to autograph a copy of my book for you.”

     And so it went.

     With other signings, I’d learned to autograph on the title page, and I knew I darn sure needed to ask each person how to spell his or her name.

     I'd also learned to ask, “How should I autograph this?”

     Most people respond with, “Write whatever you want.” But I think it's important to write something personal, and it's easier to do that if you've shared conversation.

     I’ve been told it’s best to have a person write out instructions to the author on what to say. I’m sure that’s good advice, but I didn’t do that.

     After I signed the books, Larry snapped our photos. That is, if they agreed to have their picture taken. If they did, I later e-mailed the photos to them, and tagged their names after posting on Facebook.

      Everyone at BAM was supportive. One of the employees, with the voice of a broadcaster, kept announcing, “Author Sandy Semerad is in our store signing her latest book A Message in the Roses.” She added blurbs about my book to entice customers. I complimented her later. 

     Should I have written my own announcement? Perhaps, but luckily, she did a superb job.

    After the signing, I got the store’s approval to autograph the remaining copies that didn’t sell. I’m hoping they’ll display them, prominently, with the bookmarks I left behind. Maybe they’ll place an “autographed copy” sticker on them. Did I mention I’m a hopeful optimist?

     I thanked the BAM employees and a couple of days later, I called to thank them again. As an afterthought, I sent a photo taken with the staff to the BAM marketing site with a brief e-mail about the signing. 

     Maybe I should send a snail mail letter to the store and include more bookmarks. I want them to remember my books and keep promoting them.

     Weeks before I started trying to arrange book signings, I asked Michelle Lee to design my bookmarks. These were helpful in getting the signings in the first place, I think. (I gave a copy of the bookmark with a press release and a list of distributors to the managers of two books store and asked them to order my books.)

    I downloaded the bookmark to Printing for Less. I should have ordered more than 500. I’m almost out. I’ve been distributing them like crazy.

     For the signing, I knew I’d need a poster. So PFL created one on foam board, not cheap, but sturdy. It looked sharp on the easel, I thought. The poster has my book covers and a promo blurb under each and my photo.

     The poster arrived in time, but not the postcards, I'd ordered. I should have ordered them a month before. They came the week of my signing, and I was working out of town. My poor husband distributed them as best he could.

     Two weeks prior, after I checked to make sure the BAM store had the books, I e-mailed a press release to local newspapers. I also created an event on Facebook and other sites and invited everyone.

     There were a few things I wish I’d done. 

     I should have placed a copy of my book with bookmarks at the cash registers. I should have asked Larry to hand out book marks and a copy of my book to customers we didn’t catch at the door. I was too busy hustling those who came in to do that myself.

     And maybe I should have placed a bowl of chocolate candy on my table or held a drawing to win a gift, perhaps a free book. I’m thinking I might do these things at my next one, which is Saturday, Sept. 27, at the Destin, Florida Barnes and Noble.

     A lady from B&N has already called to say my books are in. Wish me luck. I wish you could come by and spread the love. #booksigning  #AMessageintheRoses

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You want to be happy? By Sandy Semerad

“You want to be happy. We all do. You just need to figure out how to get there. I don’t think any one person can make you happy. Only you can make yourself happy,” said Freemont Jackson, one of my characters in A Message in the Roses… “As to being content long-term, that has to come from within.”

Easy to say or write about, but how do we actually achieve that long-term contentment?  

A Benedictine monk claims the answer is simple. We need to slow down, look where we’re going and be grateful.

If we stop and look before we go, we can better take advantage of the opportunities life has to offer, Monk David Steindl-Rast said on a recent NPR program. And if we miss one opportunity, another one will come along soon, according to Monk David.

“Grateful people are joyful people,” he said. “If we’re grateful, we’re not fearful. If we’re not fearful, we’re not violent.”

A long time ago, I discovered I’m happier when I count my blessing, though for many years, I searched for bliss, and I’ve listened to my share of happiness experts. One such expert, Author Shawn Achor, said we would all be happier if we do the following activities every day:

1. Think of three new things for which you’re thankful. Repeat this exercise for 21 days so the practice will become habitual. Also share your gratitude with your significant other and friends. Then ask them to reveal their three new blessings. Sharing doubles your happiness, he said.

2. To double your optimism, take two minutes to write down your gratitude and your most meaningful experiences. Again do this every day for 21 days.

3. Add 15 minutes of a fun activity to your day, Achor said. This must be a physical activity like walking the dog or gardening. (I love walking my dog P-Nut. She definitely knows how to live in the moment. I think she’s trying to teach me. Of course, I’m always in the moment when I’m writing.) Achor didn’t include hugging and making love as fun activities. They certainly qualify. (I know Carrie Sue Justice, my protagonist in A Message in the Roses, would think so).

4. Smile at least three times every day. Smiling increases the serotonin in the brain apparently.

5. Get social, if you want to charge your happiness battery. People can motivate you more than anything, Achor said. So take time to encourage and motivate others. In other words, spread the happiness.

I like the idea of spreading happiness. If only we could somehow, magically, make everyone in the world more grateful, unafraid, nonviolent, and ultimately content. Swoosh, just make it happen. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? #happiness

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Elvis Remembered By Sandy Semerad

Everytime I hear Elvis' music or watch one of his movies, I remember the first time I saw him. He was my first crush. Maybe that’s why my romantic heroes have features similar to the King of Rock and Roll. 

I can still hear myself swoon. It was a hot, summer night near Sarasota, Florida.

I had not reached puberty yet, but I realized I was close to it when the lean, mean "Memphis flash" walked out on a rickety stage, attacked the microphone, hiked up one side of his mouth and shimmied down into a split. He looked handsome and pure one minute, animalistic and sexy the next, while singing in the voice of an angel.

I didn't know it then, but he personified American rock and roll. How could I know? I was a kid, attending a day camp. Mother drove me and my sister and members of my swim team to see our heartthrob. His songs had inspired us while performing our water ballets.

We were certain Elvis loved women. His told us so in song. He was always wanting to love us and wanting us to forgive him. How could we NOT love him back?

That night, so many moons ago, Elvis surveyed the crowd with an amused look. Our screams made him laugh.

But when the music began, he was transformed into another dimension. He was a wild man, a tiger out of control, stalking his prey with song.

He was the American dream, a sharecropper and truck driver's son who found fame and fortune. He represented the future, the integrated South. He seemed both black and white.

That night, the microphone and a string from his guitar gave way to his wild gyrating performance. I screamed myself hoarse and my knees felt week. Yet, I'm pleased to say I didn't faint as others in the crowd did.

It was a night I will never forget, and I feel fortunate I was able to see him then and a number of times after that, even though I later realized he was in trouble.

When he died, I came to the conclusion he was a bundle of contradictions, sort of like the American South.

He spoke out against drugs but he died from a heart attack brought about by drug abuse.

He loved Jesus and his mother. Yet, he cheated on the women in his life.

He was a law and order man who broke the law when it suited him.

He was a tragic figure who has been idolized the world over in spite of the public's knowledge of his real life.

He was a millionaire many times over but the Southern abject poverty from which he sprang was always present. He was America's first Southern rock hero. Yet he disliked hard-rock music.

He gave the world and its people a part of the South we will never forget, and I couldn't resist resurrecting his image in my books.

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