Sleep Over at the Library, Anyone? by Eileen O'Finlan

 

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Has anyone ever told you to picture your "happy place?" They want you to imagine a spot where you feel perfectly comfortable, tranquil, and at home. When I picture my happy place, one image that often comes to mind is my town library. Only in my imagining, I'm the only one there. I'm sitting in one of the comfy chairs in the section they have set up to look like a living room. I've got a mug of hot cocoa topped with mounds of whipped cream on the table next to me, my cat lounging nearby, and the whole library all to myself. In this fantasy, it's winter. The untrodden snow is piled up outside while a toasty fire crackles in the fireplace. I can read as much and for as long as I want completely undisturbed. Paradise!

As is probably obvious, I have a deep love for books and libraries. I'm especially fond of the old libraries often found in small towns. I recently had the thought that it would be fabulous if someone would turn an old library into a B&B, one where you can kind of camp out in the library. The thought was so delicious, I decided to Google it because, you know, if a thing exists, you'll find it on Google.

Sure enough, there are such places! Be still my heart! 

Here are a few I found especially inviting:

Carnegie Hall Boutique Library

Gladstone's Library

The Library Suite

And this one in my beloved Vermont!

If you're reading this blog, you probably love books and libraries, too, so why not consider a library get away! Happy reading!

My experiences living on a converted liveaboard boat inspired the first chapter in The Immoral by Jay Lang

 

The Immoral

Jay Lang

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http://bookswelove.net/lang-jay/

       My inspiration for this chapter came from my years living on my boat, a converted liveaboard that I moored in Deep Cove, B.C. For the four and a half years I called the boat my home, I saw more natural beauty in the magic of nature than I ever saw while living on land. I really wanted to let readers see what I had. I found it very comforting to go back into my memories and create the setting to this chapter.

Chapter One

The sound was intentional, unmistakable. I am not alone. I slowly rise from the narrow cot and tiptoe through the small cabin, overwhelmed with the feeling of impending doom. With each doorway I pass, my breathing stops and my heart pounds as I anticipate someone lunging from the darkness. A sliver of light from the crescent moon casts a dusty blue glow through the grimy windows and illuminates the front door—freedom. Carefully, I glide forward. I’m almost there. Heart pounding and legs weak, I reach out and touch the small round doorknob. I’ve made it. Then, the floor creaks from behind and a wave of terror rushes over me. My back tightens and I freeze, as though a cold hand has clutched the back of my neck. Terrified, I turn to face my fate.

* * *

Semi-conscious, I open my eyes and take a deep breath. The air is thick with ozone. I roll onto my side and look out the window. Angry clouds churn above the small cove. Electricity fills the pilothouse and the hair on my arm stands on end. Instinctively, I grab my phone from the pillow and check for any texts. Nothing from Kara. I get out of bed, struggling to keep my balance as the boat rocks. The wind whipping across the bay generates swells that slap hard against the hull as I walk out onto the stern to check the ropes and set down extra buoys between the dock and the boat. Hard sprays of sea water sting my face as gusts of wind push against me. 4 Back inside, I wipe my wet face on my sleeve and sit at the settee to catch my breath. I glance at the clock and see that it’s 4 AM. Considering the storm that’s brewing, there’s no way I’m going to get back to sleep.

Since I have to be up at 5:30 for work, I decide to gather my things and drive to the 24-hour café in the village, where I’ll hang out until my shift starts. I work as an emergency dispatcher for the local police station. After thirty-seven calls and a half-pot of coffee, all before lunch, I’m running on pure adrenaline and caffeine. I can’t wait for the day to be over when I can climb onto my boat and into my bed. About an hour before my shift ends, a call comes in from a woman, requesting to speak with an officer. She sounds panicked. I ask her what the nature of her complaint is. The woman tells me her teenage daughter, Molly, has been missing for four days. She says she wasn’t worried until she went into Molly’s laptop and found a conversation between her and an older man.

I was inspired to write about Molly after learning about the overwhelming number of girls that are lured away from the safety of their homes by online predators.

 I quickly put her call through to an available officer. A nauseous feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. I’ve only been working at the police station for a year and although I never deal with the people face-to-face, some of the calls stay with me long after my shift ends. After I’ve signed out, I’m making my way to my locker when I hear my boss calling my name.

The Cinderella Princess. Anne Stuart Future Queen of England Part One by Rosemary Morris

 

To learn more about Rosemary and her work please click on the cover.

At heart I am a historian. Before I begin writing a #classi#historical#omance I research the background. I hope you will enjoy this month’s insider blog based on my notes.

When Anne, Stuart was born on the 6^th February1665 neither her uncle, the second King Charles, nor her father, James, heir to the throne, imagined she would become Queen. The king’s seven illegitimate children proved his virility. There was every reason to believe he and his queen Henrietta Maria who he married three years ago, would not have legitimate heirs If they did not, James and Anne, the Duke and Duchess of York’s son would succeed. Unfortunately, he only lived for six months.

Infant mortality was high. Fortunately, Anne and her older sister, Mary, survived the Great Plague, which broke out in the year of the Cinderella’s birth. The little princesses grew up in their nursery but their brother James, a younger brother and two little sisters died. One can imagine the effects of these deaths on a small girl suffering from poor health, whose weak eyes watered constantly.

With the consent of Anne’s uncle, the king, her parents sent the four-year-old to her grandmother, widow of the executed first Charles, who now lived in France, to have her eyes treated.

A portrait of the Anne as a small girl painted by an unknown artist at the French Court depicts a plump, adorable little girl, dressed in brocade and playing with a King Charles spaniel. Yet her eyes, set in an oval face with a mouth shaped in a perfect cupid’s bow, are wary.

 

* * *

 

Rosemary Morris’ #classic#historical#romance novels set in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign – 1702 -1714

 

Far Beyond Rubies.

Tangled Love

The Captain and The Countess

The Viscount and The Orphan

 

With firmly closed bedroom doors, the reader can relish the details of emerging romances.

 

* * *

 

 

To purchase my novels choose an online click onto the book cover to choose an online bookstore at https:bwlpublishing.ca/morris-rosemary.

 

To read the first three chapters please visit my website. www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

To Curmudgeons by Julie Christen

Here's to all the curmudgeons in my life, including the one you will meet in Nokota Voices coming in April.

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Julie Christen Author Page

To Curmudgeons by Julie Christen

I know a man who’s not what he seems.

On the outside, in fact, he looks downright mean.

His brow is all crinkled in the shape of a V.

His mouth is a grimace. He sure acts cranky.

Hands crammed in his pockets or crossed over his chest.

Stand-offish. Skeptical. Unimpressed.

Mad at the world? Just mad at you?

Mad about change and politics too.

A crabby old man, just mean to the bone.

Wishing that we would all leave him alone.

But …

Hidden in shadowy depths unseen

Lie stories of pain and places he’s been.

He loves with his whole heart. Mourns those he’s lost.

He’ll fight to the death for you - damn the cost.

His hands are gnarled, tender and strong

To pray, caress and work all day long.

Wisdom courses through his veins.

So much knowledge. Zero fame.

He’s been there, done that. Got the t-shirt and then some.

He’s a man with a story, not just a curmudgeon.

So next time you see him, maybe give him a chance 

To prove he’s much more than you see at first glance.

Editing essentials by donalee Moulton

 Editing essentials
Revising, reworking, revitalizing

Great writers don’t need an editor. They demand one. What first-rate writers understand is that another pair of eyes or a fresh pair of eyes are essential to successful communication. This second looks brings a new perspective, the distance that only time (even a little time) can offer, and renewed energy to improve content.

Let’s try this exercise. You’ll need a piece of paper, 8.5” x 11” if possible. Now transform that flat piece of paper into the world’s most wonderful flying machine. The goal is to fly as far as possible. Take a few minutes to play with different designs, then stand up and launch your creation. How far did it go?

Now let’s rethink, or edit, the exercise. What did your flying machine look like? Something similar to a paper airplane?

Let’s review the instructions, the language. Nowhere did it say to build a paper airplane. It said a flying machine. The goal was distance. What would be an easier way to build a flying machine? What would get us great distance?

Crumpling the paper into a ball would.

That’s what editing does. As we write, whether for a reader or a listener, we dive in. Ideas flow. We create content. We think about our audience. We identify important points to make. We’re in the midst of our content, our characters, and our creativity.

When we edit, we take a step back. We come up for air. We have a different perspective – and a draft on which to overlay a fresh set of eyes. Even short pieces of writing should be edited. We need to think before we walk away. We need to give ourselves time to review and revise. To take one last read through (or think through). You’ll be surprised at what you missed or decide to revise.

Editing is essential to clear, concise, compelling writing. But editing isn’t just one thing. Just as pizza isn’t just one thing. There is deep dish pizza with red carnival spinach. Thin crust pepperoni and Bloomsdale spinach. New York-style pizza with Tyee spinach. Notice though that although the type of pizza is different there are common elements.

That’s also true when it comes to editing. There are three broad types: substantive editing, stylistic editing, and copyediting.

I thought we could spend a little time exploring these different types of editing in future blogs. Until then, I’d love to hear from you about your editing process, what drives you nuts, what makes your heart sing.