Hey everyone, hope you're enjoying your fall whatever the weather is throwing at you. Here in southern Alberta it has been a brilliant gold and blue few weeks. Now that the freak early snowstorm nonsense if over with. The poplars/aspens are golden torches on the mountainsides, pirate's gold against the blue green of the firs and spruce trees. And the sky is that clear Alberta blue that almost seems to burn across the heavens it's so intense.
I volunteer for an animal rescue in Calgary called Alberta Animal Rescue Crew Society, they are a no kill rescue who works closely with the Spay and Neuter Assistance Program(SNAP). Currently I am fostering a lovely momma dog with eleven puppies. They were three weeks old on Oct 13 and are just starting on soft food. Takes about 2 hours to get them all fed, mom fed and walked and the pen cleaned. What a joy they are, all with different personalities and colouring. A few a monster puppies while the majority are medium sized and a couple are quite small. I named them after black colour names because when they were born they all looked black. There is Ebony (F), Sable (F), Onyx (F), Jet (F), Obsidian (F), Midnight (M), Black Jack (M), Ink Spot (M), Brown Eyes (M), Noir (F), Tiger Eye (F)- she is turning out to be a golden brindle colour.
My upcoming release form Books We Love is Christmas Storm, a romance set in Longview, Alberta. The scene stealing dog in the book is based on a number of dogs who have touched my life over the years. The dog, Storm, is dedicated to a black momma dog who didn't live long enough to get rescued. I wish she had been as lucky as Storm. My last rescue dog is a black lab X and I called her Storm in this dog's memory. You'll have to forgive my un-techiness, I can't get the image to rotate properly. Sorry.
I am very excited to share that I am attending the Surrey International Writer's Conference in Surrey British Columbia this weekend. I leave on Thursday morning and am in Jack Whyte's Masters Class at 1:30. I love this class, it will be the fourth year I have participated. Each person submits 3 pages of their work that they would like some feed back on. Jack reads it to the class in his amazing Scottish accent and then there is discussion. The class is limited to 12 people so it is quite fun and a lot of us are regulars which makes it very dynamic. For the last two years I have worked the conference as a presenter,this year I am not presenting so I will have more time to play! There are great workshops and great presenters every year. Friday night is dress up costume night, the theme this year is Spies, Lies and Bad Guys. I am going as a spy, I'll share pictures next month! In the meantime here is my costumes from 2012 (Flapper) and 2013 (Evil Editor)
Saturday night is a massive book signing which is open to the public. If anyone is in the Vancouver/Lower Mainland please come by the Sheraton Guildford and say 'hi'. The book signing is in the Fraser ballroom at 5:30 pm. Some big name authors will be signing their books, Jack Whyte will have the next book in his Guardians of Scotland series available at the onsite Chapters store, Diana Gabaldon of Outlander fame will be in attendance, Anne Perry is another favorite. There are many more, for more information you can check out the conference website Surrey International Writers Conference
I'll share my conference experience with you next time, and keep you updated on the puppy progress. Once they are old enough, the babies will go to separate foster homes to learn about crate training and house training. Momma dog, Missy, will stay with me until she finds her forever home. AARCS has a very through adoption process, so I am confident everyone will find a good home.
Till next time...
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Friday, October 17, 2014
Conferences and Horu's Chosen by Janet Lane Walters - New Release
Wasn't sure what I would write about since I'm undergoing a bit of a split in my personality. I want to shout out about my new release, Horu's Chosen and also talk a bit about conferences. So I've decided to do both.
I used to attend conference after conference and have been to some that are different. This weekend I'll be at New Jersey Romance Writer's conference and this is usually a fun time. Mainly because I get to see old friends and even make new ones. One of my old critique partners is going to be a featured speaker and I really will be glad to see her again. Two of my friends are finalists in a contest and that makes me happy for them. Would love to see them both win. They're competing in different genres so there's a chance.
This made me think. Why do you go to conferences? Do you want to learn new things? Do you want to see your friends? Do you just like to be part of a group? I've been to large conferences and one tends to get lost in the shuffle. Smaller conferences are more fun. One conference I've never wanted to attend is RT. Somehow this isn't my thing. One I really enjoyed was the EPIC conferences and the RWA ones where I've been a speaker. Also a science fiction conference that meets across the river from here. That was fun. Sold a bunch of books and met some new and interesting people.
Now for my second matter. Horu's Chosen was released. Though it was up for pre-sale, I have no idea what that meant or did. This story had an interesting start. When planning the trilogy, and writing the first book, I needed a hero for the second. A few lines in the first book gave me the hero. Seth, an undercover cop. Never realized he was in the first book. There's just a small few lines where he warns the heroine of the first book not to go home. Something in his eyes made her think he wasn't the homeless man he pretended to be. So he came into being, betrayed by his handler and a priest he had to flee and he found his way to another world and another ancient Egypt.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Ring Around the Rosy by Roseanne Dowell
My goal in life was to become a
topnotch journalist. I loved writing. Always had. Ever since I can remember
that’s all I ever wanted to be. Suddenly, the goal was at hand. Within reach. I
got it. My first big byline! I beat out all the other reporters at the scene
and the paper printed my story. MINE!
So… there I was drinking coffee
and reading my story. My headline! GEORGIE PORGIE PUDDING AND DIE by me, Susan
Weston. Word for word just the way I’d written it. I’d been first on the murder
scene the night before, even before the cops, so I got a pretty good look at
the body. Turned out to be a guy I knew from the neighborhood. Not a sight I’m
likely to forget.
It made me feel good that my story got
printed. This was my big chance. Things were going to change now. No more fluff
pieces for me. And then everything went haywire.
The phone rang. Of course I
answered. The voice on the other end sent goosebumps up my arm, down my spine,
and chills down to my toes. It still does. Just thinking about it.
I could hardly hear the caller.
His raspy voice faded out. Something about liking my story and strawberries. I
didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Probably a crank call. But
something about it bothered me.
My life hasn’t been the same
since. To find out what happened, you’re going to have to read my book, Ring
Around the Rosy available from Amazon. http://amzn.to/PjLvDp
Excerpt:
Susan propped the News Gazette on
the counter and focused on the headline. ‘Georgie
Porgie, Pudding and Die’ by Susan Weston, it blared at her. Her headline.
Her story. She’d done it. Finally got her headline. She drummed her hands on
the counter and did a little dance step. She swore if her grin got any wider
her face would crack. .”Susan Weston, journalist!” she shouted. God, she wanted
to shout it from the rooftops.
The phone rang, startling her.
“Who the heck is calling at this hour? “ She grabbed the phone. “Hello.” Bella
rubbed against her legs, waiting to be fed. “Hello?” Susan grabbed the box of
kitty food, filled the bowl, and set it on the floor.
“Hello,” she repeated, ready to
hang up if no one answered this time.
The evil, raspy voice on the other
end sent goose-bumps up her spine. “Who is this?” she whispered.
The voice mumbled something she
could barely hear.
“Strawberries? What are you
talking about?”
“Just for you,” the garbled voice
continued.
“I can’t hear you. Who is this?”
What kind of sick joke is this?
She caught the words, “loved your
headline,” more garbled words, and “Watch for Jack be nimble.” Then the phone
line went dead.
Susan grabbed the counter to
steady herself. Her hand trembled, and she stared at the phone. She dropped the
receiver back into its cradle as if it was on fire. But she couldn’t stop the
trembling. Her stomach churned. Nausea filled her throat. What was wrong with
her? Just someone playing a sick joke. This wasn’t her first crank call, why
react like this? Maybe because none of the others had sounded like this.
He said he liked her story. That
shouldn’t bother her. Something about that voice, so harsh, so evil. It gnawed
at her. The hair prickled on the back of her neck. Something about it seemed
familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
After pouring a cup of coffee,
she read the story under the headline aloud, trying to keep her mind off the
phone call. “Police are investigating the death of thirty-one year old George
Lucas, whose body was found last night in Lagoon Park near his west side home.”
The sound of her shaky voice surprised her.
What was the matter with
her? “Get a grip, girl.”
Must be the effect of seeing the
lifeless body. The way George Lucas’s eyes stared into space. What was he
thinking when he looked into his killer’s eyes? The distant street lamp didn’t
help. It cast an eerie shadow on the victim. His face frozen in terror, lips
parted in a silent scream, and his head tilted to one side as if it was too
heavy for his neck. The way one hand clutched at his throat and the other
gripped the note, fingers frozen around it, sent icy chills through her, even
now. She shuddered.
Thank God there wasn’t any blood,
since the image would forever be embedded in her mind. Susan rubbed her arms to
warm them.
Picking up the paper, she
continued to read. “The coroner will determine the cause of death, but early
reports indicate that Mr. Lucas was strangled. Lipstick was smeared across the
victim’s mouth, and he clasped the nursery rhyme, ‘Georgie Porgie,’ in his
hand. The teen who discovered the body reported seeing a man carrying a bag and
wearing a gray shirt running from the park moments before. Police have no
suspects at this time.”
Bella brushed against her legs,
jumped on the counter, and snuggled against her.
Susan’s heart pounded. She took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. So much for the thrill of seeing her name on
the front page. The image of the body filled her mind. Her hands trembled while
she held the paper and reread the headline with her name below it. It was
exactly as she had written it — not one word changed, short and to the point.
George Lucas lived in her
neighborhood. She’d seen him a few times in Meliti’s Market talking to old Mrs.
Meliti. Although they never spoke, they had nodded and smiled hello.
Nice-looking guy, about her age. What a shock seeing him dead. Another shiver
shook her body. Seeing a dead body was bad enough, but knowing the victim threw
her for a loop. Made it personal.
"One) lucky reader who comments
on my blog will be randomly selected to win an eBook of Ring Around the Rosy.
Good luck!"
Labels:
fiction,
mystery,
romance,
Roseanne Dowell
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
How I found my hero by Sheila Claydon
http://youtu.be/nKSOFuQL5e0
There I was, off to visit friends in the Yorkshire Dales for a weekend of over-eating and dog walking, with absolutely no idea that I was going to meet the hero of my next book!
Visiting the glorious Yorkshire Dales when the weather is good is, indeed, like visiting 'God's own country.' Ask any Yorkshireman. Visiting, as we did, when a blanket of grey mist hung like a pall over the whole landscape, was another story altogether. Walking left us damp and cold with our walking boots inches deep in mud, our trousers spattered with it from ankle to thigh and our hair lank and wet from the moisture swirling in the air around us. And when we climbed to the top of Middleham Low Moor we could have been at the end of the world. The gallops where race horses train most mornings were deserted. There was not a single sound, not a jingle of harness or a creak of leather, not the snorting effort of the horses or the sharp calls of the jockeys, not even the sound of a curlew or the harsh shriek of a pheasant, just that strange cotton-wool silence as the world closed in on us. Think <em>Never-ending Story </em>if you've seen the film, and you'll be close. It was like Fantasia once it had been destroyed by <em>The</em> <em>Nothing</em>, except that in Yorkshire on that day, there wasn't even colour. Just a bleached white-out that hid the wonderful views that we knew lay below us.
Of course the local beer, the pubs that welcome dripping walkers, muddy dogs and wet boots in no particular order, the excellent and abundant yorkshire food, all made up for it, as did the log fires and the hospitality. A delicious lunch of pork belly and apple washed down with beer soon had us putting the world to rights again. And then, right in the middle of everything, serendipity came to call.
I had only just decided that I wanted a musical background in my next book. I hadn't even got as far as deciding what sort of music, and I was still in a dilemma about the hero when...there he was playing jazz piano at a jazz evening that we were taken to later that day, and where we swayed and clapped and drank wine with the best of Yorkshire.
So thank you Yorkshire, thank you Red Stripe Band, and thank you jazz piano player. Don't worry. You won't recognise yourself in the book because it isn't you, so please don't fret and please don't sue! I just needed someone to point me in the right direction and you did it, with your music, your band, and your wonderful enthusiasm...so let's hear it for The Red Stripe Band.
Monday, October 13, 2014
My Cats and Dogs by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey
My Cats and Dogs by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey
I
have always loved cats. When I was a
child we had a gray cat named Smoky. He slept with me most nights and greeted
me at the door when I came home from school. When he was outside and wanted in
he jumped up onto the narrow ledge of the front window and sat down looking in
until someone opened the door. We had him many years and then one day he became
ill. My parents tried to cure him but nothing they tried made him better. He
lost weight and they finally decided to take him to the Pound and have him put
to sleep. It was a cool autumn day when
they put him in a box and set the box on the floor of the back seat. Mom and
Dad and we four kids went to the Pound to drop him off. It was a sad day and we
each took turns saying goodbye.
But he proved to be a tough cat. On a
cold winter morning when mom opened the drapes of the front window, there was
Smoky sitting on the ledge. She quickly opened the door and let him in. We
never found out if he had gotten better at the Pound and escaped or if someone
adopted him and he left them to find his way back to us. He lived another three
years before finally dying.
We then got brother and sister tabby
kittens and I named them Salt and Pepper. They were still around when I married
and moved away. Due to my first husband not liking cats and my son being born
with an allergy to animals, I was unable to have indoor cats. However, after my
daughter was born a collie dog showed up in our yard and we had ourselves an
outdoor dog. Over the years my second husband, Mike, and I had outdoor cats and
dogs but I disliked that they had to stay outside during the cold winter
months.
Shortly after my son’s eighteenth
birthday he came home with a Cockapoo pup which he was not allergic to. When he
graduated in the summer he headed to college and left Chevy with us. Chevy grew
to be about twenty pounds. We had him seventeen years before we had to put him
to sleep.
During that time Mike and I rescued an
abused and starved pup while on holidays in northern B.C. He was about the size
of our little cockapoo and on our two week jaunt home he slept on the bed with
us and Chevy. When we got home I thought Modie would be an outdoor dog. The
first night he howled so long and loud that I let him in the house but made him
stay at the back door landing. That wasn’t what he wanted and he continued
howling until I let him onto the bed where he settled into his spot with Chevy
and us. Even when he grew into a 130 lb, dog he insisted on sleeping on the bed
with us.
During the day Modi followed Chevy
around and grew to idolize him. However, Chevy was less than happy to have
Modie in our family and would turn and snarl at him. Modie thought Chevy was
playing and would run around him excited. If Chevy ignored him, Modie would
trab his tail and pull him backward to get his attention.
Our house had a three bedroom basement
suite that we used for family get togethers and when family and friends came to
visit. Because my son was allergic to Modie we kept the door to the basement
closed so he couldn’t get into it. Since my son was already allergic to one of
my animals I decided to get a cat. A couple we knew in the country had a stray
kitten show up at their place so I went to pick her up. It was a striped tabby
just like the two cats we’d had when I was a teenager. I named her Salt.
Just after that, my sister, Gwen, got a
male tabby and called him Pepper. When she got a female tabby she called her
Saltina. Unfortunately, Salt left us one day and never returned. Mike suggested
that I go to the SPCA and find another cat. I brought home two female cats. One
was a ten month old tabby that I named Saltwo and the other a three month old
gray and white kitten that I called Saltry. So we had two dogs and two cats but
then we had to put Chevy to sleep. Not a happy time in our household.
One day Mike noticed an advertisement in
the newspaper that was looking for a home for a cat that had been left by its
owners when they moved. The cat had survived the winter outside and the people
who found it already had three cats which was the limit allowed per house in
the city. I phoned and then went to pick up the cat. It was a short haired
orange tabby which I named Red. We were now a family of two adults, three cats
and one huge dog.
So those were the animals we had when we
moved from Edmonton to Vancouver Island. We settled on a small acreage and put
up a fence so Modie would remain in the yard. Red and Saltry liked to explore
our acreage as well as the neighbours. Saltwo was more inclined to stay close
to home so it was a real surprise when she got into some poison somewhere and
died.
Once I had recovered from her loss, I
called the SPCA and asked if they had any cats for adoption. One had just come
in. They needed a few days to check her over and then I went to pick her up.
She was six months old and a long haired orange tabby. I decided that I had one
orange tabby named Red so I named my second orange tabby Purple. Saltry took
over from Saltwo as the head of the pride (not sure if that is the word for
domesticated cats) and the others acquisitioned.
The next year when I was doing a book
signing for my first mystery novel at Comox B.C. While waiting for me Mike saw
some cats at an SPCA display. He took me there after my signing. He had looked
at a long haired white cat but I found a tortoise shell cat and decided on her.
Her name was Molly and she had been born in the SPCA and was now two years old.
She had never been outside except to be taken to these displays. When we got
her home I changed her name to Daisy.
Daisy had lived in large cage with three
other cats and was used to cats coming and going in her life. When she saw
Saltry she mewed and went over to her. Saltry was not that friendly with
strange cats and hissed and swatted at Daisy. Daisy stopped in surprise and Saltry
walked away. Daisy next tried Red who was a bit standoffish but friendlier.
After a couple of days, Red had taken Daisy under her wing and was grooming her
and they were sleeping together. Purple didn’t really care that there was a new
member to the family.
It didn’t take her long to figure out
how to go in and out the cat door and she was soon enjoying her taste of
freedom.
About a year later I looked out onto our
front deck and saw a skinny, long haired orange tabby eating the crumbs from
Modie’s treats. I went out but she took off. I found a small dish and put some
cat food in it and left it on the deck. The next day I saw her eating from it.
I went outside to talk to her but she scurried through a hole in the skirting
under our mobile home. I called to her and heard her answer but she never came
out. The next day was the same but this time I went to another opening under
our mobile and talked with her. She answered me and slowly came to me. I picked
her up. She was so light, it felt as if she weighed about three pounds although
she was a full grown cat. I carried her inside to the pails of cat food I leave
out for our cats. She ate but then left again. The next day she was back and
this time after she ate she allowed me to carry her into our bedroom and lay
her on our bed. Over the next three days all she did was sleep, eat, and use
the kitty litter. She became our fifth cat. Even though I was naming our orange
tabbies after colours, this time I couldn’t think of a colour that suited our
latest addition. She was quiet, demure, aloof and just wanted to be left alone
so I named her Lady
By this time Modie was 13 and had very
bad arthritis. He was overweight because we had had to stop our walks, and was
having a hard time walking and standing up when he laid down. We finally
decided it was time to put him out of his misery. Mike took him to the vet and
two days later we had his ashes.
So we were left with five cats. Three
years later Gwen’s cat, Saltina, died. A few weeks later Gwen was at our place
and Lady spent the night with her. Gwen said that if we ever had to get rid of
Lady she would take her. We offered Lady to Gwen and she accepted. So we are
now down to four cats, the same four cats that my husband and I are now on a three
month tour with through the United States.
Illegally Dead
The Only Shadow In The House
Whistler's Murder
I was born in New Westminster B.C. and raised in Edmonton.I have worked as a bartender, cashier, bank teller, bookkkeeper, printing press operator, meat wrapper, gold prospector, house renovator, and nursing attendant. I have had numerous travel and historical articles published and wrote seven travel books on Alberta, B.C. and the Yukon and Alaska that were published through Lone Pine Publishing in Edmonton.
One of my favourite pasttimes is reading especially mystery novels and I have now turned my writing skills to fiction. However, I have not ventured far from my writing roots. The main character in my Travelling Detective Series is a travel writer who somehow manages to get drawn into solving mysteries while she is researching her articles for travel magazines. This way, the reader is able to take the book on holidays and solve a mystery at the same time.
Illegally Dead is the first novel of the series and The Only Shadow In The House is the second. The third Whistler's Murder came out in August 2011 as an e-book through Books We Love. It can be purchased as an e-book and a paperback through Amazon.
i live on a small acreage in the Alberni Valley on Vancouver Island.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
REVIEW WITH CLASS by Rita Karnopp
There’s no reason you
can’t review a book with class and professionalism. A book review is a description, judicious
analysis, and an evaluation of the quality, gist, and impact of a book. It’s so important to realize . . . a book
review is not a retelling. It’s not a book report or a summary.
A book review should
focus on the book's purpose and content. How did the book affect you – the
reader? You should evaluate the
strengths and weaknesses of the how well the author told his/her story. Your review should include a statement of
what the author has tried to do, evaluate how well he/she has succeeded, and
present evidence to support your appraisal.
There’s no right or
wrong way to write a book review. Face it, book reviews are highly personal and
reflect the opinion(s) of the reviewer. Your review can be as short as 50-100
words, or as long as 1500 words, depending on the purpose of the review.
I might add a
personal note here – “If you can’t say something nice, maybe it’s best left
unsaid in public.” If you truly dislike
a book, that’s okay, not every book we read will be our favorite. But chastising a book in a review could make
or break an author. Is that your intent?
I would hope not. If I don’t care for a book I’ve read, I let
it go. It’s not necessary to berate or
trash the book or the author.
The
following is a simple guide for writing a book review that works.
1. Write a statement including basic information
about the book: title, author, type of book.
2. Write a sentence indicating point of
view and genre.
3. Evaluate the quality of the writing
style by using some of the following standards: consistency, clarity, creativity,
strength, pithiness, development, and even fluidity.
4. Ask yourself does the story reach the
intended audience?
5. To me the most important question to
ask yourself – then review from your heart – “how did this book affect me?” Did
you have preconceived notions about the subject matter and now they’ve changed or
perhaps they’re reinforced due to this book?
6. Did the book realize its goal(s)?
7. End your review with the oh-so-important,
‘would you recommend this book to others’? Why?
Remember, your review should include a
brief summary, analysis, and comment on the book’s content. Include your general conclusions. If you feel
strongly to make a statement, use specific references and quotations to support them. And always
end with a comment of support and referral.
Rita Karnopp
Author ~ Romancing the West
ritakarnopp@bresnan.netAuthor ~ Romancing the West
http://ritakarnopp.com
I would say writing is my passion . . . I see a story in just about every situation. I love Native American history and all the lessons it has to offer.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Thinking About to Kill a Mockingbird Karla Stover
To Kill a Mockingbird is
approaching its 45th birthday and the movie its 43rd. I
love both the book and the movie and, like many other people, am curious about
Harper Lee. I read Charles Shields’ biography, I am Scout and just this past week, Marja Mills’ book, The Mockingbird Next Door. Mills’ book was on the best seller list for a
few weeks. Perhaps other readers discovered, as I did, that as writer, Harper
Lee wasn’t a very interesting person. Granted she is older now, but her post-Mockingbird life, seemed to be spent
fishing for catfish, feeding ducks, having coffee with friends, and reading.
According to Mills, she became friendly with Harper’s sister, Alice, during a
routine newspaper retrospective; Alice talked a lot about the Lee family and
through her Mills met Harper. Harper, in turn, introduced her friends to Mills,
and paved the way for people Mills could interview. The book about Mills and
her friendship with both women came out and Harper immediately denied approving
it—even though she saw the tape recorder running during get-togethers. I say,
Pish Tosh to Harper Lee.
Shields’ biography was more
interesting, but here’s what he left me thinking about: In its initial state, Mockingbird was said to resemble a string of short stories. Tay Hohoff, an editor at J.
B. Lippincott & Co., spent two-and-a-half years helping Harper
rewrite the stories to turn them into a book. Mockingbird came out and was a huge success. Harper has said she
started another book, but then her literary agent died and Hohoff retired. I think she knew that without their help she
couldn’t write anything else as good as her first book. Perhaps she saw what happened to F. Scott
Fitzgerald. His first book, This Side of Paradise, published in 1920, made him
famous. He only wrote four more books (plus some short stories and novellas)
and died at age 44 after years of alcoholism, not to mentioning plagiarizing
some of his wife’s stories.
Maybe none of this matters.
We have a book to read and re-read and a movie with what Gregory Peck called
his “roll of a lifetime.”
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